Moonspear illulikpak ⇌

Another laugh reached his throat. Her daughter had claim upon the mountain? But where was the little wench in that moment? Her scent had not been marked on Moonspear’s borders. Her paws had left no prints in the dirt. There were no signs of her figure having hunted on or near the mountain in months. The inkjet man wanted the absurdity to reach the proudful white woman. He wanted her to realize how foolish she sounded to state that her vanished child had a stronger stake in claim on the mountain than he did.

And where is your prodigal daughter? Are you really so bold to claim that an absent child is more entitled to these lands than the son of the last ruler? If he could have spit at the ground, he would have. There are no signs of her here. There are no signs of anyone seeking to claim the mountain here.

A deep breath was drawn, filling his lungs with the fragrance of the white wolf’s pack. It was not the smell of Moonspear. She had only visited the mountain that day. Kukutux did not have a claim to speak of. She was bluffing, or prideful, or something in between. Atlas did not care for it. He did not find himself swayed by her words or her threats.

Your scent belongs to somewhere else, as well. I understand if you feel a connecting tie to this land, but you will not come here and tell me that I am in the wrong in my desire to reclaim it. You will not. Present your daughter or hold your tongue. The inkjet titan squinted sharply at her. His brow was furrowed in a tight line.

If she wanted to claim that he was making enemies, he would show her what that meant.

I did not come here to make an enemy of you, but I will not stand by and allow you to stake a claim on my home – the land where I was born – when you have none. These mountain paths have not had the scent of a claim on them in some time. You will not walk on me, woman of the moon.