Porcupine Ridge One Step Closer To The Edge

For @Warbone and possibly @Saena

The mountains always had called Zephyr home - the crisp, thin air ran through his lungs, and for the first time in possibly months, the brute truly smiled - the ridge he stood on made him feel almost home... Almost. The sharp pains of loss were never far, and the familiar atmosphere brought his wandering, almost forgotten mind to memories of Rinda, and his children. 

Dead.

All of them - all that he knew, that is - were dead, buried, or eaten by cougars, their bones littering the mountain beside his lake. Gods, why couldn't he have told them to deal with a flooding camp? Why couldn't they have even gone into the woods - the mountains, while he'd thought there had been utmost protection, was Shadowfax's downfall. 

Now here he was, over a year - almost two - later, still losing people, failing to protect them. Lyric and Rain, vanished. Sen, Chusi, they hated him. Depp was gone, Aggie was gone... Everyone he'd ever known, gone.

For a moment, a brief and very cold moment, Zephyr turned his apple eyes down to the glade below - it was a secluded, secret haven here, but the ebony brute didn't see the beauty of it in that moment. His unfocused eyes stared blankly at the earth below, white toes danging over the edge - he was dangerously close, and he knew it - but still uncaring and numb. 

It was then, however, that a familiar scent hit him - not a friend, exactly, but not a foe. For a moment, he didn't even try to place it, but the wind seemed to double, breathing Warbone's scent into his face and demanding his attention. It didn't quite click, but either way he allowed his mind to wander away from a much more metaphorical edge - the brute was still leaning over the edge of the ridge, brow furrowed as he worked to place it.

Probably because he was unconsciously paranoid of their return, Warbone spent a lot of time in or near the former home of the Ridge wolves, keen on knowing that no wolf lingered in the crevices, and that there were no secrets kept among the porcupines. He lumbered along the edge of the territory, keeping the vale within the sweep of his sight as he moved. A tall, black figure loomed ahead, large enough to give most other pause— but Warbone approached with conviction, egaer to tell the stranger he should move on.

He didn't recognize the scent of the wolf he had met briefly before on two occasions, but as he came closer, he found himself remembering his features; a fact that staved any violence he might have had prepared for a stranger. Ascending, he drew near enough to be seen fully and then stopped to posture himself in a way that suggested the black wolf respectfully approach or immediately take his leave.

As Zephyr stood there, hovering over the ledge, he began to talk himself into the worst - that letting himself fall was the best thing life could give him. The wind had ceased, taking both the scent of Warbone and his focus with it, but still he hesitated. Why?

It was movement that caught his grassy eyes, and though he was loathe to keep dragging this moment on, he turned his head. 

Surprisingly, it was a familiar face that greeted him - a statue of pride and confidence, one of an alpha male.... One the Maverick himself used to use.
This was a stance Zephyr knew well, and the breath left his lungs in a whoosh - his single word was both a gasp for air and of disbelief. 

                             "Warbone?"

He couldn't believe it. Was he going crazy? He and the Marauder's Keep alpha hadn't ever been close or anything, but it was like a splash of icy mountain water in the face to realize there WAS still someone out here. 

                                                             "A-Am I crazy? Dead?"

No - Warbone hadn't looked like this the last time they'd been face to face. He was missing an eye. If he were dead, or seeing things, Warbone would still look like he had months ago. 

Zephyr stepped back from the edge - his posture overall was defeated, low - and took only one step towards his potential friend. His apple gaze seemed to beg that this was real, that there was someone who could give him a purpose, or companionship.

Warbone?

He dipped his muzzle once, acquiescing to the name as he at once realized that he did not know this wolf from a more dire time in his life, but from the short time he had reigned and been at peace. His tail lashed as he watched the dark male crumble, lost within himself as Warbone had been, not four weeks prior. He sympathized, could relate, but he would not treat the man with pity. He would not coddle him or tiptoe. It was not what Zephyr needed.

Licking his lips, he realized he recalled the wolf's name, and he blinked his good eye in reservation of his own feelings about this situation. "You are not dead," he said, unable to account for if the man was "crazy" or not. "But you could be, if that is what you wish," he added, his spine prickling suddenly, his threat as blatant as his scarring. It was Zephyr's choice then, to decide if he truly wanted to die... or if he wanted to live.

The male gave but a nod, lashing his tail and giving Zephyr a look that made him nearly cringe. He commented not on the area or what he'd likely seen, but instead gave him an option: Warbone could provide the swift ending that the Maverick was just hoping for. 

Having the option, however, faced with someone who could become a friend, Zephyr hesitated. It was a threat, clearly, but not one the ebony male took personally. If anything, it was taken as pity.

Turning his gaze once more to the ground far below, Zephyr sighed. He'd have happily said yes were it not Warbone himself standing there.

Looking down on the Vale, he gave a firm, certain answer. 
 
                                 "No. I don't believe it is."

Turning his face again to Warbone, his head dipped low in both respect of the man and his position. He couldn't be sure if things would change, or if he'd sink lower into the depression he found himself in.... But there was only one way to find out. 

If all else failed, there was still a ledge.

                                                                                             "Do you have another option?"

Death would have been a given as a gift to the sullen male, for a wolf without purpose, without heart, should not be made to walk the earth. And not because such heedless souls didn't deserve to, but because it was a long and painful existence to remain in that state. Warbone watched him, rendering himself obstinately silent as he regarded Zephyr's question evenly. "Come," he commanded at last, turning to make his way back down the Ridge, fully expecting the dark brute, and former Seadog to follow. Rather than tell, he would show the man another option.

"What happened to you?" he asked, passing his good eye over his shoulder to look at him. This was a very different wolf than the one who had come to him on the Keep's borders, seeking advice with twinkling, imperious eyes, ready to be his own king.

Zephyr didn't move, didn't think, didn't breathe, only kept a level and sad gaze on Warbone -- they both stared for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime -- until the king finally spoke. "Come". 

Moving as a shadow would, the ebony brute bounded across the stone haphazardly to follow his newfound purpose. He was careful to slow in his approach, tail dragging on the earth, head and ears lowered, and even slightly bent at the knee. Zephyr would follow the palefaced man at his flank wherever he lead, silently; it was his alpha -- yes, his willing and needed alpha -- who broke the air with a question.

               What happened to you?

For a few paces, Zephyr was silent, apple eyes on his paws. So, so much. He wasn't about to unburden himself on the copper man, however. 

                                                               "Full story, or short version?"

"Whichever version you feel like giving," he grunted, dropping down a ledge and pausing so that Zephyr might resume his post at his flank before continuing along a path etched safely for travel. "Or keep your story. Either way, your past will not matter in the Vale... unless your past will bring me strife." He passed a meaningful gaze over the subdued wolf, his banner flicking thoughtfully. "Because in that case, I insist you say so."

Warbone dropped down a ledge, pausing to let Zephyr keep up, leading them down a path -- he didn't care which story he gave, unless it was going to come back to bite Zephyr in the ass. Shrugging, he gave Warbone the full story, if only to hear if the man had comments, opinions.

                          "I have nobody left to come looking for me. Depp, my girlfriend Lyric, and adopted daughter Rain vanished during the locust storm. I lived with Sen, practically helped her raise her daughter, stepped up as another alpha would -- she refused to promote me, and eventually left me to stand alone against a pack raiding us. The pack disbanded the next day or so after.... I still followed her and Chusi all the way to Rosings, even when she told me I was nothing more than a pawn -- not even a friend. Chusi became like a daughter to me -- eventually, we both ran away. I'd found a woman trying to form a nomadic pack, but I fell ill when we got to the coast. I told her to dig a separate den close, but to keep Chusi with her and safe. When I was better, they were gone -- try as I did to track her down, either of them, I just couldn't. I wandered for a while, didn't talk to many. One day, maybe... A week ago? Two? I dunno. I found Chusi when I was trying to join a pack.... She'd found a new guardian, a new home -- I was okay with this -- but she didn't even speak to me at first, she looked almost afraid... I was nothing but good to her. I saved her from an abusive childhood, took her on grand adventures, cleaned her, fed her, dug her dens.... She offered me a pity rank, and I refused because I didn't want to make her stressed out. She straight out rejected me after that, unwilling to ever see me again or talk. A-after that, well.... I don't really know. The past couple weeks is a blur."

He didn't look at Warbone, focusing hard to the path they were taking even though he trusted the king unexplicitly to guide them safetly.

He listened, as patient as ever, though Warbone could not proclaim to understand Zephyr's particular strife besides the feeling of abandonment. He supposed this was all it took, with some wolves; enough of it could drive one to death. He didn't respond for a long while, pausing to turn his head with the single good eye in place, so that he might survey everything around them as they went. He hadn't forgotten his task upon finding the forlorn male, and still kept his wits about him for any other wolf that thought they might settle near his claim.

Only when he was ready, did he address Zephyr again, stopping their progress completely so that he might look at him squarely. "Before I take you into the Vale, I command that you leave anything useless of yourself here on this ridge. You shall carry no strife, or piteous emotions with you where I will lead. And if you can shed this of yourself, then you shall never want for companionship again."

It was nice to vent, to get off all the worries from his chest -- Warbone didn't seem to care, but in truth Zephyr didn't need him too -- and with each word his stride grew stronger, more confident. It would be months, even years, if he ever reclaimed his former pride, but today that didn't matter either. All that mattered right now is that he wasn't alone. 

Warbone truly couldn't have found him at a better time except maybe a few months ago, and forever would the ebony brute be loyal to him for this, for giving him a purpose again. 

It was then Warbone stopped -- Zephyr pulled to a halt by the alphas side, ears fanning forward in curiosity as the one-eyed man spoke. It was a slightly surprising request, perhaps only because he'd barely thought about or realized his emotions, but nonetheless he agreed. A want for companionship, for a steady life and purpose, friends.... Family? Thats all he really wanted in life anymore, to hell with Shadowfax and its rebirth -- the pack was dead, and that was just another thing he needed to let go.

                            "You don't have to tell me twice, alpha."

His word was all Warbone needed for now, as time would be the true decider for how honest these syllables were, and for both of them this applied. "Good. I do not want to have to repeat myself." The copper brute's tail wagged then, before leaning to give the dark male an affirming nip against his cheek. "Come. We shall hunt for my companion," he announced, turning once more to lead the way down the Ridge and onto more level ground— his preferred place.

"Her name is Saena," he thought to mention after a beat. He grunted softly as he dropped down another ledge, and pressed on while keeping on ear on Zephyr's progress behind him. "And she is to be treated with the utmost respect, Zephyr. Or you will have my teeth at your throat faster than you can apologize."

Who else is joining the Vale?

Warbone's tail wagged and the king seemed to believe his words -- Zephyr knew that his actions would better prove this to the man, like the hunt they went on now-- and again invited him down the slopes with a nip to his face. With a little bit more of an excited air to him, the ebony man chuffed in agreement and followed. 

Her name is Saena.

Zephyr didn't know the name, and had little time to think of it before Warbone's words, commanding and undisbutable, were ringing in his cupped ears. Clearly, this woman was special: if not the man's wife itself, than at least a fellow alpha. This was fine by the Maverick, and though he was clear in this acceptance, he also naturally was curious. Not that either of his assumptions didn't mean she was inexplicitly would lead beside him, it was just a little bit wondering about the grey faced man's life.

                         "Of course, Warbone. Wife, or Alpha?"

"Alpha," he responded automatically; the forefront of his reasons being the fact that regardless of their personal relationship, her status as regent of the vale was as solidified as his own. "We are first among our wolves, and my personal feelings for her do not factor into that particular equation," the titan added bemusedly before picking up his trot, feeling eager to show Zephyr around and begin chasing down something fair for the pied monarch to eat.

He shook his body once they reached the bowled valley below. Warbone angled himself so that his white-footed follower stood on his good side, and then motioned for the male to travel close at his shoulder as they went. "Are you too worn for a deer chase?" he asked, steadying their pace forward, silently watching the male adjust to the proximity and beat of his heavy steps.

assuming you got the mass pm... ;)

I did! :3

Warbone's tone was inarguable, claiming they were first as a title -- but Zephyr was already wondering if there was more -- no matter any feelings he may or may not have for this Saena woman. Since the ebony brute valued his throat and the blood in his body -ironic, consitering he'd been seconds from suicide -- he didn't question further. 

The Maverick curved to stand at Warbones side, only pulling up to his shoulder when motioned for; they walked together, emmerced in the hunt and plans, and Zephyr didn't flinch from the sudden closeness. It was, as promised, what he'd wanted. He felt as a companion to the man, unsure of where he would fall once -- if, depending on the ways of the pack -- ranks came into play. Zephyr was still healing and adapting to want or be ambitious, but it was a natural curiousity. 

                      "I can handle what you need me to do."

Warbone didn't think of it then, but eventually he would need to have a conversation with Saena about choosing their betas. He figured it would be most logical to each choose someone they preferred, and let the others fall where they would, but that would be a topic for another time. He had met Zephyr the same amount of times he had met Saena before dedicating his life to her, so it stood to reason that he might have the broken Maverick as his own choice, lest he proved incapable of drawing himself out of the funk that had driven him to the edge of the ridge, and nearly over it.

Giving a satisfied snort to his companion's reply, he shoulder-bumped him eagerly, before taking up a strong trot in the direction of the trails he had crossed before. Successful or not, Warbone had earned the vale another viable protector to its ranks.