The black wolf exited the communal cave of the Silvertip Mountain pack feeling her curious nature satisfyed for the moment. She had long since found a den out near the slopes of the mountain range with the help of Tyrande, but she was curious of what lies in the depths of the cavern. She reached the cavern before noon and travelled through its tunnels, small caves, and exits. By the time she was finished, the sun was already sliding towards the western horizon, turning the blue sky a mix of orange, pinks, grays, reds, and yellows.
Erika sighed happily at the sight. Sunsets were always beautiful, especially so in Teekon Wilds. She sat at the mouth of the cavern and admired the sky as the dark blue of night slowly consumed it.
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Ira had been so absolutely focused on running into Bones, and finding lone wolves to recruit to Silvertip, though admittedly, most of the pre-teens time was consumed with his girlfriend — or rather worrying about his girlfriend, that he hadn’t realized just how much he was wearing himself down from the lack of sleep, the constant gnawing worry that ate at him, and the fact that he pushed and pushed. Except not even his youth and (apparently not endless) energy could not save him from the torment that was exhaustion. On his way to the communal den area it had hit him like he had stupidly slammed head first into a brick wall expecting to sail right through it only to find that he had met with great resistance and was knocked on his bum, looking up at it with nothing short of perplexed expression upon his face. While he had not actually slammed into a brick wall he certainly felt like he had. His body was dragging, the usual haughty manner in which he carried himself deflated until he moved stiffly, as if his joints did not want to work properly. Climbing up to the communal dens was a trail that Ira, who just wanted to sleep was not all that fond of overcoming.
The Prince, finally making it up to the mouth of the cavern spared a glimpse at the woman who was sitting to one side of it, presumably enjoying the sunset. At first he had not seen the marred half of her face upon his quick look but upon closer, albeit tired inspection, rudely staring as he was accustomed to doing, he noticed it and drew back his lip in disgust.
The sound of rocks crumbling down the slope distracted Erika from her admiration of the sun. Glancing towards the sound, she saw a small white male climbing up the path to the communal den. The boy looked familiar...he was from the pack meeting not too long ago, the one that sat next to Jinx. He looked awfully tired and was probably heading to the den to get a rest. She turned to say a greeting when his sneer made her reel back. Well aren't you a beauty.
"Well aren't you a little brat," she growled back with sudden contempt for the boy, no, enfant terrible It was common for some wolves to react in such a manner, but never children! Usually they acted like they were tough, or they cried in her presence. Sometimes they just ignored the disfigurement all together. But they never, ever acted so rude to an adult, despite her looks.
Ira was well adept at being rude. It was one of his numerous talents that he had collected over the months, using it to accompany his armor of sharp wit and haughtiness. As it was he didn’t even have to think of the words he would use to be rude anymore seeing as how they more or less just flowed naturally out of his mouth these days. As it was, his lack of patience could have been contributed to his exhaustion and stress but he was sure that as any adult she would counter with ‘no excuse’. Ira didn’t need excuses, never bothered to make them because no one had to like him. He really didn’t care. Ira had gotten away with acting however he wanted for so long that he did what he wanted, said whatever he wanted because he hadn’t been corrected on it when he had been impressionable. She growled at him about being a brat and he let out a sharp, cruel laugh. He supposed he was supposed to take offense to it. He did not and Ira hoped it was to her disdain.
Once an always kind and polite girl, Erika had morphed into a rather cynical person, a result of her face. She could always be ready with a cruel retort to growl at any who insulted her face instead of being afraid. Pushing her ears forward slightly she growled at the young wolf. "I 'ave 'eard worse as well, you little bastard." If the juvenile was used to being insulted then she would oblige him.
For a slight moment, small enough to fit in between two an inhale and exhale Ira was unsure whether he found her growl hilarious or annoying. As the last push of air expelled from his lips in his exhale he decided abruptly that it was both to him. Ira had no idea how she wanted him to react to her face but he deduced by her retort that his reaction wasn’t what she had wanted from him. He wasn’t a sympathetic creature, he wasn’t nice, and he certainly wasn’t some sniveling child. She didn’t frighten him, no matter how many times she growled at him, he hated to burst her bubble. The more she growled at him the more Ira had to resist the notion to laugh at her. If one thing was certain Ira was not an easy creature to threaten, though this was probably simply because of he entire disregard to the feelings of others. He didn’t care about anyone other than Jinx on this Mountain and so he didn’t care what they thought of him.
She decided to pester him with a question that has been on her mind for a while: his parentage. Snorting, she "Iz Madame Jinx your mother? And zat older white wolf, iz 'e your father?" She knew that Madame Jinx and the ragged wolf were close, from the meeting in the cave, to seeing them occasionally romping through the forest in bliss. The French-Canadian wondered if their relationship had gone on long enough to garner a son, and such a spoiled one at that. But she could not imagine Madame Jinx being much of a mother.