Silvertip Mountain calling

Tonravik was infinitely aware of the time she had been gone. Her memory was not so brilliant as to remind her that she had informed none of her absence. There was a thought—a wisp of it—but her intelligence, limited as it was, whisked it away before she could make something tangible out of it. She was not an independent anymore. There was more to her life than just Tonravik. Before it was something she could not grasp, not understand—

But as she sang out into the crisp morning air for Aguta, it was clear there was some profound change that had come with her return.

Understanding, knowing. It had not been inherent. Or, perhaps it had been. Like her dominance, and her will to lead, perhaps it had been pushed away. She understood only now how irresponsible she had been to simply go without a word. Thoughtless. She could not be thoughtless. She wasn't any longer. It was why she called. Tonravik would make no more mistakes—she could not afford to, did not desire to. Still, her leaving had been for a reason. And she owed Aguta this.

bone of the father, unknowingly given

you will renew your son
flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]

She had smelled her during the night and had been more than a little disappointed that the girl hadn’t sought her out, especially since Aguta did feel that she was owed an explanation. Faithfully, she had followed Siku for the last two years and had faithfully come here to the same faithful following of her only living female cousin birthed by Siku’s loins. But she could feel that loyalty waning, purely because the girl had taken off, vanished, without so much as a single word to Aguta. Though she knew that it was the right of the girl to come and go as she pleased, Aguta did feel that she was owed at least some sort of explanation since she had come with Tonravik following Siku’s orders. Aguta hadn’t wanted to leave Siku’s side, but had done so because she was told to. Going off without even a single word just didn’t sit well with the large woman.

Aguta hadn’t slept much during the night because a big part of her had wondered, had hoped, that her cousin would seek her out to offer an explanation. But the younger female never showed up. It wasn’t until the morning sun was beginning to make an appearance that the sound of a familiar voice rang out through the crisp morning air. Rising to her paws, Aguta began to make her way in the direction the call had come from. She carried herself proudly, and gracefully, as she moved along the mountain side. It was easy to read in her movements and her stiff expression that she wasn’t very pleased, in the least, about being kept in the dark. Was she really that lowly that she didn’t deserve to be told what was going on? It sure felt like it to her.

As she caught sight of her cousin, the large woman slowed her pace, lowering her tail just enough to be respectful, but not so low as to be viewed as lowly. As she neared, there was a scent upon her cousin that she recognized, though it was a scent that she’d not smelled in a while. It was the scent of the woman that had given her one of her scars during what was supposed to have been a spar and nothing more. It wasn’t a strong scent, but it was there enough that told Aguta that it was recent. Icy colored gaze narrowed, slightly, as she came to a halt. Aguta didn’t offer her usual greeting of going up to the girl and at least bumping shoulders. Instead, Aguta remained standing a few feet away, unmoving, clearly showing that she was upset. Aguta was tired of being second to absolutely everyone. She’d come too far, served her aunt for far too long, to play second to everyone again.

Aguta approached. She sensed the stiffness there—she was not at all oblivious to things that were physical—and her ears swiveled atop her head. She had not sought her out in the night, or even too early, because she had not wanted to disturb her then; but now it was an adequate time, and at this point, Aguta was not her own to lord over. She was a leader, yes, but Aguta could have shifted in her absence. Tonravik would be disappointed—more in herself than Aguta—but receptive to that; Aguta had been loyal, honest. Tonravik had been, too, but not so very open.

I went to find the Issumatar, she began. Typically, it was where she would end. She was not a woman with a broad vocabulary, or with very much eloquence. Being raised by two who seldom spoke influenced that. All the same, they were no less impressive for it; Tonravik, despite her struggle to find words, remained strong in her visage. After repressing her own dominant gene for so long, and continuing to do so here, her self-doubt had once consumed her. I should have let you know. I did not think. She wanted to be the best she could be for them when the time came. Tonravik did not want to fail.

I was able to observe for only a short time, she had known she had needed to go back, and her mother had physically forced her from the lands in the paranoia that Tonravik might try to take it all. Truth be told, her ambitions were ever-rising. But Tonravik did understand that above all, her mother was matriarch. She respected—and feared—Siku much too much to ever act on that impulse. To lead hundreds was something she was not yet ready for regardless; she would begin with Tartok, here. But I am ready. I am not afraid. The Issumatar thinks of you. She had spoken very briefly of Aguta, to be sure that she was well; it was more than she would have done of anyone else, having all the regard in the world for each of them, but remembering her favored companions the most.

I was thoughtless. But know that I never make the same mistake twice. Tonravik stood there, wondering if Aguta would confess to her then of her own beginning. Although she ached to embrace Aguta as only Tartok could embrace one another, she did not desire to stress the woman out, to push Aguta away by her own compulsions again.

bone of the father, unknowingly given

you will renew your son
flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]

She stood there, watching, waiting, unmoving and unspeaking. From her aunt, she had learned that actions spoke a whole lot louder than words, but this was one of those moments when actions weren’t going to cut it entirely. She expected words, expected some sort of explanation as to what had driven her cousin to leave without so much as a single word or assurance that she would return. There was a lot riding on this moment, this very moment in time, whether either of them really knew it or not.

Remaining absolutely silent, she listened when her cousin began to speak. At first, Aguta thought that was going to be all that was said, as if it would have made everything all better again. Much to her surprise, the younger female continued speaking. When Tonravik acknowledged that she should have let Aguta know, the older female gave a slight nod of her head. Yes, her cousin should have very much let her know. Aguta was very disappointed that she hadn’t, and did wonder if that meant her cousin had little regard for the woman who had loyally and very faithfully remained by the Issumatar’s side until being sent away to spread Tartok with the Issumatar’s only living daughter.

It wasn’t until Tonravik spoke of Siku thinking of her that Aguta felt her stance softening a bit, but not entirely, though it was enough to make her not look as angry and hurt as she had just moments before. She continued to remain silent while her cousin finished saying what she had to say. Aguta wanted to pick her own words carefully and not just allow her disappointment and anger rule her mouth because that wouldn’t lead to anything but more anger. “Respect is earned,” she finally began. “Loyalty is earned. I am here because it is what your mother told me to do, or I would still be following faithfully by her side.”

Falling silent once more, the large, but slender, female began to move forward, closing the distance between her and her cousin, stopping only once she stood directly in front of the younger female. “I watched you grow from a pup to the young woman you are now,” she began again. “I have loved you from the time I met you, as I have loved your brothers from the time I met them. I respected and adored your father. And, as is no secret, I respect and love your mother, my Aunt.”

Allowing her head to lower slightly, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I will follow you as I followed your mother, but you will have to earn my respect, Tonravik.” As she continued speaking, she lifted her gaze toward her cousin, watching her. “I am not a blind follower to be cast aside when the mood arises. If you wish for my respect, you in turn must respect me.” Aguta could now only hope she'd not crossed a line by voicing what she'd voiced.

Tonravik listened. If there was one thing she did well, it was listen. There was never very much for her to say. Most everything did not require words. Tonravik knew the words, understood them; she had heard them many times from her own mother. It was only recently that they resounded within her and had any merit; Tonravik respected very few, and those few had earned it. Aguta, too, had earned her respect; she had known the woman up until she had left at a year old, and the woman had followed her mother and Tartok faithfully, ardently. There were few that could boast such longevity. Not only this, but the woman had been beaten by a mountain, and rose to walk upon it without fear.

When Aguta stepped forward, Tonravik shifted her weight, instinctively lifting her head some. She knew well enough no violence would come from this; still, the subtle movement would merely enable Aguta to know that she knew her own role, that she knew better than to disregard Aguta. It had not been her intention before, but oftentimes her actions and their intent were lost in translation. How could that not be? Tonravik, too, would have been disappointed. While she did not regret her leave, she did regret that she had not informed the icy-eyed woman of it. Her lobes swiveled back apologetically.

A heavy breath fell from her inky nostrils. A slow nod. Aguta had crossed no line; Tonravik, fortunately, was not so temperamental as her mother, who was far more bullheaded. Perhaps she had earned some semblance of levelness from her father. Tonravik moved forward now, to roughly push her chest against Aguta in a gesture that was peaceable, licking her chops as her tail stiffly jut out behind her: I will not disappoint.

bone of the father, unknowingly given

you will renew your son
flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]

After having said what she’d needed to say to her cousin, the woman fell silent, watching and waiting. She didn’t expect further words to come from her cousin because they’d both already said everything that needed to be said that couldn’t be said without words. There were just things that sometimes could only be spoken with words, just as there were things that could easily be spoken without words. Aguta had learned long ago within the Tartok family that words weren’t always necessary but that when words did have to be spoken, they weren’t to be taken lightly. This was clearly one of those times and, luckily, it seemed to be working out for the best. This was obviously a good thing because Tartok, as a whole, meant everything to Aguta.

When she stepped forward, bringing her nearer to her cousin, it was not done to show dominance nor an aggressive movement and she hoped that Tonravik would know that. When her cousin lifted her head a bit, Aguta lowered hers some, but not so much as to show that she was the weakest link or something. She only lowered it just enough to be slightly lower than Tonravik’s. Aguta was not going to settle for being below anyone but her cousin and would very much do whatever it took to make sure that not only Tonravik knew that, but everyone else as well. She’d come too far with her life to be made to revert to being low wolf on the totem pole, that much was certain.

Her cousin closed the remaining distance between them and Aguta readily accepted the pressing of their chests, accepting the silent vow from her cousin. To show that she accepted it all, Aguta slid her muzzle against the underside of Tonravik’s, touching her nose to the side of the younger female’s neck. Nor will I, she silently vowed in return. Bringing her head back, Aguta allowed herself to offer an affectionate gesture to her cousin by briefly licking the side of the other female’s muzzle. Her tail swayed slowly behind her, still slightly lifted but not at all higher than Tonravik’s.

Tonravik was eager to begin again, a phoenix reborn, better now for all of her errors, always learning, changing. Aguta accepted her, and she was relieved. They were strangers to this land, alone. Together they would build, add to the empire of Tartok and become native, a formidable force that none would think to challenge. A warm gust of breath was exhaled onto Aguta, pleased, perhaps even happy. And then she breaks free, true warmth a strange thing to a daughter so unused to love, affection. Respect, yes, protection, yes. Love? Tonravik had never been truly loved. Her recollection of Aguta's was scant and bare; for oftentimes after reception, her mother would coldly remind her that emotion was nonexistent, an idea. Her brothers, too, received this treatment; Siku would not have her treasures hurt or weakened. So emotion, truly, was something Tonravik could not fathom. Her expressions of it were physical and rough.

What has happened in my absence? She had spoken with Skyfall, briefly, who she had sent off in search of Toothless and then, to find more potential wolves of Tartok. He was eager to accept this mission, and so she knew he was gone. But she wondered about her inky companion, the protective shadow at her back. Perhaps he lurked in the crevices here. Tonravik was sure she would find him again, but it was not for her to know when.

But aside from that, what else had occurred? Who had Aguta seen, what had she heard?

bone of the father, unknowingly given

you will renew your son
flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]

It was hard for Aguta to accept that she hadn’t been allowed to show affection to her cousins as they grew up and it was apparent, now, that it still pained her a little as her cousin pulled away. For the most part, Aguta readily accepted Siku’s ways, strove to try to make her aunt proud and learn what she could from the older female. But it was hard for her to accept no allowed shows of affection because that was not how she, herself, had been raised. Her father (whom she had turned her back on years ago and no longer acknowledged as her father) had doted on her, making it easy for her to be the weakest link in a sense. But that wasn’t how things were in Tartok. In Tartok, you had to be hard, swallowing emotion and keeping it to yourself.

Tonravik then asked a question of her and Aguta had to think for a moment how to answer. She didn’t want to tell her cousin about how she’d gone on a reckless run to try to run from her own self, to try to run from the anger and jealousy that coursed through her veins on an almost daily basis because that would make her sound weak, and that was not something that sat well with the scarred woman in the least. “I explored,” was how she chose to word it, rather than allowing herself to show any sort of weakness. “To the north. I ran into a male; Godry. He was from there.” She didn’t come right out and say that she hunted with the male, either, nor that she’d done so because she didn’t think her cousin was coming back.

“I thought you’d gone,” she continued, slicking her ears against her head. “I walked the mountain, from bottom to top, with a woman called Muirrin. We spoke of the ghosts of the mountain, ghosts of the past, and traveled to the top.” Aguta let her icy gaze travel over Tonravik’s face, but avoided direct eye contact. “I craved the company of another, and she filled that void for that moment.” Other than that, there wasn’t a whole lot that Aguta had seen or heard. She just hoped that her cousin would not hold it against her that she had doubted that Tonravik was going to return, especially considering she hadn’t been told of the younger female’s plight to seek out Siku in the first place.

Tonravik did not so much as flinch when Aguta brought up her traveling. Truthfully, she was glad for it; it would give them more of an advantage in the future for one to know of the sort of landscapes the other territories harbored. Perhaps she would make a mission of it herself, to scout out the land and territories packs acquainted themselves with. The name she spoke would not be forgotten; the knowledge was invaluable, given in time, the male would come to follow her.

Only when Aguta spoke of wandering with Muirrin here did Tonravik bristle. Still, she could not fault Aguta for it; but nor did she hide her displeasure, how could she? From bottom, to top. One trip hardly meant the other would memorize a thing, but that gave the stranger more of an advantage than any other; and so, Tonravik truly wanted to find this wolf, to wander her homeland, to know it even if only briefly. A low rumble was all she emitted, one of true irritation, but she did not snap, bend, or break. Never again, the sound insisted.

Perhaps it would benefit them someway, somehow. She was sure Aguta would know to find that way.

Ghosts. Loa, she asks, wondering if Muirrin knew of the Cove, the spirits. Tonravik was not so educated as her own mother, but she had been introduced to them so that she was not oblivious.

Fade soon so we can have a thread with Aguta, Ton, and Goldry?? <3

bone of the father, unknowingly given

you will renew your son
flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]

Aguta truly had no idea that Goldry would eventually end up following her here. When she had parted company from him, she’d done as she always did and made her tracks very difficult to follow. That was her way. It was what she had learned to do under Siku’s guidance. And now, it was something that had become absolute habit to her. Tartok was to be protected at any cost, including making it just that much harder for anyone to track her. One would have to be one hell of a good tracker to be able to follow anything left behind by Aguta.

The rumble from her cousin was met with a slight one of her own. This was not done as a challenge, obviously, but more as a ’you were gone and I had no idea if you were going to ever return or not’ sort of way. She would not be punished for something that was not entirely her fault, not that she thought Tonravik was going to punish her. “It would not have happened had I known…” She didn’t have to finish her sentence because she was sure that her cousin would easily be able to figure out what she was talking about.

Aguta gave a slight shake of her head. No, not Loa, per say. “Wolves of past,” she responded. “Harmless, though.”

Tonravik nodded at Aguta's words. It will not happen again. She would not disappear, and she would give no reason for Aguta to doubt that. And so, there would be no need for either error to occur. Tonravik continues. I have sent Skyfall to find the shadow wolf, Toothless, who she had given a name, but had not spoken. Tonraq had come, but I set off with him when he had returned. He is Tartok's messenger, now; he is finding other potential recruits to come. She grins at this. Their unit would grow and prosper. Tartok was such a family that other wolves were more than willing to help the budding flower that was here. Soon they would be in full bloom.

Aguta shook her head, and Tonravik nodded. She did not take much stock in spirits; she believed in what she saw. Still, she knew belief was a powerful thing. But power, true power, was more than that, and so she was not concerned.

Tonravik then gestures ahead, inviting the icy-eyed woman to walk with her, to explore their home further than they already had. There were still plenty of secrets to be had in these lands, and she could not wait to discover them.

on phone so no table

Tartok would grow here. Of this, she had no doubt. Just as it had grown in Seahawk Valley, so would it grow and flurish here as well. Aguta had known of the boy having been here and gave a slight nod to acknowledge that fact. She had not been aware of him being gone already though. No matter. Her cousin had reason for the things she did. Aguta would grow to learn to not doubt her but it was going to take some time, obviously.

At the gesture from her cousin, the scarred woman easily fell into step beside the slightly younger female. Aguta carried herself proudly, though did make sure to keep the carrage of her head slightly lower than that of her cousin. They had things to do, trust to build, a legend to see thrive. Aguta would faithfully follow her cousin through it all.