Oystercatcher Tide Pools Wolf King

They had traveled a great distance to arrive here. None of it was familiar to the foreigner, though alongside her was a wolf who had lurked these parts in his lifetime. Her brown eyes gazed at the moonlit waters for a brief moment, and then the shore. Ikkalrok did not hunger; she had eaten the day prior before parting ways with the majority of her wolves, who would come to find her after doing their own reconnaissance. She had gone with this wolf with her now, and Savik, who she knew would be near despite not seeing him. 

The she-wolf stepped toward the shore, sniffing idly at it and seeking any carrion the sea had regurgitated. In finding nothing Ikkalrok deigned to press on and moved away from the waters, trotting along the sands. She hadn't the luxury to waste energy and idle; she had a mission to complete, and her future to begin. Now and then she paused to sniff at novelty items that might carry the scent of one of their own that had passed through. Any Anneriwok she had met would carry a scent she would not forget, though there was nothing recognizable to the scents she collected.

It was their duty to return once they completed their tasks, and she was assigned with checking in to ensure they were learning what they must prior to their return. Many had done so without learning a thing (to that wolf's disappointment); they were not granted what they sought until they had done their duty properly. Best Ikkalrok ensure neither of their time was wasted; efficiency was demanded, and she would see it had.

It seemed visiting his homeland had become a yearly tradition for the Teekon-born boy. However, he had returned to Tonravik in increasing frequency with nothing to show for his endeavours and disgrace had come to sour what little reputation he had. He could feel his mother's judgement every time he passed her, and had noticeable nicks and scars from both her and other packmates to prove his shame. Now, with the newest litter's birth, the extra weight of the pack had been shed, and that included Anuniaq.

Fortunately, fate aligned and word had spread that a beastly woman from the north sought to forge her own path in the Wilds. Eagerly, the boy offered himself to her cause, if only to prove to his mother he wasn't entirely a lost cause.

The journey had been arduous and not without challenge, but the group arrived no worse for wear. They were soldiers, after all. They trailed a shoreline Anuniaq was not familiar with, his heart longing for the mountains in the far distance. The ocean had kept them to their path, however, and was the best route of travel. Yet that didn't mean he had to like it. A frown settling upon his brutish features, Anuniaq trailed a ways behind Ikkalrok with his head bowed to the sand, combing over places she had already inspected, ever on the lookout for morsels and scraps of food. If anything, his hunger was still his most persistent trait.

Her gaze fell back to Anuniaq, and she licked her chops. He was a good soldier, from what she had seen; the disappointment he felt was perhaps placed on his shoulders by his mother, who had hoped only for greatness from her progeny. The male was a good fighter from what she had seen, and strong—but he was simply not born to lead. His mother was a great commander of men, and many of her other sons had succeeded where Anuniaq had not. But Ikkalrok, and Tartok, needed wolves like him; if every wolf were born a leader, well, she had not the imagination to complete the thought, and so it ended there.

On the battlefield, he had the ability to adapt and take over should those that led the way be felled—that was what mattered most to her.

She remained where she stood until he arrived beside her, licking her chops and staring ahead. From here, she could see two separate ranges—she wondered which had once belonged to their kin (that soon would again). Ikkalrok, too, longed to head to the mountains, but the arctic sea beneath the ice was her blood, just as the stones of the alps were her bones. The woman did not feel out of place here, and though but moments ago had determined not to exert too much energy was swift to change her mind. 

To not train was to become soft, complacent. Such a thing could never be said of those that bore their name, nor of those that hoped to that would come to earn it. What experience did her comrade have in the waters?

Wordlessly, the woman trots toward the waters, and when it laps against her ankles she looks expectantly toward him. They had done this on land enough times prior to their earned rest, but now that they had found the sea they would do so here, too.

He was indeed not cut for leadership, but what Anuniaq lacked in initiative he made up for in sheer subservience. He was a weapon to be wielded, to be pointed at the enemy and given a command. Because of this, joining Ikkalrok was perhaps one of the better decisions he had made. She held the reigns of their troupe with an iron fist, leading by example and giving punishment where necessary. She had gained quite a few companions, too. They were a robust group, their goals harmonised and clear.

His lumbering gait paused as he drew up beside the woman, their two forms dark, colossal smudges against the shoreline. He followed her gaze towards the mountains, seeking out the jagged peaks of his once home. His memory of it was faint, but the scents and sights of the peak had been burned into his consciousness. He would know it when they reached it.

Ikkualrok stalked forward then silently into the frigid ocean waves, where Anuniaq knew she felt as at ease in as much as the frozen fields of the north. Her aims were read clearly, and the boy tried to hide his hesitation. Water had never been his forte, but his eagerness to please won out his indecision. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't just say no to the beast of a woman. With a taunting growl and wave of his tail, the boy stepped into the sea and begun to circle her, feeling the biting sting of the cold hit his toes. The sensation gave him a thrill.

She noted his hesitation wordlessly. Her own confidence grew, but she was wise to know to not underestimate him. To underestimate any. Anuniaq came to her then, and he sought to circle her like a shark. But he faced an arluk that would make short work of him, and as he came to her rear Ikkalrok moved to flee into deeper waters as he was alongside her, parallel, his face to her hindquarter. He was large enough for her to feel confident that at the very least, she would surprise him enough to succeed in her endeavor to bring them up to their knees in the waters that ebbed and flowed. She made no moves against his person, yet—she would wait for his first strike. The only favor she would pay him this battle.

The wolf they called "Nippaitok" loomed after them like an ice-storm in the dark. As ever: he was silent— his loyalties on full display as he maintained an unneeded guardpost for the wolves of Tartok some distance from the shoreline. Each of them were more than capable of surviving on their own, and Anuniaq's familiarity with these wilds made it even less likely that they would face any insurmountable trouble, but the mute found it hard to relax that warm night. Not to say that leisure was a task that came easy to him anyway.

He paced like a caged lion, tearing up large divots of sand as he went, and he turned his long muzzle to and fro as he scanned the far open darkness for any sign of life. He wasn't paying much attention to the progress of Ikkalrok and Anuniaq until he heard the splashing; then his attention snapped to them with a stringent yellow glare as his brethren began to venture the dousing waves. He snorted and then inhaled, tasting the salty air for any sign of distress. But in finding nothing but neutral currents on the wind, the ivory wolf turned to press on along the beach.

Skippable unless engaged :>

As dull as he was, Anuniaq at least knew this would be a fight that he had little chance of winning. Ikkalrok was a proficient sea fighter, having trained alongside the woman named Sâvittok who herself was a force as mighty as the ocean waves. Anuniaq instead was a man of mountains and stone, most at ease in amongst the dizzying heights of near insurmountable peaks. The opportunity to train was never one to be passed up, however, and so he accepted the challenge despite the odds — he had yet still so much to learn.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a ghostly figure trailing the shoreline; a silent sentinel. The pale mute was a welcome companion during their travels, as Anuniaq never did do well with chatterboxes (if only because he lacked the intellect to actually hold any sort of meaningful conversation), and he was a remarkable warrior.

As Ikkalrok suddenly pressed deeper into the waters as he passed, Anuniaq followed dutifully with a bounding leap over an incoming wave. Water was flung into the air as his heavy form landed again, and he swayed purposefully to the right for a moment as if to attack from that side. He knew the dark woman would not fall for that trick but habits were a hard thing to break. With a rumble, Anuniaq then jerked to the left and made to ram his shoulder into the side of her chest to knock her off balance.

She knew his habits; she would break them. The enemy might never know them, but what if? 

As he threw his body in a feint, Ikkalrok was already moving to where she knew she would receive him. His shoulder would meet empty air as she anticipated such a maneuver—how could she not?—and she, parallel to him still and near his hinds, did not hesitate to dive and make a bid for a vulnerable one whilst he sought not to sink in the waters, should much effort have been put into his first attack. The ocean came for her face, though she had expected this, and not once did the woman cease her movement, shifting so her own rear was not exposed to him for him to retaliate in kind.

He had expected her side-step, and yet was still surprised all the same. His bulk pulled him forward as he sought to shoulder charge where she had been only a split second prior. He was now met with nothing to break his momentum, and the boy lurched forward, forepaws scrabbling through the waves to halt his imminent fall. Thankfully, he had reacted just in time to avoid getting a face full of briny water, but knew Ikkalrok's assault would be relentless and, in a real fight, he could not afford such foolish mistakes.

As if on cue, he felt a pressure at his thigh and a mighty weight begin to drag it downwards. He buckled with it, lower half sinking into the waters as he turned to see his assailant's own hind shift out of reach. Anuniaq made not move for it, however, instead letting himself be pulled down and aiming to fall onto his side in mock helplessness. He was a hunter, first and foremost, and knew wits would win where brute force would not.

Ikkalrok had no measure of wits within her; she simply felt him fall, and as this occurred Ikkalrok moved not to dominate but to correct. Though she suspected no foul play, even had she had the foresight to think of it she still would have thought his actions foolish. Tartok wolves were wolves of honor in that when it came to fights, they let things play themselves out—but they had learned that others had not the same ideas, and thought themselves brilliant fighters when doubling down against one solid wolf. They learned even then there was little chance of success, but in the waters the odds adjusted not simply to the wolves, but to the creatures among the waters. 

One such unknown animal slid past her thigh. As she dove to pursue Anuniaq, her eyes, adjusting quickly enough but burning even still against the saltwater, caught sight of a simple fish. No shark, no lurking arluk coming too near. Still Ikkalrok did not go for his throat, but for a leg; she, a beast as big as he, knew the power in exhausting the opponent. She would not bring blood to his person; in these waters, to bleed at all was to risk becoming prey.

Nippaitok, satisfied enough with his patrol, returned to the source of a great commotion on the beach, and watched with mild interest as two of his family tussled in the foamy low-waves for sport. It seemed there would be no peace to be found this night. Not with the moon basking them all with its borrowed light; not when Ikkalrok's spirit tonight demanded the fierce touch of skin. It was rare he shared these moods, preferring a quiet, more mellow sort of existence himself— but when his packmates started to get loud, he could never find it in himself a will to ignore the call.

He had come to the damp sands now, standing just a toestretch away from the seawater that reached for him with laggard strokes. He waited until Ikkalrok was using most of weight and attention to harry the drenched Anuniaq, before leaping in to join the wolf's efforts in besting her.

Anuniaq was typically not so easily bested; she considered travel-fatigue, though was still relentless. The few enemies that might survive still would act as she did, and Ikkalrok herself acted as the ocean did, unforgiving in its consistent onslaught—movement in her peripheral caused Ikkalrok's attention to shift. They were deep enough where the other Tartok males approach did not alarm her; she gave a final snap to Anuniaq, who decided to retreat despite his shifting odds.

Ikkalrok let the environment work for her as her muscles coiled taut, surging forward upon a rolling wave, roaring with the ocean. Her battle cry was deep, and deafening even without the crashing waves—it served to disconcert her enemies, and more often than not, it did. Fear could cripple some, and serve to dismantle their will; she had seen it for herself, witnessed passion shift to uncertainty, confusion, fear, terror—one could imagine their end. Ikkalrok knew it with certainty. Nippaitok was no stranger to her ways, though her maneuvers and mechanisms were not habitual.

Those that did not know her might be terrified by the flash of her dull eyes, and the savage expression her features expressed; but those that did would know the woman was thoroughly enjoying herself. This was their way. Saliva and seafoam bled together as Ikkalrok moved to bear down upon the pale wolf, approaching head-on. Her fangs sought nothing, yet. Ikkalrok only sought to overwhelm him as the ocean did to many who did not know it; here, even the strongest men lost their footing, and Ikkalrok hoped for this.