Hideaway Strath tap the vein that bleeds

AW. Tag is simply for reference.

Laying low was what Pippin did best—he scraped by on smaller game or bounty left behind a predator who already took their fill. He had been called a scavenger once in his travels by another who had been unimpressed with his attitude, and as much as he despised to admit, the term had not settled well with him.

But that did not stop the wandering paws of the golden Ostrega. The white arrow upon his back bristled as a sweep of summer wind drifted over him, and while he had been simply scouring in the moment, it was a scent that caught his attention and pulled a small frown to his features. Bright eyes of amber blinked as he took in where he stood—some dense land somewhere, far from the plateau. So what was @Towhee doing here?

Nose sweeping along the ground, the markings grew stronger, and as quickly as realization hit him, the rogue quickly backtracked, unwilling to draw attention to himself. Had the Redhawks moved? With quiet contemplation, Pippin studied the land drenched in the scent of one of the wolves he had probably screwed over in his life.

In truth, he couldn’t recall a wolf he hadn’t screwed over in some way. And that was something that addled him.

He spotted something burly and pale moving between the trees, and thought it might be another potential target for his lusty charms. They moved with purpose, whoever they were. Something appeared to surprise them because they paused - giving Dingo a moment to play catchup and close some distance - but they were roaming again, pacing through the forest. They appeared to be quite adept at navigating the forest because they were quickly passing some of the more recent claim-marks Dingo had left behind; he felt his short pelt bristle as he drew up on the stranger, although by the time he was within shouting distance the would-be borders had faded in his periphery.

Ahoy there — he called out with all the gusto he could muster, and spread a devilish grin across his face. It took as second before Dingo realized he wasn't looking at some pretty lady, but someone with some heft and size to them. Maybe they were butch like Towhee? He took a deep breath and realized at that moment it wasn't a woman at all. Just some bloke crossing too close to the grove. You lookin' for something? Dingo queried, and with a couple whips of his tail he stood defensively on the spot.

Ahh—he was caught. A booming voice echoed through the trees, and Pippin’s amber eyes fell upon the dense coat of a golden wolf—certainly one in far better condition than him, and also one he wouldn’t want to tamper with.

The question was a fair one, and the Ostrega allowed his muzzle to dip lower in what he hoped was a more humble appearance as his tail gave a thoughtful strike through the summer air. “Sorry,” he replied back, clearing his throat from the guttural misuse of his voice. “I recognized a scent here, and started to follow it… then realized my trespass.” Stupidity, on his part, given he was a scavenger who knew far better in terms of survival.

“Does Towhee live here, now?”

The stranger was young but already pretty big, and would probably one day dwarf little Dingo. That didn't sit well with him; more importantly, they knew Towhee, which put him on-edge even faster. Had this been a woman (or a young girl) with the same connection then Dingo would have something to work with, but as it sat now he saw the stranger as one thing: a threat. Someone who might be able to see through the guise that Dingo wore around the little family, someone who could become a mighty cockblock to the lusty man - and he wasn't ready to give up his game yet.

Towhee? That what you said? Tow-hee? Doesn't ring-a bell, he refuted despite the abundance of scents all around that said yes, this is Towhee's crash pad, she's not here right now but leave a message — !! Dingo realized literally as he spoke that he couldn't really refuse this guy that fact, and so he huffed and with a forced chuckle, corrected himself: I'm kidding! Obviously. Yeah, she lives here. Who're you - some kinda gentleman caller? I'll have you know she's a mom now, so her bits are outta commish. Thinking about Towhee's bits didn't have the same thrill that he anticipated, at least in that moment. Dingo watched the stranger for a moment with a slight frown on his face.

A forced laugh met the initial attempt at a sad joke—or that was what the Ostrega took the strange humour as. Never one to comply to society morals of easing another discomfort, Pippin quirked a brow, not bothering to pretend he didn’t find the other an entire level of awkward.

“Gentlemen caller,” he rumbled, finally eliciting an amused snort. “Can’t say
I’ve been accused of that before.” He paused, sensing the situation delve even deeper into the realm of strange attitude. Who was Towhee surrounding herself with these days?

“Don’t worry. I’m just an acquiantance. Last I seen her she was at the Redhawks territory. I just wanted to see if she was okay.” He blatantly ignored the parts about her mama bits—instead, he went straight to the point. Any longer in this guys weird presence was going to start chipping away at his sanity. “A mom. Eh? Good for her. Is she too out of commission to come to the borders?”

As in… why the fuck hadn’t either one of them called for her yet?

Evidenced by the way the stranger replied, Dingo concluded that he wasn't after Towhee in the sense that had been implied, but he was drawing too close all the same. He didn't want this young and attractive wolf to feel welcome, that would change the composition of the pack if the guy did linger, and Dingo wanted all the ladies to himself. That and, he didn't want there to be big, strong, strapping young men around to prevent his eventual claim of Fennec as she got older. But he had to keep the ruse up for a little while longer - so, Dingo knew he had to put up with some amount of company.

She's definitely out of commission, he lied flatly, there were some complications so she's been bedridden a while. I can call for @Phox if you want to talk to him though - he's here too, if that means anything. Assuming if this guy knew Towhee then he'd know the brother. The man watched for a moment to ascertain the stranger's intentions.

Regular patrols brought Phox toward the two conversing wolves at the entrance of their little home, and his ears perked up when he heard his name mentioned. The Kilonova made his way over to the pair, shooting Dingo a quick glance before turning to the stranger, wondering what his deal was. Huh, he was kinda pretty. Phox blinked, then waited for the inevitable explanation. He assumed that this guy wanted to join, based on the tone and body language.

The rusted stranger continued to deliver the news of the rough shape Towhee was in, and Pippin felt the grind of his teeth as he swallowed a surge of some unknown emotion—was that concern, for the sardonic she-wolf he barely knew? Rooted, the angular Ostrega was about to simply request details and ignore the offer of meeting some guy named Phox—it seemed irrelevant in that moment.

“She had problems with the birthing? What kind of bedridden?” His rumbled voice replied, his amber eyes drifting to the dark wolf that swept forward now. There were no words offered—and so Pippin looked back to the other, feeling the tension build in his form. He wasn’t keen on being chased off before he could learn of the dark girl’s fate. “Has she seen a healer yet?”

He hadn't anticipated actual concern from the stranger, so the slew of questions were mostly met with a growing uncertainty in his expression, and then - shit - there was Phox. So much for the lie, he couldn't uphold something with that much depth if one of the leaders was right here. It would screw with his plans. The situation was backfiring. If he had more time to really milk the situation, Dingo would've played it up with a deepening of the lie; however, with the arrival of the soon-to-be kilnova there was little Dingo could do but say, uhh, psyche!

Thus he donned his usual shit-eating-grin and let out a booming laugh; it was forced, and it was obvious it was forced, and he just kind of went with that. She's fine. The kids are actually not her's, they're her brothers. Phox, he motioned to the dark-furred wolf that had joined them, this is --- some guy asking after your sister. Again. Maybe he could deflect from the failed lie by redirecting everyone's attention to the fact Towhee was some kind of boy magnet.

The way the stranger spoke, Phox's stomach dropped, and he thought he was talking about Camilla. Was this one of her relatives? One of her captors, like the wolf who had ripped his face in half? He didn't have a chance to ask, because Dingo was kind enough to fill in some of the blanks. It seemed this pretty guy was asking about Towhee. Again? Had he been here before?

You're a friend of Towhee's? Phox asked, lifting a brow.

…Psyche.
Psyche?!

Pippin blinked at the stranger, his features drawn in blank disbelief as it took him a haphazard second to draw the final conclusion that this guy was a complete nut job—and his sense of humour severely lacked. Yeah, Towhee’s bits were dragging around from birth and some major complications—just kidding. She wasn’t even the mom. This other guy was the actual dad.

It took a second for that to register.

“The fuck, dude? Who jokes about that?”

His jaws clamped together and his eyes drifted to Phox, who questioned him now. At the wolf’s question, he gave a shake of his muzzle, his features still stormy as he snuck another glance to Dingo. “Acquaintance, more like. Last I seen her she was at the plateau. Caught her scent and just wanted to know how she was doing.”

Dingo was utterly indifferent to the look the newcomer gave him. The only response he had for his comment was a smirk and a shrug; he didn't need anyone to understand his humor - it had been a good save, and now Phox was here to answer this guys questions properly, so Dingo faded in to the background - slinking behind Phox with an airy chuckle leaking from his bemused face.

Phox gave Dingo a bit of a dumbfounded "I'm definitely not part of your joke" as the tan wolf hee-hawed behind him. Returning his attention to the stranger, Phox apologized on Dingo's behalf. You'll have to forgive Dingo; his sense of humor is a bit... peculiar. Even more-so than Phox had initially realized. Anyway, onto the topic at hand.

Towhee's doing well. She and I moved here a little while ago, along with my two kids, which she's become a mother to. Phox braced himself for the obvious question about who their biological mother was, but he had learned to answer it well enough. If you'd like, I could go grab her for ya, or I can let her know you stopped by. What's your name?

Dingo strutted away, and Pippin regarded him, not bothering to hide how miffed he was. Phox noted the oddity of the male, and Pippin allowed a wry smirk to press at his wayward lips for a moment before it quickly vanished. One ear flickered in response to the dark wolf’s explanayion—soTowhee had he had broken away from the Redhawks? And Towhee now served as a surrogate mother of sorts.

He nodded slowly, content with the information provided. He barely knew the girl, but it was nice to know that one of the few wolves in the Teekon Wilds who had extended a form of kindness to him was well in her life. “Congratulations on your new home,” he offered, his tail giving a gentle sway as he took in the terrain they called theirs.

He shook his head at the mention of calling for Towhee—a small shrug offered. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to see how she was. She offered me a home with the Redhawks months ago, and I kind of bailed after a bit… I don’t imagine she’d care much either way to see me.” Another wry smile—another bridge burned in the Ostrega’s life. "Maybe tell her I hope motherhood doesn't ruin her 'thundersmash?'" She would know what it meant.

Huh, so apparently Towhee had offered him a place in the Redhawks, and he'd turned it down (or otherwise disappeared). But Phox still hadn't gotten a name, something he very much felt like he needed in order to pass the very odd message along. Sure, I can do that for ya. Who should I tell her the message is from? Towhee's sense of humor wasn't exactly common either, so Phox didn't even bother trying to guess what it meant.

And y'know, if she thought you were a good recruit then, I'm sure she'd think the same now. Not sure if you're heading elsewhere, but we could use another able-bodied wolf around here. A pretty one, at that. Phox's expression softened, wondering if he would manage to nab another recruit out of this.

He was about to give his name—deciding the conversation might as well end here, when the other offered him a place to stay in their ranks. His jaw clipped shut with obvious surprise, and his wolfish brows arched upward in mild scepticism. He hadn’t been expecting this visit to turn into such a conversation, and he was even more surprised by the invite after his previous admission.

“Uh…” Canting his muzzle slightly, the Ostrega cleared his throat, resisting the urge to give a quick shake of his pelt to help eliminate the awkwardness of the scenario. “I mean, yeah—definitely. I just didn’t expect that, is all… It’s Pippin by the way.”

He paused, his gaze drifting between the male before him and the land behind him—what kind of impulse decision was this? “How can I start making it up to Towhee for last time?” Redemption wasn't necessarily something he believed in, given his past. But he could at least make an attempt. Another winter as a rogue didn't tempt him at all.

WELCOME TO THE FAM.

Phox snorted softly at Pippin's (finally, a name!) hesitation, amused by the way he fumbled around to find the words. When he asked how he could make it up to Towhee, Phox merely shrugged. I'm sure you'll find a way. C'mon, let me show you to the rendezvous site. There, Pippin would get a chance to meet and mingle with the rest of his new pack mates. As they trekked there, Phox couldn't figure out why his eyes kept lingering on the newest recruit.

"Probably nothin," Phox told himself.

Oblivious to Phox's gaze and internal thoughts, the golden wolf followed his new leader quietly, trying to remain collected on the surface rather than consider the very large changes he had just instilled upon himself in the spur of the moment.

He could do better this time. He would do better.