Neverwinter Forest Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones

@Mal

He shuddered when he awoke, only to find that his breath hung on the air as a small cloud of mist before it disappeared. Again and again he breathed life to these small clouds as he made his way toward the borders, having decided he might do a small patrol before finding something to eat. The best thing that he could do would be to get himself moving, and warm himself up while the sun slowly climbed its way higher into the horizon. 

He'd not travelled as much as he normally would since joining the pack, but he'd caught wind of the fact that there were wolves in the wilds not far away who were picking on loners- or so the rumours went, anyway. He'd not drawn himself terribly close to his packmates, but had made some use of his time in stocking the caches with whatever small prey he was able to catch. He'd led a fairly quiet existence, but considering the injuries he'd sustained shortly after joining the pack, it hadn't been the worst idea to choose to settle somewhere.

There were fewer dour days now, at least ones that he couldn't hide. But even if it was a bad day, he couldn't stop doing his duties. He had to because it was his job. He couldn't just rot away and dump everything on Simmik -- he wanted her to get better, dammit. Or.. Back to normal? What was the right word for it? Maybe that'd be something to think about on today's patrol.

He heard the other wolf walking along before seeing who it was -- or smelling. Considering they still weren't at the borders, it was likely a packmate. He'd find out exactly who shortly. So, he called out, Hey. A rather neutral thing, but that pretty well described him right now -- it was all usual, standard, all of that. Not a joyous man right this instant, Mal was still sorting out whether it was a good day or bad day. At some point, that'd become clear, but it just hadn't had a chance to form yet.

"Is for horses, not wolves."

He replied before he even turned his head to cast a demure look over his shoulder, though his thick eyebrows would arch slightly when he realized he'd just addressed the alpha of his pack with such deftness. His ears rotated back, a somewhat lazy indication that he was used to being yelled at for having a smart mouth and that he expected to be reprimanded...But at the same time, a casual roll of his shoulder and the unchanging, stoic expression on his face indicated that he'd been told off enough times in his life, that whatever reprimand he was given would roll off his back like water off a duck's shoulders. 

"Sorry. Hello," He rephrased, flicking his ears forward again and halting so that Mal could approach. He didn't bother to suspect that the alpha actually wanted to find him, or that he was needed for something- and assumed that this was a simple crossing of paths. Still, he felt somewhat obliged to hold in place should Mal need him for something, but was otherwise uncharacteristically quiet- it was the only way he'd figured would work when speaking directly with an alpha. Say little, expect less of a thrashing.

Huh? Horses? The hell were those? It wasn't like there were any around here for him to learn that... So as he finally spotted the guy, Mal have him a particularly odd look. What the hell was he going on about?

Making the assumption Simmik mentioned him behind the scenes and all that background info, this was the first time he got a good look at the newbie -- who pretty much had to be Jackalope. Okay, so he might think that Donovan and that other guy was odd looking, but this guy was odd in a whole different way. Like some sort of mutant where things were just slightly off. How could he somehow be related to Aibreann?

See anyone who met Mal ages ago would probably expect Jackalope's behavior from Mal. Thing was, he didn't turn out the way they expected. And things happened, so he still wasn't quite himself either. Wondering whether he'd missed something, still giving him an odd look, momentarily distracted from continuing on to patrol, What were you going on about?

Jackalope paused, and it became one of the very few moments where he bothered to lift his head about where it normally hung below his withers. He eyed Mal for a moment, not sure if he was joking or not- and perhaps any other wolf would have eaned nothing more than a snort and wry comment...But Mal looked pretty intrigued, and he was the alpha so...He felt inclined to be honest, though it was so much more boring being honest than it was being sly.

"Hay." He blurted. "Y'know, the tall grass shit that grows on the plains. It's what horses eat." He drew in a breath. This was almost painfully dull. "Hence: Hay- is for horses." He groaned. He paused for a moment, and frowned. "Simmik didn't like my sense of humour either, so don't feel obliged to pity-laugh." He said.

Except here in the Teekons, nobody baled up the long grasses and let them dry, and he'd never met a horse. He might as well have said that gleeps eat ftarngles. So hay was grass. Okay. But horses were still pretty much a mystery. Maybe he meant bison. They were relatively unusual looking at least. Whatever. It wasn't too important. He was still weird.

But he'd totally take the whole not having to laugh thing. Good or bad mood, he wasn't gonna do that right now no matter what. And so, Mal changed the subject entirely onto something easier, So. I was heading for a patrol. Are you coming along? A pause but not long enough for him to really answer, Otherwise I guess we get to stand around awkwardly a bit while I ask how you've settled in and all that.

Going for a patrol? Well, that had been what Jackalope had been intending to do before Mal came along, but now apparently he not only had company, but he had company who was now extending an invite as though it had been his idea to go for a patrol in the first place. Mal was neither female nor attractive in Jackalope's discerning gaze, which made him disinteresting; but he felt formally obliged to indulge his alpha's request. But not right away. 

"I'm good with standing around awkwardly," He responded simply, flicking his ears forward as he stood right where he was, not staring at Mal, but staring through him. The moment went on almost too long- just as long as Jackalope could stretch it beyond a pause, and into the uncomfortable zone. He remained that way for several seconds before his gaze suddenly sharpened. As if someone had finally thrown on a switch, he winked, smirked, and jerked his head as an invitation. "C'mon, le's go." He said, as though oblivious that he'd more or less just glitched, like an old TV screen. 

"So, Mal," He said, as he'd decided he'd rather not answer the staple questions he figured the alpha might have for him. "I understand we're in-laws of sorts. Family, even," He said, turning his pale grey gaze toward the other. "You're the reason my niece-ephew-lings don't all bear the Blackthorn dorsal stripe," Not that he'd spent much time with them- but he had passed by them near enough to notice that only one of them really had the Blackthorn family's signature marking. Apparently, Mal's genetics had brought a fresh variety of markings and characteristics, that somehow won out over the Blackthorn genes that Aibreann had. Jackalope wasn't exactly impressed, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

He'd maybe have been amused if he was in a better mood at the next bit of antics. But moving and doing things made things easier still for Mal, so if he stood there much longer, Jack was gonna get ditched. Either way Mal had started taking a step about the time Jack snapped out of it. To the borders they went.

But then before they could really get going and before Mal could say much else, Jackalope went and totally shifted the conversation. Blink. So his reply was sort of sarcastic (with a side of what are you actually asking), Yeah, I hear kids are supposed to look like a mix of both their parents. Which Mal was of the opinion they quite well did. And he also didn't much care about familial markings. I can't help it if I look more exotic, he said with a brief flick up of his brows. Little late if he was trying to like.. protect his sister from a boyfriend or something. Way past that point. So what was he actually wanting to know? If he hadn't been related to Aibreann, maybe he'd believe the reason he was so funky looking was maybe his parents were cousins or something. Instead he just probably got whacked with the ugly stick in exchange for it leaving his sister alone. It wasn't like Mal had any other Blackthorns (that he knew of) to compare it to. Even though he'd met a couple.

A mix of both parents? Well, certainly, but he'd always figured that the dorsal stripe had been a dominant trait, and therefore marked nearly all Blackthorns, though in varying degrees. One os his brothers, after all, sported a coat that was pure black- so it could be argued that either the dorsal stripe was lost in his fur, or that the dorsal stripe had simply taken over his entire coat. Jackalope preferred to assume the latter.

He snorted, then, and Mal's claim and would have laughed had the expulsion of air through his nasal passage not reminded him that it was somewhat sensitive still. He worked his jaws, pressing his tongue against the healed puncture wounds at the top of his hard palate to quell the pain. He lifted his head a bit, arching his neck and flicking his docked tuft of a tail. "Plenty of 'exotic' looks in my family too, if y'haven't noticed," He grated through his teeth, abandoning his false strut almost immediately though the relaxed smirk remained on his gaunt features. The majority of his physical quirks- the bent muzzle and overbite, as well as his short tail- weren't genetic whatsoever. "Don't s'pose you an' Glee will be having more next year, then?" He asked. He wanted to find out exactly how close the two were; and he knew full well that Aibreann tended to get whatever it was she decided she wanted.

Jackalope was goddamn weird. In more ways than one, as was becoming completely clear very quickly. Yeah, exotic... How was he somehow related to Aibreann again? And what was he trying to figure out? His line of questioning just seemed weird. He hadn't been around the kids much at all. So why was he asking about more? Mal peered at him, curious, We're kind of focused on raising the current batch. I don't see why not though. It was up to her, obviously, and breeding season was still far enough away that it didn't seem like a rush. He liked being able to spend time with his kids, even if the rest of the world was having fun trying to make things be a hellscape instead.

Not to mention they still needed to sort out what was going on with Hua and Aibreann -- who still hadn't met, they needed to -- but he did hope that in the end they could have pups together again. Time would tell. And hopefully things could go back to normal soon. Somehow.

"Hmm. Uhuh," So there would be more kids next year. This year's batch still weren't quite old enough for Jackalope to take much attention in them, as he considered them to still be too needy for him to feel welcome in parting with the knowledge that as their uncle, he might owe them his attention, or food, or warmth or whatever it was the little leeches wanted. He liked the idea of having relatives who might one day help care for him, once he was old, spindly and unable to hunt well enough to feed himself- but he'd be damned if he'd cater to schoolchildren in order for that kindness to be repaid. Adults he could handle, children and adolescents he could not. 

"I 'spect one named after me, at some point," He said with a crackling cackle. But as swiftly as he made the comment, he was willing to move on from that conversation altogether. "What game d'you mostly hunt here, in the Winter?" He asked.

It seemed like there was more obviously a disconnect between the two of them -- Mal enjoyed quiet time with his little kids, and he probably had an easier time talking to them than some adults, especially with what all had happened lately. The kids were innocent, they didn't necessarily know what had had gone on. It was nice to pretend to forget.

Honestly he was kind of glad the subject changed. Seriously, Jackalope was weird -- if he was how the rest of Aibreann's family acted, no wonder she left. Well, last winter was totally a mess. All the big prey ran off thanks to the earthquakes and stuff and didn't come back until it was mostly over. But assuming that isn't like a yearly thing all the sudden, there should be the deer, plus whatever small things don't hibernate. I think the deer eat the low branches on the trees and stuff. Or at least that's what it seemed like when things were normal. It just had a big intermission in the middle.

Jackalope's expression went from being fairly deadpan to a mix of blatant alarm and disgust when Mal mentioned earthquakes, without sounding terribly alarmed at all. It was remarkable for someone to speak of something that Jackalope had only ever heard of without making a big deal out of it- especially when paired with a prey shortage. He glanced at Mal, who he regarded in that moment as the sort of wolf who didn't often get ruffled, and if nothing else, it won him a bit of respect from the incredulous Jackalope. At least this was a sign that in a crisis, his alpha could potentially keep a level head. 

"Hmm," Was all he could manage as a reply, disturbed still that the pack had suffered an earthquake. Maybe it hadn't been a very big one, though it had apparently been shocking enough to frighten off the large prey. He glanced up at the trees they passed as they walked, and he nodded. "They would. I think cedar's their favourite; they'll strip all the bark off a cedar if they're desperate," He commented, though he might've still sounded somewhat distracted. "Any tension from neighbouring packs from the food shortage?" He asked. Having been turned away from a few packs already, he suspected that at least some of them might get hostile when they got hangry.

Mal's knowledge had pretty much boiled down to "deer eat green stuff" and since the forest was mostly evergreens, that was green stuff. Maybe he'd have to ask someone else which tree exactly was a cedar. Some. Moonspear showed up inside our territory and got all offended that I didn't like one of their pups being here stealing our food -- but there were like five of them and I was the only one who'd found them so it wasn't like I could do anything. They basically think they own the world, but at least they seemed to back off after that. It's not like it was unmarked, they just tend to be bullies when it suits them. A few random Moonspear wolves seemed to be fine, but he wasn't convinced they were close to being friends -- Mal wouldn't put it past that pack to suddenly turn against them if they thought there'd be a benefit from it.

What he said next probably was odd from an outsider's perspective, but hey, this was NWF, so for Mal, it was just the way things were, and he was pretty sure that he'd gotten the better end of the stick anyway, I think the fact that I told them where some people they wanted to kill were hiding got us back in their favor not long after. Did it sound like things were ever calm here? Probably not, because that was kind of the truth: stuff was never calm here. It was just the lull before the next storm.

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There was the juice. Jackalope's sullen expression sharpened when Mal began to give him a bit of gossip, which was actually quite interesting. Thus far, the alpha had struck him as being a little bit plain, who'd brgrudgingly suffered Jackalope's company more out of obligation than out of choice. Mal hadn't likely expected to gain a snarky packmate after having chosen to father children with Jack's sister. But maybe he did have a bit of spice to him- maybe he wasn't so drab after all. Wolves with attitude brought out the best in Jackalope, oddly enough.

“Interesting,” he hummed. “I heard that high-altitude oxygen deprivation could cause delirium, but I didn't realize it turned wolves into mindless jackasses too. Good to know.” He commented wryly. He'd have to keep an eye out for the Moonspear wolves, then; as a wolf who had rather unfortunate appearance that had gained him numerous experiences with being bullied. The older he got, the less he was overtly judged for his looks- but it didn't make him any less sensitive to the pain of being bullied by bigger, stronger, or more numerous wolves.

He then admitted something that surprised Jackalope. Mal admitted that he'd turned someone in, and that potentially, it had rid them of the Moonspearian gaze. He gave Mal the side-eye, noticing just how calmly it was that Mal confessed such a thing. “Did they deserve it?” He asked, arching an eyebrow at his alpha. “The wolves you turned in, I mean.” He clarified. This was some pretty delicious information, and Jackalope found that finally, they'd stumbled upon a topic of conversation that might actually be interesting.

History was a weird thing. Mal's life had been anything but uneventful, and to him all the weird little (and big) things that had happened were just normal. They were reality, not some bizarre string of freak happenings as it might have seemed to anyone else listening as he walked along. And honestly, the trio of psychos weren't the weirdest tale Mal could tell.

They said they killed someone and attacked someone else, if I remember right? I didn't even know who the hell they were at the time. Just a group of three had gone past the borders and started to try to camp out -- they were hurt too. Like no normal person goes running into a pack's territory like that, they call at the borders for help. It still seemed pretty straightforward and logical to him. Sure, the pack wasn't the biggest then, but it was still marked territory. They should have asked whether it was one wolf or twelve. I took a chance, turned out it was right... But hell of a lot better than taking a chance facing killers or being mistaken for hiding them. Especially since it turned out to be Moonspear after them. If they'd thought the latter? Mal would probably be dead.

wc:346
Tidying up some of my older threads, so I felt like this was an OK spot to conclude :) Thanks for the thread! Feel free to reply or archive.

Mal didn't immediately give Jackalope the answer he was looking for, and he wasn't quite sure he'd been given an answer at all, as the metallic-eyed male simply saw fit to jusfity his actions by pointing out yet again that the wolves he'd ratted out had said that they'd killed someone. But the more he spoke, the more Jackalope realized that he'd probably made the right choice. Three wolves, wounded, and bragging of having killed or at least attacked another wolf, trespassing into his pack? Why wouldn't he set the vengeance-seeking hounds of Moonspear upon them, especially if it was a Moonspear wolf that those bandits had been harassing.

It served to convince that very little good could become of being neighbours with a pack like Moonspear, if they weren't capable ot minding borders. Then again, he knew that they would have their side of the story as well, and would likely argue their own position if asked. The fact that there was still some tension told Jackalope that no one had really stepped forward to apologize and clear the matter up, but he wasn't the one to attempt to do so. He was an accelerant, more than anything else and as such, he was more likely just to make things worse.

They'd reached the borders, and at that point, Jackalope felt the inclination to stretch out his stride a bit, and keep his trap shut so that he could focus on his job. He also figured the ground would be covered better if they split up- and while he'd had a decent chat with Mal, he still wasn't entirely convinced in his sister's taste in men. Mal was decent enough, but also not quite interesting enough to make Jackalope long for more quality time. “Well, here we are. May as well split up to get the job done. Good talkin' to ya though, Mal; and I guess I'll see you on the other side,” He said, with a nod of his head, before he began to stride off in a counter-clockwise patrol of the packlands.