Broken Boulder endless me, endlessly

Hoping for a quick thread to help with the relocation! Set for 11/22.

Sequoia wasted no time in the land that Mahler planned to move Sagtannet from. Why spend time learning a place when they were only planning on leaving. Instead, she set out toward the place he had mentioned: the place with the large, splintered rock. It was easy enough to find, and Sequoia stood looking at the broken boulder for some time. It looked the way she felt.

She grimaced at that thought, not wanting to let thoughts of Crow plague her. Thoughts of her mother, thoughts of Wildfire, thoughts of Kiwi. Over and over again, tragedy. For so long, Sequoia had been able to bounce back from just about anything life threw at her, but at some point, the bounce had gone out of her. When Crow had stormed off, not to return, it had broken her.

There he was again, haunting her mind.

She turned away from the boulder, looking north toward the woods. Her gaze continued to scan westward until she caught sight of Sagtannet's current, soon-to-be-former, home. The mountain, as impressive of it was, was far too close to her birthplace for her to feel comfortable there. She was glad he sought to move, even if she would have tolerated it under the right conditions.

mahler split his time between claiming the boulderwood and patrolling the slopes of sagtannet. he was not sure what day it was; he had used wylla to mark the time, and now stood staring down into the creek that wended in a soft curve through the clearing and back into the woodland.
his reflection was unkind but somehow welcome: a man moving into the settled prime of his fifth year, muzzle beginning to grey gently, though he suspected it was due to the stresses he had caused. scars tangled and knotted, some visible, some beneath his coat. the pair of cold eyes that seemed these days to hold no luster.
mahler blinked, reached out impetuously to dash his image from the silvered surface.
where did you go?
when he came back to the cracked stone it was to see sequoia, gazing toward the mountain. "have you been inside this place?" mahler asked softly, wishing to distract them both as he began to pad down the narrow darkened corridor between the halves of rock.

Mahler approached, and Sequoia drooped in his presence. Since this was a more relaxed meeting, she did not go belly-up as she had the day prior, but she was sure to remain respectful so long as he was her superior.

There's an inside? she asked, answering his question with one of her own. She had thought the boulder was just a landmark, not somewhere to be inhabited. The land above wasn't terrible, she thought, but it wasn't anything spectacular, either. They would at least be well-guarded to the north and east. That forest looked damn-near impossible to navigate, thick as it was. From the mountain, she had seen that it stretched on for miles and miles, so it was unlikely they would get much trouble from that way.

There were mountains to the south and Sagtannet's old home stood to the west. They would be tucked away here, and while that was good to some degree, Sequoia worried that it might cut them off from the world. Avoiding conflict was one thing, but she was actively seeking a distraction from heartbreak, and what would happen if the foot traffic did not come here? She would, of course, go on scouting missions of her own, but she doubted they would have many show up at their borders this far away from everything.

mahler enjoyed the seclusion of the place he had not yet named. one entrance to defend. a small territory that could be expanded with numbers. he thought of noctisardor and its current inhabitants, willing to bide his time until the proper hour came.
"there is," mahler grunted, stopping his trajectory below the earth to glance back into the woman's intelligent gaze. "ve go from a mountain to below the stone."
having nothing more to say, the man then truly ducked into the darkness on a downward trek. it was not a long walk; the light faded behind him and presumably sequoia if she followed. but it was not completely devoid of illumination, and he thought that digging another exit would help with the gloom. 
a honeycomb of small dens, each large enough for a wolf or perhaps two, a room filled with them. old bone fragments that could be cleared, a network neatly protected from storms or blazing sun.
mahler moved to where he had set a bundle of herbs before, inspecting the little depression where they lay.

Sequoia followed, curious now about the place within a place. She had already written him off as a contender for her. Maybe as a fling, but nothing more. He was far too... something she could quite pinpoint.

It was dark as she entered the crack in the stone, but her eyes adjusted as they continued inward, and when they arrived to the main room, she could see why he had chosen this place. Mahler moved to inspect something, but Sequoia was already in the process of deciding which would be hers.

I'll take this one, she said, standing at the entrance of one of the smaller rooms. It was cozy, but not too small for two wolves. There was some work to be done with it, but she thought she could do it up nicely. Procure some furs for lining, clean out some of the cobwebs, add a touch of her own flavor to it. She didn't even consider that other members of Sagtannet might want first pick, but she didn't really care, either. This one would be hers. She was sick of being a doormat and getting passed over for what she rightfully deserved.

all accounted for. mahler turned at the sound of sequoia's voice. he saw no for her not to make the first choice, as the gargoyle had already chosen the largest of the home-dens for star and her growing children.
"good." was it ambition he sensed in the woman or something else? a nod to punctuate his words. "i am going to see about vhat sort of prey might be nearby, search for farmland. you are velcome to come or to stay, become more acquainted with your home."
a nod to her; he made to traipse topside, heading for a steadying glimpse of the expanse around the boulder before searching for one trail or another.
inside, his mind chirped that he must go after wylla.

She took another look at the small room, then she followed after him. He didn't seem like the conversational sort, at least about personal issues, so she steered the conversation toward their new home instead. She had no inclination to ask about his past, because that would involved talking about her past as well, something she very much wished to leave behind. This was meant to be a new chapter in her life, and she wanted to make it so.

I am trained as an ambassador, she said. What sort of wolves should I bring back here?

Besides, of course, men. That was her own objective, but what was Mahler's? He had accepted her, but he hadn't given her a good idea of why he had done so. If she was to be a good ambassador for Sagtannet, she would need to know his preferences or things could get very awkward very quickly.

mahler was not sure he had ever been asked such a question. he paced through the tangled undergrowth, noting the thorny loam and the way that it sharply divided from the soft grasses of the clearing into the tall and sharp trees.
unpleasant, but the gargoyle had already forded the nearby territories. such could be used to hunt while unclaimed, a day spent upon the taiga before returning home. a new approach to the land, rather than muddling hunts with sleep. 
organization.
"i vant men who know their place and vomen who vill give the pack children. members who vill offer their skills as i do." dry curve to his mouth, fading away like chaff. "it is not something that can be searched for. i must make a home that vill invite the kind of followers i vish."
supposing he had grown rather severe while not meaning to so, the shadowpriest shook out his ruff. "you said able-bodied men. let that extend in every case." a warmer glance in the direction of sequoia, and then he began to track a young pronghorn who had left a clumsy path.

Men who knew their place; women who would bring children. Well, that explained why Sequoia had been taken in. If he had said "women who know their place," she probably would have fit under that umbrella, too. He claimed that it could not be searched for, but she didn't think that was true. There were plenty of women out there who could and would want to bring children into the world. As for men, well, Sequoia could only think of Crow and what a terrible partner he'd been. Lazy, selfish, stubborn, mean. The list went on and on, and she didn't have one good thing to say about him anymore. Only sour thoughts plagued her mind.

At least she knew his preferences, and through that, she may be able to gain his favor. Perhaps if a young, good looking guy came along, he could rave about how great Sequoia was, and this make-believe guy would fall madly in love with her. Then she could reject him. That thought brought a smile to her lips.

She fell into silence at Mahler's shoulder, thinking that—while she wasn't an excellent hunter—helping him hunt would be yet another way to get on his good side. If she could impress him, she would be granted more freedom, she wagered.

in the silence that followed, mahler felt as if sequoia had grown thoughtful. 
but he too had fallen into reverie, robotically following the instinctive call of the hunter within him as he thought of the foxhollow where wylla had first found him upon her return to the teekons. the enraged passion of their warring words; how he had poured himself out there and then before her.
wylla was home. wylla was here. a different kind of mantra then, a talisman held close to his scarred breast and repeated thereafter each time he saw her again. had she ever believed him? considering it now brought a rush of unsurety that butted up against the poison-edged image of her seeking someone new, wherever she roamed now.
a blink. the gargoyle drew a bracing breath, noting to sequoia with a silent tilt of his head the fur-tufts clutched out of their quarry's pelt, hanging on a tall thornbush. and beyond, a smear of blood. fresh but cooling quickly, perhaps the work of a robust coyote or even another wolf.

It was a comfortable silence, and Sequoia found she preferred it to talking. It meant that there were no questions about where she had come from, what had brought her here, or any sort of badgering about her history. That, she decided, she would keep close to her chest. Nobody needed to know about Crow, even if he plagued her thoughts day in and day out. If she had known Mahler suffered from a very similar situation, she might have changed her mind on the subject, but there was only silence.

She paused when he did, then moved in close to the fur and blood. Sequoia drank in the scent. It smelled like the color of tangerines. She scarcely noticed her strange affliction these days, so ingrained it was into her everyday life, but it was still there. Mahler's own scent was a cool slate blue, something that matched his presence quite well. Occasionally, there would be a color that really threw her off, but his blended well with his personality, as far as she could tell.

Sequoia let him move onward once she had inspected the clear mark of what they were after, ready to abide by whatever plan he set in motion.

he led. she followed. both were silent. it was a specific torture for mahler, who discovered that as quiet fell over the hunting pair like a soft pall, his thoughts creased and snarled into a thousand memories of hard yellow eyes staring at him from the face that resembled phaedra, resembled thade.
wylla plagued him in a thousand regards. mahler was not ready to untie the clasp of the hurts takiyok had rent in his heart: she had always been trusted, and he had been willing to listen —
bitter salt flooded his mouth. taikon was marked for fatal censure, and that was all he allowed himself to think. movement ahead. the shadowpriest stayed his gait until he felt that sequoia too had seen the framework of the wounded ruminant, limping between the tightknit trees. 
he moved to the right, noiseless; his mind jeered that she had already found someone to wipe mahler and his weakness from the surface of her heart. from her body.

Sequoia saw—and heard—the creature ahead. A quick glance from Mahler got across all she needed to know. She knew she would be judged for the outcome of this, which put her nerves on high alert.

And then, she realized, there was no need. She had not promised him anything, and she certainly had not promised him a successful hunt. Sequoia reminded herself that hunting wasn't even her strong suit. She'd been trained as an ambassador, and she had some experience as a counselor. She wasn't devoid of skills as a hunter, but she wasn't a strong one. She would do her best, because that was all he was going to get from her.

Sequoia waited, once again preparing herself for his instruction.

it had been a long time since mahler had hunted with a wolf he did not well know yet. he had shifted while she did not, and his lavender gaze ached for a glance in sequoia's direction again. but he kept them trained upon the sluggishly moving figure not far off, ears upthrust as he watched the wounded animal lie down among the briars and brown ferns.
with a jerk of his chin that the woman should go the other way, mahler pulled in the direction he had turned, describing a small arc that brought him around the pronghorn. if sequoia mirrored him, he would pause to look for her again, to catch her gaze before moving in to strike the kill.

She followed his silent instruction, her own movements similar to his, but reflected. The horned creature was in dire need of an end to its life, and she licked her lips. This would be a good feast for the two of them (and whoever else might want some). The smell of it made her belly ache, and she waited impatiently for the kill. If the animal decided to flee, it would not be difficult to cut it off and make the kill herself, although she sensed her new companion would want to do the dirty work. She was not really cut out for it, after all.

The more primal parts of her were at the forefront of her mind now, and it was a welcome break from the torment of Crow's haunting. Likely, after her stomach was satiated with meat, she would go back to thinking about him, but for now, there was peace and a singular focus on the animal that lay on the ground, breathing heavily. She would later wonder if it had wished for an end to it all. Surely it must.

sequoia heeded and mahler turned his muzzle toward the animal. in the same fluid motion he had begun to leap forward, and leapt for the throat of the downed creature with a powerful gnash of his wide jaws. a terrified bawl from the beast cut short, he shoved himself closer, wide crown tearing back and forth and sawing the softness beneath the chin into blood.
the flailing with sharp hooves continued, however; he shot a sidelong glance to monitor the she-wolf's coming, hoping that she kept from range of the razored limbs. 
upon the open plain, a creature of his size would not have been able to catch the pronghorn. a fitting baptism for a new home.

Feel free to wrap it up with your next post. <3

She watched, bracing herself in case the animal decided to spring, but Mahler was quick to pin it to the ground. She had thought its death would come swiftly, but instead it continued to struggle, dying a slower death that she had originally anticipated. Sequoia had positioned herself on the side opposite of the sharp hooves, not wishing to gain an injury so soon after pledging herself to this pack. And when the movement finally stopped, she stepped back, giving Mahler space to eat while she waited her turn to do so.

<3

blood filling his mouth, darkening his chest to crimson. when the animal had given up the ghost, he set its head against the bracken floor. 
it was satisfying to see sequoia hold back, and mahler begin to tear the flesh, only beset by a small flame of self-consciousness as he filled his belly and, later, carved pieces off to take to their claim.