Sunspire Mountains to linger is to die

Feeble paws pressed lightly, almost apologetically, atop ice-glazed pebbles. Slipping slightly, Tabriëlle repositioned her stance, hoping to regain any sense of stability atop the temperamental ice. Her normally white coat was visibly disordered, and she looked on the verge of collapsing.

How long had she been…traveling? Weeks? Months?
There was no going back now.
 
An unnerving scent jolted her from anxious speculation, causing her ears to perk upright. Wolves? A pack, perhaps?

-She contemplated her options-

She could attempt to slip through the shadows of the territory unnoticed, but it was likely that if wolves were marking, she may have already been detected. She fidgeted nervously. She could try to approach with caution. Though, that too may lead to unpleasant consequences, especially given her current state. In any situation she risked being attacked in a weakened state. Still, she couldn’t linger. Lingering could lead to death.

Taking a resigned breath, Tabriëlle tossed back her head and let out a doleful howl.

Kigipigak had not found any trace of the companion Wylla spoke of; he did his best to follow her route towards the distant mountain but when her scent tapered to nothing he turned back, crossing the hillside and then climbing up to the Watch proper, hoping to cross paths with Stjornuati. He appeared to still be roaming the lowlands, which was fortunate for the frequent rule-bender of the collective.

After a few minutes of roaming the young man decided to take a quick sweep of the borders, snaking his way to the territory limits that were delineated by the frequent scent-marks of the inhabitants. He thinks of the sad woman he had encountered, wondering if she was more Stjornuati's type than Chanel or the others Kigipigak had come across; but he stops his considerations when a foreign scent gathers before him.

He follows it. Before long a sound rises from a thicket of blackpine, so he diverts his path and seeks out the stranger who calls. As he emerges from a patch of shadow he spots her: pale, perhaps northborn, and looking a little frazzled.

You call? Kigipigak asks; though his tone is more firm than he means it to be, somewhat rhetorical in nature, and he stalks closer to where she waits barely within the border limits. This is claimed land. What do you want?

The surrounding undergrowth welcomed Tabriëlle’s call into its frozen oblivion as she waited. Every so often a subdued clattering signaled the unrest of nearby forest inhabitants, causing her attention to divert- this way and that.

Should she try to find a higher landing to stand on? Perhaps something to prop her malnourished frame against?  Panic began to set in. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should try to avoid confrontation. Maybe she would be better off--

A voice called out from the shadows of the thicket, causing Tabriëlle to startle backward- clumsily, sliding on the ice and narrowly avoiding face-planting. Tabriëlle immediately lost composure, regained it and then promptly lost it again. When had breathing become such a daunting task? She needed to eat…soon.

Nervously, she scanned the forest floor- attempting to identify the source.

Then, she saw him. Undeniably approaching- a large brute stalking toward her. She instinctively took a few steps backward.

Tabriëlle had only looked at him for a brief moment- long enough to see that he strangely mirrored her coloration, and he was larger. Larger and approaching. Immediately, Tabriëlle lowered her gaze. “Y-yes.” Tabriëlle replied, her voice was a tired whisper of words. She struggled to make sense of the conversation as the white wolf began to blur. Stop. Pull it together.

“My name is Tabriëlle, and I- I seek refuge,” she quietly replied- doing her best to look strong and bold.

As striking as the woman appeared, she quaked and let that fire fade as soon as Kigipigak arrived. His voice was not lancing but it was firm; that appeared to be enough to deflate her, causing her to scuttle around with uncertainty and become more submissive overall. It wasn't such a detriment in Kigipigak's eyes as he enjoyed the brief sweep of power the result left within himself.

A breath later, the woman named herself and stated her purpose. Kigipigak drifted closer with a few strides and took in her scent, inspecting her for sickness, for signs of other scents draped across her—likely invading her space to some degree—and as he withdrew from this inspection he came to some conclusions: she was alone, and she was mostly healthy, except carried a bitter scent he could not place. He did not see her scars.

Refuge from what? He asked. There were signs written across her skin that could answer such a question, but Kigipigak had never seen fire before, he did not know that the woman was wounded in that way. He was curious but skeptical, as this woman was not as strong-willed as he was used to. Where do you come from?

Two desolate orbs eyed Kigipigak inconspicuously, leaving a trail of tense inquiry. He was nearing her- invasive even. Her entire body stiffened, as if preparing for a blow. She closed her eyes, submitting to his inspection.

Could he smell death in the air? Taste it on his lips even? Could he hear the screams she heard? She was trembling slightly. Pull it together. Focus.

She turned to face him and immediately noticed his scar, running lip-to-cheek across the left side of his face. She was staring- her wide blue eyes piercing with an almost silent accusation. Realizing her intensity, she quickly looked away. “--from the Great Alaskan Fire that destroyed our Northern pack land and displaced so many of our pack. It is not...habitable at present. And I- I can’t go back." 

Tabriëlle knew this was a long shot. Currently, she did not have much to offer a pack. As a displaced evacuee forced out of her homeland, her options were limited. Still, not having many options made the options easier.

Tabriëlle awkwardly began to crouch, attempting to appear as small as possible as she took a few steps closer to Kigipigak.

If he knew of this place she spoke of, he made no indication. Kigipigak was far removed from anything so traumatic, but he listened to the affect of her voice, the trembling of her will as she relayed the information, and saw no lies within it—not that Kigipigak thought she was a spy or anything.

A part of him doubted her story because she seemed like the antithesis of all things northern he knew; save for the coat that mirrored his own, she was a trembling mess, not much of a warrior, and not impressive to him. Not enough to accept her pleas; but then, it wasn't his call.

She made herself small, which was appealing to his ego. Kigipigak pulled away from her and lifted his chin in the next moment, making a call for one of the siblings; they would have the power to welcome her or deny her. Meanwhile he would keep her company.

@Stjornuati or @Valmúa or @Solpallur

He had already been headed their way when the boy's call went up, spurning Stjornuati to slide into a brisk pace. It occured to him, as he loped towards his destination, that since Kigipigak's fall of respect (in his eyes), he mentally referred to him as boy more often, as if the plans he had attempted with his sister had made the Stormskyli realize his true age. He did not yet had two winters to his name, though that would soon change. Still, he was young yet, and still had room to grow.

It was for that reason that Stjornuati did not actively seek Kigipigak's submission upon his arrival to the scene, instead bumping a shoulder against his as he drew near. What he found was a creature, a wolf, placating herself against the gorund, her form small and vulnerable and meek. His expression remained neutral as he looked upon her, low timbre forming the words of the question he would ask then: What skills do you offer? For if she was here, and Kigpigak had called, then there was only one, true reason for him to be summoned.

Tabriëlle attempted to hide the level of disgust she was feeling, even for her own circumstance. Her senses were on overtime, freeze framing every nearby click and crack—causing her to jump and fidget. And it was as if the forest was permanently tinted in a lens of red. She needed to calm down.

She could sense Kgipigak’s reservations.  Though she wondered, perhaps she was speaking to a subordinate? She rose from her submissive position- her ears perking forward at his call. Tilting her head she gave him a look that said, you aren’t a pack leader are you?

Tabriëlle was surprised to find a second male appear, closer to her own age it and striding forward with resounding authority. This time, she offered a clear (though shaky) bow- letting her coat drape downward.

His question gave her start and she hesitated.

She glanced between the two wolves, standing proudly in their claimed territory. Existing in such a safe and stoic realm of alliance and power. She forced back tears. No, she would not cry in front of these brutes. She would not cry.

“I-I offer truth” Tabriëlle replied, her voice soft and fading. She was so tired. “-and the truth that I give you is that I offer nothing- right now. I have lost all that I have- the land that I love and the pack I have known,” she took a breath.

“I have nothing to give you- except my loyalty. And I swear, right here, under the eyes of a witness," she nodded toward Kigipigak.

"I will give you all of it.”

If it were up to Kigipigak he would chase this girl off; she had nothing to offer by her own admission, with a lack of spirit, and clearly a weakness to the body. But when Stjornuati arrived and asked his question, Kigipigak knew to hold his tongue. He had to adjust to the strange circumstances that came with this new tribe—primarily that this would be ruled by the pale man, rather than his fire-cloaked sister. Without anything to say on the subject he faded in to the background; however, the look of disdain upon his face spoke volumes.

Veikt.

He could see it in the way she shiver and shook, in the glassy look to her eye, the feeble tone that laced her words. Stjornuati did not need to hear the rest of her shpiel, his judgment made within moments, and so he stopped her with a click of his teeth and an agressive step forward.

There is no place here for you.

Ghost eyes clouded with a familiar resentment as Tabriëlle watched Kigipigak’s dismissive silhouette slowly fade. And although his strong, white build was no longer beside her, she could still feel his despising gaze upon her- disgusted- even after his departure.

That same look she recognized in Stjornuati. A look of- not quite pity- but something worse.

Had she become such an unrecognizable creature? Deplorably deformed beyond all repair. Were there things too cruel to come back from? Too exhausting to recover- at least alone.

-Alone-

Stjornuati’s firm words jolted Tabriëlle from her confining thoughts, and her heart dropped. She had expected as much. It just hurt to hear it spoken aloud- in the open- so…bluntly.  Perhaps she should have told him she was good at something. Maybe offered a skill or two? Appeasement. No- that was not her way, and she could not bring herself to do it. A high-pitched ringing sounded in her ears as Stjornuati’s form blurred. She needed to rest.

“I understand,” Tabriëlle nodded. “Please forgive the intrusion. I will leave immediately."

And with that, she lowered herself and turned shakily to face another hurdle- her frail outline disappearing against a backdrop of ice- as if she had never been there.

Kigipigak heard the decree by Stjornuati and turned around, watching as the woman made her scampering departure. He raised a brow but saw nothing wrong with the dismissal, and turned to go back to his patrol.