Broken Boulder veränderung

staying vague

wylla was gone.
he had awoken in the late morning, smearing sleep from his eyes. he had not dreamt; his limbs were heavy with slumber.
she would not be coming back. a truth repeated. perhaps already she had found the man who would build a more steadying future with her, and he turned to ice at the thought.
takiyok's defection, the memory of it, angered mahler as he ate a solitary breakfast near the grotto. he pushed himself into a run, breathing the wintry air, and then descended on a whim into the valley below.
it was the bypass he wanted, the only piece of land for whom his heart truly pined. but he discovered a long-standing pack there, and he without the numbers to challenge. his days of being a subordinate were far behind him, and so he pressed upward and on, following the tangled woodline with the stark mountains behind.
quite on accident he discovered the wide boulder with its split; further inspection revealed the unused caverns below the earth. a great change indeed from living upon a mountain, but here was shelter from the elements. the forest behind held the spoor of elk and pronghorn. and their flanks would be well-guarded.
mahler moved through the clearing, considering it.

With nowhere to go but forward, Arcas ambled along.

The young man came striding through the wood with a hitch to his step, a band of red streaking down a hind limb. Thorns crusted the wound and a vine wrapped the ankle like barbed wire, its teeth set firmly where he had tried to tug it loose—only managing to worsen the opposite length.

Arcas had spent the better part of the previous night trying to find his way through the woods, only to trap himself in a briar patch. By that morning he had chewed through the worst of it. Bloodied gums awoke a hunger in him that could not be easily abated. In all, the young man's attempt at dispersal had gone quite awry, though it put him a path towards the segmented boulder.

Ignorant to the other man present for the first while, Arcas lingered near one side of the massive stone plinth where it rested,  noticing a trail of darkness leading under it—and as he turned to hobble on his way, he saw the grim hunch of another wolf. They were quite a ways off, prowling a patch of sparsely growing nettles.

He was unsure of himself, being injured, and so he stooped and lay prone near one of the stone halves, watching the other in silence.

the interesting thing about a new claim was that one's work swiftly doubled. it was beneath this even intitial weight that mahler began to calm. it had not been a linear year; he would force the remainder of it to be so. starting himself anew. the former pack given its freedom to retire.
eventually the shadowpriest turned back to the split stone and there he noted a stranger half-hidden in the darkness beneath one piece. the scent of blood first, his mind sliding into a healer's set.
"i mean to claim this place for myself," mahler warned the other, though with no true hint of ire. sequoia wanted one thing from sagtannet. perhaps here his chance to give that.

The man, in time, came to the splitting point and watched him. When he spoke it was with authority; Arcas shifted his weight almost like he was shrugging to show his indifference to the project, but as the news sank in he took a breath and lurched to his feet again. 

Oh. The young man chuffed with a frown, though the look was dull, his grey eyes hazy and tired.

The stranger was close enough for Arcas to get a good look at him. He could ascertain his health based on the quality and lustre of his dark coat, close enough even to see the salt and pepper lining parts of his face.
As Arcas did not feel confident enough to look him eye-to-eye, his gaze dropped swiftly to the shadows following the cleave of the stone.

I was hoping to rest a moment... but I will go. Arcas murmured as he struggled to balance himself.
He took a few steps, the hitch of his snared ankle more prominent, and slowly made his way until he was a wolf-length from his initial resting place.

something about the pull of the younger man away from him, the swift acquiescence, satisfied mahler in a way that border submissions did not. but his doktor's mind overrode his satiation. "it is not yet my place," mahler chuffed.
stepping closer to the place where the stranger had first lain, the gargoyle caught him in the lilac of his gaze. "you are injured. i am a healer. tell me vhat happened."
close enough now to see the silvermoon spice in the other's coat; a striking man. and one who inexplicably brought to mind taikon, despite the large differences.

The man spoke while Arcas was focused on his gait, and when the young man paused to listen he was surprised by the offer to look at the wound. What do you want in return? Arcas asked with a slight turn of his head, pivoting an ear to listen.

I have met few who would trade away their skills for nothing. Not that Arcas was in any state to say no; he merely wanted to understand the terms of this potential trade, mostly so that the shadow could not hold this over his head in the future.

Even as he stood there Arcas' ankle throbbed and bled. The movement of his steps had jostled the tangle of thorns enough to cause fresh blood to begin seeping across the sandy fur of his hock.

the man was clearly wounded; it became more and more apparent the longer that he stood with eyes trained upon mahler. and the physician was becoming irritable that his patient did not wish to be so, though outwardly he appeared the picture of solemn patience. "hunt this vinter for the pack i am building here." 
he did not enjoy such transactions, but something about the clean-cut directness of it suited mahler. even with his small numbers, the boulder-land could be held. therefore the promise of camaraderie and a place to lay one's head was not out of his ability to offer. 
quiet now, waiting for the stranger to decline or accept, the smell of blood now heavier in the air above the crimson glint. there was yarrow growing close, a profusion of roots; this put him to mind of @Elke and @Ciri. he must go to visit them before the snows drowned him here, and was comforted once more by the ones who had come to follow the eisen.

Without hesitation the man accepted. Arcas was again surprised but also glad, as he was eager to be rid of the thorn-clad snare. The payment would be a combination of food and time, of which only the food would hold true value in the colder months. The younger man nodded; it was the only sign of acquiescence.

Then he turned and made a gradual advance to the stone and the patch of shadow which had been his resting point. As Arcas settled on to his belly, propping his tangled hock away from the rest of him as much as he was able, his face took on a wearied sunken quality.

He waited for the man to inspect the wound. Meanwhile, while carefully studying the other man, Arcas murmured a question. You say you are a healer. What made you choose such a vocation? By his own estimation the grizzled man was getting on in years; he ought to have had several wives by now to perform such services.

silently the stranger agreed, and mahler bent closer to inspect the wound. it was caused by a tangle of thorns around the other's flesh, tearing into the thin skin. truly it would have been quite painful, and the shadowpriest began to nip each slowly out of its place if allowed. 
it was slow going; mahler did not immediately answer until the wound stood bare of tangled briars, oozing blood but prepared for treatment.
"i am first a midvife by trade. medicine has alvays appealed to me because of its organized nature," the gargoyle said. "i feel that if you are good at something, you should attempt to make yourself the most skilled at it."
silent now; mahler moved off a little ways to collect the yarrow root and came back. he cleaned the stranger's cut flesh with quick careful movements, then chewed the bitter plant into a thick paste that would catch in the man's fur over the bite of thorns.
finished, he rocked back upon his heavy haunches and brought his eyes up to the other's face. "i am mahler."

How odd to choose a path to emasculate oneself, thinks Arcas. This man may have had women in his youth to teach him of these skills, certainly someone to use as a guinea pig since then, but Arcas doubted he had anyone in his life now; there was no need to learn something so beneath the modern man as this, not when surrounded by women. His thoughts were biased but he did not know. 
Where was this man's harem? Gone to pasture, thinks Arcas, and not too long before the man chases after them.

I am Mahler, says the dark man.
Arcas, he answers. 

Mahler has finished pulling the snare free.

Are many others following you? he asks.

It was not quick work but it was efficient and appreciated, and Arcas is thankful he had chosen this random spot to rest when he had; Arcas fidgets now, feeling the paste begin to dry across his wound. He monitors Mahler (his movements as he works, his rate of breathing, his affect) in a state of hypervigilance that has been present since his childhood, ears twitching to every change around him.

likewise he watched the other, his breathing, any sign that arcas might return the side of his tooth for the healing arts. mahler, sullied by the defection of takiyok, had upended his trustfulness and set it suspended upon the high side of his judgement.
"nine follow me. ten vith you. mostly vomen." he considered sequoia again, her want for children in the spring. "there is a future to be had for a man," the gargoyle said directly, lavender eyes skimming the other before he gestured toward the far expanse. "right now most of them live upon a mountain off the coastline. i mean to bring us all here vhen i have finished laying claim."

Nine was a good number; with nine good men many trades could transpire, there was fun to be had among the nine. It wasn't just men though, from Mahler's statement—mostly women. If he held so many women then why not make them do the healing, the cleaning, the tracking of prey? The man was quiet and thoughtful over this; it was just as likely Mahler did not have friends to trade with, or at least none with women worth the effort.

No matter. In time they would migrate to their new holdings and Arcas could get a grasp on how their lives worked. So far it sounded vastly different from what he knew, what with this man taking a woman's role despite his collection.

There is a future to be had for a man, Mahler said, implying things Arcas did not wish to entertain.

The business of women had been his father's niche. So far as Arcas was concerned they were nothing more than dusty old furniture cluttering up the place. He had no use for them at all. It was a fine gesture the man made, though. Something of a good faith exercise.

I can help you lay your claim. I won't be going far anyway, not until I have healed. Arcas offered in turn, letting a thin smirk drape upon his muzzle for a moment, but this faded quickly. He did not want Mahler to think he was accepting any subliminal offers—a strange trade for a woman to warm his bed. The thought disgusted him.

can probably fade for move purposes! <3

had he known the inner working of arcas' head, he would have corrected to wife. but he did not, and so the words hung between them, neatly suggestive. gaze scrolling over his own handiwork, mahler gathered himself up, gestured toward the shadows in the boulder's heart.
"there are caves below. they can be used for dens," the gargoyle offered. he would not tell arcas to rest, but it was clear that food and sleep would set the newcomer onto a better path.
he himself; he would find something to do with his restless body and the mind that could not keep itself from galloping frantically over every detail of how wylla had looked at him for the last time.