Hideaway Strath oh rabbit

Her paws did not fall softly upon the ground as they usually had. But this was not exhaustion. Not today. Not this time.

Steps elegant and fiery eyes set ahead, the dragon had flown down, marching towards the city she would burn. Wings outstretched and claws sharp, Ambrosia had come home. She had walked alongside Leigh during their journey together, but as they turned to head home, Leigh seemed to have withered and been swept away in the wind.

Leigh and Donovan? That was no more.

Today it was Ambrosia and Kynareth. The soldier had returned for a fair fight, and she would drive the tiger-wolf mad with silence. No bloodshed would occur between them, and yet the woman was more ready for battle than ever.

Her strides were evenly paced and light across the ground. Her body held weight and power, the air around her filled with rage and purpose. But she barely left a trace of her footsteps as she glided across the dirt floor. Leigh was an observant wolf. Curious and distracted by every little leaf that drifted down from the forest trees. But Ambrosia's gaze didn't flicker once. Focused on the path ahead, her eyes finally held their glow.

She was home now. This was her home. And she wouldn't take a single step out of Saint territory until she had thoroughly punished all who had wronged her. They had underestimated her strength and intelligence. Nearly four years old, she was no child.

Fur bouncing as she took each step forwards, kicking up dirt and leaving a trail of dust behind.

And what was this she was carrying? Clutched between her jaws was a rabbit, fangs snagging on skin and wrapped around fur. She had finally caught her rabbit. The rabbit that stole the lives of her mate and child. If it hadn't been for that insignificant pest, they'd still be alive. So she killed the motherfucker.

Oh Sasha, my dear. I've brought you a present.

That golden wolf wanted Ambrosia's rage? Here it fucking comes.

Kyn had been on patrol when he caught a whiff of the dark pelaged woman’s scent. Passing the mouth of the Strath he stops dead in his tracks when it hits his nose too. It’s fresh. So many emotions hit him at once and all he can do is stare down at the ground where he smelt her. Rage that she left without telling him, the possibility of betrayal. Fear that she wouldn’t come back. Content that she finally is here once more. Leigh is back and something akin to urgency prickles at his spine to go and find her. 

He wastes no time, nose to the ground as he tracks her expertly. A variety of odd scents cling to her, she’s been on an adventure it seems. So when he finally comes across her and has the woman in his sights he stops. 

“Leigh.” He practically whispers loud enough for her to hear. “You’re back.” He says then louder, but still quite soft. “I-“ he dares to even stutter, thinking things through and filing his thoughts away. “I thought you weren’t going to come back.” Is his version of I’m so happy to see you. For his tail hopelessly in age despite his best attempt to not let it.

She keeps walking, one step in front of the other.

That is, until the familiar scent drifts past her nose. Ambrosia didn't come to an immediate halt, though her pace did slow as the tiger-wolf's form came into view. Rabbit still hanging from her jaws, she simply stares at the wolf who had once been considered a friend, maintaining a blank yet calm expression across her face. Blinking slowly, her ears twist as Kynareth speaks, catching his words and sensing his conflicted emotions.

It is only after he finishes does her neck lower, dipping her head and setting her meal across the ground. The woman's face then lifts as she meets the familiar yellow eyes. On one hand she is tempted to greet him like an old friend. On the other, she can feel the irritation creeping up along her neck and she wonders if it'd be any different if she were to instead give him an aggressive growl. Apparently her words simply roll off his back and makes no difference in his opinions or thoughts. There seems to be no reason to worry about something as small as how to say "hello".

"I was hoping for more of a grand "welcome home" than a simple meeting at the borders. Though I suppose it's understandable considering the cirumstances and my sudden absence. However I expect no punishment, nor do I believe one would be appropiate as I have not betrayed you in any way besides perhaps your trust in my location."

There was no smile today. Although the she-wolf's face may have not held any indication of unhappiness, it was neither welcoming or pleased.

"If you'd like to accuse me of being a spy, I ask you kindly to take a moment and contemplate the ridiculousness of that assumption. Any pack nearby and you would have seen me travel. Any pack further away and the length of such a trip wouldn't be worth trading information on a regular basis. So please, no fussing."

She then took a seat, swishing her tail out of the way before neatly wrapping it around her paws. The little part of "Leigh" still burried inside is excited to see Kynareth's reaction to her sudden change in attitude. Her body language, speech, word choice. Might as well give him her new name.

"My name is Ambrosia, dear. Come have a seat and share this rabbit with me. I hear this upcoming winter will be harsh and it'd be best not to let such food go to waste."

He watches her closely as she keeps a fantastically stoic expression on her pretty face. Setting her food down and dropping the bomb on him seems just as easy too.

She mentions punishment and how she doesn’t see her absence as deserving of one for she hasn’t betrayed him. Instantly his brows furrow in confusion at this oddity of a character. Who the fuck is this? This isn’t the same Leigh that left. He thinks. Especially as she continues. Sitting prim and proper, a lush tail flowing over her paws. He almost has a sneer on his maw at this point, obviously confused.

Ambrosia? He repeats internally. What?

It’s become clear that — yes, this is not Leigh any longer. For a moment he wonders who gave her the LSD required for her to go on such an odd soul searching trip and still be demented enough to make her way back here. Especially if she hated it so much. Maybe she likes to suffer. Kynareth’s mind supplies humorously. Perhaps she’s having a hard time coping with the Saints ways of life. Deciding it best to kill her old self and raise anew — a stronger version of Leigh perhaps? He has yet to see.

To by this point he only takes a few steps closer and a caustic laugh escapes dark lips. “What’s this then? You’ve gone soul searching and found a new you, Ambrosia?” He curls his tongue around her name so teasingly, deep and rumbling.

Although it doesn't quite seem to phase Kynareth, the woman had spent enough time with him to see the faint and hidden shock behind those yellow eyes.

Ambrosia knew it may be difficult for the alpha to understand the sudden change. Maybe it would have been an easier transition had he known her as a young wolf. Leigh hadn't disappeared completely. She was still there deep down. But for now, to survive the Saints, the she-wolf had to reach and pull out a side of herself that had been burried nearly half her lifetime ago.

It was a little like a lightning strike. Ambrosia would never be the same wolf twice, just like lightning never strikes the same spot more than once. But it can get pretty close, and although she would never be a copy of her former self, she'd take on a face resembling one she had held before.

But it seems like Kynareth on the other hand isn't capable of change. She wasn't pleased with his words, and the smallest frown lied across her lips before she dipped her head to tear at the rabbit. Chewing and swallowing, allowing a long silence to sit between them, she finally spoke.

"Don't be sarcastic with me, wolf. I may not be alpha but I highly surpass your ranking in this world. My reputation exceeds yours and apologies for my narcissism but I know where I stand and it is above you."

It wasn't her intention to start a fight and anger the old man. In fact, her words weren't even intended to sound insulting or aggressive. To her, she was simply speaking the truth and in her mind there was nothing wrong with that.

"And I have not gone soul searching. I took a vacation from this place seeing as it was your former lover who murdered my husband and child. I think it's rather fair that I have some time off, don't you think? Now come sit and share this rabbit. Besides, it's the rabbit you should be thanking for keeping me distracted while you raided my home. Otherwise there would be no Kynareth Deagon save for the bones in my stomach."

Kynareth listens to nothing in fact. The silence between then stretching horribly, yet he doesn’t mind it. Only watches her as she takes an indifferent bite of her freshly caught rabbit. Then she’s talking once more and he’s smiling instantly at her harsh words. A hierarchy of where she is compared to him, it makes him laugh. He’s not at angered by it, only intrigued with a harsh, teasing interest.

“That’s a matter of opinion, my dear.” He hums indifferently to her, silky smooth, a condescending smirk accompanied it. He references her mentioning that she is above him. “Believe what you will, it makes no difference to me.” He points out to the dark pelaged woman conversationally. As if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I have no problem with your absence as long as you did not betray me. Though, if you think you or your pack could have killed me back then, you are horribly mistaken. Perhaps you could’ve bested Sasha, but not me. I’m impressed by your confidence though, darling.” He says with a sweet arrogance to his strong voice, as if he knew he was right and unwilling to part from the idea. If Leigh — or Ambrosia — wanted to fight caustically, he’s more than prepared to do so.

It seemed Kynareth hadn't changed at all. Ambrosia shouldn't have expected much, but she had still hoped her absense may have altered his feelings regarding their broken relationship. That didn't appear to be the case though, nor was he as eager to fix their situation as he claimed to be.

She was angry. Irritated. Spiteful. And yet she was not beytrayed by her face. Expression still calm and empty, she dipped her head to take another bite from her snack. Of course the rabbit she had killed couldn't have been the once she chased all that time ago. But picking the meat from it's bones still brought her a sense of satisfaction nontheless.

"Firstly, I do not take kindly to such insult. And secondly, considering Nyra threw that pipsqueak of a rat Ursus calls a pup across the fucking floor, you cannot image what pleasure it'd bring me to do worse to a snarky child like yourself."

That's right. In the woman's eyes, Kynareth was a child. Nothing more. Sure he was a large and powerful one, but still a pup throwing a tantrum because he didn't get things his way.

"You judge based on what you see and know, but you have no sense of perspective when it comes to a wolf's past. To you, I may seem calm, weak, non-confrontational and pathetic even. But trust me dear when I say, you and I were raised quite similarly. I would have killed you, or died trying. Only difference between us is I learned to grow the fuck up."

Only now did she smirk. Not in a narcissistic way, more in a "you're wrong I'm right" type of away. Ambrosia wasn't afraid to admit when she knew she had won the war of words. She was more than willing to accept defeat during a debate, but in this case she had not yet lost.

"This isn't confidence this is truth. You know when to end a battle. You know when a fight is finished. Unfortunately for me, I was dropped on my head as a pup and sadly didn't develop such the ability to learn when to give up. You would have had to rip me apart limb by limb if you wanted to me to stop. You are so incredibly insignificant in comparison to my dead family that it's plain sad. You are meaningless, replaceable, and far from special. So feel free to come at me and murder one of the few wolves who ever gave a damn about you. Oh, but I'm sure in a few days you'll find another nice and sweet wolf to mimic me."

You won't kill me. So I'm home bitch. Lead me to Sasha and I'll rip that curly motherfucking tail from her spine.

You are meaningless, replaceable, and far from special. 

The words caught her attention from where she lurked in the background. She was never very far from Kynareth. She knew she had to prove to him that she wouldn't take off now that he had agreed to keep her out of the pit. Even if he hadn't requested that she stay close, she would have. He was the one that had kidnapped her but after his admission of his feelings for her, he was the only one she really trusted here now.

Within a few minutes, she was at Kynareth's side, hackles raised, teeth bared. She emitted a low, warning growl as she focused on the woman. She didn't know what was going on here, but the tension and her words gave Simmik enough to want be there as teeth if he needed them.

Nyra once again joins for chaos :> 

The Harbinger had also been relatively close within the Strath, and heard the latter portion of Leigh's words. 
Seeing another white pelt through the trunks of the trees, Nyra followed only to begin to emerge to see Simmik growling at Leigh. 
Though the dragon-wolf hadnt looked fazed when Nyra glanced, the Harbinger paid little other attention to see if her friend's face changed as she came to Ambrosia's ((Still Leigh, as far as Nyra currently knows)) side, glowering fiercely at Simmik with fully bared teeth, and hackles plus her tail raised like a banner. 
Two on one was hardly fair, if a fight broke out. And though Nyra wasn't always fair herself, she wouldn't let her packmates fight each other outnumbered on one side. 

Different story if being outnumbered was requested, like with training. 
Or if Leigh was deemed a traitor or something, but that was unlikely as far as Nyra knew.

Kynareth listens and he listens, allowing her to have her moment on the golden pedestal so really get out her ‘Fuck you, Donovan’. Everything she says is something he’s heard before in one way or another. Whether it was from his past when he was still in charge of his old pack, or in more recent times with his new pack. Either way, he’s unimpressed. The only thing that even sticks out to him in her speech is the part where she said she might have cared for him.

At that, he’s about to speak when he sees the swift form of Simmik appear before his side. Asking no questions, she bares her teeth to the dark pelaged woman. It causes him to smirk, then he’s watching carefully as Nyra joins as well. 

Only then does he speak. “Darling, your words cannot hurt me like you’re hoping they can. You deem me a child yet you are here arguing with me like one. There’s no point in arguing. You are always welcome here unless you’ve done me wrong.” 

His body language is confident, his voice righteous yet soft. “I cannot make you stay with us. I do want you here, no matter what you might think. You don’t have to kill like the rest of us. You don’t have to change for me or the pack, but you will understand the way things go in the Saints. Killing is how we work. We are territorial and aggressive to defend what is ours, to not let anyone walk all over us. We do whatever the fuck we want. We can get whatever we want, either through killing or playing the good boy in order to achieve it. That’s how it goes here, dear.”

At first it was just the two of them. Then suddenly Nyra and her clone came to join the meeting and the whole thing suddenly went to hell within the span of two seconds. But it was expected, the Saints were quick to jump into a fight and the growling twins didn't phase Ambrosia one bit.

With a smile rising to her lips, she takes a quick glance at her familiar 'friend', if you could call their relationship a friendship, before her orange eyes met a pair that rivaled her own in intensity. This new wolf wasn't someone she had seen before, and in all honesty the woman didn't care for good first impressions, not anymore, so there was no need to exchange friendly bullshit.

And yet despite the two weaving their way out of the shadows and into the conversation, the she-wolf threw them on the backburner, completely ignoring their aggressive snarls and returning to Kynareth. Ears curving to catch his words, she almost didn't find it worth it considering he kept spitting out the same phrases over and over and over and my gosh was it getting annoying. Perhaps it was time for her tongue to throw a few punches.

"Alright, let me make this simple for you. You clearly can't fill in the gaps so I'll walk you through this with baby steps."

But before she'd dive into her explanation, Ambrosia decided it was best to finish her meal. Reaching down again like she had before, her teeth ripped flesh from bone until she consumed enough of the rabbit to have made the hunt worth it.

"I've criticized you, mocked you, insulted you. But never have I had the intention of judging you. You may not believe me, but I stand by my words when I say, I'm fucking garbage. I was and am a terrible piece of filth so I have no right to judge your actions. I can call you out on your shit but I'm in no way above you in terms of morality or honor. My insults don't come from a sense of superiority, they're crafted from experience."

She was well aware of her own faults, and ripped herself to shreds in her own mind each and every day. Unfortunately she had a little thing called guilt that it seemed Kynareth lacked, but besides that she was confident in her assumption that they were quite similar.

"I've killed innocents, and liked it. I've murdered wolves over something as simple, small, and stupid as a stollen bird. Nearly killed my sister, did kill my mother though that was out of pity. But nonetheless I smiled with fucking glee as I pranced around. And my husband? Fuck, we fought more times than I can count. Just because I miss him doesn't mean our relationship was butterflies and bullshit. I was impatient with my daughter, pulled a Nyra and tossed her around a few times. Of course I loved my family, but I wasn't going to win a mother of the year award any time soon."

Ambrosia released a yawn born from boredom. It wasn't entertaining trying to explain herself to Kynareth. She wasn't proud of her past actions so this wasn't even a bragging game. It was true that the woman would have given her own life to save the lives of her family, and she had been forgiven for many of her mistakes and bad decisions. But her relationships were far from perfect, far from what Kyn had imagined.

"Acceptance is usually the last phase of grief but for me it was the first. I accepted their deaths just fine because I had a feeling it'd happen eventually. Good things don't happen to bad people."

Lacking all concern over the thought that she could be killed right there and then, the she-wolf approached the wolf she once considered a friend, standing before him and lifting her gaze to meet his.

"But unlike you, I try my best to do better. I don't expect forgiveness or redemption or a second chance, but I'm doing the best I can to be a better person until someone inevitably strikes me down. I just want to make sure that whenever I drift down to whatever hell is waiting for me, I can do so with a peaceful smile on my face. So you're mistaken if you think I'm staying out of fear or a need for revenge. I know who the Saints are, and I know that I belong here, because I'm a terrible wolf and this is where terrible wolves live. I'm fucking home, Peaches."

Her growl turned quickly into a snarl and a snap of teeth in Nyra's direction. She already didn't like the other woman, and now she was defending the wrong side here. 

Kynareth and Leigh continued to talk, despite the increased intensity of the situation, and for the most part, Simmik ignored what was being said. She only paid attention to body language, ready to jump in and fight in a split second should the need arise. She was tightened bow, full of restless energy and ready to release it—all she needed was a reason.

Nyra snarled on par to Simmik, snapping teeth audibly with fully bared teeth and fangs gleaming as an open threat to tear her apart should she move even slightly toward Leigh. 
the Harbinger didn't like her smaller mirror image either, and would have already been over and done with ripping her heart out if Kynareth hadn't deemed Simmik his plaything.

Yet even here she would only stay her fangs still for so long.

He laughs bitterly. “Darling, there’s no point in trying to ‘do better’.” He says simply. “You’ve already done it all. Why not carry on the way you were?” But he continues. “I have absolutely nothing worthy to say of that. Though, perhaps you still don’t understand what it’s like to be a Saint. You will in time.”

Then all of a sudden there’s a growling ball of fury beside him and he realizes it’s Simmik. He smirks at the thought of her defending him unquestionably. Yet, just as he was about to say something Nyra shows herself as well and Kynareth almost wants to laugh. Are they really just standing around arguing like pups? Growling at one another?

“No one will be attacking anyone.” He dares to say in his Grandmaster voice. The voice that demands attention and flaunts his rank about with a flash of his teeth. “Stand down, both of you.” He hums dangerously to the pale warriors. 

Then he’s looking back to Leigh. “This conversation is over, darling. Adapt, overcome and become stronger; or be consumed by your guilt and self pity, and become weaker. It’s that simple.” His voice is cold. One h used to use with his old pack when they fucked up or someone betrayed him.

“Think about it.” He says finally. Moving his body to leave their presence, his muscles shifting beneath his pelt as he walks off languidly.

There was nothing Ambrosia had left to say. Clearly this conversation wouldn't go anywhere, wouldn't lead to any resolution. Besides, Simmik and Nyra were already at each other's throats. If the woman pushed further, she feared that unmanageable chaos would break out. It'd be best to avoid such an ordeal.

Instead, she silently watched as the tiger turned to leave. She'd be headed in the same direction, the direction back home. But careful not to interfere with Kynareth's space, she would wait for only a moment, giving him a head start. Her old friend was larger in size, and therefore his strides would be longer and allow him to leave quicker. With Ambrosia standing at a lesser height, she was sure they wouldn't bump into each other along the way back. As for Nyra and Simmik, the she-wolf was unsure if it was the best idea to leave the two alone. But oh well, hopefully one of them would have it out alive.

Kynareth's command was the only thing to pull her glare from Nyra. The tone of his voice irritated her just as much as it drew her full attention. She kind of liked it when he acted like the boss, she just wasn't sure how she felt about it being used on her. Still, she would do as he directed. She shifted back closer to Ky, her gaze only on him now. 

He offered Leigh a cold response, one filled with his 'Grandmaster' tone that she was realizing she liked. Then he turned and walked away. 

Simmik gave Leigh a blank look before glancing at Nyra with hateful sneer—one that promised this wasn't over. Then she turned and sprinted away, catching up to Kynareth and silently walking at his side as they moved back inside the territory.

Nyra's scathing stare didn't leave Simmik even as the other palefur looked to Kynareth. His voice was beginning to sound distant as she took a step closer to Simmik, then another, head lowering to go for the throat like an arrow flying true. 

She was going to lunge anyway, but something in her said not yet, and so as Simmik sneered at her, Nyra mirrored it back, and as she turned, Nyra charged forth the few paces between them and audibly snapped at the air all too close to Simmik's hock. 
But she didn't aim to connect, just to solidify her own promise of Simmik's eventual death. 
Though Nyra would love to kill the frigid bitch herself, and planned on it one day, perhaps fate had other plans? Nobody really knew.

With a sharp but brief growl, Nyra's eyes left Simmik and Kynareth, and she looked back to seek Leigh with a soft smile. Then, she headed her own direction back into the Strath.