Noctisardor Bypass schwarzemünze

the mountains facing the now-frigid wetlands had housed a band of coyotes. though hungered and sore, mahler routed them with long snaps of his scarred muzzle; he caught a hapless yearling from last season's litter and slew it there upon the border between noctisardor and the land past that.
the blood clung proudly to his lips, his chest; he discarded the body and scraped snow over the still form. a fitting tribute to what rivenwood had wrought here. and still he watched for the leader of legion; he searched cunningly and with focus across the snowdrifts for any of those who might have stolen into the shadows.

It did not sit well with Kigipigak that they had run the wolves out of this place, purely for the fact that he knew some of them. The previous issumatar was an intimidating woman—and more importantly her children held strong ties to Tartok. Kigipigak should not have been so bothered; this was the way of things in the northlands, the strong conquering, the strength of Tartok spreading.

His own allegiance was to Mahler now, to these wolves who cowered beneath their boulder like bugs. Perhaps a change of scenery would strengthen them too. Kigipigak hoped so; he was not so fond of these wolves yet and held strong doubts.

To see the interior of the bypass, treading across stale claim lines or taking the time to mark them over, gave Kigipigak a new appreciation for Mahler. The man was older and more experienced in things to be sure, although a move such as this felt spontaneous and more exciting than Kigipigak expected. He was glad that fate had thrown him in the elder's path.

While Kigipigak patrolled and lurked, he watched Mahler. The man swiftly dispatched a plethora of coyotes and decorated the edge of the terrain with their bodies—a brutal display Kigipigak found intriguing rather than disgusting. He approached one such dead, mangled body and chuffed over it appraisingly.

no need to match just got rambly

 

kigipigak's arrival to rivenwood had a special bit of hope pinned silently to it within the sober focus of mahler's mind. another man could remove from him the responsibility he felt to usher new heirs into his small pack, hereby putting down the roots of a family unit into the teekon. it was something mahler had once wished to form.
the ageing gargoyle was tired of leadership. more and more he wished to ask star about taking the helm, but he projected onto the matron his own exhaustion. surely the pair of them should leave rivenwood in the capabilities of the younger generation.
mahler had considered removing obstacles to the desire held by sequoia and praimfaya: to have children. indeed, that would eliminate both of his problems in a single swoop: ensuring the future whilst allowing mahler the grace to not engage this season. he had struggled with lifting such an embargo on potentially large litters when the pack had few adults. and yet, granting such permission had lent itself to loyalty inside diaspora, inside sagtannet.
ambition had once driven him. now for many months mahler had only plodded through the motions of it. ambition was what had brought him back, however: the decision that rivenwood's success would end his long chapters at the helm.
wylla would be long mated and gone with her new children, mahler supposed, for whether or not she would choose such a thing, he continued to torment himself with the idea. a deserved pain.
he turned toward kigipigak, blew a breath from his nostrils. "they alvays seem to know vhere volves keep their young," mahler commented. "ending them sviftly has suited me best as an effective varning." a pause. "have you seen vhy i chose this place?"

Mahler's commentary earned a little nod from Kigipigak, although he had not known this about coyotes before. These creatures were plentiful in the southlands and less of a factor in the north, where he was used to culling the occasional whitefox and nothing more.

Have you seen vhy I chose this place? Mahler was asking.

Kigipigak lifted his head from his inspection of the bodies, having been toying with a skull beneath his paw, and as he stood properly - looming over the deceased creature - he looked around, then shrugged.

It is different from your forest. There is less need to burrow in the dirt with these mountains surrounding us. Kigipigak could not guess as to Mahler's motivation but he could make easy observations of this space.

burrow in the dirt? mahler chuckled. "you vere not fond of that at all, vere you?" he quipped rhetorically. he himself had not minded it, welcoming the change to a denning situation, but the lack of privacy would have posed a difficult situation. eventually.
he wondered now, quietly, if the youthful northerner had considered his offer. mahler had been briefly surprised when kigipigak had not seized upon it. perhaps he had taken this time to think. if so, his estimation would have climbed in the gargoyle's mind. alas, no way to know unless it was said aloud.
"you are right, of course. i came here for some time in years past. it alvways remained in my mind. from vhat i could see, there vas rarely a reason to leave this place unless it is to roam in a new terrain. everything that could be vanted is here."

The old man's laughter made Kigipigak smirk. He did not want to get in to the full reasoning behind why he found their previous hovel-like existence troublesome, but there was a gleam in his eye all the same, indicating there were opinions he could share at a more appropriate time. For now Kigipigak was silent, listening to his leader.

Anything that could be vanted is here, Mahler explained, to which Kigipigak nodded. He wondered if this was the same thought that Stjornuati held during his claim of the Watch. But in knowing his northern brother had left it in the end, Kigipigak wondered what exactly had been lacking.

It mattered little now.

I like to roam, he countered. I take great pride in my freedom to do so. And in the days to come he would go on to visit the western valley again, returning with the mild weather. I have nothing to root me anywhere, Kigipigak went on to admit, but I suppose, there comes a time in the life of all men where they take root somewhere.

Kigipigak wondered what Mahler would make of that.

mahler answered with a pleased quirk to the corner of his mouth, something that bestowed an understanding between them. "perhaps you vill find that time here," he said softly. the season to come would be an exercise in restraint, and mahler entertained no such notions that the younger wolves in the pack would keep to themselves.
many considerations to be had on that part, but none to be voiced aloud. mahler felt heavily in this moment the weight of his own isolation, not only from men but from the others in rivenwood; driven by an internal lash that drove him far beyond them, a cold figurehead.
he did not like it.
"the moment i decided that i vanted more vas vhen i hunted vith my kill-brother for the first time," the gargoyle said slowly. "ve said no vords. ve spoke only the language of our bodies, and not until ve had tasted blood did ve say our names." a night of feral starlight and the echoing cry of a dying ruminant. and from that they had built diaspora.

Kigipigak found himself wondering at how long the winter would last; in his home village it would go on for months, with some weeks blazing with light and others doomed to darkness. It was not like that here. The storm raged but the collective fought through it to take the bypass, so it would be easier in the coming days, but not concluded for some time yet. He thought to visit the Watch again when things calmed further; to see if anyone remained or if all had dispersed. Kigipigak's mind was buzzing.

Then came the commentary from Mahler. The term kill-brother was not known to Kigipigak although it connected with something similar in his mind. Your aokatti, Kigipigak noted. It did not surprise him that the aged ruler had been close to another in such a way - it was commonplace among the elderly. Kigipigak hoped to one day find his own partner to match him in that way. One you are closest to, beyond den-bonds, beyond family. A binding of blood and soul.

Kigipigak was staring off in to space, thinking of this aloud.

aokatti. mahler had not known there was a name for such. in silence he pondered it, standing alongside kigipigak with a solemn expression. "that stigmata vas." it felt good to speak the name aloud; he knew his brother's bones lay interred within the reaches of the sunspire mountains, but he would not go back.
this would be his dominion now, the place he had chosen for a future burial.
for mahler had wearied of the breath and of the dance.
a switch of his tail. nothing more to say. the leader's lavender stare narrowed upon the distant moving figure of a single goat, and with steadyminded intuition he began to move toward it with the silent invite for his packmate to join.

That Stigmata vas, voiced the other man, his voice warmer than Kigipigak had ever heard it, but just for that beat. He fell silent in the next breath and was distracted by something other on his periphery. Kigipigak eyed him with the same cautious scrutiny he gave to the elders of his village; as the man moved away and his body assumed the prowling posture of a hunter, Kigipigak found his mind trailing to thoughts of his dead father.

Not of the stories nor even the memory of the man's death, but to the man himself, which surprised him. How long until Mahler began to deteriorate? He was older than the others here but he had his mind, and was still hale of health.

Kigipigak banished those treasonous thoughts from himself readily, then picked up the pace to follow after the shadow. He could test this man's mettle during the hunt and know for certain how capable Mahler currently was.

kigipigak followed. mahler said nothing more. hunting within the taiga forest had been more difficult for him due to its density. this time he would follow the curves of the land that brightened in his memory. he moved openly toward the goat, passing beneath the cover of terrain where it dipped, and eventually the wind began to carry its scent, rank and tinged with something he could not identify.
the gargoyle fanned his steps out toward the left, moving in the age-old pincer technique he had long practiced. but here in the open flat plain of snow, it might be well-met to provoke a run.
he did not think he could sustain such a gallop at a distance; his heavy body was more suited for the breaking of bones, the cracking of jawlines. but he kept silent, breath rising as the quarry at last turned to look at the pair.

Kigipigak knew how to hunt best on the ice. The snowscape of the meadow was close enough to it, spanning across the entirety of his vision, pale like himself; he could move easily across the snow or through it with some effort, and kept pace with Mahler. The way the older man moved was impressive to Kigipigak — mostly because Kigipigak did not think an older man could handle such physicality — but he stowed his judgement as the pair came upon the prey.

While the grizzled shadow moved left Kigipigak pressed forward and veered right so that they could find the prey, vice-like, between them. The creature had its eye on Mahler as he stood out against the snow, giving Kigipigak a change to gain more ground and make a leap for its haunch. Teeth clicked at air, he missed one step then hastened to make up for the slip, and tried again — feeling hide give beneath his teeth.

kigipigak came forward, his young limbs moving powerfully through the snow. the pale man did not flounder; he used his strength wisely and caught hold of the beast. mahler, who had been keeping pace, now broke into his own speed, a heavy quick sprint that bunched his hard muscles and propelled him sidelong across the snow-covered space.
jaws cut powerfully into the muscle along shoulder and neck. mahler used the impetus of his collision to drag himself downward with all his great weight, forcing the creature to a near halt. his own paws skidded in the drifts; he let himself he be drawn along somewhat, worrying his large mouthful of fur and flesh until blood began to run in rivulets along his chin.

Death was meted out quickly once they'd intercepted their target. Kigipigak threw himself at the creature while it was distracted by Mahler's cutting teeth, spurred on by the scent of blood in the wind.

The creature turned to guard its wounded flesh and exposed itself in one movement. Kigipigak saw his chance — he sought out the neck as it curved and tore in to it, causing a scream to rise from the very throat he now wrestled with.

With a hinge of his jaws he dug his teeth deeper and made himself in to dead weight; it was a momentary drop before he found his footing again, pulling at the beast and causing it to tilt unevenly away from Mahler.

Soon it would sing its own death song, and they would freely feast.

as with sequoia, such was over quickly. mahler found himself panting as the steaming hide of the beast lay before them, warmblood though its life had left. and there was pride in him, to be aged and yet have not yet missed his snap. the day that it happened would be the last he could in good conscience seek to remain the head of rivenwood.
"good hunting, kigipigak," the graf said softly, before he fell to the tearing bites.
enough to fill his belly, and enough to fill several caches. they would eat before he called the pack.
mahler did not ward the palefurred man away from his shoulder.

The blood spilled, and down went their target. As the last heaving breaths left the creature Kigipigak pulled back, reveling in the success that he now shared with Mahler; he looked to the man when he heard their comment and gave a nod, still catching his breath.

They would take their time in carving from the beast. Some would go to their own bellies but Kigipigak would need to scrape out a few new burrows for some of the remains. It was a good omen, one which gave Kigipigak hope for the future — and more importantly, solidified Mahler as a worthy leader for the young Tartok.

Silently he resumed his work: peeling flesh from the still-warm body, stripping hide from the haunch as elastic strips, letting blood seep in to the earth.

Fade?