Sleepy Fox Hollow Catacombs and water mains.

@Etienne

Little @Ilse had been born. She was scarcely a week's age and Anselm often found himself listening to her soft chirrups.

He'd never been around a puppy so young. In him bloomed something fierce and protective.

Today he left the threshold of Wylla's den and nosed along the pinestraw that bordered the burrow. Nearby was a cache, and around it was the fresh deposit of Etienne's scent.

A susurration of something unpleasant thumped against his heart as he followed the sea-boy's tracks into the woodlands.

Eti had not gone near the new pup den other than to deposit meat or herbs outside of it. He never let anyone know he was there simply dropped and left. He knew all too well how protective of babies mothers could be even adult children. His granme had laid her life down for her own. And he was protective of his siblings.

Amselm had found small ways to make Eti's life difficult in the pack lands. And the sea born boy tried to ignore it mostly. How a boy with such a pretty face had such an ugly heart. He didn't know.

It was with quiet determination today that he nosed around a berry bush. Pressed in it's thick bramches and thorns was leaves that could be used and roots. And the berries were tasty. They were staining the lighter colors of his fur as he tried to gently pull some, but leave most. And as such he was oblivious to any approaching others.

Etienne's trail lead around tall boughs of pine. Small patches of fern littered the forest floor, gradually giving way to little shrubs. Their fruit had the most pleasant odor; a sweet signal to the world they were ripe and ready for consuming.

Nestled among the shrubs was Etienne's bent form. For a while Anselm studied his nemesis with feelings akin to hate -- but there was something else edging its way among the ugliness.

He could pounce and pin the boy right then and there - what would he do, cry for mommy? Anselm took a light step forward, hunching down to the ground as he advanced step by step closer to the gatherer.

Were he anywhere else. Eti would have smelled him coming. As such with his face nose deep in prickles and berries all he smelled was the cloying sweetness of them. And that was all he tasted. A aoft growl as he fought to uproot.

A soft growl as he spoke to the bushes in his family's tongue. vini sou lage

The lyrical language stirring the silence.

The back of his neck prickled, but working under the illusion that he was fine and safe he didn't lift his head. Were he not so consumed, he'd have cursed himself for the foolishness.

Finally, the plant was beginning to give and he gave a sift whine of delight and triumph. Quiet as he alwayscwas. Not wishing to take up space even his voice had grown soft spoken unless his ire was raised.

Etienne spoke into the bramble. Anselm paused for a moment, ears pricked -- thinking for a second he'd been spotted.

He froze mid-stride, but Etienne continued wrestling sprigs of berries from their hold.

Anselm took another stealthy step forward.

Then another.

Now he was mere strides from his target. He lowered to the ground floor, belly scraping moss as he went.

His eyes fell upon the bare of Etienne's pricked neck -- and he wondered how warm the blood would feel beneath his teeth if he pounced.

Finally, he managed to win his prize and he backed out of the bramble. Face and nose a little purple, golden eyes wide in his face. A muffled sound when he caught sight of anselm.


ti gason dyab

he gasped out and then closed his eyes for a minute as he caught his breathing under control.

He lay the berries at his feet and stared. Why you be sneakin' Anselm?

Eti shook his shoulders and rubbed at the purple juice on his face and paws. Waiting for an answer.

He had determined the best way to end this rivalry was to just ignore the pretty boy with his eyes like sunset and well muscled hunters limbs.

Anselm was about to make his move when Etienne became aware of him. The seacoast boy whirled around with wide golden eyes, his face stained a dark purple.

Anselm did not straighten from his hunter's pose.

There was a dark part of him that took sick delight in the way Etienne gasped; the way his muscles tensed as he realized he was in peril.

Anselm did not answer. Instead, his simmering gaze met Etienne's unabashed, and he took

one

more

step

forward.

There was a dark promise in Etienne's eyes were the pale boy to attack him. Eti was not fooliah enough to strike first or possibly even second, but he'd fight back were it to come to pass.

Lanky legs tightened and brown downy head lifted. And he stared right back. Wondering if Anselm was truly intent to kill him today.

He only said one thing. Joli figi, kè lèd

Then he stood and waited for the pounce. Rage simmering in the gilden of his eyes and also deep deep sadness, or perhaps pity that Anselm couldn't see past his own front paws to anything in front of him. So angry.

To Anselm, the game wasn't about the bloodshed. It was about the inexplicable look his presence conjured in Etienne's gaze. Even the way Etienne spoke titillated him and caused a stirring of his bladed hackles.

He too, was unafraid.

 The distance between them was eaten by another bold step.

Anselm's cold eyes fell upon the sea-borne man, so far from the warm stretch of beach he'd known as a child. The harsh mountains of Paleo were a series of teeth around Etienne, trapping him within. Vhat is it you call me? His hard voice pressed between a show of smiling teeth, all warmth bled from the expression by the sheer ugliness of his leer.

Anselm was a bully and as such. He got off on fear. Well Etienne didn't fear much he found when it was just him he worried about. No he had feared it when his siblings had been near.

Eti had found that the mountain was as cold as the wolf in it. And it drove him to distraction. The sea was chaos. You learned things happened and there was sometimes no reason. But mountains....they were steady and things only happened when two forces collided harsh and unyielding.

A smirk and a dance of devilry. He wouldn't get it that easily from him.

Exactly w'at i say.

Eti moved closer golden eyes boring.

Joli
figi
kè
lèd

Each word enunciated clearly each word met with Etienne's own paw step forward.

They were so close now that Anselm could taste the berries on Etienne's breath. There was a heat to it; a heat that did not quite measure to the scathing furnace that was Etienne's incensed glare.

But Anselm thrived in this incense. In staring down Etienne, he saw himself reflected back -- and liked what he saw.

His tail climbed. Their game was changing -- the stakes ever rising as a crescendo of wanton violence thickened Anselm's blood. I think you gave me a nickname. He accused, his yellow gaze traveling from purple-stained muzzle to hardened eye. Tell me vhat it means.

Etienne was playong with fire and he was definitely to close. Close enough he could see the finer hairs if Anselms face. And the way there were small flecks in his eyes. This wasn't good. This boy didn't deserve a second kind thought.

Eti made a soft mm sound at Amselms claim he gave him a nickname. And a small laugh escaped him. It wasn't exactly a nickname.

Eti shifted and shook his head. I don't 'ave to do anyting you say. So no i don't tink I will. W'y i be tellin' you someting you want?

Etienne looked at his berry bush and then back behind Anselm. He needed to get it replanted or it would die.

In a small way, it rankled Anselm that Etienne withheld information from him. But he was not Wylla’s son for nothing — and he’d picked up a trick or two being in Wylla’s constant shadow. 

His gaze followed Etienne’s towards the bushes with contemplation. He didn’t like that laugh — however small, it signified he was not being taken seriously. 

Anselm swept past Etienne’s flyaway cinnamon fur in silence; some electrical exchange happened as he felt the heat from the boy’s fur as he passed. 

He stopped upon the small collection of twigs and branches, where fresh and swollen berries darkened their boughs. His leg hiked, his underside exposed as he loosened a steaming stream of yellow upon the berries beneath his feet.  

Unabashed, he held Etienne’s gaze until the contents of his bladder were exhausted. He’d learned long ago one did not need to be physical to hurt. 

For good measure, Anselm scraped the ground with his paws, kicking loam and berries behind him with contempt. Dig in, pretty boy.

Etienne was certain his small rebellion would cost him. And cost him it did. But he had learned something more about the frosty boy. He hated not getting his own way.


Why should Etienne take a bully seriously. There was no reason for it. Anselm didn't deserve to hold that kind of power over a child of sea and surf.

Eti felt the spark, but tried to ignore it. It was probably from their fur anyway. It had to be. There was no other explanation.

Etienne held the gaze and when he saw what Anselm was going to do. He sighed, but he said nothing. Held the dark sunset eyes with his own golden gems and when he was done. Eti gave a small shrug.

'ope you feel better, must a really 'ad to go. Then he turned and began walking away. Humming a sea shanty under his breath. Seeming nonchalance. And it wrankled it did. But the pretty face wanted a reaction of sadness and Eti refused to give it.

Triumph speared through Anselm as he held the full bore of the seacoast boy’s gaze. But it wasn’t just goading victory that thumbed its way through his conscience — somewhere in the back of his mind, Anselm registered he was being cruel for little good reason. 

For now, he finished his urination with a flourish. Droplets of pale liquid clung to the berries’ surfaces, occasionally slipping down to darken the ground. 

He expected to rouse anger in Etienne and readied for a rebuke that never came. Instead, Etienne turned his back to him and began to pad away with a song upon his lips. 

For several seconds Anselm studied the sway of Etienne’s backside, his gaze glinting with an emotion even he could not define.

A darkening of victory colored this bully's eyes and Eti noticed it made his eyes more honey than sunset, but he quickly pressed the thought away.

It was perhaps foolish to turn his back on such a potent enemy. But Eti had learned that he had steel upon gis spine. He had been raised by queens and devils. He wouldn't cause chaos, but he could calm it. He was born of sea and surf.

He felt the eyes boring into him long after he was past and he allowed a smirk to lighten his features. Mountains didn't bow, but they could yield at times especially to the sea.