Swiftcurrent Creek caribou wife

seeking @Akavir @Arric @Eshe, any/all <3

emboldened by the spine-man's tale of tendua, chakliux had centered his anger into a boring focus that kept him upon the long wolf's-trot. he and @Dutch paused to hunt and to rest where necessary, otherwise their trail was an inexorable exercise in stamina.
with hot blood, chakliux reforged the marks upon his face, his shoulders, and one morning he offered the same red smears to dutch, the paint of a warrior going into battle.
the land here was marked by a much lower elevation, spreads of snow in plains that would be grass when the sun returned. the drifts were marked by the trails of many animals, and as he and dutch broke through the frozen white, the scent of wolves came to him.
there was a pack here beside the creek. chakliux explored the messages here and then threw back his head, asking for audience to attend the monster-hunters.

He did not know much about this side of the mountains. Valiant had told him that he was born here, hidden away in the foothills. He did not know if it was this place or another, but he was interested all the same.

The hunt had turned up nothing, thus far. Dutch was glad they would at least be able to pass word onto this pack, and any others that they came across. Inwardly, he wondered if they should have split up, the way he and Valiant had when hunting the cat. But no — two men could go further together than one could on his own. Dutch believed this wholeheartedly.

He stood silently at Chakliux's side, the rust-colored stains far less visible against his dark fur than the other man's stark pelt — but they were still visible. The panther liked this physical manifestation of their brotherhood the same way he liked when he and Valiant were mistaken for brothers rather than cousins for the strength of their Morningside genes.

But this hunt felt different, somehow. Chakliux did.

"I think I might know someone here," he said, puzzled by the faint but familiar scent in his nose. Perhaps it was just someone whose trail he'd crossed before.

Arric had stopped by to see Arlette, bringing a gift with him that had been for her. Cygnet, growing more and more unruly by the day in her teenage phase, sought out a little bit of space for herself by traipsing closer to the borders, snuffling and snorting as she caught hints of the beta's scent markings. She wetted the ground herself, unwittingly contributing to the pack's overall wellbeing. 

She froze, lifting her head when unfamiliar scents wafted on the breeze. She picked up a trot, zig-zagging through clumps of dried goldenrod until she spotted two men, both smeared with red markings in their fur. Something about it appealed to her- she had rubbed blood into her own fur before, and had enjoyed the look of it. It had made her feel fierce, like something to be dreaded. Surely these men meant to intimidate. 

Cygnet emitted a sharp growl that quickly descended into a rolling rumble as she trotted forward, ebbing with each stiff stride she took. The fur along her spine quilled and her docked tail stood erect, trembling slightly as if she was willing it to grow longer. The closer she came, the more her head lowered, as if at any moment she might sprint toward them to herd them away, but once she came within speaking distance she slowed, and her growling stopped. She breathed an abrupt huff! into the air as she stopped, before snapping her head up and eyeing them impatiently for an explanation.

It was a summoning of the creek wolves and thankfully the dark leader was nearby.

A certain silence descended upon the creek in the colder months, and Akavir took comfort in this. Kvarsheim and Riverclan had stayed away--for which he was grateful. Alliances, as far as he was concerned, had been severed. Hopefully, the voices that called remained unfamiliar to him as they were not from either pack.

His gait quickened in pace when the cold breeze gave indication of who had beaten him to the callers of the borders--Cygnet.

He could only imagine what the fiercely growing ankle biter would do to interrogate some visitors.

A chuff was given as two came to view--a catch for their attention as the man's posture shifted to one more worthy of his claim, if only because his gaze strayed over the painted blood of the strangers.

And soon, he would drift closer to Cygnet, though still allowing her room--but his gaze never left the two summoner.

a man came at last, a dark tall wolf with piercing sun eyes. but before him had come a child, who chakliux teased with a laugh and a stick of his tongue;
"ah!" he exclaimed when the man arrived. "i am chakliux of moontide. this is dutch of moonsong. we hunt a man who harmed my wife," he explained, the iron in his eyes leaving no doubt as to the manner of assault.
"he is blackfurred, ageing," he went on, then glanced to dutch, hoping his companion would enter the conversation to speak of bounty.

The panther was similarly entertained by the arrival of a girl child barreling headlong into adolescence. He did not laugh aloud, but his orange eyes still glimmered as he lowered his head in deference.

The arrival of an adult who carried himself with the mantle of leadership saved the two men from having to explain themselves to the girl. From having to explain themselves twice, in the very least. Dutch was quiet while Chakliux spoke, and afterward, took his que.

"We offer a bounty for this man's head," he said gravely. "Six deer, delivered through the winter and spring. For information leading to his capture, make it four."

These terms were negotiable; Dutch's tone suggested he was willing to bend to preference or need.

She set her wide-eyed gaze upon the one with magenta eyes, her lips peeling back in response to the flash of his pink tongue through his teeth. Akavir arrived but was given no more than a flick of her ear as she maintained her stony gaze on the scarred man, bristling. Cygnet took everything too seriously, though he features changed when he mentioned that they were on a manhunt.

Her bristling hackles fell, and she covered her teeth. None of the severity left her gaze, though it was no longer ire caused by the man- but outrage that his wife had been attacked. She felt the thrilling patter of her heartbeat increase, and glanced to the panther-like man when he spoke of bounties. 

She forgot her size and age, and longed to take up the hunt. She looked to Akavir, ferocity in her gaze.

The pair were to the point—yet charismatic.

His pale eyes studied them both—brows arching at not just the description, but the named bounty. They were eager for revenge—Akavir would be to, if anyone tried to harm his wife.

He had been eager for revenge many times over since their establishment here—for any of his pack mates and friends. Nothing that had ever been returned in kind—Reverie, Wren, Silvertongue…

He had to keep the curl of his lip from showing, and dipped his head down to study the look of fierce interest in Cygnet’s features.

Of course Moss’s daughter was a bloodthirsty, ankle nipping hellion. He wasn't quite sure what to make of her, yet.

“Do you have a better description of him?” It was the first request he had because—“You’ve basically just described me and a handful of other wolves in this valley.”

He paused, gaze turning back to the two warriors. “We take the safety of our valley very seriously, here. If this man is in the area, it’s in our better interest to rid the threat. No bounty required.”

six deer. chakliux felt this apt. the child was already a warrior; he found himself watching her, reminded of maggak. "a face with more grey. silver eyes," was all the seal hunter had to offer. he was not interested in the details of this valley. a lone older man racing around and attacking women was the only offering he had to give, and he was restless to be underway.
"if he is found, kill him. do not wait for us. i will take his head when i return."

Chakliux jumped in to give a better description of the man, though it wasn't by much.

"Make it three, then," he said to Akavir with a wry smile, "And we'll call it a thank-you present."

His gaze dropped to Cygnet, whose interest had not gone unnoticed by the panther. She was almost at an age where she might be allowed to accompany more experienced adults on such hunts — if she'd been born to the coastal pack where his children were born, at least.

"I did not catch either of your names," he said, looking from one to another. "Nor the name of the pack."

Akavir's point caused the girl's eyes to widen, as a realization struck her. 

These men were canvassing from pack to pack offering a description that could very well have led them to target Akavir. It was only when he prompted them for more details that they added in the colour of the wolf's eyes, and the fact that he would have more grey on his face. Cygnet snorted and jerked her head up, nostrils flaring as she regarded the magenta-eyed man and his partner, who tried to laugh the ordeal off- and cut their bounty. 

She looked to Akavir then, ears flattened and the whites of her eyes showing as her skin pulled taught. If they had been this brief at the borders of other packs, then Akavir would not be safe. They could have already triggered a hunt that might dog Akavir for the rest of his life. The entire situation left her bristling and unsettled. She sneezed loudly, licked her lips and felt them quiver as she brushed her tongue over her whiskers. 

When her gaze returned to the visiting men, it showed the offense that she had taken to the witch-hunt that could easily leave not only Akavir, but countless other men in danger of being slaughtered for the price of a few deer.

Boisterous—more youthful than him, but old enough to have the wisdom of years under their belt. They seemed disinterested in his point—the paler of the two simply adding the description of eye color—and Akavir’s gaze was lacking impression as he studied the eager fellow.

Cygnet cast him a wry glance—bordering weary, he could swear—and the manner in which she regarded them now seemed to hold a certain understanding. His jaw remained set—he did not console the girl with reassurance of words, for this was the way of life—

—instead, his gaze drifted between the two, noting the intrinsic scent of sand and ocean upon their fur.

“This is Swiftcurrent Creek, and I’m Akavir.” He paused, feeling a surge of protectiveness at sharing more—but given the pale girl was here, tending the borders, he could not keep her from the dangers and knowledge of the outside world much longer. “This is Cygnet.”

akavir. swiftcurrent creek. cygnet. "i am chakliux of moontide. and this is dutch, of moonsong," the seal hunter murmured, feeling as though he had already said this. but much had been spoken.
he glanced toward the panther, then the girl who had cooled to their presence on the border. three deer was more than enough, and he would help dutch to hunt them.
"those in our wilderness know of this man. many have hunted him. if he is a fool, he will not come back, and will not stop here. we thank you, man of the creek," chakliux said, voice suffused with feeling.