Redtail Rise blood born

The death hung heavy across most of the Rise. The pack would be reborn because of it; carrying the legacy of Avicus as far as it could. Tulimaq did not mourn the same way as these children. He had seen death come for Avicus and watched her life bleed away; that was all, and that was the end of it. An issumatar had fallen and in the aftermath the Rise would change.

Tulimaq thought of the spring. He thought of the many wolves here that were of-age, and what bounty might be found here if he stuck around through the season. Once he had been chosen by Avicus for this, and so again he thought, he might be seen for his strengths and be urged to pass them on.

There was also the Boulder, his Snow wife, and their loyalties. These were people Tulimaq found familiar for their bestial natures, and not so hard to map. He would keep an eye on each of them and see what might transpire. He thought of these things as he stalked the hills, ruminating as he passed by deer paths, watched birds flit out of the way, and spied the gradual tilting of the sun overhead.

Spring. It was all about spring.

I shouldn’t be hopping on another but YOLO

Redd’s thoughts are also on the spring.  On Ulfhedinn and the hunt wife.  On Masquerade and Riley.  She has no way to be sure, but his defense, and her sudden interest in pups, does not say nothing.  It is enough to invite a feeling of urgency.  But not enough to force compromise.

Riley is the only choice unless she seeks outside.  But there is one other.

He is newly returned and still an outsider, so Redd has not decided what to make of him.  Cold and aloof, solitary in a way she finds off-putting.  Strong, however, and seasoned.  There are worse choices.  She thinks of her hunting partner in the wilds.  There are better ones.

She stares at him openly, measuring him, her stance firm.  Challenging him, perhaps.  All have had thoughts on her so far.  He must as well.

His thoughts may have existed, but they remained locked away for himself alone. He was not a creature known for speaking his truths; he was one of action when such was needed, and as far as he could tell there was nothing that needed him in this place except the possibility of a woman's brief desire. He saw this now, as the red figure stood eyeing him with a familiar expression upon their face. Tulimaq gave a low rumble to signal he knew she was there; but yes, he was aloof.

Tulimaq kept his focus on work, primarily. The investigation of pests upon the land, the hunt to keep caches full, the study of scents as they mingled and shifted with the change in leadership. None had called for him specifically except Masque once, and Avicus, who would not call again.

The girl followed him with her attention and did not appear dissuaded. The tall way she held herself made Tulimaq think she was waiting for something — for him, perhaps — and so he made his way closer, his bulk swaggering, and an appraising eye lingering too long upon her face, her haunches; guessing her age, her health, her intent.

With the others, Redd had not pulled rank. But Tulimaq was not like the others.

He had no parents to defer for him and appease the hierarchy. He had no familial line to peer up from. He was older; a fighter. As he approached, she read his demeanor and decided that it was too assuming.

Redd growled and lifted her head, her fangs glinting from behind partially drawn lips. She would see him acknowledge. And then she would know him more.

What was there to acknowledge? She was kin to Avicus, by looks alone. She had taken control as the Wealda when her mother had fallen. Tulimaq had gleaned as much from the shifting scents upon the border, the occasional call from the Boulder or another; but he saw nothing worth reacting to.

Her teeth flashed, her head raised, her spine like iron; but whereas she looked like Avicus in passing, Tulimaq did not see the same fire. He had not hunted with her, fought with her, or bedded her. To the display he merely chuffed, amused by the show but otherwise disinterested.

His gaze remained fixed upon her face, with defiance shining even behind the growing cataract of one eye. There was a bristling to his neck furs, a squaring of his shoulders; as if to say, little girl, who are you really?

He questioned.

Redd did not waste time.  She struck for his muzzle as soon as he did not defer, seeking to take hold of it.  But she did not press in with her full presence yet.

She was quick, but he was strong.  She would not remain in his reach long enough to be pinned.

Redd would not spill blood unless pressed to.  He needed a proving of rank and she meant only to show him that she was not cowed.  To injure would be a waste in the harsh season.  They were already one too few.

Her reaction was swift and Tulimaq shifted out of range with a deft little weave, tasting the girl's breath as she snapped after his snout; he parried with his own quick snap, maybe catching a lip or grazing the fur of her chin, maybe missing himself. His tongue slips out between his front teeth and a low rumble sounds from his throat.

Is that all?

Avicus had been fearsome with her force of will, and swift to seek retribution when that was ignored. Was the girl the same sort of creature? He stepped towards her with a defiant raise of his tail, and a dip of his chin to protect his throat in case Avicus' toothiness extended throughout generations.

Redd was not one to pick a fight without cause.  She was, to her core, a pack wolf… and she did not think that leadership required this to change.  In fact, Avicus’ perceived failings would become her strength.

This had cause.  If she did not prove, then he would need to be driven from the pack, for his choices were to submit or leave.  If she did not force one of these two outcomes then her leadership was forfeit.

His snap barely caught her, but she ignored the sting, instead shifting her tactics immediately.  She would aim for a leg instead, spinning to shift alongside, and throw her shoulder against his in an attempt to unbalance him.  She could not stay out of reach forever, but if she was to match him, she needed the advantage of footing.

Ah, there.

She did not relent in her display; when one tactic failed, she changed and tried another. This time she went for his legs and it was harder for Tulimaq to avoid a blow; he wasn't injured but he did have older joints and scar tissue to contend with. As quick and strong as he thought himself to be, Tulimaq had to admit he was older and slower in a way that was a detriment; she was fast, fluid, focused.

When she struck him again, it wasn't quite enough to topple him but the man felt the sting, he braced himself, and that old injury flared as a reminder that his time was almost up. There was this singular moment of weakness as he half-bowed, half-bowled over, and as he caught himself his bared teeth flashed again — this time as a grimace of pain.

She'd proved enough. His tail went back to being low, and his eyes flashed once across her, then to the ground and away. You win.

It was done just as her blood began to pound.

Redd backed off as he bent, then regained his sure footing. His deferral had been swift, and she rumbled an appreciative note. He could have fought to blood, but he was wise. Pride was not worth pointless injury.

Still, to be done so soon. He was a warrior, and some part of her remembered that he had stood in rank with them before. It brought her curiosity.

Her demeanor shifted as she snapped towards him again, this time lazily and with no intention to land. Her movements were playful, but her eyes were wary. Now show me your offensive. She would see his strength in action.

She wanted proof of his abilities now? He would oblige her this.

Tulimaq wasn't boastful in his attitude, but he was confident. He had trained enough warriors and hunters in his time to trust his instincts; fought in enough battles, conquered his way through life. A little girl wanted proof that his teeth hadn't yet rotted from his skull? Alright.

She was playful but he couldn't be. Play had never been a factor in Tuilmaq's life. As he lunged for Redd he was reminded of days prior, before Avicus' death, when he'd talked and parried with the previous Wealda; that had been rough but as close to a game as he could manage. They no doubt came away from it bruised, the both of them.

It was easy enough to put his weight to work. Step, turn, snap his teeth, grapple for some part or other; feign interest in an ankle maybe, weaving and pushing the advantage; so quick and so fluid, even with his age and creaky joints. He was sluggish from one angle in particular that favored his bad leg, and too fast as he compensated for his narrowing vision on the other side.

In all, he was a fierce creature intent to bowl Redd over and have her pinned, in one fell swoop. Of course, she was young, agile, and had a keen eye.

He had accepted her placement as Wealda, so Redd felt little need to maintain insecure posturing.  This was no challenge to her title, but a challenge instead of his stamina.  He had given in quickly, but was it out of lack of interest or simple necessity?

He quickly proved that he could have fought, had he wished.  Redd was not seeking to force submission this time, but she did try to keep on her feet.  Tulimaq was surprisingly quick and fought the same way she did.  He used strategy to lead her a direction, then subverted this, claiming the advantage of the situation.

She noticed his plan a moment too late, and before she could adjust for it, she was bowled over into the snow.  Immediately she tucked her head to guard her neck, her jaws opening to reveal a threatening gleam of teeth.  Her eyes, however, burned with appreciative respect.  It was clear why Avicus had valued his strength.

There was a moment after he had her grounded that Tulimaq thought to press on, to hold her there, to exert further force and make this a true challenge; maybe to usurp her position or to claim her in another way. Only a moment. He knew better than to turn the rest of the Rise against him.

He pulled back and gave her room to stand.

He was restrained.  This was the wise decision, and she had expected it, but her defensive instinct showed that she had not been entirely certain.  This spar could have easily escalated to blood.

Redd stood and shook snow from her pelt, pausing only to lip at the bridge of his muzzle in appreciation.  Nothing was certain right now, but when the time came, she knew that he would be a consideration.  She would not be taking multiple partners in the way her mother had.  There would perhaps be competition; he had a good start.

She would leave him to go and mingle with others.  He was welcome to follow if he wished.