Bearclaw Valley iron defenses

all welcome!

frost clings to the jagged edges of the stones underfoot, and the crisp scent of pine mingles with the faint musk of lingering intruders.

fucking coyotes.

the damned things had been bold lately, and with pups on the way, tvar wouldn’t tolerate any risks.

a bundle of sharp stakes lies scattered nearby, crudely whittled but deadly enough to deter anything foolish enough to trespass. he crouches beside them, selecting one and digging it into the frozen earth with a push of his paw, gritting his teeth against the resistance.

the mountain pass forms a natural bottleneck, an ideal choke point to reinforce. tvar works steadily, driving the stakes deep at irregular intervals to form an unwelcoming barrier. his breaths come heavy in the frosty air.

Scavengers sought the valley, it seemed. Unimpressed, the Regina headed toward the meadow to see how much they hunted in the expanse- they were already a threat to the borders, so she believed they would be a threat to their food supply as well.

There, digging holes and placing jagged wooden pikes into them, was Tvar. 

She gave him a nod but showed more interest in the spikes. She meandered among the few already erected, pressed her cheek against one and felt its jagged, but sharpened tip comb through her fur. 

Anthuhlin an’ I put a coyote’th head on a thtump onthe. She said, and sneered. They thtart to thtink right away, but…We didn’t hafta worry about coyoteth for a while. She said. 

It was gruesome- but perhaps a temporary measure. I wanna thee three headth. She looked to Tvar. Three coyote headth, an’ you’ll become Hedguard.

She doubted he’d need any more motivation- Tvar had children on the way. Eradicating the coyotes was important- and a promotion for the new father was just the way to ensure that his children would be given every advantage.

his gaze flicked briefly to the jagged stakes he'd been driving into the ground, then back to the regina. he didn't care for the promise of rank; duty was duty, and he'd do it, but ambition did not drive the man like it once had. no, that didn’t matter. all he knew was that she was asking him to deliver something—something the valley needed—and he’d see it done.

three heads, his voice is gruff, tense, threaded with the serious tone he had taken up as of late. a man stressed, a man scorned—he'd had it up to his neck with these coyotes, and add the pressures of amounting fatherhood on top of that?

i’ll get it done.

any excuse to bring more carnage to the persistent threat to everything he held dear—towhee, their unborn pups, the pack. he wasn't done here, but he could return easily enough. ameline had thrown gasoline onto the raging fire in his gut; he turns rather quickly, shoulders tense with prospective violence and he dips his head to the regina. you up for some hunting, my liege?

a playful attempt at joking with her, and hopefully something to lighten his mood.

Tvar was tense, she could sense it. For a moment, she thought he might be irked, to have his progress halted, and another responsibility set upon his shoulders. She softened her gaze, when she realized what she was witnessing was a man probing every bit of his own worth both as a packmate and as a father. 

She wondered if he battled most with how busy he was becoming, or the fear that grew unbidden alongside unborn children. 

She snapped her jaws together. Let’th go get the firtht one, She replied with a snap of her teeth, before she loosed a feral whoop, and with fur bristling, she bounded past the spikes and out into the meadow.