Bearclaw Valley politics

i know we already have a thread up but maybe @Ancelin ?

tvar moved slowly along the border shared with kvarsheim, spurred by nothing other than simple curiosity—and the need to get out and stretch his legs.

ancelin’s earlier remarks lingered in his mind: the invitation to merge had been extended—(and declined). why? he had refrained from asking outright. he somewhat regretted it now.

the sharp chill of the wind brushed against his fur as he neared the shared boundary, the mingled scents of the two packs heavy in the air. his sharp gaze scanned the horizon, taking in the landscape and noting the faint trails of movement along the edge of kvarsheim’s territory. though the borders were marked, they were sparse compared to the heavily patrolled lines of bearclaw valley.

while he had no intention of crossing into their territory uninvited, there was nothing wrong with a closer look—if only to satisfy his curiosity. he moved parallel to the border, close enough to peer in but far enough away that he didn't intrude.

were they too proud? too self-sufficient?

the scent markers were there, but they weren’t fresh or consistent. a small huff escaped his lips, visible in the cold morning air.  the sparse markings, the lack of heavy patrols, the faint scent of multiple wolves that carried a thinness to it, like it had been stretched too far over too much ground.  a pack this size was vulnerable, especially with winter gripping the land. food would be scarce, and competition—be it from other wolves or scavengers—would be fierce.

if kvarsheim was faltering, it wasn’t his place to interfere—unless, of course, their desperation brought trouble to bearclaw’s borders. that was a problem he wouldn’t tolerate.

<3

ancelin was killing.
you had to make an example of coyotes or else they continued to come back. wiping out packs of them was unsustainable, but the rex was not a biologist. with ameline perhaps pregnant, every instinct was on lock for violence, and he spent inordinate amounts of time answering it against their current foe.
he had slain two gravid coyotes this morning, dragged their bodies until viscera and blood caked the snow of their borders and beyond, into wapun. even foxes had not been spared, ancelin laying their limp figures in the glade and spraying over the vulpine musk there with his own piss.
a man primed for murder, he threw the dead coyote aside and began to hunt swiftly for another, broad paws carrying him along bearclaw scent in the direction of kvarsheim.
he found tvar there and rolled bloodstained shoulders in restless relief; a cursory sniff nearby brought him the messages that the other man had already received. "not doing well." tongue lolled, for in his current state he almost wanted to raid the stone circle and drive them away.
"maybe they'd come join us now," he joked, cleaning red from his stained jaws.

ancelin appeared like a wraith on the morning moor and tvar inspected the rex with narrowed eyes. his piebald fur thick with blood, old and fresh, and thus brought a twinge of amusement and pride to his chest. ancelin was younger, but he was no doubt a strong leader. he had long since earned the respect of tvar in that.

eyes turn to the border again, this time lingering longer, searching through unmarked brush and absent trails. nay. is all he says then, ears twitching forth. back to ancelin, he can smell the coyote thick upon the man. the men of bearclaw; ancelin, himself, cole, dolce—they had all been working tirelessly the past days.

perhaps he had misjudged @Dolce.

his head lowers to his chest, form less imposing if even a fracture, and laughs softly. aye, maybe. his nose leans down to nudge snow, inhaling scent upon the ground beneath. could test that theory, if you ever want a break from coyote slaughter.

"we could," ancelin huffed, "but we already went to them too. they can come here," he declared. "who knows; they could see another approach as rude. or a threat. i might, if i was so few," and here his tone grew vaguely mocking.
"we might end up outnumbering the creek too. their leader is a bit salty. the co-lead too. but with numbers, who cares? imagine a trio of bear packs far as the eye can see."
dreams of conquest stated, he butted shoulders with tvar. "but if you want to find out about kvarsheim, bet you ameline and i would both appreciate it."
half an order. half an offer. he had coyote slaughter calling.

figured as much, his voice is a quiet grunt now, as eyes pass over the border for a final time. i’ll get a read on ‘em. quiet-like.

he pauses. maybe. he wasn't very quiet, being as big as he was and all. not to mention, he was pretty noticeable. the gold neck fur was like a giant beacon shouting—hey, look at me!

the idea of outnumbering another pack excites him just as much as it does the rex. bearclaw is his home, where he intends to raise his children. they should be the strongest. but tvar’s also not here for conquest—just safety. he quit conquest when he left home.

a strong network, a trio of bear packs? that he could stand behind, especially with pups on the way. even if it's just a fantasy.

he smirks faintly as ancelin butts his shoulder. i’ll scout it out. don’t worry.

"i trust you," ancelin said, and meant it. "come this way with me first, though," he urged, stepping back and turning to lead. "i want a few of these coyote pelts for trees near the border. it's important we are always leaving messages."
bold as coyotes could get, he and tvar prepared for a future where wolf pups might be on some carnivorous radar, at least for a while. smearing the boundaries with blood, littered bones, rotting skulls, and torn pelts ensured that only the most daring coyotes would try it.
and that, ancelin believed, was very few.

i trust you. tvar meets his eyes then for a brief moment, feeling the warmth of purpose come to blossom like a warm hearth in his barrel chest. he nods, dipping black crown before the man, eyes briefly closing. raising his head to turn attention where ancelin calls him.
he follows, keeping pace even with the rex. scanning the treeline ahead.
where you want ‘em? he glances toward ancelin, waiting for direction, though his own eyes are already picking out spots where the message will carry best.

"fuckin' toss em anywhere," ancelin exulted, punctuating the locale with a splash of piss. mixing bearclaw scent with the bloody reek of shredded coyotes — they had to be absolutely stupid to return after that.

he paused then, to shrug, to roll his shoulders with a yawn.

"thirsty work."

aye. thirsty, hungry, covered in blood. the usual. he smirks, stepping back to admire the grim work. the message is clear. even the dumbest coyote would think twice.

as of late, the borders had been pungent. thick with the smell of piss and blood, and it was slowly beginning to overshadow the stench of coyote. tvar could only feel proud of it; it was good, honest work. and that was what he had needed, for so long, he felt.

free from the quarrels of his past. it was incessant. and to be amongst normal wolves, not caught up in the web of spinning lies and politics—he exhales a deep breath. turning to walk, no real destination in mind, though he does not stray far from the rex. pausing to throw a head over his shoulder:

what's your story?

"mine?" ancelin rejoined in surprise. had anyone ever asked him that? it'd been so long since he considered anything besides the valley. "i was born across the rising sun in the taiga. a place called redtail rise. my dad and my aunt were the most important there."
scratching behind his ear, he tried to get to the meat of it and out. shit still hurt, even now. less of course, but it annoyed him to feel the pangs at all.
"strong pack. warriors and hunters. but my aunt wanted redtails to follow. her kids. uh. mom left. dad left to find mom. then my brother left. then dad came back — wait, i'm not remembering it right," ancelin chuckled. "ah, man. they all left, i guess, one by one. then my aunt was killed. ameline and i wanted to take it over. were ready to fight. but — we talked ourselves out of it. not worth the scrap with the cousins. so we left."
he stared at the horizon. "we visited, she and i, not too long ago. place is empty. dried up. dead. just like that. maybe it's what we would have been if we hadn't stayed."
so much left out. he felt tvar could fill in the gaps.

tvar listens in silence, patient, giving ancelin room to speak. he sees the wounds there, hidden beneath laughter and a careful shrug of indifference. but pain, he knows, is never truly forgotten—only carried.
aye, he murmurs after a pause. but you left. you made something new. his gaze shifts, distant yet present, as though recalling places he himself once knew—places left behind, abandoned, changed.
sometimes letting go is strength, too, he adds, eyes flickering to the rex. it doesn’t erase the past. just…makes room.
a small nod, gentle understanding unspoken but clear.
you’ve done well, ancelin. rex of bearclaw valley. a tease, then. as he bumps his head upon the man's shoulder when he passes by.

cool to fade! <3

wise words. ancelin would treasure them for as long as he remembered, and the surprise of hearing them caught him off guard. he cleared his throat, nudging tvar back as the other passed. an emotional moment, one to process another time. and alone.
maybe it was what he had wanted aventus to say to him, once upon a thousand years ago.
"thanks, man," he said with more ease after a second. "gotta earn the title of rex, right?" a smirk flickered to life on his mouth. "you wanna go hunting again?"