Silvertip Mountain paradise

Mountains. Tonravik was most at home in these locations. She had been born upon Arktayok Peak, and raised romping Ivik Summit with her brothers. She had suffered many falls, but had never died for it. The injuries gained from the Mountain had given her a healthy dose of respect early on for the great fangs that the land enabled them to climb. And as she spotted one, then and there, that looked like a difficult climb...

She moves to conquer it.

The daughter of Tartok is not so different from Siku herself. Her ambition fueled her. For now, Tonravik understands it to be wanderlust. But as she looks at this place, it feels too like home to her. From the instant her dark eyes take it in, there is a certain knowing that fills the hollow within her. There is no word for it. She simply accepts it.

Sinew stretches beneath thick furs that had begun to shed. She was used to winters, always; the heat of this place was suffocating to her, and so she traveled as the sun fell from the sky. The higher she would go, the cooler it would become.

Having spent most of the last few days hanging around the same lake and the same river, Skyfall thought it would be best to find something new to explore. Not that he tired of the waterways, but he was used to higher, slightly rockier terrain than the valley, and missed the rough ground beneath his paws. He was not a mountain climber by any means, but he had grown up upon the slopes of a mountain range. Though his strength had waned considerably in the last four months, he was still eager to find himself a slope to scale.

Ahead he saw a bear of a wolf, a dark female with dark eyes that gleamed out into the twilight that surrounded them. Skyfall had met quite a few wolves in these last few days and knew that one day he would have to accept the trust of others and join a pack. But for now he was happily unattached, though his stomach disagreed with him occasionally. At the moment it was sated with the scaly fish from yesterday's catch, which he had buried deep beneath a tree's hollow trunk. It had thankfully been untouched when he returned to it this afternoon looking for a snack.

Skyfall turned toward the female and approached her, though was careful to keep the distance between them respectfully neutral. Without a word, he cocked his head and gave a soft whine, asking, Could you use some company? He paused where he stood, not wanting to intrude upon her solitude, for he knew how precious that was to him at times, but still wanting to give her the impression that he wanted to join her, if she'd have him.

There was a sound, and perked audits swiveled as her head turned and her nostrils flared. He had been downwind, she imagined. That must have been how she had missed him! Her wrinkled muzzle was quick to smooth out, and she wondered at his desire for company. But, being solitary for so long, she could not deny him. Wolves were meant for pack, and for a few hours, he could be hers.

And so she grunted her acceptance, gesturing toward her side. His presence could be useful. She could bring down something larger than the emaciated child of a doe; perhaps even a doe itself. She was used to bison that lingered on the mountains, that she hunted with pack. But those beasts she had yet to find. Still, she craved.

Tonravik shifts her weight, calloused paws caressing the ground in a near-tender gesture, if ever there were one from her. She was as rough as her mother, and had all of her potential. Still, by this age, her mother had begun a legacy. Tonravik did not know where to begin! The instinct was there, but it was pushed away. She did not know she fought it.

Sorry, apparently my spree button is broken. haha <3

The female's lips quivered upward at first, a tense sign of mistrust between them, before they smoothed out once more. She was large, taller and broader than him, but he was swift and agile. What he lacked in strength he had always made up for in agility and cunning. While he did not intend to fight this female, there was no denying that she would be a formidable opponent.

Skyfall moved close to her and joined her at the side she indicated, though didn't invade her space or some closer than a few yards. He didn't know her, though he wanted to. There was something about her that spoke of power, ancient and wild, that made him curious. Skyfall had always been a pack wolf, believing in the order of things. The son of the delta pair, he had grown up learning to hunt and fish with the rest of the pack. But it was his twisted brother than was his downfall. Skyfall loved his sister too much to see Valig treat her so dismally.

But today wasn't about reliving the past. He had done that enough in the last four months, more or less alone. He had traveled with a few wolves, even come to like them in his own way, but he hadn't hunted well in weeks. With a tilt of his head, he gestured for her to lead the way.

She was pleased when he joined her. Although he had asked, many kept away from her. The Tartok woman could understand. She was nothing like the gentle beasts they knew. Every day had been a fight, in the North; and she had seen war at a tender age. She was born in that time, hidden; but a suckling, mewling kitten, hidden, a precious gem. But her mothers success meant the continuation of her life. And when she grew to become one, after learning plenty valuable lessons, Tonravik sought to broaden her horizons. One thing remained true, constant. Mountains. Always mountains.

Tonravik shifts toward him some, before moving to lead the way, to better smell him. Was he of pack, or was he rogue? Her tail is relaxed, though there is a tenseness at its base, a yearning to lift (instinct, sheer instinct); but there was no reason to. She, as of then, was no leader. But if ever there was a place to protect, it was this one. Erected ears twitch as murky brown eyes take in all of him. She was larger. Tonravik, made for the kill; he, the chase. He would be a good hunting partner. She attempts to sniff, to nudge him roughly as though to say well met, before the she-bear turns to take him up on his insistence, to lead the way. Her muzzle first is lifted, taking to the air, nostrils quivering as the breeze comes her way.

This may be my last post for a while. Playing kickball tonight! :)

She shifted toward him as he approached and nudged his fur with her cold nose. He returned the gesture, though there was no warmth or friendship behind it, merely respect. Perhaps the rest would come later. From her stance and sniffing, he can tell they are about to hunt. Though his belly is full of fish, it would be nice to refill his cache with fresher meat, and to gorge himself on the kill, if they manage anything. Skyfall watches her sniff at the breeze, her nostrils quivering as she takes in each scent.

Before they are off for the hunt, he speaks simply, "Skyfall." It's his way of letting her know his name, that he is not there simply to hunt anonymously. The ancient wildness within her has piqued his curiosity. If allowed, he'd follow her. They could be pack together, the two of them. Her assessments were correct earlier; she is strong, he is fast. Together they could make a good pair, though he is much younger than the she-wolf by more than a year. He doesn't think that is at his fault, though; it gives him an advantage of quick learning and adapting, when needed. Though he his at his full height, there would be a childishness about him if he weren't so gaunt. But the months away from his pack have taken their toll, and he rarely acts his mere ten months.

Tonravik had noted his age by scent. But wolves learned to hunt at eight, and she had partaken in a multitude of hunts before she was even a yearling. Imagining he was capable could be her downfall; but then, he would learn. That was the way of things. His name reaches her, a token, of something. She is given pause for a moment, her head lowering as her brown eyes linger upon him. It is then she notes the youth on his face, but it is hardly there. He had seen plenty. Tonravik, she responds, her voice as chilled as the winter winds. Tonravik, her other given name, aside from Sisamat, four. Fourthborn. It meant nothing. She trumped her brothers time and time again. She held more intellect than her simple (yet undeniably powerful) mother; yet, she was no more eloquent than she was. She had lived among beings who used their mouth due to the fang within it rather than the tongue.

And so he would follow her, and she would accept, leading the way; their very beginning. Tonravik was not maternal, but the woman held leadership qualities that answered to him then. She begins to move, following the wind, leading him toward a herd. Tufts of their quarries fur could be seen upon the trees that they rested in. The critters were close.

Skyfall accepted the utterance of her name with a simple nod, and then moved his paws to follow her as she began their ascent. While he had not intended to pair up with another so soon after his arrival, Tonravik seemed worthy of his following. He wasn't loyal to her, not yet, but with time he could come to respect her abilities as a leader. Already she was leading him to their first hunt together, and he followed willingly.

There was no reason he should not be loyal to her, in time. Skyfall wondered how long it would take for their companionship to turn into something more demanding, the give-and-take of a leader and a follower. Skyfall had never been cut of leader material. It was true that he was the son of the delta pair, but the position of alpha, of anyone, had never been part of his genetic material.

It was good that he had found Tonravik, then.