Sawtooth Spire I am the Batman

AW, but @Iqniq

The alpha female had descended the Spire and marked the borders extensively. Afterward, she sated her appetite, and then moved only somewhat beyond them. Into land that some might consider passable, but that she and hers most certainly did not. This was due to her (and her mates) jurisdiction; around Sawtooth, their word was law, and woe to those whom ignored it that came within their reach.

She skulked around, though was far from elusive. While her dark furs blended well with the greyscale stone beneath her, her bearish form was very much so a blemish that she did not seek the untrained eye to miss. Her prowl was halfhearted. Tonravik wanted to be seen. Let them underestimate her. And then, she would let them die. Her nicked ear flicked as she sniffed at the earth at her feet while looking beyond that point. Her eyes looked to the torn up earth ahead. Whoever did wish to test their luck would have more than one type of hell to deal with, she knew. Others, if they dared chance it, would learn.

Their paths intercepted. Tonravik in her diligent patrol was naught more than a hulking spec in the distance. Still, he knew her. Like a sixth sense, the nearness of his mate was some sort of beacon in his mind. His paws shifted, moving to gravitate within her orbit as she stalked the lower reaches of their mountain. They were a united front in this. Just because their mountain was a large one did not mean they would protect it any less. It was theirs. These lower reaches would not go unnoticed by the watchful eyes which lingered in the peaks above.

If she wanted to be seen, now she would be. His fiery form settled aside her own, a solar flare against the otherwise greyness that hungry, wolf-eating stone. He grunted lightly, alerting her to her presence though he knew well she'd noticed him by now. He joined her. His paws traveling near her own as they clumsily traversed through their lower reaches. Would anyone linger near enough to test them? There was fire in his blood. His soul hungry for an encounter.

It was not long before another Spire wolf joined her. The wind told her who it was, and there was no displeasure evident in the knowledge gained. If anything, she was pleased by this. Despite how they had first interacted, Tonravik now enjoyed—preferred, even—the company of Iqniq.  He had proven himself to be a survivor, a warrior, a strong leader, and with that, a good father and mate. Tonravik could not have predicted any of what had happened in life to have... but, everything had turned out for the better.

She heard him. First from the sound of nails-against-granite, and then, his grunt. Tonravik chuffed to him in turn, but did not yet remove her eyes from the horizon. Only when he slid alongside her did she glance to him, leaning toward him to breathe warm air onto his cheek before sliding her own nose to the edge of his. They moved together ever-downward, two sentinels contrasting in appearance but united in every purpose.

She chuffed a greeting of her own, but kept her gaze transfixed. He paused, following her line of sight towards the distance so that he might see what it was that had caught her interest. He peered. She pressed the hotness of her breath against his muzzle before nosing him. He nosed her back, his tongue escaping to steal a kiss against her maw before they were on the move once more.

Shoulder to shoulder, they prowled across this rocky terrain as if they were creatures born of it. Practice. These slopes were not intended for novice travelers. The ground was riddled with shattered stone like ravenous fangs waiting to devour any creature who dared misstep. Their persistent passing made them safer for it, but he knew well he was not immune to the snatching of their teeth.

His steps were calculated, but sure as they descended to the lower reaches of their stone kingdom. Fire and shadow. No stranger would escape their grasp.

The lead bitch nipped fondly at his whiskers, catching not a one, as they continued on their way. Despite their short time on their new mountain, they had memorized these paths well and good. The borders were manned as they moved to a place some would think beyond their reach. Perhaps it was true, but if a wayward wolf was ever caught or noted, they would be dealt with and meet more than the bite of their teeth. Could their end be untimely? Not in the eyes of Tonravik. 

The lead pair continued their prowling. She was content in this activity, and eager to move with him to give chase to any who would test them. Of course, this chase would be a different sort, given the land left surrounding the Spire was as cruel as they were to those who lingered here. Her eyes traced the endless field of sharp stone. The space between rock and rock was a snare. It was a safe haven for mice and moles; here, they would be unmolested by any, save for snakes.

This barren land seemed something of a waste. A place void of presence that was merely consuming their time. Someday, he knew this range would be tested for its authenticity, but for now all appeared quiet and good. He took some comfort in that. I meant they were neither stalked nor targeted by any outsider on this end. It meant anything that changed would be fresh, would be new, would be something to watch out for.

He lifted his leg to jagged stone and left his mark upon them. There'd be no mistaking this. No mistaking them. They were diligent in their patrols and obsessed with the security of their stone palace. They should add another set of bones to their walls. A rotted corpse deposited to be picked away at by carrion crows so other canines and predators alike would know what fate they'd find should they risk their chances here.

Tonravik continued onward with her mate. Calloused paws were used to the roughness of mountains, and were so unfeeling that even when she stepped upon the most lush of grass, she would be none-the-wiser. Her eyes held a sharp looking stone. Only that could likely break the roughness of her paw-pads. It seemed there was no comfortable place to stand. They had gotten in the mountain through careful and diligent scouting and movement. It was a dangerous place to come and go from on the premise alone. The rocks were less inviting than the fangs trespassers would meet, she believed... the mountain as protective of itself as its stalwart guardians.

As her mate marked, she would do so too further ahead. There was no second-guessing who claimed this place. No second guessing that their possession of the place was violent, and so, to transgress against them and enter this place, one would be met with that same possessive violence. Tonravik gazed beyond the rocks end. There and a little beyond was within their reach, and so, theirs. It seemed she and her mate shared a thought, and as though she could feel this, she turned to him, her eyes darkening in enjoyment of the simple idea of adding bodies here, the perfect example to trespassers of the fate they would meet here. Her tail waved.

They shared a glance. The light within her eyes suggested her thoughts had darkened to the same depth of his own thoughts. His lips parted in a grin. Nothing light, nothing humorous, but caught in the same shadows which lingered in both their minds. They could make this place spooky as shit and sleep all the better for it. He rather liked that idea... only now it was a matter of what corpse to dispose of here. Maybe Echelon...

His thoughts there were a tease. His shadowed grin slipped into something less sinister as his focus shifted. These borders were safe. No creature was tempting fate whilst the two of them patrolled together. His paws shifted, guiding him nearer Tonravik until he pressed his body along side her own and melded their furs together as though to mark her now as opposed to their borders. His teeth snatched lazily for an ear as he sought a moment's distraction.