Silverlight Terrace Then there's me, I'm seventeen

A light blanket of snow cloaked a canvas of rolling hills, across which travelled a lone wolf. The wind from the coast couldn't reach this far inland, giving the wandering male some relief from the snatching of the air for a time. His paws brushing over the land was enough to uncover frostbitten grass below. A verdant land, surely. He passed through many like it in the past, and there was always a promise of small prey, even when winter settled over the land.

It took him only half an hour to uncover two field mice. The first one he caught without much incidence by driving his forepaws into the thin layer of snow and crushing it as it tried to escape. He gulped it down eagerly and continued on. The second mouse was wilier than its deceased companion; no matter how many times he plunged after it, it evaded his grasp. The lone wolf panted as he streaked across the terrace in pursuit of its tiny dark figure, but its darting, erratic movement proved too much for him and it escaped into a hole in the ground.

With a plaintive whine, the male hunched over the hole and began scrabbling at it with his paws in an effort to widen it enough to find the mouse and snap it up. Unfortunately, the hole was a network rather than the dead end he thought it would be, so while he dug at the hard ground, the futility of it evaded him.

The energy the fallen doe had provided him was starting to wane. He could feel his stomach pinch with the early nagging of hunger. His mind drifted to the caches that had been dug and filled in his homeland for all but a moment before he brought his focus back to the present. The snow beneath his heavy paws, the biting chill of the air, and now the burn of an empty stomach drove him onward with more purpose than before. Survival was at stake.

Movement gave all away. It gave away the deer to the wolf, it gave away the wolf to the deer, and now it gave away the wolf to the wolf. Taggarik's blunt snout had been dropped to sniff at the blood and fur of a rabbit left behind by a weasel's kill, but he lifted it when his gray eyes honed in on the motion in the distance.

He strode toward the other wolf, intent to see what he was doing. Taggarik had attached some purpose to the way the wolf moved, thinking perhaps it was in pursuit of an animal. His curiosity about this was in service of himself, his body demanding of him that he locate food. What he found however, was a wolf busy digging in the soil. He stilled his paws some distance away, watching, his tail idly sweeping behind him, his posture relaxed.

I shadow posted! I'm editing right now! XD (All done!)

Dash had taken much too long to get started on his trade, but better late than never he supposed. He had gotten up before the sun, knowing the snow that blanketed the ground would do nothing to hide him. If he was going to track prey, he needed to be somewhat invisible. He had found the deer herd early on in the valley and had followed them going out of it, heading east between the two mountains. It gave him an idea that he would need to share with his leaders later on.

A movement caught his eye, and he turned to watch the wolf as it attempted to catch some food. The stranger wasn't exactly on the borders of Moonspear, but the valley was a neighbor, and it was close enough for Dash to be on alert, his ears perked. But, he wasn't aggressive. He made his way a little west, putting himself between the stranger and the pack lands, just in case the wolf got any bad ideas. That's when he caught sight of a second wolf, a wolf who looked much like himself. One stranger made him on edge enough, let alone two now. He didn't yet make a move towards them since he wasn't confident about the situation.

Clods flew away from the paddle of his paws, and from his throat chugged huffs and deep barks as he attempted to spook out his prey. He looked half-mad, surely, with how certain he was that the mouse was still there. Had he stopped a moment and inhaled deeply, he would know the scent wasn't heavy enough anymore, but it wasn't until he'd extricated a fair amount of earth, shoved his muzzle into the ground and snapped up a large piece of dirt that he realized he was wrong.

He withdrew with a sharp whine as the taste of blood touched his tongue. He spat the gobbled dirt out, unearthing an offending pebble lodged into one of the larger fragments, and suddenly the source of the blood—a rudely rammed piece of his gums—was clear. There was no mouse there. The wolf shook his head with a grumble, compulsively licking his lips, and then froze when a glance upward revealed a dark-haired wolf, taller and broader than he, that hadn't been there before.

Farstep stood there a moment, staring down the opposing male, but unlike his encounter with Mees, this time he knew he wasn't going to win or even draw if it came to a showdown. The stranger had the element of surprise and something about him commanded more respect than Mees had. Maybe it was the way he stood, an onlooker with a strangely regal bearing, but Farstep just knew he was inferior. This wasn't the look of a loner with no goals. He hung his tail low, swept the tip back and forth a few times, and began retreating to the west with slow and deliberate sidesteps while his head came down... but when he turned to excuse himself, Farstep was unpleasantly startled by the sight of another dark-haired wolf.

The scent of wolves was stronger here than the coast. Had he gone too far, crossed into a pack's domain? Wrongly assuming that both wolves were affiliated, the drifter sunk his hindquarters toward the earth, curled his tail under, and bared his teeth with ears pulled back in an appeasing wolf-grin that spoke of nothing but fear and his willingness to comply in exchange for his safety.

Edit: Fixed a couple details because I got two of my threads crossed, lmao!

He was not the only wolf to have been drawn by movement in the field; he saw another approaching, not far from them. It was a male, just as black as he and seeming to have been born of a similar northern bloodline. He was alert but made no move to come any closer to Taggarik and the brown wolf.

It took the digger a few moments to realize he had company. He stood staring down Taggarik for a moment, but it appeared he wanted nothing to do with him, despite the neutral stance that Tagg held. The brown wolf carried his tail low and tried to distance himself, only to turn and realize there was a second black wolf to contend with. He submitted then, pressing himself to the ground and baring his teeth not to threaten, but to placate.

Taggarik took the opportunity to stride to the wolf's side, his broad muzzle sweeping down to pry scent from the male's coat about his nape and ears. He was another loner, and there was nothing of particular interest to Taggarik lurking in his fur. He stepped back, quartering away from the prone wolf to offer a non-threatening shoulder and side as his attention shifted to the black male. His nose twitched as a draft of wind relayed to him that this fellow was a pack wolf.

"You after this one?" He inquired. The loner had been quick to flatten himself upon sighting this pack wolf, perhaps for a reason.

The male that had been so engrossed in digging into the earth spotted him, and then the other wolf. For his own good, Dash watched as his posture showed nothing but submissiveness. The Moonspearian had yet to move, opting instead to watch the black stranger approach the submissive male. It wasn't until he was spoken to that he decided to approach the pair.

His tail was held high and his ears perked forward as he trotted over. He came to a stop a few yards away. It was the first time in his life he had ever walked towards strangers with a dominant posture. In the back of his head, his brain told him he was stupid. But, he knew he had every right to be, as his pack was just a few hundred yards from here, and it was his duty to protect it. While they weren't encroaching on its borders, they were close enough to check out- politely, of course.

Dash shook his head as he looked to the wolf on the ground, and then to his mirror wolf. No, I just happened upon him, and you. The pack I belong to is just that way, he said, pointing his muzzle. I wanted to make sure no one happened upon the borders by accident. Dash knew from personal experience how hunting could put a wolf on a one-track mission and make them loose their sense of direction.

Taggarik's approach was amiable enough, assertive yet accommodating without any hint of aggression or arrogance, and Farstep willingly allowed the bolder wolf to sniff at his fur, though nervousness emanated from him in waves. His proximity brought scents to Farstep's nose, too, the noncommittal touch of transient wolves, but no hint of a true claim. Still, loners though they both were, he knew they were in different leagues. Taggarik was the dominant one, but he did not test his luck by being overbearing, and even offered a non-threatening stance as he drew alongside the drifter, who drew confidence from the black-haired male's seeming acceptance and the subtle signs that the two males were strangers to one another. It wasn't a ganging up situation after all. He straightened, never rising above Taggarik's level in acceptance of his superiority but no longer grovelling in the dirt either.

The other male was a different story. He strode up to them like he owned the place, with every inch of his body demonstrating superiority. None of what the wolves said verbally made sense to Farstep—he heard the growly language of their ancestors only—but the body language was screaming dominance, and not the good kind. There was a limit to what a lone wolf would tolerate when they had done no wrong, and the sharp forward pitch of the wolf's ears, the straight lift of his tail, were more aggressive signs that an alpha might use in their borderlands or when disciplining one of their wolves. These signs were unsuited to land unclaimed when there was no threat and so did not sit well with the drifter.

He smelled the wolves on the wind, knew there was claimed land somewhere in the vicinity of this field, but he had shown no inclination to approach it and he knew from the pungency that he hadn't crossed into it, and so he was confused with this display. Taggarik's had been practical, but Dash's was almost disciplinary, and he had done nothing wrong. Farstep, bolstered by the acceptance of the wolf alongside him and feral to the core, lifted his lip in a disapproving growl. His hackles prickled with discomfort and tension with Dash's behaviour, and though his tail did not rise and his ears remained planed to the sides in proof that he was not challenging the pack wolf's superiority over him, it was evident enough that he was uncomfortable with the intensity of Dash's display.

The brown wolf took Taggarik's cue to relax and rose up, maintaining a respectful posture in this neutral encounter. The same could not be said of the black wolf as he approached, ears forward and tail lifted in the classic fashion of an alpha dominating his own on his own turf. The flagrant display was misplaced out here on unclaimed soil, and it did not sit well with either of the wolves, who had shown themselves to be nonthreatening and approachable.

Tagg did not hesitate. His own ears swivelled ahead as he stepped toward the pack wolf, stiff legged with muscles coiled at the ready. He was drawn to his full height, his muscles squared toward the other wolf. The skin across his muzzle wrinkled with strong offense, a glimpse of white fang a warning of what he offered if the other insisted. His tail was still behind him but did not raise, his body asking only that the male adjust himself to be more agreeable, while telling of Tagg's unwillingness to be treated this way. The proximity of his pack afforded him no rights to such arrogance.

Poor, clueless Dash XD

Dash was surprised by the greeting he got from the other two wolves, and he reciprocated their displays, curling back his lips to display his own fangs as he stopped in his tracks. While he knew his own display was dominant, he had not been aggressive up until this point. He growled, his fur bristling, a warning that if either of them decided to attack, he would be ready and waiting. Dash had never fought offensively, and he would not start one now, but he would surely defend himself if they did.

He felt he had every right to make sure they weren't heading towards the borders. But, Dash had really already forgotten his days as a loner as he was fully engulfed into making pack life work. He didn't understand that neutralism was expected outside pack lands, even in neighboring territories. He still had much to learn, and this might be the moment he realized that.

Farstep's unease was echoed by his companion-of-the-moment, who stepped forth with much more bravado than he could ever have exhibited. Yet it was free of arrogance in a way—maybe not wholly free of it, but less obvious about it than the pack wolf's own display—and further justified the wolf's respectability in Farstep's eyes. Perhaps if Dash had not been so intent on showing his own display to a pair of lone wolves who showed no signs of threatening the boundaries of his pack, he too would have been respectable; as it stood, Farstep now knew which pack he should avoid, and which wolf he would sooner follow.

Dash's growl was met with a loud warning snarl of Farstep's own. The drifter would never engage in any display of aggression on his own, but with Taggarik showing similar signs of affront, the male's courage was bolstered. His neck stretched so that his head raised as well, though it fell short of Taggarik's own both because Farstep was the smaller and because he willed it to be so, but there was clear defiance there now. His ears pressed upward into a sign of self-assurance, now that he was certain his fellow lone wolf felt similarly, and his tail even gave a few tense snaps at his hindquarters.

It was a simple stand off, really. Dash would relent or he would not, and the behaviour of the lone wolves would follow his.

haha Dash. :)

The other black wolf seemed not to understand the reactions he had caused in Taggarik and the brown male. He appeared to be offended by their offense, brazenly displaying his fangs to them as he growled and bristled, as though he had completely misunderstood their request for him to tone it down and suspected an attack might be imminent. Perhaps another wolf might have struck at him for his foolishness, but Taggarik was not so hot-headed.

He stepped forward again with insistence, his posture unchanging, but his eyes hardening, narrowing. His voice, deep and gravelly as it was, carried a slight growl between his words. "I don't think you understand," he said, calmly despite the irritation he held. "Your dominance has no place out here. It is not welcome." He was not be the first wolf whom Tagg had encountered that had forgotten the oldest laws, that relied now more on their tongue than their body to speak. Tagg was fluent in both, fortunately.

Dash's hackles stood on end, returning the brown male's growl. He really didn't understand the aggression being showed towards him. He had only come over ensuring the wolves wouldn't be heading in the pack's direction. They were on the neighboring territory, so Dash felt justified.

The black male stepped forward and Dash snapped his jaws in his direction, though he was too far away to make contact. It was a warning that he didn't like the other male coming towards him. Dash stepped back, gaining distance between himself and the two males. He gaze turned towards the larger one in front of him as he spoke about how Dash's dominance had no place here. You have a lot of nerve talking to me about what has no place here. You're the one who turned aggressive, not me, he retorted.

Dash was beginning to feel like he had gotten in over his head. He wanted to retreat and head back home, but his years as a lone wolf demanded he not turn his back on these two. But, now he had something he hadn't had back then: pack mates. Dash lifted his muzzle to the sky and howled for his Alphas, @Charon and @Amekaze They would back him up, he was sure.

Had Dash done the sensible thing and stood down, both lone wolves probably would have left him in peace. The man was right to feel protective of his borders, but wrong to treat the two drifters like threats when they had shown no intent whatsoever to approach the distant pack. Laws were fluid in the wolf world, though, and so Farstep could only partially fault the pack wolf for his defensiveness, even if he felt it was misplaced. It wasn't like his homeland here. The wolves were not fluent in their own language here—they were truly stupid beasts that made up the packs here, if this fellow was any indication, for Dash had read threat where only warning and discontent existed—and made far too much noise with their mouths than what Farstep was accustomed to. The vocalizations were growls and barks to his ear, and the amount of them usually muddied their meaning. He read body like a familiar book, however, and Dart's body was showing far too much aggression in his dominance display for what was appropriate.

The drifter's heart squeezed when the dark pack male threw back his head and howled. His growl transformed from a warning to a dangerous snarl. Dash had just threatened him with that summoning howl, and though he didn't really know its purpose, he could guess at it. Other pack wolves would soon be arriving. He and his swarthy companion would do well to move out of here... but Farstep wasn't quick to turn around yet. He didn't take kindly to unnecessary threats, certainly far less kindly than he took to needless posturing.

Recklessly, he threw himself forward and lunged through the space between himself and Dash. Threatening him was uncalled for here and he was keen on reminding the pack wolf of his own place in the world. He feigned for the male's muzzle with a forceful snap, a hopeful reminder to the pack wolf that he was drunk with superiority that he did not deserve. He didn't seek to connect so his teeth snapped shut on the empty air between them, but the quiver of his whiskers, the direct contact his eyes made, and the wrinkle of his muzzle portrayed easily his disgust and offense with this wolf's behaviour. It was truly an attempt to frighten the pack wolf, whose arrogance assured that Farstep would think nothing but poorly of the pack he belonged to. It was an attempt to remind Dash that even a lone wolf deserved an ounce of respect in neutral lands, and that a pack made no one invincible, least of all a wolf who called trouble upon himself with assumptions.

As a last act of defiance of Dash's position, Farstep flung his tail into the sky, craned his head upward, pricked his ears sharply forward and growled a low warning note. It was a rare show of pride and dominance on Farstep's part, a brief taste of the capability to demand respect as a leader and not a follower. In this case, it was to demand respect as a fellow wolf who did not believe in the automatic superiority of pack wolves. Do not follow. Get lost. Learn some respect. He could have meant any or all of these things with his denial of Dash's supposed authority, though the pack wolf held no sway over him and had lost any opportunity to garner respect by threatening him and Taggarik. With that, Farstep turned at a brisk trot to leave with a personal reminder to never seek out this band that harboured such arrogant wolves.

Last post for me. It was fun ;)

He snorted, contempt for the other wolf's foolishness and sheer ignorance plain on his face and evident in the irritated lash of his tail. It had become apparent that his lessons, his clarification offered out of courtesy to a wolf that had learned to talk but forgotten how to communicate, would have been better served to a rock. This one had demonstrated an incredible lack of sense, his read on the other wolves so out of alignment that Taggarik's time and efforts would be wasted, and so he was done, as was the brown wolf.

He did not react so harshly as the other loner, whose retaliation was nonetheless warranted. He reasoned rather quickly that any further indication of the pair's offense to his stupid behavior was, again, better saved for a rock. He he merely gave a slow shake of his head, peering down the length of his broad muzzle with marked disdain, before he too quartered away, keeping a solid shoulder toward the pack wolf in case of attack. Whomever he had howled for, Taggarik was not inclined to wait for them, and with long strides and a brisk jog, he was soon well away.

Thanks for the thread! Last for Dash.

Dash would have agreed that any signs of aggression, including threats, would have been uncalled for. But, he would have directed it at the other two wolves, not himself. He was outnumbered, of course, and their signs of aggression left him no choice but to call for back up. It was obvious, though, that the brown wolf hadn't liked Dash's move. Dash did not take the strike submissively. He growled, lunging back, his jaws snapping at the other's face, hoping he made contact. Dash wasn't going to back down when the other male had lunged at him first.

The black stranger made no move to attack, and so Dash did not step towards him, or even look at him, though he did keep him in his peripheral view in case that changed. He didn't see the expression he gave, not that he would have cared if he did.

Both strangers made their move to leave, Dash's tail raising more, along with his hackles, as the brown male suddenly got brave enough to express his own dominance. Dash, however, felt it was a mock display. If he had been confident at all, that would have come out before now. They were scared that back up was coming, and Dash knew it. He watched as they both left, not moving from his spot until he was satisfied they weren't coming back. Then, with a confident strut, he headed back home, feeling proud he had successfully gotten them to leave.