Porcupine Ridge iphone screen full of smudges

@Farstep, no rush!

He skirted the ridge, his broad paws laying down the first tracks in what would become the edge of his domain, a trail worn into the earth and posted with the scent of himself and his wolves when the time was right. Even as he paused his easy lope, his hip abreast of the trunk of a stout tree, the urge to mark was strong. He could not officialise the claim yet, eager as he was. He had not the numbers to do so, and so he moved past the tree leaving nought but a wisp of fur as his tail brushed across the rough bark. His gray eyes roamed, scanning, scouting, as he strode.

In spite of his less-than-savoury experience alongside Taggarik, Farstep had not blamed the superior male for being present there. The pack wolf they'd encountered would have been just as foolishly proud and aggressive if there had been only one loner instead of two, he firmly believed, so Taggarik had neither prevented nor caused the outcome. The pack wolves that Dash had summoned had not found the loners, and with nowhere else to go and no interest in those who didn't know how to communicate with or respect their fellow wolves, Farstep had found and followed Taggarik's trail into the mountains.

For all the stops he made along the way, he still made good time. He came upon the ridge quietly, keen eyes noting the tracks pressed into the dry loam and the scent of Taggarik thick on the wind. He took little note of his surroundings, for any territory was fair game for a wolf and he wasn't overly concerned with the terrain or what it looked like. There were spires coming out of the ground, small but numerous, like the back of one of those spiny rats he liked to avoid, but he noticed almost nothing else.

He couldn't see the swarthy loner from the terrace, but the drifter fell into step with him nonetheless, following the tracks Taggarik had made at a brisk pace. He was careful to keep his ears draped over the sides of his head and his tail pressed firmly into his hindquarters—he'd invited himself along and didn't know how serious Taggarik was about this place, nor did he have any way of knowing if he was welcome here. He would only know the answers to those questions when he found the superior male, who would either accept or tolerate his presence or chase him off.

The brown wolf and he had never exchanged a word, but much had been said between them as they stood in solidarity against the inane behavior of a imbecile. For that was what the other black wolf had showed himself to be in Taggarik's mind, a wolf who had forgotten the ancestral language of the body, the single most important contributor to effective communication among any living creature. He had not thought back on that day, on either of those wolves, until now, when the wind swirled in on itself and floated a familiar scent past his vigilant nose.

The black wolf's paws stilled and he turned to look behind him. He could see the agouti male coming down his trail, and he shifted his hind-end to quarter toward the other wolf. He was a properly respectful fellow. Tagg's appraising eyes were quick to note the low stance of both ears and tail, and for this mindfulness his tail waved favorably, its cadence directly proportionate to how well received the other was. A soft woof of greeting was issued, and he stood with the same neutrality he had shown out on the terrace that day, before he had become stiffened with righteous offense.

It wasn't long before the dark-haired wolf's silhouette loomed before Farstep. He increased his pace in hopes of catching up, but it was hardly necessary. Scents traveled far on a breeze and Taggarik was turning before the drifter had a chance to close the distance and announce himself.

Immediately the lone wolf pressed himself lower, whining gently and poking his tongue out between his lips in an effort to please the superior wolf. The very tip of his tail swept genially across the ground as he crouched and reached his nose out toward his alpha, sending a pebble skittering into a clump of grass and raising a mild cloud of dust into the air. Taggarik's own tail wagged higher, and Farstep's eyes followed it, noting the subtle cues—the whole thing waved, suggesting a lack of tension. The dark male stopped a short distance away, and his voice came out gruff but lacking the gravel of displeasure.

Ritualized greetings were all too familiar to Farstep, who began the slow process of crawling close enough to reach his snout up and lick at the superior's chin in acknowledgement of his rank. Taggarik exuded the air of a dominant wolf and Farstep had chosen to throw his lot in with the male after witnessing the ridiculous behaviour of pack wolves elsewhere, if only he would be permitted to remain.

He had not invited the brown wolf to the mountains the way he had invited the others, but the black wolf would welcome any who were prepared to submit to him as their leader, and who could pull their own weight. He would not ask for much, only that a wolf work for their pack, and in turn the pack would work for them. It was a simple philosophy, one he suspected the brown wolf could uphold perhaps better than any of his other prospects. From what little he had seen of the male, he appeared to be markedly in touch with the natural order of things, on which Taggarik's principles were founded.

Farstep, whose name was not known to Taggarik, approached in a servile manner. It was well received by the black wolf, whose own tail rose above the line of his spine, the full length swaying gently as he received the other's respect. He shifted, nosing through the shorter furs on the other's crown before sniffing his neck. There was nothing novel or exciting to be found and he stepped away, inviting the other to come along with his approachable posture and a sweep of his tail. Their positions here were now established, just as had been done with Terich.

"What do you think of the mountain so far?" He commented, yet unaware that this wolf did not speak, not in words.

He stiffened slightly as Taggarik's nose brushed over the fair hairs atop his head and sought the thicker fur of his nape. The habits of a loner were hard to put aside. His lip twitched uncomfortably, his tail stilled its wagging, but Taggarik proved to be the same well-mannered wolf from the terrace. He didn't push the point of dominance, which Farstep appreciated with a sniff of his own at the man's ambient odour. Taggarik had certainly been more places recently than Farstep had judging by his scent. Perhaps others awaited higher on the ridge, drawn to Taggarik's easy dominance as he was, but their scents were not yet fully mingled with the alpha's.

Taggarik rumbled and Farstep's ears snatched instinctively back. He drew his belly closer to the earth, awaiting signs of displeasure, but Taggarik's expression was more expectant than anything. A gruff sound pulled from the wanderer's throat as he corrected his posture to one of light submission and primary neutrality, a generic response to a vocalization he did not really understand, though ironically, he angled his snout to gaze quietly at the ridge overhead. It was large and surely held a bounty. Farstep looked forward to familiarizing himself with it.

He took a slow and cautious step forward, his flighty nature kicking in in the event Taggarik took offense to his approach. All the while he was unaware that the alpha had asked him a direct question and probably expected a response. He would get no such thing from Farstep, ever.

There was something indescribable, something strange in the other wolf's mannerisms. Taggarik had a deep, gravelly voice, but he did not speak with so much depth and gravel as to warrant the flattening of ears and body. He pinched his brows momentarily in a fleeting expression of bafflement. Farstep, as if he understood the question, glanced up at the jutting peaks of the ridge, but the black wolf was not convinced that the question had actually been understood. Nor was he convinced that this wolf did not speak.

He uttered a short, quiet hm, and as the other male fell in to step with him he offered reasurrance in the form of another tail wag. In silence, he moved further down the yet unestablished borderline, his gray eyes peering through the trunks of trees and scanning across the timberbare peaks that could be glimpsed above the canopy. He sought to figure out his companion, soon to be packmate, with another question. One whose answer could not be given through gesticulation. He spoke softly, and his strides did slow or shift. "What do you want out of life, my friend?" He glanced sidelong at the wolf before returning his gaze ahead.

He felt more than saw the wave of Taggarik's tail and, satisfied that his action had pleased his superior, Farstep fell into stride with him. They crunched quietly along the ridge, forming a path in the pristine snow, the subordinate in line behind the alpha, with his head and tail accordingly lower. Yet his crown rode above his shoulders now and his ears pricked alertly forward, the stance of a patrolling wolf rather than a submitting one. He placed his paws carefully in the prints Taggarik left behind, doubling up the scent of each one. Their presence would soon be unmistakable.

When Taggarik slowed, Farstep swept around his hindquarters and came to pause, his muzzle adjacent with the dark-haired wolf's left hip. This time, the alpha's vocalizations only made his ears twitch downward, but his stance remained firm. He glanced at the alpha, not comprehending the sounds, and then without response (for he had none to give) he dropped his snout to the snow and sniffed tenderly the undisturbed snow to his right. Nothing noteworthy there.

Feel free to pp them moving along, down to the lake or something lol <3

No response. Taggarik's eyes followed the straight line of the male's muzzle as it descended to the snow to sniff at nothing, it seemed, for his interest was short lived there. There was a small smile on his lips as he walked on. The evidence was mounting that this one could not talk, and in fact it even seemed he could not understand words at all. If he could, the black wolf reasoned, he may have tried to gesture some form of an answer.

This did not bother the wolf, who was as comfortable speaking with his body as he was with his tongue. As he moved beneath the gently frowning boughs of a tree laden with snow, a squirrel climbing overhead caused a shower of snow to drop onto Tagg. He was like a snow-capped mountain, but with a quick shake he was once more a black wolf albeit with a dusting of frost. From the high-up safety of a nearby tree, that same squirrel chattered as if laughing.

"You ever eat squirrel?" he commented again, testing once more. Rounding a rock outcropping, one of the ridge's spring-fed lakes was sprawled below them, a thin layer of ice shimmering on top.

Farstep had not eaten squirrel. They were a bugger to catch, and he was too excited by them to ever sneak up on them. As soon as the dusting of snow fell over Taggarik, his subordinate flicked his gaze up and caught sight of the bushy squirrel tail, and his lips pulled back into a goofy half-pant, half-grin. His tail swung jovially as he craned his neck to get a peek of the rodent, and when the squirrel moved, so did he with jerky and playful steps. He was hopeful that it would fall, and continued to trace it in this manner until it disappeared into a hollow in the tree.

Disappointed, the wolf snorted and shook his neck out and dropped his nose to the ground once more. The scents were more interesting here along the side of the stream, and soon enough he was following the crackle of ice down the slope toward a small lake in the distance. Taggarik was free to continue along his borders if he wished, or he could continue surveying his newest subordinate; the drifter's stance as he tracked was light and easy, with a still-wagging tail inviting Tagg if he had nothing better to do.

The brown wolf had no answer for him again. Taggarik watched his companion playfully trace the squirrel's movements with an amused chuff. The black wolf had never seen the talented tree-climbers fall, and knew them to be pranksters on occasion, taunting their predators by staying just out of reach. They made themselves the proverbial steak in front of the dog's nose in this way.

As they made their way down the slope, Farstep broke from Taggarik's side in pursuit of scents along the lake's edge. The black wolf stilled and watched him for a few moments, aware of the amiable body language that invited him along, but also said he was content in his new surroundings and new place. Tagg extended his body into a stretch, and thinking he would let his newest recruit explore on his own, continued on his way.