Mount Everfall One great big festering neon distraction

Maybe @Anuniaq, or @Tûgar?

These mountains upon which the wolves of Tartok had come to rest were only transitory; a brief stop on a much larger journey with a destination that Aklark did not know. Though Aklark knew their stay in the region hinged on the movement of the herd, he liked this particular mountain. The feeling, however, was not spoiled with any heavy sentiment -- he simply liked any mountain. A wolf born of rock and stone, Aklark felt that the jagged terrain and the high altitude ran in his veins.  

He climbed upward toward the snow-kissed peak without much of a goal in mind. He wanted to see. He wanted to breath. When he reached his destination, an overlook high above the hinterlands, Aklark sucked in a long breath of crisp mountain air and held it in. Soon, the air before him was foggy with his own breath, and his lovely view, obstructed.

Tûgar, like Aklark, preferred places of rock to anything else. They would soon leave these lands she was certain, as the herds direction seemed to separate them from this place. She, also like Aklark, bore no sentiment toward this place other than the fact that its difficult-to-reach altitudes existed in a place that otherwise seemed level. Tûgar ascended upward, her lithe, toned frame moving quickly enough. She trailed the tawny Tartok male, ever eager to bond with her brethren. Tartok was a brotherhood, after all. More than that, she wanted to find her place among them. She did not mind testing the waters. Her ambition was limited, but she would never be content to linger beneath another who could not hold their own, or earn their keep. She was not shy in her approach, though not so loud as to cause a disruption in any other mountain lurkers day.

Oblivious to the fact that he had been followed up the mountain, Aklark turned to look behind him when he heard an unexpected noise. His eyes fell on a wolf of smaller construction. She was plain in appearance, just as he. However, having never seen her face, Aklark did not recognize her as being one of Tartok. For a moment, he was wary. His eyes narrowed and he studied the stranger with incredible scrutiny. 

Ears pinning slightly forward, Aklark took a slow step toward the stranger. And then another. When he drew near enough to the stranger, he could smell Silaluk's scent on her coat. She was Tartok, and with that revelation, Aklark's unease dissapated. He backstepped to give his companion some space. "Aklark," he introduced, allowing his tail to wag in a friendly manner behind him as he spoke.

He introduced himself, and her ears perked. Aklark. She had heard the name, but now could put a true face to it. "Tûgar," she introduced, her voice surprisingly soprano for one who looked so gruff. But it was not smooth. Lack of use made her vocal chords rough, though this did not bother her. Tûgar spoke mostly with her body, though would speak when spoken to. Aklark was at ease, and so she mirrored him. Tûgar then tested him with the subtle lift of her head, and a quick attempt to look him in the eye in challenge. Now was as good a time as any to establish who, between them, would answer to who. 

Feel free to have him put her in her place ;)

Oh, that he will :P

Perhaps it had been the amiciable wag of his tail that Tûgar had misinterpreted as weakness. If so, her thoughts were misguided. As soon as her eyes met his, Aklark's entire posture stiffened. His ears pinned foward, his tail rose, and his lips pulled back with a menacingly dominant snarl. Aklark followed only the strong. He would submit only to those who could overpower him. Therefore, there was only one he would truly follow besides himself. Silaluk.

This wolf -- this small, lissome creature -- would not garner such submission from a wolf like him. So, he stepped forward to invade his challenger's personal space. His face hovered above his challenger's face as he bared his teeth in defiance. The line needed to be drawn now, and she needed to know that apart from Silaluk, she answered to him.

Tûgar's challenge was answered swiftly enough that she felt herself second-guess her intent, her drive. Her ears fell flat atop her crown for a moment before her eyes quickly averted. Okay, her body spoke, and she hunched herself lower than him. It was easy to do, her frame being what it was and his being as large as Silaluk's, and Tûgar patiently awaited his forgiveness. This was natural, and their way; respect was a thing that was not only earned but understood by instinct. Aklark was large, and intimidation as well as attitude was equally important. Perhaps Tûgar might be able to best him in a fight, though her own attitude was deferential to those that had greater ambition than she did and so there was little need. Tûgar was not a she-wolf to be pushed around, however. She was subordinate, but not Omega.

Aklark could see that the embers of rebellion were all but quashed in her eyes. She relented, and lowered herself before him in submission. The tension between them had once felt like static, but now it ebbed away and the cold mountain air was still. Pleased with her actions, Aklark pulled away and allowed himself to fall back into a more amiciable posture. All he wanted was respect where it was due, and now that he had it from the newest member of the branch, he could be quite agreeable and kind.

He stepped back to give Tûgar the space that she had bought with the token of her submission, but soon Aklark found himself inviting his new aquaintance to play with an arching bow. Now that their squabble over domiance was over, and she knew who was in charge, the real bonding could begin.

The bitch watched him, mindful of her body language, but as he bowed in an age-old gesture Tûgar swept low with a growl that told of her next intent. She sprung toward him, feinting a blow to his open foreleg before withdrawing sharply, an eager light in her eye as she darted away only to keep herself out of reach from his fangs. She squared herself as best as she could on the precarious territory, licking her chops and letting out a series of barks fall rapidly from her lips to tempt him to movement. Her own voice was higher than the low intimidating barks their leader could produce, but it was no less daunting as saliva oozed and splayed from her lips. Aklark need not be afraid, but a stranger surely would be. Her sounds were meant to distract as she again surged forward, fangs looking to grab hold of anything in their reach, though not to break skin. In spars and even rank skirmishes, blood was never to be drawn. 'An eye for an eye' was taken quite seriously; even her own brother had fallen victim to this particular law, just though she felt it was.