Sawtooth Spire call me he of the two faces

The ground is dusted in a fresh layer of snow that builds with the passing hours of the early morning as it continues to fall in fat, wet snowflakes that occasionally splat against his muzzle causing him to wince as it splatters ice cold droplets and the chill seeps past the short fur of his muzzle. His coat is coarse and heavy for the winter months but he’s got no arctic blood in him and it’s evident in the dislike which he moves through the snow. His paws are soaked and outer coat along his spine is unpleasantly damp. Foxfang Ravine gets cold but it rarely snows — a mercy that evidently could not be spared him here — and he’s struck with the alarming actualization that he misses home. Yet …yet he couldn’t. His mission comes from Boadicea — no, his grandmother — to search for Arturo Fearghal. When the Warrior Queen of Quicksilver Hollow comes knocking and chooses you for a mission you don’t just decline.

It’s not like Rhysand was never aware of his parentage despite that he’d never actually met his mobster father. According to his mother, it had all been arranged to solidify the alliance between the two packs. The cutthroat life of consorting with the Ceannasach and desiring his unyielding favor and protection. Rhysand was an insurance: a Fearghal would live and be raised by Foxfang Ravine wolves to keep the peace, to pay for the protection of the Hollow wolves. It wasn’t a bad deal and Rhysand had never been bothered by the role he’s played having been kept out of pack politics until …well, until he wasn’t.

Golden eyes narrow and he slips in a particularly slick patch of snow and recoils back as he attempts to descend the Spire. He peers down cautiously, turns around and thinks that it’s best he remains until the snow clears a bit. He doesn’t particularly fancy being isolated and trapped up here but there are some patches of woods ( surely that means there’s at least small woodland creatures ), plenty of fresh water and he’s passed a cave or two that would provide shelter. It’s a cavern he seeks shelter in now, giving pause at it’s yawning mouth to allow his eyes to adjust before he takes a few cautious steps into it’s darkened depths.

391 words

it had been a couple of days since his reveal-all conversation with dawn, but he was still aglow with the feelings she had stirred in him. the trio had made a stop at the caldera before heading north once more to visit a pack that pema knew of, in the mountains. he split off from the ladies for a little while, traveling through the crags solo to find something, anything, that would be of interest to his mental map.

it was cold and snowy up here, and for a while, aditya regretted his decision to travel so high. his thin coat was not meant for such altitudes, as he had learned time and again in the mountains down south. yet he walked on, body slipping through the jagged edges of the territory, and came to a halt when he saw another nearby.

he was tall and slim, his pelt a reddish-black that stood starkly out from the white of the snow. he entered a cavern, presumably finding refuge from the blustery cool weather. aditya followed, but not without a bark of greeting, first; he did not want to startle the other man, not in this unfamiliar territory.

"great weather today," he muttered sarcastically as he padded into the cave, which was at first a place of yawning black but soon revealed itself to be a cozy little nook in the rocks. he blinked at the wolf, canting one ear back. "what brings you to this wretched place?"

The crunch of snow beneath paw is an impossible noise to hide — especially for bigger creatures and in the quietude of the spire. There is little noise except the wind through the trees, the fall of the snow and the creak of the trees as the cold seeps into their foundations. A snap of a twig causes Rhysand to freeze but he brushes it off as the weight of the snow breaking off a thin and dead branch. Yet, Rhysand realizes he’s not alone the moment he steps into the shelter of the cavern deducing that it’s as safe as he’s likely going to find. It’s not wolves that concerns him but rather massive, hibernating ursinaes and the unknown possibility of accidentally waking one. There’s a chuff from behind him and Rhysand gives his coat a leisurely shake, dispelling any lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt before he turns and fixates his golden gaze upon the stranger.

The older male is big and burly, with dark golden eyes and a pelage that is a mixture of browns, tans, creams and smudges of black with a bushy tail. The mobster draws back in surprise and muted indignation as the other male pads into the cavern without invitation. Rude. The older male speaks to Rhysand as if they are old friends instead of strangers and Rhys supposes this is the stranger’s effort to be friendly but it is dimmed in the wake of the lack of manners —or so that’s how Rhys feels about the barging into the cavern after Rhys had temporarily claimed it as his shelter without invitation. Would this man do that to someone’s new home ( never mind how temporarily )? Just barge in without permission because it still had the ‘for sale’ sign in the front yard?

There’s a terse tug of Rhysand’s lips and he glowers at the man trenchantly, his displeasure evident in his posture. “Typically it's civil to ask before you barge into another man’s shelter.” The young mobster speaks coolly, assuming that he would have to be more specific about his displeasure than just body language alone. Yes, the Spire was a neutral territory and thus all of it’s caverns were henceforth neutral and available to all and every wolf who haunted this place …but that wasn’t the point. For the moment the older male's questions go ignored in lieu of Rhys' current issue at hand.

405 words

his mouth was just about to split into a greeting smile when the other spoke, his voice tinged with a note of hostility. aditya then kept his face blandly neutral. such bravado from a young man! he had noticed that the northern wolves puffed themselves up more than necessary; whether it was from a constant struggle to survive in the cold or simply a cultural thing, he hadn't decided yet.

"my apologies if i've offended," adi responded finally, dipping his head in a concilliatory manner. "where i come from, shelter is shared without question, especially on neutral ground. but i should have asked."

he wasn't about to let the dark red boy have this victory, though; not with the blizzard raging outside. he took a couple steps back and hung at the mouth of the cavern, close to one of its walls.

"typically it's civil to answer questions asked," he said with a wry smile. "but i understand if it's something you can't tell me."

Their previous homes, Rhysand considers as the male speaks with apology and offers a dip of his head to the young mobster, are vastly different. Rhysand supposes it’s that diversity that makes the world an interesting place but regardless he thought it was just a polite thing. True, the wolves of Quicksilver Hollow ruled the other packs that shared a region with them with an iron jaw — his existence was proof enough of that. You minded your manners and you paid your protection fee of food quota ( or in his mother’s case birthed a Fearghal as assurance ) or you would be on their hit list. Perhaps it was tyrannical but it was effective nevertheless. If the male was waiting for Rhysand to brush it off, to assure him that it was alright, that he didn’t need to ask he’d be waiting for a very long time. “Yes, you should have.” Rhys murmurs in agreement.

Yet, the older male doesn’t leave. Sharpened golden gaze narrows as he stares unabashedly at him. A low rumble vibrates in Rhysand’s throat as the older male attempts to throw his words back in his face. Rhysand’s tail twitches irritably against his hocks and he lets out a low snort that bubbles into a mirthless chuckle though the sound is short lived. “Is it?” Rhysand retorts, incredulously. “Tell me, how is it civil to answer questions that are, in reality, none of your business?” It wasn’t like Rhysand had trespassed on pack lands and this older man was the alpha demanding answers. Now that would be a different story. His mission in these Wilds was not to be broadcasted for Arturo’s sake more than anyone else’s. He has no idea how big his father made himself ( if he made anything of himself at all ) and the Ceannasach’s protection was his secondary but nearly merging with his primary objective. Protect the boss.

320 words

aditya rn

truly incredulous, he resisted a sarcastic laugh in return, his eyes merely widening a tad at the young man's insolent response. he had touched a nerve! he supposed that there was nothing you could do in this situation but to exit it.

"look, i'm sorry if i've offended you," aditya said again softly, a final peace offering toward the lad. "my intentions came purely from a place of goodwill, and friendliness."

with a nod, he started to back out of the place, not taking his eyes off the stranger, who had not even offered a greeting, much less his name. the blustery weather outside was now preferable to the icy hostility--or lack thereof--that aditya had found in the cave.

"i wish you well on whatever journey you're on," he ended, then exited the cavern, not turning around and taking flight until the cave was well out of sight. good riddance.