The Sunspire your eyes were the color of some kind of grey

pls no eat

coelho had followed bronte's scent as far as she could before she encountered territorial marks around her. at first the scent had been subtle - an old tuft of fur here, the faded tread of packwolves -- but as she came closer to the border, it was clear the area was heavily patrolled.

her long ears flipped up, and then down as she considered what to do; bronte was here, she could tell by the fresh tracks he had left -- but how could she get him? he was in there, and there was heavily patrolled. she had learned the edict of the wild once already, and felt the teeth of the pack at her back -- she would not press her luck again.

a whine bubbled from her throat and her ears continued their sonar flapping as she wrestled with what she wanted to do, and what she ought to do. too struck by apprehension to think clearly, coelho fell into an old stereotypy and started to nervously circle, her tail clasped in her mouth as she went round and round in a blur of furry ouroboros.

Let's play and see. :D Of course, not. :)

Wraen had found a very good spot for caches - not too far from the borders there was a vast area of, where a rock-slide had happened, a long time ago. And between larger and smaller boulders there were very good and handy caverns that were hard for fox and other vermin to access, if you did not know, how to. For few weeks now they had proven to be the best quartermastering choice Wraen had made. 

This was, where she was working now, when she caught sight of a coyote-like thing meandering by the borders. Having met with these little thieves before and killed at least one of them almost single-handedly, she was quick to leave the job for time-being and react to the would-be intruder. Without so much as stopping to greet the stranger, she charged directly at it - her aim very clear - either drive away or seriously maim. Any questions asked later.

round and round Coelho went, an impression of damp pawmarks wreathing the sodden earth in her wake. her tail was still held loosely in her mouth when the crackling of leaflitter underfoot caused her to pause, her long ears pricked in apprehension.

Coelho didn't have much time to assess her assailant -- all she saw was a demonic blur of grey that caused her to fold her limbs down in submission and her ears to fall flat. to no avail, it seemed -- for in moments Wraen would be upon her. all the while her panicked yelps curdled the air with fright. she shut her eyes and slumped upside down on the ground, her tail curled over her belly and her thin paws brought to her face in fearful submission. never once did her terrified cries cease -- even as she was on her back, her life exposed to this hellish wolf for the taking, Coelho continued her high pitched whimpers.

Just a second before Wraen's body collided with that of the perceived intruder, she noticed the most odd pose the coyote had taken. In the moment of agitation she was quick to assume that this weirdness only justified her decision to attack. However, instead of fleeing, the canid had flopped on it's back and whimpering loudly, pleaded for mercy. 

The sound was so annoying and ear-piercing that it made Wraen stop mid-action (which would have been a hefty bite on, whatever body part was nearest to her), and press her jaws tightly together. Finally she could not stand the tirade and yelled: "For goodness sake - SHUT UP!"

lying in the dirt, Coelho didn't have much time to process her life's work. this wasn't how she imagined her end, but it sure seemed like it was coming in the form of a steel gray wolf hellbent and terrifying. she tried to make herself small, an instinct so ironic considering how not inconspicuous her high pitched yelps were.

she flinched as the wolf yelled back at her, expecting teeth or worse -- instead she was commanded into silence. she shut her yapping, fearfully opening her eyes for a second -- only to swiftly cover her vision with her wrists as she beheld the female's intimidating tenacity. another whimper gurgled from her clenched jaws, but she remained prone exactly where she had fallen, her tail quivering across her shaking belly.

"Thank goodness," Wraen groaned, when the little canid complied, shut his muzzle and looked up at her fearfully. She was still angry, basking in after-effects of adrenaline and more importantly killing-mode rush, but now more in charge of the instincts. 

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" she demanded in a stern voice, implying that silence and playing mute would not do this time. Either the canid answered, or...

The swarthy young man had been near - perhaps not near enough before but definitely near enough now - to the sound of her high pitches yipes. Immediately, alarms sounded in his mind. The dark bear turned on his scouting trip and aimed himself for her cries. With a swift reaction, he arrived just as a stranger was standing over the body of his sweet little Coelho. Bronte could not imagine what the sprightly girl could have possibly done to be deserving of such a thing. His brows furrowed against the wolf that was obviously his superior and he darted toward both of them in a feverish attempt to save the nimble girl. He did not like the fear that flashed in her eyes. He did not wish to see her punished for something she might have done. Bronte had only wanted her to be with him, there, since Rannoch had recruited him. 

”Hey, whoa, hey,” he barked to the grey female with a bit more daring than he should have. The beating of his heart was wild and it carried him away. The fur along his neck and shoulders bristled with fear and agitation, but he made sure his head was lower than the other wolf’s and his eyes were glued only to Coelho’s. ”Don’t hurt her, please. She’s with me. Rannoch recruited me and she is... she’s part of the package,” he growled softly. Instinctively, Bronte moved in an attempt to aid Coelho, if nothing more than to act as a guardian over her smaller frame. 

Coelho was still cowering as Wraen spoke again, though she did slowly pull her limbs from shielding her face. Wraen's stern features swam in her vision and it was all the small coywolf could do to not instinctively cover her face once more.

"please don't kill me, " she blubbered pathetically, flipping onto her elbows with her ears plastered flat to her small skull. "i'm just looking for a friend -- he's tall and black and he--" she stopped abruptly as she heard another wolf approach, her ears pricked upright in apprehension. the transformation that came over her fearful features was tremendous as she recognized  him -- "bronte!" she exclaimed in a light yip, submissively wriggling on the ground towards him with her tail beating wildly behind her.

"Not. So. Fast," Wraen told the little frightened being, as it tried to crawl towards her friend - who, by the way, she did not know either. She swiftly went over to block the coywolf's way and bared her fangs to remind that gamma was still in charge of the situation and that the little straggler had no freedom of will, until she was released.

"And who are you?" she now turned to the black wolf and looked him directly in the eyes. "I have had coyotes stealing from my caches and I have killed them before too. I don't see a reason, why I should trust a single word you say, let alone your friend's," she replied coldly.

The grey female did not relent as Coelho scooched her way toward him with a thumping tail and an expression of relief. The swarthy young bear fixed his gaze on his packmate and furrowed a brow; his mouth hung open in an incredulous gape. That had always been one of his issues with a life in a pack – everyone was always so damn uppity. At first, Bronte didn’t know how he was intended to respond to the stranger, only that he was rather shocked he had offered her Alpha’s name and it hadn’t seemed to phase her. How many wolves did Rannoch go trotting around with outside of the Sunspire? It left a poor impression on him and changed some of how he viewed the young leader of the mountain. Shaking his head, Bronte fixed the grey-cloaked woman with a clenched jaw and shrugged his shoulders sarcastically. “I don’t know, miss… maybe it’s because I know the name of the Alpha here and I’ve been trotting around in your territory for a couple of days now. Those might be persuasive to someone who’s conscious,” he answered with – what he knew to be – a completely insubordinate remark.

Wraen moved to block Coelho's egress, and the girl froze with her eyes transfixed on the wolf's long shadow. even her tail seemed to be hung in suspension -- the only thing that seemed to stir along her still frame were the white rims of her eyes, which slowly moved to Bronte in unease.

with Wraen's distaste for coyotes wass announed, Coelho could not help but utter in insistent defense: "I'm not a coyote! not a thief!" at least, not anymore - that had been one time, honest! 

she fell silent quickly, simmering with dread as she overheard their exchange. there was not much she could do, not with Wraen barring her attempts at reuniting with Bronte. in her agitated state, she started to pant -- a high pitched and worried whine pressing her cheeks as she heard Bronte sass the unknown grey female.

Rannoch has been wrong about people before - was Wraen's mental remark to the black wolf's sarcastic question, but she was not that stupid to backlash her friend and leader in front of a subordinate and a squealing piglet. Speaking of the latter: "Please - do keep your mouth shut, when you are done talking. I don't think anyone told you as a kid that singing and dramatic acting is simply not your thing. You are awful at that." With this she took a step to the side, to give the I-am-not-a-thief-yeah-right the much needed space. 

"As for you - mind, what you are saying and to whom," she said fixing the dark wolf with her gaze again and then turning her head away. "Let's settle this with the right people now," and with this said, she howled for either @Rannoch , @Liffey or @Terance to come and sort the situation out.

Although Waren's call didn't convey much information, Rannoch could tell that the matter was urgent; he migrated to the border with rapidity. As Rannoch traveled across the territory, his posture straightened accordingly, and his tail draped along his back. Whatever was going on was now his problem, and he was ready to make whoever was involved aware of who the authority in this situation was. 

"What's going on here?" Rannoch called as he strode to join the group of gathered wolves. A majority of the crowd was pledged to Sunspire but, there was a noticeable outlier. He regarded the stranger with a questioning look, before turning his attention to Wraen.

The silver woman called for the leadership of the mountain, and Bronte took a single step back with an expression that radiated his feelings of being thoroughly unamused. The swarthy brute’s brow was furrowed over his dark gaze and his limbs remained rigid, stock still against the earth where he stood. Worrisome thoughts fluttered through his mind, imagining the frustration that Rannoch might feel for him, but Bronte had been very clear where he stood about Coelho when the two had first met. He would always be unyielding regarding the coywolf female and her bright nature.
 
When the Alpha of the Sunspire pack arrived, he stepped into the situation with a curious but stern hold over his features and frame. The DeMonte was quick to cast a pointed stare at Wraen before he frowned and lowered his skull for the leadership of the pack. “This one needs to be reigned in a bit. She’s convinced Coelho is here to steal from your caches,” the dark bear remarked and gestured toward the Gamma with a nod of his muzzle. “I tried telling her you recruited me, and that Coelho is part of that agreement, but she won’t budge.” He opted to leave out the rude demeaner that the female had taken when approached, and how she had treated his friend with a level of disrespect he’d never witnessed.

Coelho wanted dearly to worm out from the oppressive hold of the female, to dash to Bronte -- but she held firm in place. Her cheeks puffed as each suppressed whine hit the end of her long muzzle, stifled at the tip of her tongue.

When Rannoch approached, Coelho seemed to melt in the manner of a liquid before him - her red ears wilted and her rufous tinted tail beat submissively into the dirt. Apprehensively, she looked to Bronte for guidance -- a nervous, squinty smile stealing across her thin muzzle.

Wraen was annoyed by the new recruit's manner of speaking and, when he complained to Rannoch about her attitude and advised his leader to reign her in, she shot him a very dark look. Many possible replies came to her mind, beginning with: Who do you think you are to set any terms upon joining - either you accept our terms or you bugger off!!! Then: Do we really need that snivelling piece of... of... squealing pig in our ranks? Because, when she looked the coyote up and down again, she saw no good qualities about her that could contribute to the pack. No - she saw trouble and she saw another mouth to feed. And they did not need any of that. They really did not. Ending with a resigned: Rannoch, why are you such a softie?

But voicing any of these thoughts out loud would not make her position any better. Rannoch would be demeaned in front of packmates and - as good for nothing as the latter were - she would still have to live with them from now on. She was not forced to like them, but to get along. And having already difficult relationship with Terance, Wraen did not need more trouble. Therefore she sighed, looked Rannoch in the eyes and gave an apologetic smile. "I may have over-reacted, but we have had a coyote troubles for some time. They have been stealing from the caches - and you know, how important the food matter is for us now," she explained herself. "And no offence to you," she told the black wolf, "but with you being a newcomer that I don't know at all - your word does not hold much weight to me at the moment."

"Is that, what he tells is true?" she asked. "And is everyone else warned about a coyote joining our ranks? Would be very unfortunate if someone's friend would die by an honest mistake."

Bronte and Wraen both conferred each of their perspectives, and Rannoch remained silent as he considered both sides; there were aspects of each retelling that didn't sit well with him. "I see," Rannoch acknowledged before he regarded Coehlo with a glance. Given her display of submission, she seemed to be the least of his concerns at the moment.  

"I wasn't told that Coehlo was a coyote when Bronte and I discussed the terms of his acceptance," he admitted, "But, yes, that would have been terrible if she would have died because of a miscommunication." 

Rannoch then turned to Wraen with a look of recognition; he could understand what had compelled her to act the way she did. "Was Coehlo trespassing when you met her?" Rannoch asked. He needed to know more about the situation before he could even consider coming to a conclusion.

“Coelho’s not a coyote… she’s just… part coyote,” he interjected with a furrowed brow. They both seemed careless about calling her something she wasn’t. Appearances weren’t everything, Bronte wanted to remind them. More than this, the young DeMonte would have died well before they had ever laid a fang against her. He was not interested in starting a fight when he was so new to their ranks, so he bit against his tongue at the quip that wanted to be released. When Rannoch inquired as to whether the sprite had been trespassing, Bronte couldn’t help but to snort softly. He turned his attention to the female who had confronted them and canted his head a bit. While he may have been wrong, Bronte was positive that his companion would not have crossed a clearly marked border. She may have been a bit airheaded, but Coelho wasn’t stupid enough to risk her life by stepping across a well-patrolled pack. There was a smug curling to his dark lip as he waited for the Sunspire stranger to answer the question that the Alpha had posed.

"Not a coyote." Coelho repeated insistently, muttering moreso to herself than any of the wolves within earshot. 

For a moment her gaze slid upwards; the conversation had since steamrolled past her, and she didn't feel she had a voice any of them would listen to anyway. With a slightly dour expression she remained silent, though like Bronte she wondered just how Wraen would respond to Rannoch's pointed query.

When did the conversation turn to a discussion about Coelho's parentage? As if that changed anything - Wraen gave half-annoyed/half-tired look at the pair and then replied to Rannoch's question. "No, she was not, but I believe I have every right to keep people at bay, if I feel that they might be of trouble for the pack within the borders," she explained coolly and, no matter the specifics of where who had stood, it was clear from her tone that she was going to stand her ground on this matter. Though the situation was becoming awkward for her, she did not regret any of her past actions.

Rannoch's ears fell when Bronte and Coehlo both corrected him, and he ducked his head briefly. "My mistake," he breathed and turned towards the misidentified female. "I'm sorry about that, Coelho." He offered her a smile. Rannoch could only image how sensitive a subject that must have been for her. 

When Wraen answered Rannoch, his brows knit; the information she shared only furthered his confusion. And yet, despite his uncertainty, it seemed as though Rannoch was getting nowhere in finding out the complete story of why Wraen had reacted the way that she had.

"How was she a problem?" he pressed, his voice noticeably harder.  Rannoch's patience was starting to wear. "I just want to understand the situation," he added, after a moment.

The stranger answered the Alpha’s inquiry and prattled on about her reasoning for having behaved so sharply toward Coelho. Bronte scoffed openly again, unafraid to hide the disbelief that he felt for her having approached them with such a difficult attitude. The dark bear thought himself to be in the right and for her to be very deeply-set in the wrong. Of course, it was primarily due to his youth that he felt this self-righteous flood of emotion for the young girl he’d traveled with. So, without much thought, Bronte canted his head to the left and cast a scrutinizing look to the female before inquiring, “and what kind of trouble did you think she would cause?”
 
Turning his head to look at Coelho, he noted her slender frame and the naturally apologetic and unassuming stance she took to avoid getting into trouble. She had only ever been a pleasant little tag-along, and Bronte had always been grateful that she did her best to keep her head low and only enjoy the gifts life had to give. She’d sobered his harsher thoughts on life, many times. So, what was this grey-furred female’s issue?  

Coelho shuddered under the iciness of Wraen's tone, pressing herself further into the ground -- as if she made an extra effort to be extra flat, that she might suddenly be swallowed by the earth she clung so closely to. As Rannoch apologized she tried to give a smile, but it was half-hearted and the girl quickly looked away.

She mumbled something to herself, no doubt some defense of her dubious parentage, but it was unintelligible -- meanwhile, she tried to crawl closer towards Bronte (though remained away from the border), eager to put a great amount of distance between her and this extremely uncomfortable situation.

Wraen did not like to be interrogated like a criminal and now that it was two against one (boy, did that newcomer have some guts; she disliked him more with every passing moment), she stiffened, her eyes grew cold and her lips were pressed in a thin line, her thinking of a proper answer. Every fibre of her being was rallying against the way Rannoch refused to understand her and his absolute ignorance to the fact that he was openly demeaning her conduct in front of two wolves, who stood on the lowest step of the hierarchy. 

"I explained myself once, I am not going to do it a second time," she said eventually, looking her leader fearlessly in the eyes and keeping her gaze locked for a while. "I was just doing my job and what I believed was right at that moment," she turned to go, casting one last glance at the duo - memorizing their faces and - what's more - very intent on not forgetting, how they had acted out - and then left for the flatlands. She was in no mood to be in Sunspire today anymore.