Broken Antler Fen last smoke before the snowstorm

the sun had set long before the wildcat made wolf had set to prowling across the moor. the dull yellow of his eyes lingered only on the vast stretch of mountain that seemed to climb upward and jut out to the end of the earth. it seemed a fitting place for him, if he'd ever imagined there to be one. so, the mercurial brute set his pace to a lope and found a rhythm in that for some time. it was only when he found himself near the presence of water that he paused on his trek and lowered his crown toward the earth to draw in the scent of those who might have passed recently.

nearing to the water, tusk felt the cold grip of the ice against the edges against the rough pads on his paws. the touch of winter caused his wild coat to stand rigidly along his back, creating spikes that rose from his neckline to the base of his tail. already, his earthy coat had gotten thicker and had prepared for the chilling embrace of heavy snowfall. already, he had felt his instincts shift toward survival, and in this he had put on a considerable amount of weight to his normally-lean frame.

once he had dipped his limbs into the water, he exhaled a plume of breath into the skies. dipping his skull, tusk drank in the frigid liquid until the back of his throat was numb from the touch of it. the cry of a nearby bird pulled his attention upward, water drizzling from his chin. tusk sprang from the edge of the water and back onto land. his long legs made easy work of the movements. he shook his ragged coat and set his sights back to the mountains.

A cool determination came over young Quill when she scented her brother on the air.

She turned after the trail immediately; abandoning her half-endured hunt for shelter, as the faint whiff of Tusk's indisputable cologne dictated. She might have called out for him, but thought it might be interested to hunt him down - spy on him a bit, if she could. The unthrifty she-wolf had to suppress the reflex of a smile, as the mere suggestion of a conspiratory nature in her thoughts seemed to be enough to put the grey harpy in a good mood.

Quill hiked in steady rhythm across the frostbitten loam, with a purpose etched illegibly across her features as she abandoned her consideration for the surrounding nocturnal animals, their eerie night-lives, and the strife her carnivorous presence caused them. She had thought she might catch one of them unawares before hunkering down for the night, but bigger and better things had been promised to her in that moment.

Why settle for the worm-diggers and the squirrels with inner ear issues, when she had an entire littermate at her hunting disposal?

Maybe he had caught something recently, and she wouldn't have to work at all. This secondary thought made her quicken her pace, until Tusk smelled very near and she could see his tall, jagged silhouette plodding away from the still-rippling shores of what had surely been very cold fenwater.

Upon observing that he had no goods, and was therefore useless until further notice, Quill barked out his name, and charged headlong into what would hopefully be a greeting spar.

one sibling walked through water like a lost nazarene, the other stalked him -- the wraith watched both from a stripped brake of briarbrush. his mood has not improved since they left schugkill, but at least now they were free to do as they pleased.

thorn felt pleased to do whatever he pleased too, thank you very much -- adopting a rather cocksure swagger that was way too big for his lanky britches, he strolled on down to the scene that, prior to quill's arrival, had been almost tranquil.

not anymore.

he expected tusk to present some sort of protest to quill's sudden drop-in, and like a cat, thorn set his traps -- watching both for any sign of weakness before he too joined the fray.

his name was sounded from behind him, and the wild creature turned himself swiftly to see the greyscale figure of his sister barreling toward him. some ways behind her was the stoic frame of the dark thorn – his lightless eyes seemed to watch with calculated precision for a moment to strike. there was only a second of time for tusk to watch his brother before he was required to make himself a defensive stance to prevent quill from crashing his frame to the earth. the wildcat made wolf turned himself into a low-hunkering prowler with a dangerous gleam in his gaze. he was eager for her to meet him, hoping that their spar would bring life to his limbs.

turning his frame so that he was sideways to her, tusk prepared for the inevitable assault. though he was capable, there was never any true brutality to his actions against his siblings. tempting as it was to find his teeth latched to the flesh of another, that did not include his own blood. aside from this, the wildling was more lean-limbed than those who boasted themselves as powerful warriors. savage as he was, tusk simply did not posses the brutal strength that others did. instead, he had made a comfortable place for himself in the category of 'quick, but deadly.'

not a bear, but a devilish cougar.

As rough and loud as ever, the razorbacked she-wolf barrelled right into Tusk's side, becoming tangled in his damp limbs and rattling her inner compass in the process.

She struck out blindly with her teeth, trying to deflect what she knew was coming - the sting of leopard fangs tagging her hide - and she wanted none of it. Quill's defense tactics were not founded on skill - nor were they founded by the elitist intuition she claimed to have - but rather, she attacked with sheer tenacity; the force of her will taking on a presence of its own as she faced her larger, more talented sibling.

Being raised the sole female in a litter of four contenders had made for a zealous, competitive bitch, and one whose only true talent was the ability to scrap longer and often with more force than necessary; skills imperative to surviving (typically) multiple opponents. The fact that it was just Tusk didn't make any difference to Quill. Oh, she'd treat his flesh with the same playful respect they all treated each other with, but she was not likely to be kind about it.

Recovering from her initial clash with the helmeted menace, she leaped back and began to growl-bark, and play-bow, to goad Tusk forward and into making a mistake, while making a fatal one of own:

not knowing there was a Thorn afoot.

thorn kept to cover as hellcat met hellraiser, a quiet menace in his eyes as he watched his siblings parry. it had always been the way of their blood to fight fast and fierce; as snowdust settled around them thorn prowled closer, still under the protection of tired briarbrush.

it did not take long for an opening to appear -- while his sister was engaged in tusk's barbed advances, thorn broke from the fringes of snow-capped brush and made his move.

he dove -- albeit a bit recklessly -- for the unguarded hock of his adamantine sister. whether or not his aim was true depended entirely upon how quickly she picked up that a new set of fangs had entered the play, ready to bring their own brand of playful vengeance to the picture.

she was a wasp, and her attacks stung appropriately against his flesh. it was a familiar prick, and one that fueled him to tumble his way out of her grasp with kicking limbs and snapping fangs – he aimed for whatever he could find purchase with. though her tightly wound frame seemed to carry him from where he had stood, it was that same force that allowed him to break free and roll away into the nearby brush. with that, his timing had been impeccable. just as he had escaped the clasp of her vicious stings, the lightless yellow of his gaze caught the shadow move toward her with all the grace of a rampaging ox. satisfaction lit his features at the sight of thorn on the move, and he snapped his teeth at quill in an attempt to distract her from their brother.

The iron wretch gave Tusk a wicked grin, feeling the hot sting of fresh welts - that would later be bruises - and an irascible desire for more; always a masochist's fatal flaw. She was too fixated on him, so consumed by her self-made pyre of rollicking vengeance, that she did not know the grim reaper's dog was upon her. At least, she didn't know until she caught Tusk's reflexive glance over her shoulder right before attempting to distract her further, and a feeling of dread made her stiffen and turn. He was employing a tactic that had been used by and on Quill more times than she could ever count in her short life, but even this warning came several moments too late, so she could only meet her fate with a bedeviled cry of anger and surprise.

"You dickless swines!" she screeched, crushed by Thorn and Tusk alike as they combined their efforts to overwhelm the she-devil and force her into relenting the win to the tandem Apollyons of Schugkill. Where was the savage imp Nails to gang up on when you needed him? Quill managed to wrench and pluck herself away from their vine-armed reaches, and then stood several wolflengths away looked thoroughly ruffled and illtreated. Politely mauled, if you will. She rippled at them threateningly, and then turned her nose up snidely, daring either to try that to her face.

thorn continued his advance, faltering only when his quarry turned round to meet her, her kiln-yellow eyes glazed with indignation. his lips curled in a smile as he dove into her, bearing the sting of her harpy teeth. 

quill managed to worm free of the brothers, circling back towards them with a haughty aspect that dared them to be challenged. his gaze flickered to tusk, and his jaws parted again in a wide smile — and this time, he did try it to quill’s face as he charged towards her with his head low and aiming for limb.

sister is inactive! >:| i'm gonna pull tusk from this <33

the trio tumbled against each other and fought with the snapping of well-aimed fangs. that was until the wily quill had managed to wrestle herself free from their hold and place a short distance between them. her words unleashed a snort of humor from the savage razorback, who lowered his skull and glanced toward his dark brother with a leering expression. it appeared as though thorn was not finished with his assault against their sister. tusk watched as the dark oxen fellow charged forward, aiming for her limbs in an attempt to throw her off her footing. the cur did not move to follow. instead, he gazed on at his siblings as they sparred with each other. and when he grew bored, the wild-furred creature turned from them and set his sights on new horizons.

quill was no slouch; the sharp flash of her teeth met thorn's pelt on more than one occasion, stinging in the angry manner of a wasp. after a tangle of fur and limbs, tusk had extricated himself from their play -- thorn's eyes slid to him momentarily before quill took advantage of his diverted attention, and sunk cruel teeth deep into his meaty haunch.

he howled in tormented surprise, flinging his jaws in her face in retribution. the two would wrestle well after tusk had quit their company, and then they too would go their separate ways, wild spirits with wild ambitions.