Arrow Lake mocking those within

despite the progress that he and stigmata had made contributing to the cache, now was no time to rest on one's laurels. the yearling was eager to prove himself, and against his body's protest, the dark eyjolfur made a bid for the borders.

there was evidence of their claim, but not enough -- and while typically it would be the alpha to smear his urine along the perimeter, thorn left his mark too -- here and there he would roll on a thicket or swipe his paws against the snow: a loud and blatant sigil that said stay the fuck out, bitches.

stigmata kept a particular eye on thorn, even through the wolf's usefulness. he was wary to let the male do anything independently, lest he prove untrustworthy, and he felt himself grow tense as he watched the shadowox mark diaspora's claim. luckily, the onyx brute dared not to lift his leg, and after finding some relief in that fact and smoothing his hackles to a respectably flat degree, he trotted down to greet the wolf, tail high and waging tautly.

he still looked sometimes for any show of the nameless others that had supposedly accompanied thorn before coming to the mountains, but it escaped his thoughts now as he barked for thorn's attention and started to bound forward so that he might meet the yearling in play.

mid-roll on a particularly prickly piece of briar, thorn heard a bark -- he propped up onto his stomach, his pelt snow-dusted and expression that of surprise. his gaze caught the emblematic figure of diaspora's alpha -- with ears smooth against his skull and his posture bent lower, the yearling rose and bounded in turn to meet the basilisk.

if one thought thorn would be reserved in his movements given his lower station, they would be wrong -- with a smooth confidence that came from engaging in a pursuit one truly enjoyed, thorn rose to meet the granite teeth of his master. with a feinted nip for the brute's cheek, thorn instead went for lower leg -- expecting the clash of fang on his neck in quick rebute.

thorn, as a battler, turned out to be as cunning as he was large; and neither of these attributes could be easily contested. stigmata had seen battle with all manner of fiend in his day, however, so nothing the brute pulled felt new to him - but he could (without mockery) say he was invigorated by the experience just the same.

as the enemy went for a crafty feint, the general opted for overwhelming force, and he reared up, so that he might battle his opponent with a hard front foot to the face.

thorn's feint met bitter ruin, a firm-fisted paw overwhelming his lunge. he was pushed sideways, his target unreachable -- and the beast resurfaced with a scrape of snow scintillating on his snout.

a rogueish grin appeared as he contested stigmata's skill, rising again to meet his foe's advances. this time the brute half-reared on his hind limbs, his paws pressed forth to stave approach while his fangs swung to nip at the iron liege's ears.

stigmata found that his bullish opponent, though wild and unrefined, had the oscillating skill of a fighter who had seen multiple opponents simultaneously in practice. not many wolves received such a vigorous upbringing - had the bittersweet pleasure of having more than one rivalry - but the warhound could recognize it in another wolf immediately. the ability to defend and attack was not simply something the average wolf was just born with, and as they scuffled as raucously as pups, the general knew he wanted the eyjolfur to have his own name.

several pins and reversals later, stigmata hounded thorn into a stalemate; questioning his skills until the both of them were left with gasping, wrinkled grins and flagging tongues. after catching his breath, stigmata turned a sly, appraising eye on the hardy hellion. "i want you to breed this season, thorn," he announced, pausing first to gauge the male's reception to the idea.

OOO congrats on 300 posts!! 

they scrapped; stigmata had many years on thorn, and thus, far more experience. it took all of the tenacious bull's efforts to not fall victim to the gunmetal wraith's quick jaws -- and on more than one occasion, he was nearly hounded to total defeat.

their spar only further convinced thorn of stigmata's virtues: he was commanding, powerful, and in control -- to a yearling, a wolf wildly out of control by his own damnable young impulses, stigmata's calculated and empirical strikes struck awe in the eyjolfur. he was wrestled to a stalemate -- though thorn would not admit it, he felt his loss had been quite close -- another scuffle and perhaps the iron warhound would have sent him to his defeat.

panting yet quite envigorated, it took thorn a second to realize stigmata's apprising eye was upon him, and that he had just uttered something entirely unexpected to the eyjolfur. firming up his surprised features, the male shifted, glancing briefly to stigmata's countenance to assert it was somehow not a cruel joke.

yet, the basilisk's features were coolly serious -- and thorn nodded in dumbfound reaction. "it... would be an honor." he winced at those words -- but he supposed his leader granting him full rights to breeding would help mitigate the risk of him having to sneak around after hours instead. "but, wouldn't you -- arent they all yours?" stupid thorn, thinking women were objects to collect -- oh, there was time for him to learn otherwise.

bemusedly he let his features be checked for any cracks in the facade of a joke; but he knew there was none to be found, tipping his chin quite arrogantly as the young brute seemed buffaloed by the invitation. thorn was rightfully skeptical, stigmata thought with an inward swell of satisfaction, but as egotistical as he may be, he also knew how to foster loyalty from the ground up and he knew good stock when he saw it. children of thorn would be vivacious, and raised right they could become powerful loyalists and mates for his own children when it came down to it.

the sandraudiga snorted. "i would prefer you go play bachelor at the threshold of another pack - put your assets to good use and lure yourself home a fitting mate - but," he seemed to smile, "if one of our own would prefer you over me, then i will not stand in the way of true love." it would be the only explanation he could accept, at any rate. this also implied that thorn would be entitled to only have one should he chose a female from the pool of their founders to mother his brood, though it seemed unlikely that the eyjolfur intended to take advantage of his newly given privilege - not while stigmata was still alive, at least.

it was clear thorn was giving stigmata's blessing careful consideration, for his expression was pulled downward in a thoughtful way. as was any male's birthright, thorn had given each of the she-wolves in diaspora a careful once-over -- but the bull would never be so brazen as to make his advances upon stigmata's stock, and had kept his interest largely at bay.

he could see the virtue of pursuing a mate outside of diaspora's claim: it would strengthen the diversity of their pack, and bring in new life -- life that, he supposed eventually might pair with stigmata's brood. realizing that this might be stigmata's true intention in allowing the yearling to procreate, he glanced upon his iron leader with subtle awe -- for such shrewd thinking-ahead was well beyond his young, hot-heated capabilities.

"of course." he answered as placidly as he could, already thinking of where he should first visit. there were several packs not so far from their claim -- perhaps one of them had an attractive young future mrs thorn waiting for him.

as he could see the cogs start to turn in his protege's eyes, there followed a rare, picturesque moment, where stigmata found himself grinning. it was a broad, omen-bearing smile; edged with far too much cleverness - too much slyness - to be an entirely benevolent look. attempting to temper his conniving, bladed expression, stigmata expelled a commanding snort and turned to lead the two of them back to the main group. the wolf feeling perhaps eager to actually see if anyone passed more than a cursory look in thorn's direction.