Stavanger Bay But we're prepared and the mood is set

@Junior

The air was perfumed with the scent of wolf piss, yet Ptarmigan pressed on undeterred. Her previous experiences had told her that a lot of wolves treated their borders like a literal line over which a wolf could cross and uncross, like a thin border drawn precisely in the terrain. She, of course, had no idea that the Viking pack she was approaching was nothing like those more mild-mannered packs. She intended to dance on their borders, hopping in and out like a confused jackrabbit, until they chased her into the sunset.

Ptarmigan hadn't quite reached the pack territory by the time she let out a huge yawn and sat down, thumping her tail against the ground as she considered her options. The line was muddled here, and that was the only warning that Ptarmigan would get that this pack likely had a buffer zone rather than just a perfectly drawn line defining "loner" from "trespasser".

Nearly two weeks had passed since Osprey's unceremonious arrival on this end of the map. She had adapted to her new living situation with the resilience of the very young. Ragnar, Thistle and their pups had kept her busy when she wasn't running along her beloved beach or pretending to be the fiercest Warrior in the wilds. As with all children, she never really stopped to think about her situation. She simply lived it.

But as she traipsed back from the beach, her dark coat damp, spiky and crusted with salt, a sudden pang in her chest caused her to stop abruptly. Her huge ears pressed slightly backward and her tail drooped. Dad! she thought suddenly and fiercely. Peregrine's face swam in her mind's eye. Behind him came the faces of the rest of her family.

If not for the stranger who suddenly materialized in her line of vision, Junior may have reached a critical point and run directly back to Ragnar and Thistle to ask them how to find her family, who she suddenly missed very badly. Yet here she came, a sleek, black, unfamiliar she-wolf. The pup immediately stiffened, thoughts of the plateau's members drifting away into the bracing sea breeze even as it carried the female's strange scent straight into her nostrils, filling them.

"Hey!" the child called, loping purposefully toward the other wolf. Her ears resumed their upright position, as did her tail. "You're a stranger," Osprey Jr. pointed out sagely. Thinking back on the altercation between Thistle and Claire, the youth loudly and decisively declared, "You're my prisoner now!"

Her mind was empty as she passed along Stavanger Bay's outskirts, coming dangerously close to the pack's territory and even wandering into it at times. To say that Ptarmigan didn't care was understating it. She welcomed their antagonism. She was asking for it, and was confident that they would do no more than Quail would have done—sneer and tell her to bugger off, maybe, but not actually come after her.

Her nonchalance about what should have been a predicament became even less than that when the only wolf who came to defend the borders was a pup. Ptarmigan was small, having come from a line of relatively small females, but Junior was even smaller and it gave her away instantly as a young thing. When the child declared that she was her prisoner, an overly confident Ptarmigan responded with a loud, “Hah, as if, pipsqueak.”

The strange she-wolf scoffed, using a word Osprey had never heard before. Although she wanted to ask what it meant, the female's tone indicated an insult. Junior's eyes narrowed and her tail gave a few predatory lashes. It seemed she wouldn't come willingly, which meant Osprey would have to take her by force. She was a Warrior, so she was up to the challenge.

"You're coming with me!" she bellowed forcefully the instant before she sprang at the dark adult, aiming instinctively for the side of her neck. Osprey didn't seek to kill or even injure; she sought only to grasp the larger wolf by her scruff and thereby be able to drag her. So what if the stranger was significantly larger? Junior was small but mighty (at least in her own opinion).

She had expected the child to become insolent, but she certainly hadn't expected Junior to spring at her. Ptarmigan was wholly unprepared, so the Redleaf-DiSarinno easily got ahold of the side of her neck, yanking her head down in the process. The Endore growled, but was too shocked at first to say anything... Which quickly wore off into indignation.

“Excuse me,” she huffed, yanking her head back as though it would somehow dislodge the pup from her neck. “Let go of me! I'm not going anywhere with you!” Though troublesome, Ptarmigan wasn't terribly cruel or rough. She had no desire to harm a young wolf, and yet... If Junior refused to let go, she supposed she would have no choice but to hit back, try to free herself, and get out of there.

When she successfully latched onto the stranger's neck and jerked down her head, Junior felt a thrill race through her. She felt powerful. When the she-wolf growled and muttered at her, Osprey Jr. did the same, snarling as fearsomely as she could manage what with the folds of black fur stuffed in her mouth.

The adult attempted to pull herself free, yet the bullish youth clung to her, digging her teeth together. Since this was an enemy, she didn't exercise her usual restraint and actually hoped to draw blood, even if that was the extent of it. Perhaps the stranger would take her more seriously when she saw the red on Junior's teeth and come more willingly.

Junior's clinging was much fiercer than Ptarmigan had initially expected. She had thought to have some fun with the cub, then kick her to the side and depart the pack region, but the child was proving to be significantly more troublesome. Not only that, but the Endore's general inexperience with pups led to an underestimation of the dark girl's strength. She had expected it to hurt like a mosquito bite, not like a real wound.

“Owww,” she hissed as the child successfully bit into her skin, causing a slow rush of blood. Enraged by Junior's insistence on this silly game of captives, Ptarmigan released her tight grip on her restraint and twisted around, hoping to maim the pup's face so she could get the hell away from it. Though harming a wolf pup was usually beneath her, the Endore resorted to trying now, not caring just how much she could hurt a younger wolf.

The she-wolf struck at the same moment that Junior loosened her grip, resulting in a sharp blow to the pup's cheekbone. One of the adult's teeth scored her and a trickle of blood sprang quickly to the surface. The youth cried out in surprise, backpedaling and pawing at her face. The taste of her enemy's blood filled her mouth even as her own blood moistened her face.

Hurt soon gave way to indignant anger and Junior hurled a loud, "You're a big bad bitch!" at the trespasser, unaware that it sounded more like flattery than an insult. Her teeth bared as her black lips wrinkled backward, their ivory surfaces streaked with pink. The fiery look in her eye said, Nobody makes me bleed my own blood!

A smarter pup, one with a scrap of humility, would've called for help right then, siccing her pack mates on this unwelcome intruder. Yet Osprey Jr. was impulsive, overconfident and currently furious. She flung herself at the dark stranger again, feinting at her right foreleg before suddenly flinging her muzzle upward. Using her smaller size to her advantage, she hoped to sink her teeth into the older wolf's lower throat at best or upper chest at worst.

Ptarmigan imagined a giant, glowing, golden proclamation of Victory! sprang up between the two females as Junior stumbled away with an angry red streak on her face. Ptarm parted her jaws, licking at the tooth that had snagged the pup's flesh, and snorting when Junior called her a bad bitch. “You bet I am,” she jeered, completely forgetting that this minor strike against a wolf less than an eighth of her age was hardly boss ass bitch material.

With her ego stoked, the lone wolf peacocked on the spot with the straightening of her posture into one of dominance, but it appeared that Junior wasn't done yet. The child launched herself again, thankfully snapping the skin just below Ptarmigan's vulnerable throat thanks to her own posturing and getting another firm grip. “Get off!” snarled the lone wolf, who suddenly felt like the situation wasn't as funny now that the cub was much closer to a sensitive area.

She shook herself violently, hoping to dislodge the little shit eater so she could flee the scene without having her throat pulled out in the process. The child had yet to call for help, which was the only reason the Endore wasn't yet being dragged into the pack's dungeons by her tail... But she knew better than to stick around now that she could tell the kid actually was trying to do some real damage.

I made several assumptions at the end of this post. Just holler if you want me to modify!

When her jaws closed around a meatier hunk of flesh this time, Junior exerted every ounce of pressure she could manage. Simultaneously, the she-wolf began to jerk violently in an attempt to dislodge her again. Although Osprey Jr. closed her eyes, locked her jaw and tried to brace her hind feet on the ground, she could not hold onto the bucking bronco of a wolf forever. Eventually, she tore loose with such force that she stumbled backward and fell awkwardly onto her left hip.

Although her leg smarted, she ground her teeth together and climbed sowly back onto all fours. Osprey Jr. glared daggers as the black stranger whirled and began to run away rather that continue the confrontation. Since she was a Warrior, not a Warden, Junior was hardly satisfied by the intruder's flight back onto neutral territory. No, she wanted to take the she-wolf captive and present her to Ragnar.

Hurling a battle cry into the air, the child gave chase, though a combination of long but uncoordinated legs, big feet and a smaller stature meant the whelp had no chance of catching up to the enemy. Eventually, she was forced to slow to a stop, looking much more Warrior than child as blood colored her face and mouth. She cast a final fiery, filthy look into the distance and reluctantly turned to lope back to the bay.

It was poifect!

It was a balancing act between her desire to get away from this hellion and her reluctance to endure the pain that trying to throw Junior off was causing. Eventually, she managed to drop the Redleaf-DiSarinno to the ground, but the dark-furred girl took a large chunk of her fur and a layer or three of skin with her, leaving a bald patch on Ptarmigan's collarbone. Beads of blood began welling to the surface, but the Endore wasted no time inspecting it, even though all she wanted to do was scream.

She was quick to twirl on her feet and take off running. It was embarrassing to lose to a puppy, and it surely deflated the ego she'd begun to build up, but she wasn't willing to take any more abuse. When she threw a glance back over her shoulder, it was with horror that she saw Junior chasing her. She put that extra bit of oomph into her step and fled into the wilderness, thankfully leaving behind the little Warrior, though she herself would continue to run for almost half an hour before collapsing into an exhausted heap.