Stone Circle We're just two lonely people trying to hate ourselves a little less

Sorry for the length- trying to get caught up with NaNoWriMo! If no one takes this by Sunday morning, I'll have him leave and go elsewhere because the dude REALLY has no patience heh, and wouldn't wait too long for someone to come greet him :)

Eventually, any kind of life-altering, all-consuming task eventually becomes somewhat pointless. 

Or so Jackalope thought, after wandering for over a year, trying to 'chart out the lay of the land.' Given the fact that the world stretched on and on forever, well beyond a distance he'd ever be able to travel in his lifetime, he eventually gave up. Why bother, when the only information he gathered he kept to himself? As soon as he'd explained his current occupation to Eloise, she'd laughed at him in a way that had made his hackles lift. She had this spellbinding way of making him feel both belitted and bewitched at the same time- so he realized, some months later, that he shouldn't have been surprised when she simply wandered off and left him alone. Tracking her down hadn't yielded the response he'd been going for either. She'd simply laughed at him in the same, brazen, scornful way..Except this time, it hadn't made him feel entranced. It made him feel betrayed and defeated- he felt stupid for having formed an attachment, or whatever it had been, to her. He'd given up on what he'd believed to be his truest ambition to follow someone he'd believed to be his soulmate. And now he was left with nothing. 

So what was the next step? Naturally, it was to give into the social norms he'd thought were lame. Join a pack, strive to rise through the ranks, drive himself day in and day out to please his superiors so that he might gain their favour, for whatever that was worth. That's what pack wolves did, wasn't it? They worked their whole lives so that they could get hip with the Man (or the Woman- or whoever the hell was in charge) and they could die at an old age having checked the boxes, dotted the T's and crossed the I's or whatever the saying was, feeling good about themselves for having done what society wanted them to do. It was all so mundane to Jackalope, who detested boundaries and social norms- mostly because he didn't have a solid understanding of either of them. And what Jackalope didn't understand, he simply hated by default. But after all he'd been doing, his whole life...It couldn't be any worse than what he'd been doing all along, right?

He'd tried twice, in the past month, to join a pack- and both times, it hadn't ended well for him. He knew what was expected of a wolf who showed up at the borders of a pack they wished to join- but he thought it was all so stuffy and ridiculous and that packs should really stop being so high on themselves and not demand a certain protocol. It was outdated, wasn't it? The whole act of showing up with a fresh kill, calling for the leaders, submitting, introducing themself humbly, listing off their skills as though they were at some kind of job interview and more or less kissing the sentry's feet in order to get accepted. Jackalope thought the entire process was bogus. What made a sentry- even if it was an alpha who came to greet a hopeful joiner- what made them so special that they automatically deserved that kind of respect from a stranger? No one treated Jackalope like that. Lone wolves certainly didn't greet each other like that. So what made pack wolves so special? Regardless, approaching the first pack with that sort of mindframe did not do him any good at all. 

He'd been incredibly bitter still, since he and Eloise had parted ways. So he'd shown up looking like he hadn't bathed or eaten in days, with a metaphorical dark cloud hovering above his ears. The wolf who had come to greet him immediately adopted a posture which had made Jackalope roll his eyes so far back in his head that it made him a feel a bit cross-eyed when he'd finally returned his gaze to the tall, dark and formidable sentry that blocked his path. 
"This is Darkraven's Helm; what is your name, and what brings you to our borders today, sir?"
Jackalope had rolled his eyes again and sighed heavily. He lifted himself to his feet, which made the sentry visibly uncomfortable, so he rolled his eyes again, and sat back down. 
"Look. The name's Jackalope, and I'm here to join your pack. Stupid name, though; what the hell is a 'Helm' anyway? Whatever. No need to show me around- I'll figure the territory out on my own."
And with that, Jackalope had hastily stood, shook out his coat, and had actually managed to strut a few paces past the guard- who'd been so deeply shocked by his lack of etiquette that it took him a moment or two to recover before he bounded backwards, and placed himself directly in front of Jackalope. He opened his mouth and perhaps managed to get one or two words out before Jackalope began to talk over him in a loud drone. 
"What? Jeez bud, is there some sort of off-limits zone that way? Sheesh, whatever, don't be so sensitive. You guardians are always so sensitive, just because you're obviously compensating for- look pal, will you just get out of me way and let me just- OOF."
He'd tried to meander around the guardian, and simply talked over his warnings and objections, until the brawny sentry gave up and tackled Jackalope to the ground. He tried to hold the grizzled grey male down, but Jackalope was wily, and snapped at one of the sentry's forelegs with enough vigor to make him lift his paw up, thereby giving Jack the ability to free himself and sidestep neatly away from the guardian when he lunged a couple more times. 
"Woah, whatever, I get it, shove off- I don't wanna be a part of your stupid little mamby-pamby club anyway."
And he'd high-tailed it out of there. 

The next pack he'd attempted to join hadn't been quite so fond of strangers approaching their borders. He'd been intercepted by not one but two guardians- and they weren't the kind of wolves he'd peg to be guardians just by their physical attributes- but there was an undeniable hunger in their eyes that creeped him out. They flashed their canines at him and stalked toward him as they approached in such a way that immediately put a bad taste in Jackalope's mouth. These wolves expected him to cower and submit- and he didn't like wolves that threatened him for no good reason. He still felt entitled to be treated like an equal even when at the borders of a pack, so he'd curled his tail and had turned his back on those hostile wolves. They were probably cannibals or something like that anyway. Their eyes had been bloodshot- so they probably didn't get a lot of sleep. He wasn't keen on joining a pack where he wasn't allowed to sleep much. 

So he'd moved on. The lustre of joining a pack had faded, but he'd finally given in to the customs that were likely expected of him, even though it made him feel like a dolt to catch a small meal that he couldn't simply eat himself. No, he had to come bearing gifts, right? As proof that he could hunt? He was an angular beast, with hunched shoulders and sharp edges, but he wasn't starving by any means- and surely just the look of him would indicate that he was useful for hunting if for nothing else. His attitude would be something that he would have to try, earnestly, to keep in check...And it made him feel even more sour knowing that he'd have to abide by typical pack laws and bend to whatever will they had. He'd have to speak their language, dance their dance...But what else was there for him to do? He didn't want to wander for no reason anymore, and women...Women were just horrible. The last resort he had was to join a pack. 

So he arrived at the borders with a partridge. He'd wondered briefly if he ought to bring two kills- but he'd scoffed at the idea, figuring that it was pretentious, and a waste of his energy. He didn't want to seem that keen. He didn't want to get the reputation that he was a loner that was so desperate to join a pack that he'd brought two offerings. And so- he caught a rabbit for himself earlier on in the day so that he didn't feel quite so resentful when he handed over the partridge he brought with him. That didn't really work- he still resented the fact that he'd have to bribe these wolves to let him in by giving them his prize. He'd worked for it- what the hell had they done to deserve the offering? He had a lot of issues with the status quo- but he'd have to try and put those on hold for the time being if he wanted to find a pack where he might possibly fit in. The only drawback was the fact that he didn't want to audition at multiple packs. The first pack that would take him would get him. 

He called out for the leadership, the soft puff of silvery breath dancing on the cool morning air before it disappeared. It was a frosty morning, and the few leaves that still clung to the branches were framed with frost. By the time Jackalope finished calling out, he kept his gaze toward the grey sky, as small snowflakes began to fall. He grimaced, wrinkling his nose and pulling his lips back, revealing even more of his long, jutting upper canines. Great. Winter was pretty much here already. As if his day couldn't possibly get any better than this.

Sorry guys- he'll go elsewhere. No patience in this boy! /Jackalope out

Jackalope had done what he figured was his part- he'd brought a meal to appease whatever sentry showed up to meet him, he'd called out for the leadership to come and see him and possibly allow him to join- but after waiting for a a period of time which he believed to be absolutely, unnecessarily too long, he waited a bit longer- time fraying his last bits of patience- before he decided that he'd had enough of this cracked crockery. This simply wasn't fit. This pask clearly (to him, anyway) did not have an adequate patrol- either that, or the alphas themselves were too stuck up or too busy to go and greet him, and he felt entitled to a meeting with their superiors. Now he just felt snubbed and ignored- so he did what he did best. He made a small scene before he departed.

He wasn't going to leave the pheasant for them- oh no, they hadn't earned that. He'd leave nothing of it behind save for the feathers which he hastily tore from the bird's body in a frenzy so that he could perform his small act of rebellion before he left. He spat them out here and there, leaving the striped, brownish feathers all over the place, making it look as though he'd murdered a small flock there. And once that was complete, he glanced over his shoulder- making absolutely sure that there really wasn't anyone within sight or earshot- and he left another little review behind. He kept his gaze over his shoulder as he squatted and forced out his insult, before he kicked a few pawfuls of dirt in the pack's direction, picked his pheasant back up, and high-tailed it out of there, so as to avoid getting caught. As a preventative measure, he would find the closest stream and navigate some distance by walking through the water to lose his track- and used  few other fox tricks to make sure that his track was impossible for them to follow- say a sentry did finally show up, find the insult he'd left behind, and decided to exact vengeance. He would be quite some distance away by then, still laughing cruelly to himself.