Manifesto

For @Skull whenever you get accepted :) Backdating this to before Tuwa returned to SCC... she's still on the mountain. Discovery thread?

Day transformed into a vivid twilight before cascading into a sultry night. It was warm, even on the mountainside, and fireflies flirted between the trees while enjoying the peak of summer's temperatures. The sky, a deep and velvety purple, was painted with large smatterings of twinkling stars; obscured by the clouds which had stormed through the previous days. The forest, now freshly watered and damp, buzzed with activity as creatures of all sorts enjoyed the season's still plentiful bounty. Tuwawi was one, and she crept between the roots of some rare, deciduous trees on the hunt for curious voles.

She had scouted a part of this new territory so far, and even though she had been attacked by a lynx, the event had done little to dissuade her. The shallow marks in her saffron whither still stung, but the savory taste of plump prey eased her pains. The chubby voles were plentiful, and easy quarry for the new mother, though she hungered for a large meal. For now, this light supper would have to see her to the end of her journey.

Earlier that day, Tuwawi had been on the hunt for a new den, though no place suitable had presented itself. For now, she dined alone, and thought of all the things to check off her to-do list before returning to Swiftcurrent, Njal, and her children.

Alrighty, sounds good! If Skull is a bit off at first, it's just because I'm shaking off the dust.

As twilight stretched inky fingers across the world, the woods darkened, and enveloped the wayward wolf in the familiar shade. Skull was used to traveling at night. Now that the offending summer sun had fallen behind the horizon he was feeling the beginnings of a second wind. The grass beneath his paws was springy, and still slightly warm from the afternoon, and the air buzzed with insects of all sorts. It was a lush land, even in the grip of summer, which made it all that more enticing to the middle-aged wolf.

The unusual flicker of fireflies flitting between the boughs and casting the faintest green glow on the bark of the trees they clung to drew his attention from the trail. His ears swiveled forward, and he observed them as they hovered over the long grasses in a great, but loosely gathered, flock. He had not seen these in many, many seasons, and it even brought a faint smile of appreciation to his face.

But the joy was short-lived, as he soon caught wind of a scent that was very wolf, but intertwined with the sweet milk smell of pups. His hackles bristled at his own poor perception, and he crept deeper into the woods in pursuit of the mother. If he were to happen upon her first, perhaps he could explain his presence and be on his way without trouble. Hopefully he would not be ambushed. While he was an expert at mountain terrain, he could not handle more than two pack wolves in the dark on unfamiliar territory.

He made no moves to mask his presence, and he soon spotted the female beneath the boughs of a deciduous tree crunching into prey. Some small thing; no deer haunch, or other scavenged item. The scent of blood was too fresh. Skull lifted his head and drew in another breath. This was the female, but he could not see her well enough in the dark to discern if the pups were with her. He hoped not. A mother protecting her children was a dangerous thing to stumble upon.

Instead, he called out, but kept his distance. The moon had not yet risen enough to provide ample light, but he stepped out of the woods just the same. "Greetings," He says warmly. "If this is your claim, then I apologize for intruding upon it, you, and your dinner. I will be gone within the hour." He did not divulge much more than that. Skull was never one to be long-winded.

A satiated tongue greedily licked its chops as the last bite of vole disappeared down Tuwawi's gullet. She was about to rummage around the moss for another, but a certain lull in the forest's ambiance alerted the Sveijarn. She wasn't alone anymore. A pregnant pause took her breath away as she waited, listless - listening to the wild for its clues. The evening crickets ceased their melody, and the wind died for a moment or two as another predator entered the glades. One ruddy ear turned to listen for its footfalls, uncertain if the lynx was back to tango again... but the steps were heavy and deliberate.

Tuwawi's slender face turned towards the shadows while dilated pupils tried to discern the figure from among the many trees. He revealed himself; a stoic looking wanderer, large in size but rawboned and battle worn. The darkness masked the more subtle variations of charcoal and silver within his locks, but the wide, blistered scars along his muzzle and chest were easily noticed. Greetings, the vagrant spoke, if this is your claim, then I apologize for intruding upon it, you, and your dinner. I will be gone within the hour. Despite his binary words and neutral posture, Tuwawi remained on guard, stance rather hunched and defensive. The fiasco from earlier had left her shell-shocked and wary; sourly reminded by the bobcat's talons that she was not in prime traveling condition. Her pink belly still sagged, only having recently weaned her young, and her waist carried a bit of paunch. Perhaps it would have been better for Njal to scout... but hindsight always proved to be 20/20.

Silver eyes narrowed, scrutinizing his figure as her gaze danced to-and-fro... there was something so familiar about this man... but Tuwawi couldn't quite place it. She needed to hear his voice again; perhaps that would recharge her memory. "So polite," she observed as a stray lick of her tongue moved between the notches upon her lip in a thoughtful way. "Good to meet you. This isn't my land," she told the stranger, "at least... not yet." The words reminded her to try and show a bit of possession over this domain but, now that the sun had waned the day had been long, there wasn't much energy left. "What brings you to this mountain side?" she asked, stepping a bit closer for a better look.

The sounds of the forest faded in his wake, and they sat in hastened silence awaiting the passing of the predators. One ear half turned towards the shadows in idle recognition of this, but he does not give any indication that it bothers him. He is used to it, after all. The forests of home do not often sing when Tartok is about. Silence welcomes him.

Skull stands a little straighter, a little firmer, as the mother shifts her attention to him with a scrutinizing eye. Closer now than before, he can smell more blood in the air than should be reasonable within the vole. An injury, or perhaps a larger kill than he initially discerned? He is uncertain, but does not comment. Instead his attention is focused on the oddly vibrant hue of her pelt; even in darkness it stands out. His eyes shift slowly to her face and begin to trace the pale etchings of what could only be scars.

A familiarity strikes him about those scars, but she soon speaks and draws his mind elsewhere. It becomes a furious itch at the base of his skull; he does not focus so much on the words themselves, but how they sound. Not yet. Ambition, and so plainly spoken to a stranger, too. A heartbeat passes, then another, and she takes a step towards him with a question on her lips.

"I travel by mountains." He explains. "It is what I am accustomed to." And then, "Why did you choose this place? This is dangerous terrain for children." He omits the rest of that sentence. Truly, it is only dangerous for soft meadow-whelped pups. Not for those who were born with granite in their bones.

Once more his mind supplies the ringing of familiarity, but he waits.

Tuwawi's dark lips upturned into a droll smile at the mention of her children, the faint light catching a shimmer in her gaze. It was true, like any doting mother, the auburn woman worried for her offspring and the viability of this land to provide and protect her blooming family. Yet, among the doubt and concerns stirred a challenge - one the mother was confident the Sveijarns could overcome. She, herself, was valley-born. A native southerner to the far stretches of vast scrim and lazy hills; it was evident in her svelte figure and the wild, untamed red locks which swathed it. However, her husband was a man born onto harsher mountains, and his hardy, northern blood thrived within their progeny... especially their daughters. "Perhaps for children of lesser heritage," she mused, "but mine are sired by a man of the North, and reared by a mother who has traversed many peaks." Her tone rang with genuine pride, and her sooty trail brushed against her rounded side, remembering the feeling of her family asleep besides her. "But why the concern, stranger?" she queried, fascinated by this woodland man and the familiarity of his voice.

She approached even closer with a neutral stance, eager to seek a whiff of his scent to better understand his travels. The aromas of misty crags, damp woods, and cold peaks welded together... and suddenly all the lights turned on. "Ah... you and I," she began with wonder in her voice, "we are Tartok."

An ever-patient creature; Skull does not shift as he waits for her answer, or grow irate from her musings and, indeed, she is short-spoken. Both ears perk up further at the mention of this Northerner; her mate. A faint ghost of a smile winds across his lips, and he nods. But before he can make further comment on the matter she, once again, gives him pause and he regards her with an openly curious look this time. His concern? Is he not a pack wolf and wishes well to any whelps born upon the earth?

He stands firm as she approaches to steal the scent of him from the air, but one eye twitches and narrows thoughtfully (though not unkindly). A spark illuminates her brilliant eyes, and he is momentarily taken aback from her comment. Tartok. Skull steps forward and brushes his nose against her muzzle with a low croon of acknowledgement. "Yes. And you are Tuwawi, then. I remember." He says.

"The Issumatar sends her regards, and no doubt she will be happy to hear you and your family are thriving." He wasn't usually this wordy, but with Tartok, he felt as if he could be.

Hope you are feeling better! ^__^

"Skull," she breathed as fresh memories of months spent atop Arktayok Peak returned in a vivid rush; the Issumatar, dark and sublime, still perched atop the frozen summit with an icewater stare. A chill moved down her spine at the Sapputiwok's touch, and it spurred the vermilion woman to remember the raw liberty Siku had established and the oath which accompanied the Tartok surname. It was that moment when Proudheart had become Tuwawi. Nothing had ever been the same since.

"It has been a long time. Too long," she told him, but when the ebony man mentioned their matriarch's good tidings a sharp pang of guilt twisted in Tuwawi's gut. Her children were not born in Tartok's name, nor was the land she sought to be claimed for the widespread clan. A sense of disloyalty ebbed at her spirit, but a discerning sharpness remained as she traced Skull's peppered features. "How have you been, brother? It has been over a year since I followed Sevendeath to a land called Chinook. Did you hear of his branch? Snapjaw Battalion?" she asked, unaware how current Skull was on Tartok's distant efforts. "I did not remain under him for long... I traveled here, to Teekon, instead. Siku's daughter, Tonravik, worked hard to create a place in the image of her mother's upon Silvertip Mountain but, that too, was fleeting." She briefly frowned as gunmetal eyes reached Skull's cool bronze gaze. An opportunity to be candid presented itself, though she could not anticipate how Skull would see her ambitions.

"My family resides to the South in a pack called Swiftcurrent Creek, though we seek to move to this mountain in due time," she admitted to him. It was a risky to even consider transporting four children, barely two months old, to this uncultivated land. Yet an unyielding passion coursed through her veins; she would not be denied this purchase. "Where do you travel, Skull? Won't you stay? I feel we have much to share," she asked, offering a place for him within this new domain for however long he pleased.

I am! Wrist is still a bit stiff from being immobile, but I'm working through it. :)

Had he known about Tuwawi's guilt on the matter, he still would have made no mention of it. As it stood, from his perspective, they were still both as much Tartok as they had been the day they departed Arktayok Peak, regardless of past or current allegiances. But he couldn't read her mind, nor did her expression shift to indicate the intrusion of emotion, so he remained completely oblivious. The only sign of his fondness for her was the slow swing of his tail behind his ankles, and the quiet smile on his lips.

The peppered wolf did not look away when she met his gaze, but did not bristle with indignation, either. His smile grew a fraction, and he nodded in response to her first question, and the second. Snapjaw, yes. Sevendeath, as far as he was aware, still headed the branch to this day but he decided to wait on indulging her of that information until she was finished speaking. As for Tonravik... he was uncertain, and that did not settle well with him, especially with this news that her efforts here were fleeting at best.

He cants his head just a hair to the side, and regards the flame-kissed woman with a keen, thoughtful look. Skull does not immediately respond, and seems to ruminate over the question for a few breathes before speaking in the quiet and measured tones he is known for. "I will. Until your children are grown, at the very least, and perhaps longer should you still find need of me." He replies with a nod of his shaggy head. "I have heard of Snapjaw, and others. The summer has been a bountiful time for all, and no clan I have visited is struggling yet. We shall see, come winter. Perhaps Tonravik will find her way to us, or to the Issumatar if she has not already."

They watched one another as a pregnant pause came between one another. Skull carefully ruminated over the information Tuwawi had delivered and she, in turn, watched him patiently. After a long while the dark solider uttered I will, offering his loyalty to the Sveijarn — at least until her children were old enough to look after themselves. Tuwawi gave him an honest smile and knowing nod, ears pitched forwards to receive his words. "Excellent," she said agreeably. Skulls presence would not only further protect the family, but would allow Tuwawi to reconnect with her Tartok roots. "I am sure you will find the kids most... rambunctious. Perhaps you have a soft spot, eh?" she jested while nudging the stoic's cheek with her maimed snout. "Though the trip is sure to wear them out," she added voice turning a bit flat. She could not predict how their travels would turn out. At least with Skull and Týrr, things were looking up.

Skull noted that perhaps Siku or Tonravik would find them, and Tuwawi could not help but both adore and dread that sentiment. Would they truly be pleased with her family? Siku was a proud, albeit savage woman. It was not beyond her power or conscious to slay what she did not deem worthy - not that Tuwawi would allow that to pass. Would they see her new life as an act of infidelity? "Perhaps," she mused. "But I have not seen our matriarch or her get for quite some time," though she remained unaware that Týrr had ties to Tartok, as well. However, that did not mean they weren't out there.

"In the meantime... hunt with me? You must be tired. Together we could find some easy quarry," maybe a rabbit, or rockfowl. Tuwawi was still in the process of mappig out the available game and two minds were always better than one. And, while on the trail, perhaps it would be worthwhile to pick Skull's mind to absorb whatever advice the seasoned wanderer had to offer.

There was no justification, personal or proclaimed, needed to explain his decision. Skull was a subordinate of Siku, yes, but he was a servant of Tartok and his duty was to make certain everyone (distant or not) remained healthy and full of vigor. He was no preacher; if Tuwawi and her mate deigned not to teach their children of Tartok's creed first, or ever, then he would not intervene. If she should ask it of him, he would provide.

He did not voice these thoughts to her, but instead chuckled and shook his head when she nudged his cheek in jest. "Ah, something like that." He replies. "Under our watchful eyes, I am certain no harm will come to them. It will be good to stretch their legs." For them; the family; the pack? Likely all of the above. He drew back and relaxed his ears. Clearly he was quite comfortable in her company.

The only response he gave to her musings on Siku and her kin was a soft hum of acknowledgement. He did not elaborate further, allowing Tuwawi to draw her own conclusions because Leah doesn't actually know what Siku's been up to. It was not out of a desire to keep Tuwawi in the dark, but he was not abreast of the current whereabouts of Siku or her brood. But at the mention of a hunt, he nodded and pricked his ears to listen in on the sounds of twilight. "Of course." He rumbled. "Lead on."

Last post for meee ^__^ eee exciting! SOO CLOSE to completing all the threads needed for the pack

Skull's reassurance and optimism was welcomed, especially the remark about protecting the children. Because, in the end, that's why Tuwawi and Njal were working so hard. Exploring, networking, travelling... all of it was for Jökull, Valtýr, Maera, and Lárus — to ensure their[ future. Being a mother brought on new priorities, new goals, Tuwawi never expected to have. If it were not for Njal and the children would the ember dare to be so bold? Probably not.

"Right, then," she with a smile and fell into place besides her new companion. Together they would hunt and catch enough to fill their bellies. Voles were a peasants snack compared to what two skilled hunters could accomplish, and truly Tuwawi was grateful for his company and new-found loyalty.

WOO! I'll sneak this quick post in to round it out. <3

Skull was not a creature devoid of hope. In fact, it existed within him as a constant, and he rarely found reason to dread the future. The effort to wallow and bemoan was better put to use fixing the problems, or pursuing greater, more fruitful avenues. He had done just that as a younger wolf, and now he thrived as a protector of the creed known as Tartok. He chuffed warmly and fell in step just off her shoulder, matching her stride, and tuning his senses away from her, and to the world around them in search of a proper quarry. Now, not only was it Tartok he protected, but Tuwawi's family as well.