Thunder Dome The Mammy

The sound of thunder did not deter the wolverine, who weathered both the pelting rain and the cacophony of the storm with ease, her rough pawpads and long claws enabling her to scale the mountains without slipping. With her dark muzzle lowered, the stout creature ambled along, following her nose as she attempted to track down some sort of meal for herself as a consolation prize. She wasn't picky- anything that had once been alive would do. 

What she found instead were markings left behind by wolves. She shook her head, sending splatters of rainwater flying, though the rain continued to fall. She blinked the droplets away as they trickled down her forehead where the golden fur had turned to amber from the rain. She could smell not only wolves, but the unmistakable scent of new wolves lingering in the area. One who marked the borders- a male, no doubt- was a new father. 

Wolves weren't often agreeable, but given how few wolves she scented in the area, she thought it might be worth her time to take a chance, and make a bid for attention. She withdrew from their immediate proximity, shuffling down the slope a bit so they might not scent her and immediately dread her presence. She found a perch on a jutting boulder, where she could survey the area as she waited for one of the locals to inevitably find her scent, and come looking for her. 

She knew she could draw a crowd without even making a sound.

I gotta keep Shard from going inactive c:

A white wolf smelt of strangers. He had yet to meet his brother, though the wind brought his scent strong to his nose. Shard was patient, lurking around the edges until such a time as to meet his beloved darkened littermate once more. 

In the rain, he washed his pelt free of dirt - he felt icky otherwise, his coat not the color of fresh-fallen snow. All along his body, the giant heap of fur cleaned, until he was suitable for his eventual appearance to his brother. 

But a scent unlike that of which he knew well drifted through the raindrops to him, and thus the man went to investigate, finding the oddest creature he'd ever come across.

He woofed at the creature, not knowing what she was. Who might you be?

At first, the wolf who approached could have been mistaken for a distant avalanche, though it seemed odd to Cashew that there might be a tumbling of snow coming along the side of an inactive volcano at this time of year. She squinted, and inhaled the telltale canine scent of a wolf when the breeze allowed, and found herself quite impressed with the stature of the creature. She'd seen giant, white, wooly wolves before- in the Arctic.  Perhaps this one had wandered South as she had. 

She did not recognize his scent as being one of the ones along the borders, though, so she found it odd that he too might come so close to a pack he didn't seem to belong to. Perhaps he wasn't a guardian, perhaps he was a hunter or a scout. In this rain, she could be wrong altogether- but she thought he smelled more like wilderness than anything else. 

"Oh, yes- well, I'm Cashew," She responded, kneading her rough pawpads against the surface of the stone she perched on. "Are you one of the...Ohhhhh now I've done it," She said, with an impish chuckle. "Can't remember the word for a group of wolves to save me life! Whatsit, now...A spool of wool-ves? Heheh! A Wolfgang? C'mon sonny out wi'it!" She prompted with a scrunch of her nose, as though to raise fallen spectacles so she might see him better.

A pack, dear Cashew, he chuckled, his voice rolling as gently as a summer rain against the torrent surrounding the two. It pat his head and ran along his back as easily as it soaked into his white hairs. Indeed, the man did not smell of a pack's scent; what little he had long since had been snatched off his fur by spring breezes. 

He preferred it that way.

My name is Shard, what a pleasure. But may I ask... what of you? What do you call a group of... o-of- sorry, what exactly are you? I've never gotten the opportunity to ask such a lovely lady before. I don't mean to be rude.

”A pack?! She blurted, a gob of spittle flung from her mouth as she spoke, unnoticed by the badger-like woman. She rolled her small, dark eyes. ”Sounds more fit for cigarettes than an animal but what odds of it,” She mumbled to herself quietly, her words barely intelligible. 

She raised her brow and sniffed as he introduced himself as Shard, craning her head forward and tilting it as though to hear him better. She worked her jaws as he talked, as though mimicking his speech, silently. She watched his lips carefully. 

She had an answer for his question but was blindsided by his blatant flirtation. She sat upright swiftly, swatted at the air in front of her as she might have swatted an impudent fly aside, and hooted with laughter. She shook a shaggy, long-clawed paw at him when her laughter subsided, furrowing her brow. 

”Noooooo don’t you go gettin’ h’any ideas about me bein’ a lady, Mr. Swiss Chard,” She said. ”But to answer yer, uh, question- my kind aren’t social with one another unless, you know- motives but I am a wolverine. Unholy cross between a bear, a wolf, and an otter.”

Unholy? he questioned with a chuckle, a smile parting his muzzle. Nonsense. You don't look the slightest bit 'unholy' to me. Aren't we all at the mercy of the wind on our paws? For him, it was true. He liked being alone, without any strings attached, and more so the ability to er, find lovely wolves of which to keep him company. Wolves, mind you. 

He turned his large head and walked towards a little outcropping he'd discovered among the rock. Cold, and hard, but at least out of the rain. Come, if you so choose. It is far easier to converse without water dripping in our ears.

”Maybe you have,” She croaked with a husky laugh. She gestured toward Shard’s paws with one of her own. ”Yer legs are long enough you’d get a breeze- but not me! I’m such a short-arse, my paws don’t ever get aired out unless I’m flipped wit me not-so-sunny-side up!” Such was the way she was built- with thick, but short legs that were slightly bowed, and due to her long guard hairs, she looked somewhat like a mop when she moved. 

She understood his point, though. Compared to some wolves she’d met, she found him quite agreeable. Impishly, she cocked her head and said ”Wot?” To highlight his point, before she chuckled and slid gracelessly from the boulder she’d been perched on, to follow him toward the shelter he’d suggested. 

Once inside, the hairy creature shook her thick coat violently, sending drops of water and a couple strings of spittle flying in every direction. She plonked her rear end down on the ground, her hind feet splaying out revealing their bearish shape. ”Now tell me, Shard- are you a member of the pack here?” She asked, wiping some rain from her muzzle with a brush of her paw.

Likewise, his large form flung water from his fur as he entered the small space. Shard took a minute to scratch an itch and clean some hidden debris that had gotten lodged in the hair on his legs. Dirt, he did not approve of. It had its place; it made plant matter and other such beautiful things grow. But it did not belong on him. 

His large head and striking blue eyes turned to Cashew. Well... in a sense, I guess. Many wolf packs are family units, a mom, a dad, and their children. The male wolf's scent is my brother's, but I cannot say I've managed to cross his path. I'm not sure he even wants to see me.

Cashew paused, trying to figure out if Shard was telling the truth, and decided in the end that while it seemed he was related to the wolves on the mountain, he wasn't necessarily a part of their pack. "Well, t'ere go my plans of askin' yeh to put in a good word for me," She said with a wheezy cackle. "Sure your brother might take kindly to ya still, eh? Why wouldn't he be happy to see you?" She asked, oblivious to the discomfort that Shard seemed to feel. 

After all, she was a solitary creature, typically. She had spent time caring for cubs, and had only one male that she went to for the purpose of making more- but in the end, they'd split up and gone their separate ways. She'd not found the male, this year. His territory had been abandoned, which had left her with no hope of having children again.

Shard lay down on his side near the back of the small outcropping, his forelegs out in front of him and his tail curled lazily above his hindlegs. He's a leader; he's got enough wolves to look after. Now he's a father, and I think I've seen his lady, but I was... more interested in her friend... if I'm being honest... he shook some excess water off his pelt. Was Gwynt being tricky and making him warmer than he should be? I'm proud of him, really. 

It took more than pretty words and wandering paws to run a pack, and Shard knew he'd never make a particularly good leader because of that. 

Now's not a good time, really. Too many things going on, children, a new border, and I smell other packs on the wind- it must be chaos for his head. I don't wanna make it worse for him.