Bitterroot Valley Exit, Pursued by a Bruised Ego

for @Sega ! no rush to this at all, just thought i'd get it up since i'm eager to write, lel

Barrett had been awake for an hour or so before the sun had finally risen to kiss the sky, spilling its' red, gold hues into the darkness that was night. He moved from the clearing back towards his den, where Band-Chief had called for an early morning hunt, so that the man may prove himself. The faint scent of elk rode the winds already, travelling from the plains and filtering into the valley, where he was sure that the other Great Sky wolves would also sense it. Leader being amongst them.
So the outlaw stood by his den. Licked at his paws, his claws, grooming himself in the most instinctual of ways. Stretched his muscles out, leaning forwards, pressed to the ground, as he once did so long ago. Memories dripped through his mind, akin to faint watercolour, painted in long strokes against paperskin, illustrating all that was a life left behind. He thought to the notion of a wife, or a family, and still, found that he was uncertain—uncertain in his empty loyalties, or in his want for such a thing.
He was glad to have something else that he could focus his energy, his will unto. His hunger, mostly sated from the day prior, was not the driving force behind this hunt, but rather, the thought of hunting beside a leader, a brother, and making a place that was his own. A gang that would love him again. His brothers. His sisters.
Wary, still. But growing familiar.

you're all good! <3

callahan was already awake, groomed, stretched, prepared. sega paused a few lengths away, taking in the sight with a small, approving nod.

hn. good, he rumbled, voice low in the stillness. you ready.

he stepped closer, gaze lifting toward the northern rise where a faint current of wind carried fresh scent— green shoots, wet soil, and the musk of many bodies moving together.

herd move north, he said. vegetation better there. new shoots.

his tail swept once behind him, signaling direction as much as intent.

we follow. take good ground before sun high.

sega turned then, expecting callahan to fall into stride beside him rather than behind.

as he started toward the shadowed path leading north, he cast a brief look over his shoulder, golden eyes warm beneath their rough edges.

He stood tall, now, as Sega arrived, drawing closer. He made note of the approval behind his nod, firm and well-intending. Gave a flick of his tail in quiet acknowledgement. And the man followed his eyes towards the rise, drinking in the scents that ebbed and flowed through the valley.
Mm, he hummed, confirming Sega's words.
Lead the way, Chief, Barrett said. And when he turned, Barrett followed. Succeeded his expectations. Stepped in stride beside him, though lingering only an inch or so behind. Still, wariness ate at him, though he kept paw-in-paw with his new gang-leader. Met his eyes, sun-bright against wine-dark. Nodded.
Y'all be huntin' fairly often, huh? Made conversation. Quietly looking to learn more. —with those pelts hung in the clearin', y'know. Fancy craft, that is. You do it? Because, perhaps rather obviously, the outlaw would care to learn.
However a rare occurrence that may be.

the mention of the pelts drew a small shift in sega’s posture. not shame, but honesty. he glanced toward the memory of the drying racks, then back to callahan.

those hides. a nod. some my work. some angel’s.

he let a breath slip out, rough but warm.

mine are… sloppy, he admitted without hesitation. woman’s paws make better. always. where i from, that work is pride. skill for mothers. sisters. daughters.

another small nod, this one approving.

good you look close. you want learn, i show what i can.

his gaze drifted ahead to the northern trail, voice low again.

but angel oak teach better. her paws sharp.

then, softer, almost an invitation.

you get your own pelt right one day.

Angel, he hummed. Another name to remember. Sure to meet her soon, then. Fer the ladies, huh? He chuckled, brows raising for a moment. Smile on his face. Thought back to women from his past. His lady. Softened for a moment. A breath left his mouth, and he sealed his lips just as quickly; smile faltered, even if just for a brief second. But, Sega said that he would teach what he could, and at this, he nodded.
Sounds mighty fine to me, Chief, he said. One day, we can only hope.

Barrett looked down to the trail, now. He grew closer to Sega in physicality, stride matched, side-by-side; though he made sure, carefully, to let the Chief lead in every way, as if there was a silent order of hierarchy that the outlaw would rather die than disobey. Such a concept was, quite clearly, held close to his heart.
Drank in the scents. Distant smell of Elk. Hunger did not power him now, but instead, the prospect of proving himself, and for some odd reason, it was this that sharpened his senses, his claws, his fangs. To show himself as worthy. To deserve something. Something good. An odd pain, shoved aside like an old coat.
Dirty, rugged, worn.

But maybe, instead of an old coat, he could brandish himself a new, clean pelt. Fit for his den. Perhaps his shoulders.
Perhaps a lady.

sega heard the shift in callahan’s tone, the way humor brushed something softer and then stepped back. he did not prod at it. some wounds were meant to be carried, not spoken over.

hn. yes, he said, steady. angel good girl.

his gaze stayed forward on the trail, ears turning slightly as he scented the distant musk of elk. the morning light caught the pale of his coat as he continued.

she visit her mother, southeast, he added. she come back when ready.

their strides fell into a clean rhythm, side by side. sega felt the way callahan matched his pace but kept the respectful inch behind, a sign of a wolf who understood hierarchy rather than feared it. good. strong.

the air sharpened with the nearness of prey, but sega kept his voice low.

how would you strike them, callahan? which would you pick? he did have the choice; the whole herd before him.

South-east, huh? Barrett thought to whatever might be south-east, turning his head ever-so-slightly towards where that area may be, though not straying too far from looking towards the path.
There other packs out here? He murmured, mainly talking to himself.

But, when the air drew thicker with elk-musk, Barrett turned his eyes forwards, ears swivelling like antenna to pick up the hoof-beat and bellow of any bull & cow. How would he strike them? Barrett blinked for just a moment, searching for something within him, something new; something deeply instinctual.
Break 'em apart, came low, rugged voice. Quiet, as to not alert the herd nearby. Not yet. Strongest ones'll be out front, protectin' the others, gave a nod forwards. Looked to Sega for a moment. Weaker ones in the cen'er, so, we divide the herd. Take 'em quick. Scare 'em so they run—tire 'em.
He looked away, then. Back to the herd. Least, that's how I'd do it. Make the death quick. She don't need'a be in any pain, his final words were... gentle.

Almost... kind.

hn. you think right, he said, eyes narrowing toward the distant shapes moving in the grass. break herd. take weak quick.

his shoulders lowered as he shifted into the posture of a hunter, breath slow and even. pain short. that matter.

a step forward, measured and quiet. the bull’s bellow drifted on the wind, and sega’s ears tipped toward it.

you push left, he murmured. i take right. we turn herd north. split clean.

he glanced at callahan then, a brief, steady look— not testing, but recognizing.

no hesitation. no cruelty. just good kill.

another soft rumble, prideful! you hunt like great sky already.

He chuckled at this; that he already hunted like one of them. He gave a rounded shrug of his shoulder blades, taking a step, two, three steps forwards.
Left, he confirmed with a nod of his head. He turned his head once more, looking to Sega, band-chief, and flicked his tail. A silent departure as he padded towards the westernmost side of the herd. The bull's bellows fell harshly upon his eardrums, and as the rising sun lit the group of elk, Barrett could see, if he gazed quite harshly, a smaller, thinner elk towards the center. It moved slowly, as if weighed down by something. Unable to hold its' own weight. There, came quiet murmur.
He approached the herd, now. Tail rose high above his flank. Scare 'em, he thought. For if they ran, the weakest would fall behind, tired, and would make the kill easy for both the wolves and the elk. She would not be in pain for long.
So, Barret would wait. Stood tall. Feet planted against the soil. Waiting for Segas' signal. And then, he would charge. Harass 'em a bit.

good, sega murmured, barely more than breath.

he slipped to the right side of the herd, pale coat blending against frost-touched grass. his tail lifted, signaling readiness. his eyes locked on the same thin elk callahan had spotted— the one moving stiff, weighted, already halfway to death. mercy was easy today.

sega’s body lowered, muscles coiled beneath him. he looked across the herd, found callahan’s gaze, and gave a single, sharp dip of his head.

the signal.

in the next heartbeat he surged forward, a silent avalanche through the grass, driving the elk hard from the right. panic rippled through the herd, hooves striking earth, bodies turning north exactly as planned.

callahan would meet them from the left, and between them, the weakest would fall into the open.

sega’s breath came steady, focused.

now, he growled low, meant for callahan alone, even if distance swallowed the sound.

a true hunt. a shared one. the first of many.

The signal.

When Sega moved, Barrett did. In sync, the hunters of the Great Sky, moving forthwith in great speed, great stride and strength, causing uproar and hoof-scatter in the herd in which they targeted. He rode in from the left, snapping his jaws, driving them northbound, as Sega had told him to be so. And as the herd ran ahead, fear and instinct fueling their powerful bounds, one fell behind. The weakest of the herd.
A single word fell upon his ears. A command. So, Barret would oblige. In a single bound, he surged forwards, jaws clamping around the leg of the elk. A puncture wound; scarlet dribbling down. And he pulled back, attempting to slow the beast as they ran—and it flailed, pushed, fought back and tried to survive, as all living things did, but it did not understand the greater purpose it was meant to serve.
The cycle of life that they all must obey.
He released the elk, now, regaining his energy for just a moment before he would push on further. For a moment, he would try to run alongside it. Try to get an opening. Faithful that Sega would take her down, with him. A newfound brothership.
Forged from this hunt alone. And many more to come.

callahan’s strike had been clean— the leg punctured, the bloodline trickling— and the elk stumbled just enough for sega to overtake.

he surged forward, jaws parting in a low, guttural sound. his teeth found the space behind her neck, that narrow seam where life could be ended without needless pain. he drove his weight down and forward, powerful shoulders anchoring the kill even as the elk gave one last desperate heave.

the struggle was brief. respectful. necessary.

when the body finally stilled, sega held for a beat longer, ensuring the mercy was complete, then lifted his head. his breath steamed in the air, gold eyes turning to find callahan running parallel— the exact place a brother should be.

he gave a short nod, chest rising with controlled breath.

good, he said, voice low, rough with exertion. clean work.

he stepped aside to allow callahan in, inviting him to share in the first taste of the kill. the bond forged in blood and breath was a simple one, but deep.

you hunt strong, sega added, calmer now. good for great sky.

it impressed him. truly. for what he prided himself upon was strong hunters; and here it was being proven as such to be surrounded by them.

we must keep the hide. when angel return, she can work with it.

With the single clenching of a powerful jaw, Sega brought down the cow, his kill a swift one. Merciful. Benevolent. Eyes met, sun-gold against night-red. And the outlaw was met with praise for the first time in what felt like... forever. He gave a polite dip of his head at the words, oblivious on how to accept such words.
Rolled his shoulders. Stepped in to eat. Preserved the skin. They could bring chunks of the meat home. Scent-mark the carcass itself, should the valley-wolves need to find it. Sega himself said to keep the hide, spoke of Angel, and Barrett replied:
I'd like to learn from her, should'ya be allowin' of it, he hummed. Make myself useful 'round 'ere, huh? Sure you've got plenty'a hun'ers.
A chuckle left him. Dry, almost. But warmer when he looked upon Sega.

at the mention of angel, his ears tipped forward, a quiet warmth behind his eyes.

hn. yes, he said, voice low. when she come back, you learn from her.

he took a slow breath, already imagining it— angel’s careful paws, callahan’s eager study, the valley full of movement again. it sparked something old and good in his chest.

i introduce you proper, he added. she like strong wolves. kind ones too.

he stepped back from the carcass, glancing north where the winds shifted through the valley.

when she return, we make pack hunt, sega murmured, a thoughtful rumble beneath the words. in her honor. and for your joining.

his gaze returned to callahan, readying to transport the meats.

great sky grow today. that worth celebration.

Oh, he grinned widely now. That warmth in his gaze was not quite invisible. And a hunt for her return? Perhaps that was just the culture of the place, but not all things were simply coincidence—he knew that match.
Must like you, then, he hummed, implication clear on his tongue. Should she be likin' those strong, n' kind. Sounds like you, my friend, and a chuckle left his chest, deep and gravelled. He gave a nod to the silent order; to carry the meat back to the valley. But still, the smile did not leave his face, for where there was a distant hurt, there was also a budding friendship that laid within. And something of Sega led Barrett to be happy at his own happiness. The outlaw, developing a sense of empathy.
Who knew such a thing could happen.
Barrett lowered his head, tearing a chunk off the carcass as large as he could so possibly make it, before looking back to Sega. A nod, again, telling him that he was ready to head back. Sun had well and truly kissed the sky now, as it grew in shades of periwinkle and belle. He took a few steps forwards, flicking his tail.
Ultimately, he trusted the Chief to lead the way.

sega snorted, a rough sound caught somewhere between amusement and warning. his eyes rolled skyward in a way that would have looked dramatic on a smaller wolf, but on him, it only read as a gruff attempt at humility.

hn. quiet, he muttered, though a faint pull at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. you talk too much.

he shook out his coat, as if physically brushing off the tease callahan had thrown at him. still, the warmth lingered in his chest, stubborn and present.

he bent down, grabbed his own share of the elk, then lifted his head toward the valley trail.

come, he said, voice settling back into its steady rumble. sun high soon. meat need drying.

he fell into stride beside callahan once more, the easy rhythm of brothers heading home.

and we stay humble, sega added, giving him a pointed look. great sky not need big heads.

Humble's my middle name, Chief, he spoke around his part of the elk. Tail swung low behind him, flicking with each step they took. A rhythm shared. Ain't no big heads here, came gentle muse. Shuffle of shoulders as he stifled chuckles.
Wave of curiosity overcame him as they walked back towards the valley, pulling their catch as they went. Pushed past the part in which he tugged, he spoke again:
Completely unrelated, but, if ya got wed, and since yer chief, what'd yer lady be called? Her, er, rank within the group, if ya will, and he did mean it in an unrelated sense, though would not be surprised if it was taken a different way. In all honesty, he'd probably be amused by it. Since I ain't knowin' much 'bout a place that's meant to be my new home. Another laugh, though muffled by elkskin.
He pulled, pulled, pulled. Carried his weight and more.

Looking to learn, he was.

sega huffed a breath through his nose, the sound low and amused, even as he kept his stride steady beside callahan. the question wasn’t as unrelated as the man claimed, but sega didn’t call him on it. curiosity was good. it meant he wanted to understand the place he walked into.

he shifted the elk’s weight on his jaws before answering.

hn. chief’s mate called sunwife, he said, voice rough but sure. she stand beside leader. guide with him. warm heart of band.

another step, another drag of the carcass through grass.

sunwife not lower, he added, glancing at callahan. equal. light of camp.

a brief flicker of something softened his eyes before he looked ahead again.

only strong, good woman fit that place.

then, with a quiet rumble that might have been humor, and chief must earn her. not other way.

Heart of the band. He liked the sound of that. Felt like a title deserving of a lady. A title deserving a great respect. Sunwife. Barrett nodded his head, continuing to pull along the elk as he listened to band-chiefs' words.
Equal, huh? He nodded. Good, approval coursed through him. Clear as the rising sun. You'll earn a good lady, Barrett pointed out. As a good man yerself, it won't be a challenge for you, I don't reckon, perhaps too much of a compliment. So, he chuckled, and followed with: Don't get a big head, though.
And now, Barrett was content to walk in silence for the rest of the trip back to the valley, if that was what Sega so wished for. Tail swayed behind.

you're free to fade with your next if you like! or we can keep going if sega has more to say, entirely up to you :]

sega shot him a look from the corner of his eye, the kind that landed somewhere between amusement and warning. a slow smirk pulled at his scarred cheek before he turned forward again, hauling the elk with steady strength.

he gave a short grunt at the praise, nothing more, the rumble low in his chest— accepting just enough to acknowledge, refusing anything that might puff him up.

then he kept moving, pace unbroken, letting the trail stretch ahead of them. the silence settled back in easily, clean as frost on morning grass, and his tail swept once behind him in quiet approval as they walked.