follow the leader

[size=x-small]Please let Soul post next please <3[/size]

It had been a fairly tiring journey. A walk that was almost non stop from the Kintla Flatlands all the way to the borders of Tartok's territory. Of course upon reaching the pungent and strong scent markers of the packs domain the young Persian would stop dead in his tracks. Not a single step deeper would he take today, it was the end of the road for himself and Soul as far as he was concerned.

Sleek creamy muzzle of the brute was turned over his haughty right shoulder to look back, waiting for and observing Soul whom he had guided here. A soft chuff sound escaped his muzzle, a command for her to stop just in case she had not noticed the borders. Jade bright eyes looking over over wondering how she was holding up despite her wounds. Moving closer he would try to offer her a few wise words of advice. "Try to act strong. The pack will need to know that you are worth their time." He mused to the silver painted she-wolf. A stance taken up to the side of her where he would then begin to call for assistance. His slender jowls tilting skyward releasing a howl into the air to let the pack of Tartok know of their presence and that they had arrived in peace.

Soul was tired but she stood up straight and strong. She looked stronger then when they first met. "I'll try." she said. Her gaze was happy and yet unreadable.

Finally they were both here in one piece (mostly) and with the leaders of the pack called he felt he could finally begin to relax. Slipping back onto his powerful haunches to tawny wolf would sit. Although this would be a sign of disrespect in his view if he were to do this in front of a Shah - he figured it would take a few minutes for someone to answer their request. Plenty of time to rest up and catch his breath. If someone were to arrive from the mountain side then he would quickly take to his usual stance once again.

Jade eyes would flicker to and fro keeping watchful and alert. Altair did not trust packs. Yet his reasons for such loathing were nothing to do with Tartok or any of the packs that resided in the national park - it was all because he had been left behind and he resented it. It left him with a bitter feeling, memories that could not be forgotten.

The Persian was pleased to see that Soul was not taking this lightly. If this were to be her acceptance then she needed to preform well. Only then may a stranger see past her current injuries and grant her acceptance. "I'm sure a leader or scout will find us soon." He explained. Had it been his home then his inquisitive mind would have led him towards strangers knocking on the front door.

"Okay." soul said calmly. She laid down to groom herself. She didn't really know why she was acting so calm. She guess it was a chance to put the past behind her and start becoming stronger in the new pack.

It took little time at all for her to arrive. Her wolves were marking and taking care of their territory, now that it had become theirs. Tonravik watched them, and worked herself. Pride was a growing feeling within her, blossoming, blooming. In her day to day life, she was changing. Her wolves carved her as the oceans would carve the land they lay into. It was little, but it was significant. There was more pride, more hunger for power. An inherent need to grow. An insatiable thirst that could only be slaked by their united gain.

The howl called to her. Her swift response could be attributed to how very close she had been prior. Their scent had been on the wind, but then again, there were many scents on the wind. Still, she lingered. Her encounter with the too-bold wolf had Tonravik hungry for their next attempt; she was ready, and so too were her wolves.

She meets them with her tail lifted above her hindquarters, her eyes immediately assessing them without shame. The male that stood there was strong in appearance, and it was that alone that made him handsome to her. She could appreciate that, strength. She could not appreciate the way his eyes were as green as the lushest of grasses she had seen, nor that his colors complemented that. The other beside him seemed content, but not so very well-fed. Her stature promised that she could boast size and muscle were she given the chance, but she had not been, not in this instant. She was alive, though. Thus far the silver being had survived.

Tonravik looks to one wolf and then the other. One had called, but it did not mean the other might not speak. She waited, patient, hoping for swiftness.

Soul stepped up. She bowed toward the leader to show respect. "Greets." she said. Her gaze was unshaking. "I was hoping I could join your pack." Soul told her.

The moment the scent of Tonravik was caught by the hellion he was up onto his four cream painted paws. His ears would alertly slide forward listening for which direction the pack wolf would arrive from and finally with the she-wolf, Tonravik, in his jade sight a thin smile etched over his inky lips. 'Look at this, a woman doing border patrols on behalf of their Shah.' His smirk twisted a little wider and more prominent. Muzzle arching forwards and his own tail would begin to rise begin him. This was still neutral territory he stood upon and he was a free male wolf. He would not bend at the knee for her. Not ever.

At least Tonravik seemed respectful enough to not talk without first being spoken too - Altair did not realise that the Alphess had done this purposely though and not for that reason at all. Altair ha nothing to add or say as Soul made her request. Pondering to himself whether or not to turn and walk away now or first see whether or not the silver runt-like she-wolf was accepted into the pack. Though at the same time he also was curious. He wished to stick around and meet the Shah or Alpha Male of this band for himself. If Altair was indeed going to stick around in the park for a while meeting important neighbours was a good step forward.

In the meantime whilst he stood and waited to the left side of Soul his gaze would not light from the ebony Alphess. His eyes delighted with what he saw, such a large and strong woman. Her dominance and raw power she showed caused his whiskers to twitch against his cream muzzle - he wanted her as one of his wives. Perhaps she was even good enough to be a Shahbuna one day. Little did he know that she was already a Queen of her own domain.

Soul waited for the leader's reply.

The silver wolf was swift and to the point. Her eyes assessed the woman briefly, and then fell to the male. It would seem he was looking to her as well, though he was silent. Tonravik could not know if he desired to join as well, but he appeared fit enough. The dark leader looks to Soul again, and then speaks, What can you offer this pack? She is elusive, though it was quite clear that the pack was hers; and yet, she does not define it as such. This pack was more than just her, after all, and it was not only her that the pale wolf would lend her skills to.

Tartok was a unit, and one that worked together. They functioned as a whole, a militaristic unit that fed off of one another. She its commander, her wolves the troops. Hunters, healers (which they needed more of), scouts... all trained to be fighters, warriors, killers. Tonravik wondered if Soul was the sort of woman who could bend to the feral lifestyle they shared. Simple savages, they were. But they were the wolves that survived.

Her eyes then fall to Altair, and she looks at him pointedly. And your purpose?

"I can fight or heal. Anything you need of me I will do." Soul said respectfully to the leader. She wasn't lying about any of it. She had learned how to fight and she learned how to heal. She would just need to learn the herbs that pack used and how to use them. Her gaze rested on the leader.