Duskfire Glacier let me give you my life

Please allow @Tonravik & @Echelon to reply first, and then you guys can go at it! Might end up using a rounds-system if there are lots of characters.

Despite the foray in to the unknown beyond the glacier, Njal insisted that they double back, and the trio rested among the rocks for a solid eight hours. When the dawn came, the Sveijarn was already awake, already pacing in anticipation for their departure; but he had not roused them. The two wolves of Tartok were devoted creatures and he wanted them in perfect form in case the situation came to blows — something Njal was almost certain would occur, so great was his worry. Aside from being a bit hungry, the three of them were indeed fit and ready to move. So when the first dark figure approached him, he knew it was time. They knew, likely by the great rut he had worn in the permafrost around their camp, and before the clouds could part long enough for the morning light to break through, they were marching.

They could have gone around the peak to where he had stared at the stars, found a back way in, and simply sought out Tuwawi on her own; they could have charged in with the intent to drive out any who opposed; however, it was Njal's decision that they approach from the well-used western trails. The glacier was a fortress that was well guarded (or so he assumed) and the patriarch was not interested in scaring anyone, nor in driving them out if the wolves were loyal. He had no knowledge of the latest events in the glacier despite lurking in its shadows, and perhaps if the beast had known he would have delayed further. But there would be no waiting - nor any warning, as the silver man streaked through the trees alongside the twin shadows.

The land's borders were marked heavily. Njal did not stop to inspect the claim and he cast a quick look to Tonravik to urge her forwards, in case she wished to linger. As the forest gave way to the familiar field of lupines, Njal's pace slowed, and he halted while waves of tiny buds drifted beside him in the breeze, uaffected by the arrival of the ex-Alpha and the two comrades. The scent of the flowers would mask their own for a time, but Njal did not think he could hide there for long — if at all. He gave one last look to the beasts at his flank, and then swept his gaze forward, awaiting the inevitable discovery.

*PARTY CRASHES*

This was the closest she had ever been to the glacier. Truly, it was a beautiful sight at any distance, so long as it was visible. Within Echelon there was a resolute sense of wonder, but also an energy that awaited the future to come. It took all of her ability to hold still as they waited. There were no guarantees on how they would be received, whether it was by questioning authority or a flash of teeth. She was ready for either, once more returned to a silent party in their trio that was not so inclined to hold an opinion one way or the other. But deep inside, she wanted things to work out for them all.

And it all stemmed out of petty desire — she wanted to investigate the glacier at length.

She wanted Tartok to thrive there.

As discussed, they had decided to leave early morning. Tonravik was observant on their journey there, looking for signs of hesitance, of anxiety. But he was stoic and his mind for the moment truly seemed made up; he would commit to this. Tonravik, too, was committed to the task at hand. Her strides were strong and firm and as they came upon the glacier, Tonravik moved upon it hungrily. The desire to conquer was strong; however, they were a number of three. While the area did not smell too populated, surely the pack had more numbers than they; and, as she understood it, Njal would be peaceful unless accosted. Should they be chased from the land, Tonravik would conquer another. Perhaps in time she would just take the place, then...mk

Tonravik was only now trying out an alliance with the Sveijarn family. The family was a broken one, but it held Tartok in it; it could be made strong again. That was one of the many reasons she stood beside the silver male now. Tartok was a familial unit and one did not leave a man behind. Of course, those that truly abandoned with that intent... were disposed of.

The pale female trotted along the boarders, it was the one place she loved most. It was quiet, there were no interruptions, but of course the pale wolfess had to be wrong about that. She had caught onto a strange scent, no, there was actually more than just one scent, there was instead three. She knew how to handle a loner at the boarders, but a whole group of wolves was a diffrent story. She had tracked the intruders and caught a glimpse of the group.

Keeping her distance she howled for the few wolves she knew, @Sen, @Accalia, @Tuwawi and any other pack member in the area. Three wolves intrude the lands. She kept her distance, and waited for more of the pack to join her. Her brown eyes watched the three strangers, she would not let them out of her sight.

I couldn't not respond to this. :O

Týrr had been near enough when one of the Glacier's new members howl had broken through the otherwise still morning, about to make his routine patrols of the borders, that he was the first to arrive. Since he'd earned his journeyman Chronicler trade he had set his sights to something more familiar to him: warden and had made a habit of patrolling. His insistence was rigid and tightly kept too with the threat of the unknown wolf that intended to spark a war with them, and the two that had been kicked out: Scarlett and Adlartok. Though the Rekkr did not believe either of them to be stupid enough to pull it, still, he kept a vigilant sweep regardless. Týrr's eyes found the unknown pack member first, lingering there, unable to pull even so much as a name but she smelled of Tuwawi and that was all the validation that the Rekkr needed.

In the mere moments after he looked past her, hackles bristling as the two ebony intruders came into his view, though it was the sight of Njal, unmistakable, that kept him from barging at them like a force of nature. In an instant he was hit with trepidation, unsure of Njal's intentions — disappearing and then suddenly appearing with two unknown women, sneaking into the Glacier. He was weary, naturally, and anxious without Tuwawi's presence. He did not wish to bring her ire down upon himself by attacking Njal and his ...friends, but he did not know how the ember Queen would take this. Would she welcome Njal and these strangers with welcome arms? ...Njal was back; and selfishly Týrr felt his heart drop in his chest in immediate recognition as to what it signified. Surely, Tuwawi would accept her mate back and they would be the happy, leading couple they'd once been, and Týrr felt sure they would build on the Sveijarn family. ...Wouldn't they? Which would mean that his intentions of, should Tuwawi have allowed it, of course, attempting to court the ember Queen were demolished and crushed to dust. If he'd ever had any small sliver of a chance at all, Týrr couldn't help but feel, given his assumptions, that it was gone.

You should have stayed away, Týrr wanted to snarl at Njal in his disappointment and irritation, but of course, kept it locked tightly inside. Even though he was momentarily left with nothing but his own assumptions, he could not deny that something did not feel right about this. ”Njal? What is this? Who are they?” Týrr inquired of the Northerner, ghosting further than his comrade had stopped, sparing her a quick glance; but he did not fear these wolves. He would not do anything until Tuwawi gave him a command, but for now he could at least try to figure out what was going on. As a Warden initiate it was apart of the expected job from the Wardens. Recognition set in as his crystalline gaze swept over each female in turn, and felt his brow furrow as it slowly sunk in deeper. “Wait...I know you,” He spoke to Echelon, shoulders tense as his ears slicked back to rest at half mast atop his skull. “Iqsi, right?” Uncertainly had settled into the Gamma's stomach like steel hard ice that had nothing to do with the crushing feeling in his chest (for finally realizing that Tuwawi was out of his league, haha) but for now he played the interceptor and diplomat, attempting to gain what information he could and hold the fort until Tuwawi, whom he hoped would appear soon, came upon the scene.

Little sleep found Tuwawi as endless hours of scheming and patrolling consumed the forlorn ember. She was determined to overcome Duskfire's adversity and reclaim Larus from the Bay, who's wolves had grown more bold with each passing moon. The firebrand knew it was only a matter of time before their actions would grow more drastic. It was imperative to smite their enemies first -- but how could they with so little intelligence? She pondered sending scouts, or an emissary to Swiftcurrent to gather intel... but could the pack spare those bodies? Two new recruits had been accepted into the fold with haste to strengthen the Glacier's fortitude, but still Tuwawi doubted their chance of success.

Bassilth and Accalia had been given strict orders, as had the others -- and when a urgent howl rang out from the lupine field Tuwawi could only assume the worst. Those curs! she scowled to herself as the matriarch made a beeline towards her comrades, swiftly cantering along the southern edge until she drew near their location. Without hesitation she burst from the treeline with an aggressive posture, prepared to strike down the coastal dogs. However, it was not wolves of the Bay who had trespassed - but Njal accompanied by two wolves of Tartok, one of which had once led a branch in teekon.

The color drained from Tuwawi's face as she struggled for air, jaw clenching to fight off her collar's burning grip. It was as if Njal was a ghost; something intangible from her past -- but here he was, in the flesh. The pair had not departed on good terms and her manic brain struggled to digest the feelings of scorn, love, and despair. Tuwawi moved inbetween Tyrr and Bassilth and was quick to bare her fangs. "What is the meaning of this," she snapped, voice shrill and pointed as she suspiciously leered at the dark wolves to either side of her mate. Tonravik's presence did not bode well.

They were being watched. By who, he could not know. But it did not matter who, not really. Njal stood with the two shadows at his flank, essentially sandwiched between them, and he waited. They all had to wait, for he would not lead them further in to the lands - this far was likely too far already. So they stood together, until a familiar face appeared; a familiar voice, although distant in its relation within Njal's mind. He recognized the boy after a moment, as he had not seen Tyrr in quite a long time. The boy was... More like a man now. Tall and sturdy, strong like any other northerner. Perhaps on another day Njal would have been happy to seem him - proud, even, despite being unrelated. But Tyrr held questions upon his tongue, questions which Njal would answer, in time. He remained silent - turning a glance at Iqsi when she was addressed, and raising a brow, but otherwise remaining passing.

And then there were three. She came bursting through the foliage with such force, such anger and hostility, that Njal was a little surprised. He settled his golden gaze upon her carefully - looking to her gaunt face, to the emotions as they positively boiled within her, and inevitably resting upon the collar. Njal's ears folded back, and he closed his eyes to the flashing teeth, but gathered his wits and stepped forward - hoping the two wolves of Tartok would stay calm in the face of the fire. They had expected this (or rather, he had expected this, and warned them as best he could). Tuwawi was within her rights to be expressing herself in this way, and he would let her. But the same questions fell from her snarling maw, to which Njal could not remain silent.

Waiting would be a bad idea; Tuwawi was ignited now, filled with a building fury, so he cut to the chase.

I've.. Come home. He started, but then found himself pausing with doubt; then, steeling himself, he continued. Although I realize there may be no place for me here. I have also brought reinforcements. Allies. He did not turn towards either Tonravik or Echelon, nor did he motion at them; somehow, Njal felt that if he turned his attention away from his wife, everything would fall to pieces. I have come to apologize, Tuwawi. As her name fell from his lips he found himself finally breaking eye-contact with her silhouette, his head dropping low with regret, pity, and a semblance of submission. No more words came from the ruined man, and as the scene fell to silence, he felt the pounding of his heart in his ears.

They were intercepted at first by what Echelon only presumed was a scout. Her call summoned the others out, one by one. Among them had been the warden that she had encountered some time ago, but she feigned knowing him. There was no reply from the dark-haired wolf of Tartok, but there might have been if not for the eruption of the fiery matron she had also met. Tuwawi. Now in the full light of the day, Echelon could see that she was just as fiery as her disposition boasted and the aggressive displays did nothing to sway.

It was on Njal now to explain.

And when he did, it was short and to the point — Echelon remained nothing more than a silent surveyor at his side.

Tonravik waited, patiently. They were met quickly by wolves Tonravik assessed with eyes that had seen many a battle. Size. Scars. Weaknesses that could be found with the eye. Tonravik was not worried; she was calm, collected. Although she had every desire to explore this place, and learn it like Echelon, this place was not her own. She could take it; there was no fire to take this land yet within her.

The fiery wolf was upon them soon. This was the beating heart of his in the flesh. Tonravik left these matters in the hands of Njal, composed and at ease. The Tartok wolf did not flinch in the face of fangs not meant for her; the very first battle to be had was between the heart and the body the heart had been excavated from, willingly. Tonravik set her defenses in case Tuwawi felt unforgiving, her eyes moving slowly from wolf, to landscape, to the next wolf. It was methodical; but she could sense no ambush.

The first to show up from her new pack was a male who seemed shocked to see the others, like they were ghosts, however when he spoke Bassilth learned the silver male's name, Njal. The next to show up was the alpha, who didn't seem very happy to see the intruders, but also held a shocked look upon her face.

Bassilth turned her head to watch the intruders, who she was positive were not here to harm, but instead talk. The silver male address the alpha, Tuwawi, and said that he has come home, but there may be no place for him here. Bassilth was completely confused, was this Njal guy a threat or not, and who is he, she kept asking herself. She kept her mouth closed and turned her head to face the male brown male she did not know and then Tuwawi, curious on how they were going on handle this.

Njal did not respond to Týrr's questions, though it was when the dark furred Iqsi who did not speak, did not even appear to acknowledge him at all, acting, it seemed to him, like he was mistaking her for another that riled the Rekkr's deeper suspicion. His pupils narrowed within their pools of crystalline blue as he studied her hard, determining that he hadn't mistaken her. So why hide that they'd met before? Before Týrr could bring it to question, Tuwawi emerged, timely, upon the scene and for now the Rekkr stilled his tongue, drawing a small amount of comfort in the Ember Queen's presence. He would take his cues from her on how he was to approach this ...interesting situation. Being the highest ranking at Gamma beneath Tuwawi, Týrr pulled himself up beside her though not at his full height — he designed to remain lower than her, recognizing and respecting her rank — stance rigid and sentinel-like as she moved to stand between the new female (whose name he did not yet know) and himself.

For a small moment Týrr found himself lost in his admiration for her, for commanding the scene, for moving like beautiful and undeniably deadly wildfire. To Tuwawi, Njal, though it came as no real surprise to the Rekkr, responded, explaining that he'd came home. Though this was not surprising, really, it still cut him like a knife though Tuwawi had yet to accept or deny his presence here. This is what you get foolish boy, His innermost thoughts had taken on the scolding voice of not Ragnar but his partner in crime, Floki. Harsh, and cruel in their jeer as he mocked him over and over. Don't you know better by now? Jeering. Mocking. Digging the knife in deeper. Apparently not, because he kept developing crushes on females way out of his league, or that were already taken. It was a startling trend that he could not seem to break.

For a moment full of agonizing trepidation had Týrr caught between his fight or flight instincts. He dithered on if he should stay or if he should go. On one hand leaving would look bad and on the other he didn't really want to see Tuwawi and Njal have some sappy reunion, or re-establish their relationship right in front of him, either. And it wasn't either of their faults, really, but instead his own. Yet, despite his better judgment, Týrr did not budge. He was loyal to Tuwawi to his core, and he would not leave her. If he was man enough to develop such useless things as crushes, he was man enough to suffer through the disappointment they always brought with them; and this moment was bigger than his own petty problems, anyway. Favoring silence, for now, the Rekkr simply shifted his weight beside his Ember Queen, eyes focused on the three trespassers before them.

Hey Y'all, in light of AS's raid on DFG I think Java and I should just spree the rest of this thread to get it finished! :o hope that's ok!

All were silent except for Njal who, like the glacier, stood still before his blaze. The stoic man's admission was soft-spoken, but even his deep baritone croon could not pacify the scorned monarch -- her heart now steeled against the man she had once loved. Ice lined her spirit; the collar cut her pulse; ash filled her body, and despite the ember's fiery appearance Tuwawi was nothing but dead coals after a wildfire - all burnt up.

Her lips coiled viciously, red ears slicked back. "Home?" she jeered, voice horse and cracked like kindling, "what home?" The Duskfire wolf marched towards the trio, her sooty tail lashing like a whip. "Two of our children are dead! And... and the Ba- sea -- wolves of the sea have Larus! They have our boy!" Tyrr insisted that Stavanger had no part in his abduction, but one could not deny that some breed of ocean cur was involved. "Why don't you take your Tartok mercenaries there... you know Siku's wolves only think of themselves." Her silver gaze slipped to the dark women at his side, a deep resentment breeding in her gut... but her mind reeled back to Malachi's secret treachery.

"They didn't tell me!" her voice was shrill -- practically at a wail, "they didn't tell me they had him! But he knew!"

Eyes roamed around them - flickering from one side to the other, Duskfire to Tartok, Tartok to fire, and all the while Njal did not let his own expression fade, his eyes to wander. He felt his stomach knot as she hissed a response, though. The mountain man had expected her ire, her teeth, but not the gut-wrenching pain of her complete dismissal; it felt as if she had reached inside of him and torn asunder everything that lay beneath the skin, with only those two words. What home indeed.

She listed each sin of his defeat, or so he thought - and then deviated, and as the name of their youngest — his first error — breathed as an inferno from her gnashing teeth, Njal felt himself sink. He tried to remain stoic and let her speak, to let her beat him down in this new way of her's, but with each new comment he felt himself withering. Crumbling. Where once he was a mountain, now Njal felt like dust before this woman.

And as her voice raised to whistle-pitch, like a train ready to derail, or a kettle having reached it's boiling point, he moved. Oh how he moved. Lurching for her as if to strike, maybe, and for all intents and purposes that is what he sought to do - reaching, desperate, until he had not sunken teeth in to her flesh but wrapped himself as closely as he could. Njal's cheek slid against the strange contraption which sat like a broken crown around her neck, but he did not care; holding her as close as he dared -

just holding her —

because he could think of nothing else to say. And then, as he sighed against her, deflated beside her, something snapped. With the breath came a quiet sob and the sting of tears as they filled his vision; as Njal closed his eyes, his grip became a true force.

"My fault." He slurred, and sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. The only thing that managed to squeeze out of him before he fell to complete silence.

posting, because ton took offense to the comment ~

The woman's wailing reached her ears, the high pitch truly nails on a chalkboard to her. She remained silent and stalwart as she pitched her fit over Cubs dead, and Tonravik kept her composure. It was not until Tuwawi spoke of her mother that Tonravik felt an anger burn in her; the flame had touched her, and for that, the ice cracked into a snarling chasm that would swallow them whole.

She rose her head, dipping her muzzle over her throat, taking a solid step forward, her voice as cold as death:

“Tartok would not have let this happen at all. Tartok would protect and die for their children before wolves of any sort took one of ours,” her lips curled up into a dark scowl as her ears leaned ever-so-slightly forward, daring for the woman to object. Her eyes flashes to Njal, who she had brought to return, the man who so nearly did not come back at all. “Your cries will cause an avalanche,” her eyes looked to Tuwawi, and she stays herself from taking the emotionally crippled down in her time of weakness. Emotions were, after all, weak.

Njal speaks. His fault. “You are not solely to blame.” she agrees, her contempt toward the flame very real. She did not know Tuwawi too had gone, and if she did, she would have agreed more fiercely. Should the woman lead? She feels the presence of Echelon, knowing that she might have brought them, now, to an entirely different battle. She bristles, rooting herself to the earth. She thought Tuwawi pathetic and unstable, she could not see what the others did. To lash out on wolves brought to aid disappointed her.

Tonravik did not know she was Tartok, and she never would have guessed it.

RIP Tuwa

Njal swept towards his paramour smooth as meltwater, expression visibly ravaged by his wife's cutting tongue. However, scorn had deeply embedded itself within Tuwawi like a dug-in tick, and she was hardly moved by his morose visage and glassy eyes. She shifted anxiously. A single ear turned towards the ever-present Týrr — the comrade who's true feelings evaded her — to gesture for support as the glacial man made contact, but time withered as he pressed into fire. His touch was like frostbite — painful and raw — and the ember immediately began to quiver, every fiber rejecting his proximity.

Tonravik's flat voice spoke then and riled the still-grieving mother from her mate's hold. Tuwawi began to worm until her body trashed about like a fish plucked from a river. "Let go! Let go of me!" she cried, forcibly heaving herself from Njal's strong embrace against any better judgement. Without hesitation she marched up to the ebony woman, lips curled in a menacing grimace. "You know nothing!" Tuwawi snapped, pressing into the Tartokian's space with abandon. To think anyone could insinuate that Tuwawi wasn't prepared to die for her children fueled the Sveijarn's mania, her aggressive approach telling of the deep shame she endured. "Nothing about me, nothing about my children, and nothing of Duskfire's strife you damned cur!"

she writes herself #sos

Tuwawi came close, and Tonravik did not strike even as the woman snapped and spoke of knowing nothing. Tonravik agreed entirely. She did not. Because this was a position she would never allow herself to be in. Tonravik felt her own lips peel back as a snarl came from her throat, and she moves to half-circle Tuwawi to present the woman with an opportunity to—literally—to save her face. She had been seconds from ripping it apart, but it was Njal that prevented her from doing so. Her mother would not have thought of him for an instant; her mother would have made Tuwawi bleed. Tonravik would not waste another chance to strike, so thin was her patience.

Tonravik listened to her last set of words. Cur.

But she knew what she was, and what she was not; and so then her eyes present a direct, irrefutable challenge as they move to lock onto Tuwawi's. I know what I need to. The bear of a wolf does not attack, she waits, waits for Tuwawi to test her. In the eyes of Tonravik, the wailing wretch was unfit to rule, too emotional, too unstable. Tonravik had bargained with Njal, but there were things unwritten in their contract. His unstable flame looked to lick at an unwilling recipient, and the woman steeled herself. She bit back. Her full stature was presented as she drew herself upward, steeling herself for the onslaught she knew was to come. She did not doubt Tuwawi capable in fighting, but certainly in leading.

Tonravik could, and would, do both. You cannot lead. Her tail was rigid, and so was she, prepared, rooted.

I know this was supposed to be a spree between Njal x Tuwawi from here on out but Tyrr wouldn't just sit still in all of this, lol. Eep, sorry!

Týrr was silent as the banter between Tuwawi and the other ebony woman at Njal's side increased. Crystalline eyes caught Tuwawi's silent gesture and with a swiftness the rigid stance he'd taken had melted as he made to press closer to his ember Queen, prepared to protect her. Prepared to die for her if that was what it took. He resisted the urge to look away when Njal made contact with Tuwawi, his guard hairs bristling as he fought the urge to turn. He did not want to see it, of course, and in response he could not help the tight and wordless jeer he gave the scene, attempting to conquer his jealousy (though what did he expect really?) as it threatened to turn him green with it. Tuwawi had belonged to Njal long before he came on the scene and Týrr knew it, and while he had never meant to harbor these feelings for the ember Queen these things did not change the fact that he did, nevertheless. If Njal was allowed back in, his time frame had greatly diminished. He would either have to tell her how he felt and potentially ruin everything; and perhaps if that was the case, if it ended up making everything awkward then Manauia would get her wish to return to the Rise after all (because really who wanted to live with that awkwardness out of the closet, always in the same proximity, though he was not sure if he could shut off his loyalty simply out of embarrassment for that felt cowardly) or he could forever hold his peace.

He hadn't told Fox about his crush on her and though he didn't regret it now, he did not, exactly, want to live with regrets for at one point the Rekkr had regretted it; but he didn't know now. There would be time, later to think more upon the paths that had laid themselves out before him.

His heart stuttered in it's beats when Tuwawi cried for Njal to let go of her, unsure in how he should take it but knowing that she didn't want Njal to touch her. A low noise was given, as he stepped forward, a ghost of a movement, body tense once more as he prepared to step between the wayward lovers should Njal have pressed the issue, though it was the outspoken ebony female that claimed his attention as her and Tuwawi verbally sparred once more, ears slicking back as a soft snarl erupted from his muzzle, wrinkled back from his exposed teeth as the ebony woman dared to hold herself at a dominate position before Tuwawi. It was a challenge and he would not see his Queen dethroned from her own home. His own tail rose, insinuating that he did not acknowledge the ebony's female dominance display, that the only creature he would bow to was the woman whose side he had chosen to stand by, knowing all along that it might have been nothing more than a risk. Still, a risk he was willing to take.

Would he have held any power he would have spat at the three of them to get out but this was not his call and so he waited, albeit with baited breath and anticipation that had adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

We want to get this thread done and archived, so please let @Tuwawi reply please. You'll all have a chance to react at the end. Thanks!

It was the wrong move. Placing himself before her, closing their proximity - perhaps even returning at all. Wrong. Wrong. As Tuwawi recoiled from his touch Njal's jaw set firm, and he allowed it - did not pursue that which he desperately wanted. For her ire had been ignited once more, by words that made him turn as well. Tuwawi was harsh to the Tartokian wolves but that was unavoidable; Tonravik was harsh because it was in her nature, but Njal could not let her be. As soon as the dark woman was rising to challenge the fire beside him, things moved so much faster. Tuwawi glowered at the woman, Tyrr rose and stepped forwards to her defense, and the pressure of the moment threatened them all. Njal side-stepped so that he was, initially, between the darkness and the fire; but as his own gaze landed upon the agitated boy at Tuwawi's side, his roar could not be contained.

"Step back, all of you." He demanded, his tone seeded with strain. Would any of them listen? Not likely. Regardless of this, Njal stepped towards Tyrr and felt instinct overwhelm him, as it did the others. The Sveijarn patriarch took a few abrupt steps around Tuwawi and stood before Tyrr, a grimace of fangs hardly contained. A cape of silver stood along his spine, while his tail had erected to a dominant position; he dared not take his eyes off of Tyrr. It was hard enough to stand there without assaulting him outright. But his voice carried, punctuated by a deep rumble. "Tonravik, step down, this is not the time to give in to your ego." If she did not listen, then their entire plan would be forefit; their aggreement nullified. And he would force her back out from the shadow of the glacier along with her fellow shadow.

"We come in peace." He reiterated, and finally flashed a glance towards Tuwawi - but she was likely unable to see it. For that brief breath his gaze softened, but as he returned his attention to Tyrr, Njal once more became true steel.

"Are we welcome here or not?" The beast questioned - to his wife, although he looked now upon the chocolate-coated fool - and before an answer could be given, appended, "If the wolves here are your most loyal and devoted, then you do not have many. Let me help you -" As he spoke this, Njal eased back a step and tried to relax, as a sign of good faith, but his jowls trembled with the need to dominate. He spoke to the ruddy red that spiked along Tuwawi's tousled spine, "Let me help, Tuwawi."

i had to post, 'm sorry; tonravik wouldn't take that quietly ;_; this will make things easier! because tonravik wouldn't really... have changed her behavior... and ton = the holdup!

This challenge was not for the pale Tyrr, who overstepped his own bounds between even Tuwawi and himself by putting himself up to their par; she would chase the beast from the land that had no personal claim on it since the day the mated pair first departed, except for whoever was strongest. That was life. Attachment to any one thing was pathetic, and Tonravik snarled to Echelon, her would-be Beta in the situation, to mind him. She regarded him with a dismissive flick of an ear thereafter; he was not her fight, after all. That was Njal's place, now, if he saw himself as alpha male at. She merely needed Echelon to mind the wolf who lacked the instinct to let the women figure things out themselves.

The battle would be between herself and the current ruler, matriarch of Sveijarn. It was the way of the wolf, hardly personal, even if Tonravik thought the woman a halfwit for screeching the way she did. She had no intent to kill anyone, simply remove them from the place if that need-be done.

None could prevent the natural order of things. They might snap and defend and whimper this cannot be, but if her challenge went unacknowledged, she was as good as Queen of this hunk of Ice, and Njal could stand beside her. There was no right or wrong way to Tonravik, only a way; and she had the will for it.

She observed Njal in the corner of her eye going to take Tyrr. It was when he regarded her specifically that the statue shifted, ear turning in his direction. And once she comprehended his words, Tonravik let out a snarl herself. Ego. Ego. Tonravik owed Njal nothing more. She had given him the nerve to return home, after all. Without her, he would not have come here at all; she had brought him to his heart, who disappointed her. They all disappointed her. Tonravik wanted no part of this any longer. She had come to aid, and was received ill.

Tonravik lifted her lip in contempt, tail rigidly half-mast behind her. We will go. We are unwelcome. With that said, Tonravik moved to depart. Her attention was everywhere, and she knew Echelon, too, would watch their backs as well.

*waves sad baibai to glacier*

The further things went south, the more likely Echelon knew she would never get her chance to trek across the glacier. But she did not find this event heartbreaking in spite of her draw to it; only disappointment lingered. It was overshadowed by the refusal for aid from the dark pair as she too, found the wolves there of a deplorable sort. In time they would perish and of this she was certain, as they were no creatures worthy of Tartok. To say they had been blessed or otherwise graceful in making those claims littered them now as imposters.

She lingered for a moment more, if only to cast a final glimpse of the glacier she had come so close to. And after that her gaze swept across the group emotionless — she turned tail and followed after the larger form of Tonravik. There were other worlds than these, and the dark pair would seek them out.

What could have been a tender reunion quickly combusted to cinders as each wolf postured aggressively, Njal's plans unraveling as neither party relented. Tonravik met Tuwawi's scathing words with a dominant stance, to which Tuwawi rebutted with her own snarl and gnashing fangs. Týrr swiftly moved to the ember's side, his loyalty not unnoticed by the firebrand, to intercept Njal who was visibly agitated by the other male. Yet Njal was the most contained out of the entire group, his words stern and commanding in an attempt to reach some sort of middle ground.

However, Tuwawi was not on his wavelength... and was devoid of empathy to see her husband's greater picture. "Peace?" she scoffed, head swinging towards her paramour belligerently, "you bring these Tartok wolves into Duskfire and expect me to accept them into our fold?" She was floored, astounded by - what was in her mind - Njal's complete incompetence. Did he know her at all? "No they are not welcome," she commanded pointedly, scorned by Njal's low opinion of the crew that now inhabited the glacier.

Yet, she faltered as Njal pleaded with his wife, weakened by the desperation in his tone. "Why don't you go to the sea," she spat, foresight clouded, "and find our boy."

Tonravik's retreat appeased the alpha, but she glowered all the same.