Ouroboros Spine In the fell clutch of circumstance

@kroc hunt rarara

Tonravik would seek out her wolves one by one to test them, to see what it was they wished for here in the Spine. Everyone would pull their weight. She was not a woman of words, but of actions. And so her pack, the wolves that did not know her, would see that she was not so tolerant of laziness and loitering as perhaps the other leader had been. Tonravik believed it was the case, given the lands had been so easy to trespass upon. It would not be so easy for any other to do on her constant watch.

The leader at the moment sought out the wolf with what Tonravik presumed to be a rune upon her. An ear twitched as she idled a moment to turn and bite at an itch on her flank, before she turned and resumed her intended course which was for Kroc. If she came across another, she would interact with them in the meantime.

On the move again, as she always seemed to be. Not a restful soul, was she; if there was work to be done, Kroc was generally up and doing it. Protecting those she was loyal to was Kroc's first priority, even above herself. While she was good at being a loner, she was better at being a pack wolf, one with purpose and drive. Wandering did nothing for her; patrolling the borders and doing whatever it took to keep her home secure? The large, pallid female did that with pride.

At some point during her patrol today, she'd caught a small hare, which she carried in her jaws at the moment rather than stopping to eat. She could consume the kill when she finished this circuit, or put it in the nearby cache. Whichever she felt like doing then. At the moment though, her attention was on greeting her superior, whom she spied in the not-terribly-far distance.

Her tail swished the air briefly, dropping the hare at her feet once she neared Tonravik. An ear flickered, gold eyes unfailingly steady as she greeted her. "Issumator." 

Tonravik smelled her before she saw her, and turned her head in time to catch the womans approach. Her thick plume waved at the sight of her subordinate, glad that she was found by her. Tonravik had come to recognize Kroc as an invaluable asset; to come across her in her search for land was fortunate. Kroc would protect the Tartok wolf as surely as Kroc would protect her; she was pack, and through that, family.

The other greeted her in her mothers title. While Siku was the true Issumatar, it had been a role she was groomed for. Siku's reign was far from over, but Tonravik accepted the term, knowing well it was what the other knew. In time, Tonravik would introduce her own word for herself; but first, she would succeed in making these wolves a pack again, rather than the lost beings they had become. Tonravik shifted to attempt to bump into Kroc companionably, rounding the large woman slowly.

She leaned into the brief contact, a light and amicable shove of her shoulder in response to her superior. The bond between them was there and it was because of that bond, because of that level of respect Kroc held for her that the gray-furred creature nudged the hare toward her. Yes, it was her catch but her catch was the Pack's. What was hers was theirs; food, loyalty, pride. All of it. She was theirs and they were her own. Kroc would live and die by the wolves of this pack, her honor steadfast and her allegiance unwavering. 

"Borders are clear." Her gravel-like voice intoned in Inuktitut, as natural to any Tartok wolf. Being around others from the pack brought the language back to her and every day, more and more rust fell away. It was good to be home. 

Tonravik nodded to Kroc's words, pleased. She knew it was a matter of time before the other came to attempt to take her wolves back to her. Let her come. Tonravik doubted the loyalty of some of her wolves here, but none of those wolves had come here with her. As for them, if they went, she would let them. While she would not forget their cowardice, Tonravik found she could not be bothered by the potential of it. She had no desire for wolves who were content to go with the motions, and would surely chase them off if they did not go themselves should they decide to be unproductive as they had always been thus far. No, their going would open room for wolves of more potential and worth should they decide to move on from here.

They would never be welcome back.

These thoughts passed her mind as she looked at the wolf she had come to trust. Although Tonravik had known the woman a short time, the other was a woman who Tonravik knew would do what it took to make it here, and to help her vision of the Spine come to fruition. The dark wolf was patient, biding her time to implement anything else here but stricter border control, knowing she needed to trust and be trusted by her followers before any other moves were taken.

Kroc pushed the hair toward her, and Tonravik pulled it in her own direction, licking the furs from it first with a rough stroke of the tongue before digging in. She had been hungry, and a hunt was due. It took more than a hare to sate her monstrous appetite, as big a wolf as she was, but it contented her. It was soon little more than bones, and Tonravik growled appreciatively.

Perhaps Kroc was more of a chameleon than she thought. Already, she wasn't that talkative but around the wolves of Tartok, she was even less so. She was also less irritable around them, surprisingly. She had always been a sort of angry being but that monster was soothed in their presence, a beast who enjoyed the company of its fellows, which was not to say that they were all monsters; just beings who operated less on social qualms and more on instinct and wildness. 

She stood guard there as her superior ate, tail flicking idly behind her as she did so. A hardy wolf, she could last until the next morsel was caught, until the next hunt happened. Then, they would all eat, together, and the livelihood of the pack would be sustained. 

Sitting on her haunches, a back paw lifted to scratch at her ear, gold eyes screwed shut for a moment as Tonravik finished. As soon as she did, Kroc was on all fours again, a feral sort of expression on he muzzle, one that could have been mistaken for a grin, her tail waving once or twice as ears swiveled in the direction of the black, muscled she-wolf. While the pale wolf didn't "play" per se, she could definitely rough house and run, either of which were an option as she invited Tonravik to action.

y'wanna start the roll dye thingy!?!

Tonravik was very, very still as Kroc's demeanor changed. She stiffly feinted forward, but only managed a small hop, to provoke Kroc into action. Her ears fell backward defensively, and Tonravik offered a low growl, waiting. Tonravik was more than happy to spar with the other, that in itself her own form of play. It was something she enjoyed after all. Her own tail offered a sweeping wave.

She remained in place, waiting for Kroc to come against her, distributing her weight equally on all fours and narrowing her eyes. She waited patiently for the move of her subordinate.

 @Tonravik @Tonravik @Tonravik @Tonravik @Tonravik @Tonravik Edited! <3

The air shifted, a new, delicious tension crackling between them. This was what the monster inside of her lived for, breathed for; the violent charge in their personalities, the prospect of teeth meeting flesh, even in this jest. They moved, circled her like a shark, eyes calculating movements and distance and how long it would take to get from here to there. Her circles slowly, gradually wound tighter, her muscles drew more tense, her movements changing from lumbering to an odd, violent sort of grace.

And then the explosion happened; She moved forward with a raging sound, her head dropped, her large frame picking up as much speed as she could before impact, seeking to slam into her Alpha's side. An impact that never happened. The dark creature moved aside and in the next moment, Kroc felt her shoulder connect with her side, sending her stumbling back a bit. The grey beast shook it off and closed the distance again, teeth trying for the join of shoulder and neck for purchase and holding power.

When Kroc stumbled backward, Tonravik moved forward, toward her, and then Kroc herself came at her again. Tonravik watched the other part her jaws and reach for her the area between shoulder and throat, and Tonravik's own jowls split open to jaw spar the other, tilting her head to intervene with Kroc's ability to get a true grip. She felt her subordinates fangs brush her gingerly, but there was no purchase to be had in that moment.

She feinted forward, acting as though this was how she intended to knock the woman off balance, but instead quickly lashed out with her foreleg to attempt to hook it around Kroc's and pull it from beneath her if she could. Tonravik kept her foreleg close by, so she could draw it right back should Kroc think to go for it.

No go on the shoulder. Her teeth connected but Kroc found no purchase there due to the way the dark wolf moved. A paw flashed out and Kroc reacted but not in the expected manner. Both females yanked their paws back, a snarl ripping from her throat now as she hopped backwards a bit to evaluate then situation in as short a moment as possible. Tonravik was probably much more refreshed in true battle than Kroc was; intruders were different than a wolf fighting for something bigger than just themselves. 

Kroc, too, used her paw, swiping at her Alpha's skull, the pale beast ready to rattle and roll as they made their way through this not-so-serious fight. It was a good way to brush up on her skills and let Tonravik know that she was no lump on the log when it came to battle.

Tonravik was more than keen to play these games. Her goal was not to win the spars, although this more often than not was what happened; it was to keep Kroc on her feet... or else, sweep her off of them. But enemies were stupid, and made stupid moves; Tonravik herself would make both smart, and dimwitted moves, to serve as ever the realist in her role to refresh Kroc's memory. But ah, unfortunately, she could not play the part of a swift wolf; she tried to evade a heavy thwap and caught only a cuff instead of what could have been a heavy smack. Tonravik let out a rumble, "Claws," to remind the other that this was not for blood or wounds, but for practice. Of course, Tonravik knew their blunted claws could serve damage; she simply wanted Kroc to think of alternative ways, so that no accidents happened and blood was ever drawn. They did this to strengthen, but already, she knew Kroc understood this. Kroc was proving her worth every day; Tonravik noted it, was pleased by it. 

Tonravik herself kept close, moving again to draw the feet of Kroc out from under her. These sorts of moves would be go-to moves of any enemy; to unbalance was one of the first goals. She repeated the move, knowing sometimes, repetition could be unexpected. Tonravik wanted Kroc to expect anything; it was why she did it again. Tonravik did not know what Kroc was; she was testing her now, to find out, to feel her out. So far, so good. 

Included post #'s 18-24 from our spar thread in an effort to wrap this up <3

Claws. The reminder was a good one and she gave a short nod of affirmation before they resumed their dance of teeth and tests. Tonravik moved low and Kroc widened her stance to make sure she did not lose her footing. Once she was sure that Tonravik had no hold on her feet, she moved, sidling up to her to hook a paw over those shoulders to bring her to the ground. The move was a no go, however and immediately, Kroc was on the defensive again as the black female shoved her down with a grip at her neck.

Despite Kroc's attempts to avoid being pushed to the ground, it happened but instead of conceding defeat, the Saurturi attempted to roll her opponent, teeth aimed for a leg or ankle.

The duo fought, though hardly as they would on a true battlefield. There were times Tonravik evaded her and other times, she deliberately put herself in the line of the others path. Tonravik took it easy, but knew Kroc was a skilled fighter; she had no doubt of her abilities in combat, given even when about to be rolled, she fought until the last. She felt teeth catch at her ankle, steps away, and lets Kroc rise...

Before she charges forward to take her down again, in something of a wolf hug, forelegs spread to wrap around the others shoulders and keeping back legs out of swiping reach. Her tail waved, but were this real battle, Tonravik would simultaneously have ravaged her with her fangs.

They sparred, quick and easy, more of a burn for energy than anything. In the end, Kroc was Kroc and Tonravik was her superior. It would stay that way, if Kroc could help it. The ill-tempered female was not fit to rule and so, sought to support in every way that she could manage. Instead of seeking to usurp, she would protect, and even a spar like this widened her horizons just a little bit more, preparing her for different fighting styles. 

They went down in a hug, limbs tangled and growls playful as teeth nipped at flesh and fur. She broke from Tonravik to roll to her feet, her tail slicing the air for a moment as she expressed her pleasure of being where she felt she belonged. Soft pants broke the silence, her breathing quick but not labored. A few moments and her heart rate and breath intake would settle and she would once more be calm. 

Looking to the outlying areas of their territory, Kroc made a move to continue her patrol, pausing as she looked back at the dark Inuit. Her ears perked, focusing on her leader as she silently questioned whether or not she would be joined in her vigil to protect their home. 

Their spar finished, Tonravik withdrew and rose, too, shaking the dirt and the grass from her furs. With the debris gone, she shifted her weight and looked to Kroc when the other paused. Her own tail waved too, but she had come to a decision. The leader then simply turned away, presenting Kroc with her answer; she would surely meet with the pale wolf later, but decided it would be better to cover where Kroc presently was not so that more ground could be looked after. Her pace quickened, and soon, she was gone. During her departure, she simply thought: she was glad to have found the pale warrior.