There is no agitation to be felt within the massive Issumatar as the knowledge truly embeds itself within her: she would not bear cubs this season. Siku had begun the legacy of Tartok in the name of bearing cubs, and she had done so successfully. She invested her time in them, and them alone. She had begun with her cubs: Atuaserk, Malrok, Pingasut, and Sitamat. Siku was prepared to have cubs again, but not now. She had more to do before this was done. Now that her firstborns were yearlings, they could move from home. Spread. Learn of the world as she had, but earlier. They would be cultured.


Sitamat the slow lagged behind with intention. Siku had demanded that he find herbs before he found her. She would hide, and he would use his nose. The scent of Phineas was gone, replaced instead with the scent of the Copse (where she had told Phineas she would linger until she and hers were ready, and he was ready to stake his claim: they were the first loyalists). But even that she had rubbed away with rock and stone, thinking of Ivik Summit and Arktayok Peak. Her heart did not ache for those territories, or the familiarity of them. But it would be good to climb another Mountain. And so she did, without looking back; she forced her scent to be that of this place, so that she was as good as the land itself. There would always be the distinct ode de Siku; but that distinctness was hardly nameable, or even recognized. For it was so miniscule. Her years of tracking had come in handy. It had, for all intents and purposes, once been her life.



She knew how to find. She also knew how to never be found.


But she did not try too hard. She and Sitamat had yet to do this exercise together. She would not go easy on him—she never had—but she would not make it impossible. Yet. So every now and then, she would fall into a tree, allowing a tuft of fur to be caught. Shaking out her ruff, she then pushed onward in long-legged strides. Like Elettra, Siku smelled the place before she saw it; the change in temperature came soon after, and the warmth made its way past her thick furs unto her skin. Siku preferred the cold. The heat was aggravating; she did not look forward to the impending Summer, and she did not particularly enjoy Spring. Now even less so, being that she would bring nothing into this world. No matter. She would in due time.


The trail of another was thick in the swampy warmth around her. Siku did not make to follow it. She avoided it, in fact, forking in the opposite direction. In the end, however, she and Elettra had made it to the same central area. The scent of her pregnancy caused Siku to feel irate, but only temporarily. They were not pack. There was no cause to do what she had desired to do to Rati (and likely would have, had they not made their own compromise). Siku eyed the water, having never deigned it necessary to use heat to soothe aching muscles. Still. The water would cause her sons trail to become confused, and so she decided to ingress a different water-source, near to Elettra herself who had perhaps seen her (Elettra had not been sought out actively, lest the she-wolf think that had been her purpose here). It was surprisingly nice, but she was out as quickly as she had entered, stepping away to shake out her jet-black coat.

The other emerged as Siku had; for she had not lingered for too long at all in the warm waters, and felt that there was no use in doing so. Siku reveled in the pain she was brought. It meant she had fought well. Rarely could others appreciate the pain she did; she was no masochist, but she could appreciate the soreness one felt after any battle. There was something to be said of it. Her eyes fell to Elettra as Elettra's eyes came to her, eyes roving over the features of the other. Siku saw no beauty there, just as she had never seen beauty in anyone. But the features of Elettra were utterly aesthetic, testament to the wolves that would continue to thrive. Siku did not note the rounded belly, as pregnancy was hard to see in a belly that dropped but did not round. Siku could not imagine the woman to have a sweet lilt in her voice; a strange thought, as she seldom thought of speech at all.


Elettra was the first to look away. Siku's head lifted some as she watched the other depart, and then her great head turns to look in the opposing direction. Elettra was going the way she had come; there would be no use in backtracking when Sitamat was trailing her. And so she fell lazily to her haunches, lifting a hind leg to satisfy an itch behind her ear, viciously scratching until she was satisfied. Siku thought of the other not at all when she was gone; there could be no impressions left. She would allow herself to dry some in the warmth before moving on, waiting for her son to arrive. Her bear cub would arrive in due time; she had all of the time in the world. And so she quietly waited, ears pricked and senses attentive. Her sons steps would be easy to hear, she imagined, though the fog around may muffle the sound some. All the more reason to remain silent.

It was strange, to be a lone wolf; but she was not really one any longer, was she? No, she had decided to follow Phineas. There was no pro in being a lone wolf. It spelled death. She had never been one, truly, regardless; she traveled with her pack. Aves, who had gone to watch Nunataq and Tonraq, Sitamat and Ataneq. The familiar scent of Elettra caused the woman to reenter her mind. Siku was swift to rise, knowing that she had not returned for nothing. Siku was a simple woman, dense, even, but not vapid and without sense. The grunt emitted said more than enough, and Siku lifted her nose. The scent of cougar came in the air, but then, so did the scent of its blood. Siku looked to the retreating Elettra, licking her chops. The woman moved in the way she was now intending to go. And although the others potential pregnancy may be a burden, the Issumatar imagined that the cougar may very well keep its distance from two wolves in its own injured state.


All these thoughts occurred in seconds. The Issumatar, matriarch of Tartok and each of its battalions, moved swiftly after Elettra. Her strides were long and strong, and she peered over her shoulder only once as she thought of her son. But she had told him what to do should this situation arise. He was the slowest, mentally, of her sons. But like her, he was not stupid. She was not worried for the yearling. She did not keep too close to Elettra; they were not friends. Siku would not actively seek to help the other if she could help it, not because the other was an enemy but instead because she had no ties to her. But as they moved on together, Siku could smell the pungent odor of their would-be enemy, her eyes narrowing. Siku slowed some, ears perked. Siku moved ahead, intentionally moving herself in the predicted path of Elettra, her nose pointing at a bloodied tree that the enemy they moved to avoid had likely stumbled into. Sickly. That did not matter—this did not bode well.



A branch snapped in the near-distance, the scree that fell not echoing in the stagnant air but heard in brief clicks. Siku's head lowered, a low, predatory rumble bubbling in her chest in not a warning, but a promise: come near and die. She imagined it would not move in a typical lilt that was seen in all cougars. Siku could not predict how injured the thing was, and the blood on the tree gave her little confidence. Still. For now, she stood her ground. Moving forward would entice it, she was certain, just as it would any predator.

Siku was a woman who held honor. And as the creature danced onto the scene, hungry and wounded, Siku knew for certain that she would not be the one to decamp. The Tartok matriarch lifted her head and tucked her muzzle slightly, allowing the cougar to take in the counterpart of Elettra. If the stature of one would not make it anxious, perhaps her own could help...


But a yowling sound informed Siku that their intimidation tactic had not worked. Cougars were a different breed than their own. And in its lucid state, it fancied itself capable to handle them. One more than the other. Its eyes lingered on Elettra, and Siku's tongue rolled over a single canine. The strong survive. Her eyes did not drift to Elettra, but remained upon the cougar, who took a languid step forward, lazy and assured in itself. Siku herself took a step forward, though her own was rigid and confident, tail high and ears thrust forward in the promise of aggression. The thing was injured enough for her to take, Siku understood, with the aid of Elettra's distraction. Already, Elettra was doing the perfect job.


Siku had decided long ago that she would kill the beast. If it weren't injured, perhaps she would have not even thought in such a way. But its weakened condition was what she needed, and if it were dead it could pose no threat to her own cubs. So she moved herself, slowly but surely, around so that when the time for the creatures attack came, she could go for its rear where she would be least vulnerable to tooth and claw, and further upset the predators injury to the point of its limb being altogether useless. The limp was subtle. But the predatory gleam in Siku's eye was all that it took to know that it was noted.

The cougar moved toward Elettra. Nearer and nearer it lurked. As Siku followed, her own eyes gleamed in a feral manner. The tables had turned as she went unseen. She and Elettra were now the predator, the cougar their prey, though not for eating. Its eagerness did not slip, though its power over the situation—unbeknownst to it—was, and rapidly. The ratiocination for this was hardly needed then and there; there seemed to be no logic in this at all, but it was right, clearly so. The thing would die. The certainty in this was felt the longer her eyes lingered upon its injury—


And then it moved.


This was something of a hunt, wasn't it? As it hunted Elettra, the two strangers hunted it in kind. It had been a fool to discount either of them, even with Elettra's evident (by scent alone) disability. As it lunged, Siku surged forward, hoping that the leader would move out of the way so that with all of her own momentum, she could shove it off the ledge.