for steph <3 i haven't written a post in 4ever so i'm sorry if i'm rusty! :c <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#8A9F4D;"> Once he reached a body of water the ghost spider didn't want to go any further. This was far enough for now — all the yearling wanted to do was drink his fill and soak his tender paws. Since he had gotten separated from his brother the alabaster teen had barely stopped moving - he was worried that whatever had gotten Pyrrhus was going to come after him next. Lach shuddered at the thought as he settled down next to the spring, his forepaws just breaking the surface. He winced at the contact, his pear-colored eyes closing for a moment. All he wanted to do was to sleep, but he knew as soon as he fell asleep something (or someone) would sneak up on him and turn him into a Lachesis sandwich. Yuck... The longer he lay, with his forepaws dangling carelessly in the pool of water before him, the more guilt began to chew away at his insides. He felt guilty for leaving the rest of his family and that he hadn't stood up to his older brother when he forced him out on this "grand adventure". But he also felt guilty that he hadn't tried harder to find his brother after they had been separated. Maybe it was because he didn't really want to find Pyrrhus... He shook his head at the thought, disgusted in himself that he would even think such a thing. No matter how horrible he was to the pale yearling, family was still family and he would love them regardless of their decisions and traits. Which was completely ridiculous, in a sense, because Lachesis was the only one that felt this way - aside from his sister, Thalia, who was the most selfless wolf the ghostly yearling had known. He wanted nothing more than to be back with his parents, Thalia, and Sarpedon — he didn't belong on his own, at least not yet. He hadn't chosen to live this way; Pyrrhus had forced him once Sarpedon had backed down. But now that he was here, wherever "here" was, he didn't know how to get back. All Lachesis could remember was running... there was no specific direction or destination, it was just running. And now he was stuck.

Aves had gone somewhere with Sitamat. She was sure they would return. Siku simply was not sure when. After humoring her mate with a mission idea he had taken to, Siku had awoken one morning to find them gone. Taking this as him having gone to fulfill a mission that would take a long while yet, the Issumatar was not at all bothered. Sitamat would be in capable hands, and until their return, Siku had Phineas who she willingly followed. She would continue to do so until her comfort in the land was at its highest. She had been comfortable enough in the Wyld to allow Skull to rule there; but now, she was looking for a place to sink her roots into further. Perhaps this was the place.


She had left Phineas and his wolves after telling him she would return shortly. She simply wanted to be sure Aves and Sitamat had gone, and had survived the leaving. She had no doubts they had, though she wanted to stretch her legs once more to discover more land and perhaps see the place she herself would stake claim to. Of them all, Siku preferred Umbra Copse; she had every intention to make that territory her own one day, but if there were another mountain, she had no qualm in staking a claim to that place, either. Siku was a mountain wolf, made to hunt the bison that wandered on them. She saw none of those massive beasts here. Perhaps they were here, out of sight, hidden by mountain packs...


The scent of water beckoned her closer to the pale, pear-eyed wolf. As with most things Siku did, there was no ratiocination to be done here; she was instinctual, primal. There was no logic to the things she did to thrive and survive, no method to her madness. She was a wolf, that was that. Not acknowledging that she noted the youths presence even when she was relatively nearby to him, the Matriarch of Tartok dipped her muzzle to the water to quench her thirst.

was gonna try to post earlier on my phone but iphone typing sux :c <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#8A9F4D;"> The ghost could feel his eyelids beginning to droop the longer he lay with his paws dipped into the Spring. Occasionally he would catch a strange scent on the air that would throw him back into high alert, his pear-coloured eyes opening as wide as they could. He knew it was foolish to be letting his guard down when he was so new to the lands — he knew nothing of the territories or the creatures that they held. He had never even come across another wolf aside from the members of his pack; he did not know how these "wild" wolves would act. Lach could remember his uncle teasing him once he had returned from the three month long observation with the two-legged, saying that wild wolves were savages and could not be trusted. The yearling had never believed his uncle's words — regardless of them living outside the park they were still wolves, they just had more experience dealing with strangers than the Pack did. It had been a sheltered life, but Lachesis still missed it. It was a hole that ached deep in his chest and caused his head to buzz with a flourish of memories. It was home; it was all the spider-legged boy knew. He had no knowledge of this world outside the Pack and now that he had been forced into it Lachesis didn't know what to do. He wanted desperately to return home, to his pack and his family, but he enjoyed the freedom that came with each step he took farther away from the Pack. However, now that he was gone and had abandoned his family all Lach wanted to do was to return and apologize for leaving. Explain to them what had happened and how Pyrrhus had forced him into running away. What would they say, though, if he was to return without his brother? Would they blame him for his disappearance? It was at that moment when the smell of another hit his nostrils, causing them to flare in alarm. He shook his head to snap him out of his thoughts, his eyes darting around frantically to find the source of the scent. The stranger was the opposite of Lachesis, cloaked with a solid black coat and cool, blue eyes that grabbed the yearling's attention. Shit! What was he supposed to do? Speak? What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to speak to this "wild" wolf? He turned his head away from the stranger, hoping that she would just disappear without a word, his gaze focused on his forepaws.

In her peripherals, she caught the boy turning to look to her. Siku did not pay him the same regard until he looked away from her and her thirst was quenched. Once she had done so, the Issumatar lifted her head again to observe him. He was young, younger than her own sons she could smell. She was not near the side in which his brand lingered, and so she could not see it and recall Kroc, who had a similar marking (though not the same). Siku could not sense that he was attempting to avoid her—she would have found it droll in that he, so young, would be the first and therefore the brightest—but she had no intentions of lingering.


Siku was not one to make the acquaintance of others. From her, he had nothing to fear so long as he did not poke and prod at her nerves. The inky leader turned from the spring and pressed her nose to the earth, seeking the scent of Aves or Sitamat, who she had not seen within the week. If she could not find them this day, she would presume her assumption was correct and be done with it; the past was best left in the past, and at the very least, she knew where they were headed.

is okay :* <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#8A9F4D;"> Lachesis had come to the Spring in hopes of being alone — he was not yet ready to deal with wild wolves. Until the creature had split up him and Pyrrhus the pair had been lucky to only run into prey on their journey. The ghostly yearling knew, though, that his luck would run out eventually and here he was, his solitude disturbed by this stranger. The dark stranger kept her inky lips shut and was making Lachesis incredibly nervous; his forelegs were shaking as he struggled to keep his gaze away from her. As annoying as his brother was, Lach wished that he was here; he would have known what to say with his big mouth. At least he would of had someone to hide behind if Pyrrhus was still with him... As frustrating as his brother was, Lachesis hoped that he hadn't been harmed by the strange beast. The alabaster yearling had spent days trying to pick up his scent after they had been separated but it was lost. No matter how hard he tried Pyrrhus' scent had disappeared, which only worried the youth even more. Now that he was alone Lachesis was going to have to learn how to handle all these new situations on his own, no matter how badly he wanted to run away from them.

In the air, she could smell his anxiety. She found it droll, though her sense of humor could sometimes be cold. The moment was brief. In the next instant, she was annoyed. The scent of his fear spiked her aggression, which he would soon undoubtedly be met with. Siku turned to face him again, he who did not look to her, a rumble falling from her chest. Siku could only assume that he was nervous for a reason, and so she looked around them. No, nothing but she and him. And when this was clarified, she took a step toward him, revealing to him a row of fangs to instigate him into submission so that she could know he was no threat. She was quite confident in herself, naturally, but his anxiety was a clear and present threat that he would behave sporadically, aggressively, as those that were nervous tended to do. She would not be caught unawares.


Her tail lifted as she postured toward him, demanding that he respond as any wolf would. Was he a threat? What was the reason for his behavior? His anxiety put her on edge, and it showed; her body language expressed her displeasure. One moment, amused; the next, infuriated. The tempest Siku. She took another step nearer, licking a single canine as an ear shifted atop her crown, observing him with a gaze that did not yield.

#allthewolfprobz <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#8A9F4D;"> He could feel his tongue grow dry as his anxiety worsened but he dare not lean forward to grab a drink of water. The air hung thick around the two opposite wolves, Nineteen's pale orbs desperately searching for an escape. His ears flicked back, pressed to the back of his skull, as he became aware of the darker female's annoyance. He was doing something wrong, what was he doing?! The boy dove through his thoughts to try and figure out what he was doing wrong when the stranger took a step toward him. He tensed, his hackles raising without permission as he turned his gaze to the blue-eyed female. Shit. Lachesis, without wondering how the female might react to his behaviour, scrambled back from the female, body low and ears still pressed to his skull. His eyes were still focused on hers, unwavering, as he backed away from her. Behaviour like this never occurred in the Pack! Everyone was always so damn pleasant, it had not prepared the boy for wolves who were the opposite. He kept his licorice lips glued shut as he did not want to spit out words that would infuriate the female further.

His body appeased her. But his direct challenge—his eyes that did not shift—were met, and met swiftly. The whole of her moved to stand atop him, muzzle dipping to protect her throat and ears aggressively forward as fangs sought to attempt to grip his scruff. She was careful in the placement of her own limbs, not wanting him to lash out wildly at one of them and grip; she had spun so that it would look as though she were to mount him, though it had not come to that, yet; and perhaps he had been able to dart away from her. If he attempted to do so, she would allow him his freedom; running off was submission in itself.


Having no idea if any of this was a success, her jaws only sought to grip the flesh of his scruff. Should she feel as though she failed, she would withdraw to try, try again to attempt to push the weight of him into the earth so that he would submit wholly to her, an apology to her being. Here was his first harsh lesson of the wolf world: do not look one in the eye. There was nothing droll here anymore. Business, as usual.

ERMEHGED SKIRMISHSSSHHH <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#8A9F4D;"> Shit! His curses grew more frequent in his thoughts, brows narrowed as he watched the dark female. He was doing something wrong but — shit! — he couldn't figure it out. All he wanted was to rest his tired paws and maybe take a power nap before heading on his way once more. This was definitely not what the boy had signed up for. A whine poured from his throat as he scuttled back in hopes that the stranger would lose interest in him and leave. Obviously, that was wishful thinking and completely droll of the alabaster boy. Without warning the female lunged forward, her jaws wrapping around his scruff in an attempt to push him into the ground. He didn't understand why she was doing this! What had he done wrong? Eyes blinked shut as he squirmed under her jaws, his belly pressed against the dirt. The whine grew louder in his throat, tail tucked in between his hind legs as he buckled under her weight. <b style="font-family:georgia; font-size:12px; color:#8A9F4D;">"S-s-stop! P-please! I d-don't understand!" The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, his voice hoarse from not speaking for so long. It was a foreign sound, and it took Lach a second to realize that it was he who had finally spoken.

The scuffle was ended quickly in that he yielded immediately. His body which melted beneath her in a flood of submission was all it took to sooth her. Siku could sense something off about the male she clung to, though she could not know what. It was when he spoke that Siku released him from her grip, which had not been hard enough to bring him pain. Scuffles were quick, and she had shown him swiftly his place. To look a wolf in the eye no matter the place was a bold challenge to ones person; she had answered said challenge swiftly. His stammer was met with an upturned lip.


He did not understand. From his scent, she knew him to be young, but not so young as to be oblivious. Siku was not here to help him. She did not care if the weak died. And so she ignored his question, his fearful muttering, her eyes upon him but one last time. If he had not known then his error, and he repeated it, he would certainly know his mistake then. Siku would not tolerate his excuse. She did not believe it. That he might be raised differently did not occur to the dense matriarch. It was instinct, and instinct was not learned, it was known.