Ruins of Wildwood
The Wildwood roots - Printable Version

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RE: roots - Siku - Apr 10, 2013

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Siku had not the mental capacity to machinate against the male before her. She was not an evil being. She was a wolf in every sense of the word. Siku did what she had to in order to survive, and in order for her cubs to survive. She knew this season was not one that meant well for those that would come from her. Siku had moved too much; the Valley, to the Wyld, and now to here. Her purpose was to spread the Tartok ideals. Ultimately, she was successful. If she had to spare a season because of this, that was all well and good. She had plenty more seasons to go, and now, more to spread her name and her ways. Her cubs, too, would spread Tartok as she would. This was what mattered. In time, only strong wolves would come. That they be related to her, that their roots lay with the strongest, The Matriarch, was ideal. Siku would be more than history. She would be legend.


These were fantastical ideas that had yet to be made to fruition. No one knew of her here. They knew of her in the North, and to the East. Here, this world, was West; and some that knew her, had been a large part of her life, had gone South to set their own roots. Hackles raised as his head did. Truth be told, she wanted to get in a skirmish with him, to test his strength against his own, be sure that he was a wolf worth respecting. It was not ideal, however. Not now. And from it, she might earn his mistrust. Deciding she would be content in being his second, her eyes averted. Instinct might dictate she stress Borlla out, but she would not; she had missed her time, and would respect Borlla enough to allow her her own.


And so her eyes averted, and she nodded. She—they—would follow him. They were her pack, but they would unite with his own to aid him as he aided them. He knew more of this place than the whole of them. It was something to be respected. She needed time, regardless. It would take them time, and they would give to Borlla what Phineas gave to them: a chance. It mattered not to her. Her family knew their place in her own hierarchy. That was what counted in the end.


Her head lowered slightly and she licked her chops, moving toward his side in a heavy shuffle as though to say, lead the way to base.
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RE: roots - Phineas - Apr 16, 2013

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It was a strong moment – silence stretched between them as the male remained lifted higher than her, a blatant challenge. What laid within her thoughts was unknown to the ivory wolf, the tension instead placed on whether or not she chose to respect his rank and rule within this newly building hierarchy. It was a natural stance for him – one he had suppressed the moment he had left his birth pack to seek out new life, and yet now, as he remained lifted, his tail arcing higher up toward his back in a proud banner, he realized how he had missed having a place within this world. The desires to have such fulfilled in Willow Ridge had become nothing more than hazy longing, and in the end, he had played puppet to Elettra’s inability to allow anyone fully in. It mattered little now – Borlla was his, and the life she carried now was a treasure to them both. He would protect it.


Finally, the tension snapped to release as the swarthy female lowered her gaze then. Her head went down the same, and while it was not true submission of any beast, the Argyris male accepted it for now; after all, she was a queen where she had come from, and such instincts did not drift so quickly. In time, she would settle here, he was certain. Yet the trade of what they were about to make was welcome, as long as it remained within its limitations: he would allow them to remain with the pack and become accustom to the land they now inhabited, and they would help feed the pack and provide for his mate and cubs. Necessity seemed to have a funny way to tie toward fate.


With this settled, the large wolf strode forward. She was a massive creature as well, even larger than himself, he did not feel cowered by such, nor did he doubt his prowess and ability to defeat her in battle. Perhaps, such a spar would come one day.. though he could only hope within friendly terms. His muzzle lowered to take hers in his mouth, more a sign of acceptance than reign, and with that, the wolf bumped his shoulder to hers, leading the way silently to where Borlla remained.. and idly wondering what her thoughts would be toward this new decision.
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