December 30th; Late afternoon; Cloudy, chilly; -13ª F.

What compelled Mapplethorpe to journey to the east, to keep his path trained on reaching the mountain in the distance, could not thoroughly be accounted for. It might have been the way the masked woman had spoken with him or it might have been the curiosity that she rooted within the depths of his mind, the inquisitiveness she had cultivated when she entertained him with the idea that she could be a potential leader. It could have been the ache in his belly or even the innate desire to belong to someone or something bigger... even for just a little while. He was simply a wolf after all. It was merely his nature to crave such a thing though his personality and innermost impulses hungered for more selfish means. Either way, it had taken him the better part of three weeks to come this far.

Having waited out a brief snowstorm the day before, his excursion rewarded him handsomely with the sight of water, solid and all the more frustrating underneath a sheet of ice. A puff of cold air rose from his nose and mouth as he panted. A smart man might have slaked his thirst by eating mouthfuls of snow, but Mapplethorpe believed himself above the idea. Patience held a much greater reward if he only focused. Skirting along the frosted edges of the frozen body of water, he teetered about until he gathered enough grit to risk slipping on glassy surface. His eyes searched for a fracture in the ice as he continually to test his weight on various parts of the shallows until the sound of success creaked in his ears.

Much like an excited cub eager whines whistled and screeched from his muzzle. Where one paw had successfully cracked the ice, he placed the other alongside it, squaring his shoulders and leaning forward just slightly enough to watch as lines began to branch out from underneath him. Easy now, he calmed himself, anticipation building in a lump at his throat. He inched himself forward one paw at a time. Easy... Eas--SPLOSH!

The ice underneath him gave way, sending his elbows and torso first into the frigid water then, with his flailing about, his whole being. His muzzle and head surfaced with violent gasp and after several attempts to climb out of the water, he heaved himself up. Shaking and shivering, droplets of water fell from his scruffy winter coat. Any healthy wild canine should have been fine, despite being soaked in ice water, and well-minded to instinctively draw away from the rift; but, Mapplethorpe apparently was neither. He dared to shake out his coat, thin from his state of malnourishment, causing the ice beneath him to fracture. Fortunately, it held his weight, and he continued to test it by craning his neck towards the water's surface and finally lapping at it in haste to slake his thirst.

The sound of approaching footsteps ensnared his attention. Someone had been watching him; spying as he tested the strength of the ice underneath him, shivered, and quenched his need for hydration. She asked if he needed her help. It made a glare morph the features on his face. Did he look like he needed help? His citrine eyes lit up with a spark of anger and he rounded on her as she extended her name. His shaky limbs brought him to his full height and his tail rose in a tight arch. "Custos!" he spat at her, his lips parting to reveal his clenched teeth. "Pestis! Quid vis?" Much like his previous encounter with the upcoming leader of the Mountain wolves, he did not relish the fact that he had been disturbed.

Though he still trembled every so often, the cold barely bothered him aside from the bits of him that nearly lacked fur. Hunger might have been the more prominent cause of his shivering. The mice he had plucked from underground burrows a few days ago had not been enough to sate his appetite. "QUID VISSS?!" he demanded again, the last word ending in a threatening hiss. "Abi." A growl sounded from deep within him, a clear indicator that he did not return her sentiment of exchanging names or personal information unless she had some other words of value to relay to him. Kindness, he had been led to believe, was either a sign of weakness or the possibility that this being had presented herself to him for some sort of drawback or advantage. Things happen, he reminded himself, for a reason.

He slowly parted his jowls again as he stared into her face, taking in her reaction while his tongue flicked against his upper canines. His deep voice rolled from his chest, fortified with a second growl, "I don't need your help. Why were you spying on me?!"

Mapplethorpe's brows drew together and he looked at her as if trying to determine something about the woman. Was she blind? She assumably had been watching him, so... Probably not. He snarled at her reply, ultimately unimpressed with her own brand of wit. Her claim of accusing him of spying on her did little in engaging him further in the conversation.

He stood still, eyeing her up and staring her down as she continued, offering her assistance in breaking up the ice even further. He did not need her help; the ice had already been broken and he had already fallen into the water as well as soothed his parched throat. He gave a scoff, observing as she patiently stood there, as if waiting for something more. If she was anticipating the opportunity to aid him, she was very sorely mistaken. Mapplethorpe shrugged, his lanky form fluidly unlocking from his rigid stance, drawing himself further away from her and the hole he had fallen through. No use in falling in again, and then actually really needing her help...

"Stulte," he grumbled under his breath, lifting a damp paw up off the ice before placing it back down. His ears, once turned forward in vexation, swiveled back to their normal positions but he did it dare to let her leave his sight. With a click of his tongue, he added gruffly, "You want to help me... then begone!"

He lurched forward, the telltale signs of aggression creeping up along his spiked figure. His ears swiveled forward to point at her again, his eyes lessened into slits, his muzzle wrinkled upward and back to reveal his fangs, and his jaws snapped together in a menacing click. The nearly vine-like tail behind him whipped at the wintry air, sending drops of water flying from its tip. "I am diseased, woman! Leave me be!" He stepped to one side, as if to offhandedly reveal the thinning places in his pelt at his elbows and shoulder blades. For some effect, he allowed saliva to dribble and freely drip from his lips in long, thin strings and he craned his head slightly downward, "You want this madness?!" He prowled forward with a maddened grin, his parted jaws and posture implying that he might randomly strike, "Then let me help you!"

She continued to stand there. It made the male's head tilt with a sort of exasperated snort. Now, what was she doing? A snicker fluttered from his vocal chords. This was ridiculous; even if his willowy frame was nothing to be intimidated by to begin with. She dared to put him in his place, "This isn't your territory." His brows rose and his lips sealed once more.

Fireworks started going off in his mind, the several lightbulbs in his brain flickering and turning on, Oh... Really? "Nor is it yours," he stated, confidence spewing from his mouth with every word. "What makes you think you can assume? Suppose the land is not mine, presume I'm a helpless soul, reckon that I will fight? You... You don't know." He cautiously placed one paw in front of the other, eventually making a wide, but uneven circle around the girl. "You don't know me," he taunted, coming to a standstill near the break in the ice, his original starting point. "You have nothing, nothing to threaten me with. Nothing to do with all your strength..."

An eerie cackle emitted from him as he lifted his muzzle skyward. "YOU!" he crowed. "You don't have the strength to even initiate this... dance. You. Lack. Conviction. Certitude. Gumption. So... Allow. Me..."

Discarding any discretion he held before about maneuvering about on the frozen spring, he lurched forward, gradually lumbering over towards the female at a terrifying pace. Before disappearing into the snowbanks and underbrush, he made an attempt to snap at the air beside one of her wrists - a warning to not trifle with him again.

(EXIGO.)