Cut Rock River It's a Jungle Out Here [Join Thread]

Falcon
the ghosts of cedarwood forest know my name

@Jackdaw @Maksim Cut Rock River Pack members? o3o

Falcon could hardly sleep throughout the night. She was constantly tossing and turning and got up multiple times throughout the night. She noticed Jackdaw hadn't really been sleeping either, but the tawny she-wolf certainly hadn't helped matters. Luckily for him, however, the restless night led to a slow morning for her. Usually, she was up bright and early with wagging tail and shining eyes. This morning, Falcon dragged tail. Her eyes squinted at the sun filtering through the trees, already starting to mount the sky. It was a later start than she was used to and she suspected Jackdaw had let her sleep late on purpose to delay their meeting the pack.

Well, she was up now! Falcon forced her tail to wag, licked her brother's jaw in greeting, and nipped at his ear. "Ready or not," she teased, her voice still a bit grumbly with sleep.

Falcon started to trot in the relative direction of the pack, heading for where she'd first found Karina - the little lost pup. The tawny wolf figured it was close enough to pack boundaries that she could sniff out the rest. Jackdaw would likely be better at that; he had the better nose as he was always so on guard about running into other wolves. For once, they'd be using that nose to find wolves rather than to avoid.

She was surprisingly quiet throughout the trek. While it was usually Jackdaw's job to worry, Falcon found herself agonizing over how their meeting with the pack would go. Would they like them? What if they didn't? Would they send them away or bite and snap as Jackdaw feared? Would they understand the meaning beneath her brother's harsh vocabulary? Not many did and took great offense. Before long, she found her tail starting to tuck between her legs and her head lower automatically, though there was no one nearby to submit to save for her anxious thoughts.

As they reached the spot where last she'd seen Maksim, Falcon turned to Jackdaw. "It should be around here somewhere. That way," she supplied, pointing her nose south.

As predicted, Jackdaw didn't sleep at all that night. He spent the entire evening with amber-gold eyes fixed unseeingly into the distance, willfully ignorant of the scratchy heat gathering behind them as well as under his fur. His littermate had had, for once, an equally restless night. While she would sometimes doze for a short while, it was a tense and uncomfortable pretense of sleep. Even as Fenrirs' tongue started to lick a pale dawn into the sky, Falcon had remained in a fitful slumber.

He had deigned not to rouse her too quickly. Both because he wanted to see her steal some more sleep from the chucklevoodoos but also for his own selfish desires. He didn't want the countdown to start quite yet, he hadn't commited her tawny pelt perfectly to his memory-stone.

But it was as fucking useless as it was selfish. Falcon awoke, with less pep than she usually would but once again Jackdaw was selfishly thankful for her subdued nature. His nerves were chewed to ribbons by chucklevoodoos and he might just snap at his sister without concious thought. Well, with more venom than he usually would anyway.

He returned her greeting lick with one of his own, snuffling at her sound-sensors briefly. He let her lead the way, weaving a path through the Forest of Disembowelment.

At some point, he broke briefly from her company as they passed a freshwater pond. He stayed by the waters edge silently for what he hoped was a very long time before plunging his head in, coming out with a thrashing fish. He hadn't crushed it, simply took off after Falcon while it struggled in its' death throes. It eventually went still.

This wasn't a snack for the journey, this prey was a gift. Fish were a treasured prey were he came from. Alright, not really but the glacial lakes held a scarce population which was closely monitered. Over-hunting would wipe the fish out, and then they'd never have fish again. Good job, shitlickers. So, it was a special treat used only in specific rituals.

Like the one he was planning. Perhaps the mark of respect would secure Falcon a place within the Pack after he was bled out on the boarders to warn off other Tresspassers.

Being left in the confines of his own think-flesh all night had given him time to run over things. He knew he'd essentially be leaving Falcon on her own and at the mercy of this Pack. He still feels a horrid, gnawing guilt at the thought and a defiant fire that starts in his chest, rebelling loudly against the idea. He was now just repeating to himself that it'd be for the best, hopefully. He wanted to take comfort in the fact that bitches were more respected than brutes most of the time. They often held more power. They were faster, smarter and could be generally more cunning and cruel than brutes. They could also bring life to the Pack, make it stronger. Tor herself, Goddess of the moon, was more often prayed to than her brother Fenrir.

But then, this had never stopped his kin from abusing Falcon.

He longed to shut off his think-flesh but exhaustion was starting to creep around the edges of his skull, looking for a way in. It was making his thoughts a little fuzzy.

Jackdaw blinked from his useless, circling thoughts and scowled at Falcon. He liked to believe he was entirely horrifying even with a limp fish in his damn mouth, thank you very fucking much.

He rolled his eyes, of course she doesn't fucking know where to go the dumb ass, and lowers his nose to the floor while his ears ram forward in case of surprise attacks while his head is down. It's difficult at first to get over the over-powering stench of fish oil, thank fuck in a nest that he didn't bite into it and cause it to bleed, but he eventually gts stale impressions of tracks and trails worn by many paws. His hackles are already up, movements stiff and jerky at the scents of so many strange wolves hitting the back of his throat.

He's fucking walking to his death. Strolling, if you will.

He keeps going in the direction his sister indicated, tail most deffinately not flicking nervously. Maybe they'll have the courtesy to make his death quick, he thinks with a resigned sort of disdain.

(This post was last modified: Jul 27, 2014, 06:40 PM by Jackdaw.)

Falcon
the ghosts of cedarwood forest know my name

@Maksim @Jackdaw @Cut Rock River Pack!

On their sedate walk, Falcon paused as her brother wandered away. Where on earth was he going? When she watched him stand rock-still over a pond, eyes glued hard to what was rippling just beneath the surface, she understood. The male was an exceptional fisherman and had plenty of patience when it came to that, though little else. By the time his head lifted, sopping wet and heavier from a thick-bodied bass, Falcon had already started to walk on; he would catch up without a doubt.

Sure enough, moments later he was trotting along behind her again. Falcon could hear the fish flopping against his face. For some reason, the silly sound made her feel a little better. Less anxious.

His scowl, too, makes her feel better. If he feels alright enough to glare at her, maybe it won't be so bad! Surely, they'll love her brother just as she does. Hopefully. He did catch a fish for them! Jackdaw never even caught fish for her. The tawny she-wolf followed along behind as her brother took the lead. Though they were going to meet a pack to hopefully join, he still kept his steps light as if they had to sneak around. Purposefully, Falcon made her paw steps noisy; she didn't want the pack thinking they were trying to get the jump on them for sure. She could practically feel the tic in her brother's jaw and smiled.

When finally he came to a stop, eyes darkened with concern, Falcon knew they were at the pack's boundaries. As she was the one easily recognized, the female lifted her muzzle and howled out a greeting for Maksim and his pack.

So, so sorry for the wait! @Falcon @Jackdaw

Maksim's time was mostly spent border patrolling and bonding with his children. At this current moment, it was the latter. @Aleksei was clambering all over his father, yipping on as the king chuckled. Sometimes, the babbling voices and awkwardly strung together sentences that his cubs innocently chattered away with were hard to interpret for the new father—had he been so incoherent as a boy? They were learning quickly though, their little attempts at recreating adult speech endearing to the agouti wolf. It was clear to all that the siblings were picking up bits and pieces from the idle chatting of the River wolves around them; their family. That was what both Maksim and @Kisla told their children. The ones who smelt like mother and father were family, and they could be trusted. Outsiders were dangerous often, so they should never wander too far away. Strangers could have a wicked, malicious streak … but then again, what of that girl? A howl stuck out among the ambient forest noises, and the first born son fell quiet immediately, his little ears twitching in a youthful attempt to swivel around to listen and interpret. Whilst the boy struggled, his father effortlessly understood the message. Falcon had returned, brother in tow. The agouti regal smiled down at his son, slowly standing. “Well. Daddy has business to attend to now, Aleksei,” he explained. The boy's face fell. Leaning down, the king gently nosed his fluffy little chest and snuffled. The cub giggled. “We can play again when I'm done. I promise. Now, back inside.” With that, the Mackenzie leader lifted his crown and the boy skittered off into the mouth of the den. It would take a while to arrive at the border—he had been in the central most part of the territory, after all. Lifting his creamy muzzle, the River king gave a response howl, letting the loners know he was on his way. It was then that took off swiftly as a large Mackenzie could, expertly traversing the Cedarwood terrain in order to arrive at the border. Thirty minutes or so passed before Maksim arrived, slowing down to a halt as he raised his tail in the sibling's presence. He looked to Falcon. “A pleasure to see you again, miss,” he smiled. His verdant gaze fell upon the dark coated wolf, clutching at a freshly caught fish. “You must be the brother she spoke of. My name is Maksim Baranski, leader of the pack you stand at the border of: Cut Rock River.”