Willow Ridge savages

As his brother’s absence lengthened the tension within Willow Ridge increased with second he remained missing. His mother had made it near impossible for Greer and his brother Castiel to venture outside the safety of their den. The long-legged Archer was growing restless; he desperately wanted to stretch his legs and join the search for his brother. He knew, though, that he wouldn’t be of much help. As worried as he was about his brother, Greer knew that he would be distracted by the wonders of the outside world and would end up lost as well. He did not know what would happen if he was to step outside the ‘safe zone’, and was frightened to endure the wrath of his mother.

Frustrated, the long-legged pup flopped onto his side as a sigh fell off his tongue, staining the still, damp air of the Archer den. His baby blues glanced over at his brother’s sleeping form as a frown formed across his short maw. Even in Deacon’s absence, when Greer should be feeling close to his brother, the deer-like child felt distant. Rolling onto his stomach the boy crept forward, his eyes focused on the bright entrance. He vowed not to stray too far – he knew his mother would scold him if he ventured farther than the perimeter of the den.

A warm breeze rustled his fur as he stretched into the sunlight, his stunted body relishing in the change of environment. Taking a few steps forward the leggy Archer settled his hindquarters against the warm ground, his soft gaze searching the territory for a familiar face. Surely there was someone lurking around, making sure that Greer and his brother did not wander away like Deacon had.

hope you don't mind :D!

Rowan had followed Angier's trail a while, but after some time he'd lost it. Scouting didn't seem to be the best fit for him after all. It was only knowing the strength of the royal family of Willow Ridge that the Attaya boy was able to turn away from the fallen trail and return home. There were quite a few out on the search for Deacon - and though he considered himself to have failed Elettra's command, the brute grit his teeth and put himself to work within the borders.

Specifically, he found himself spending almost all his time nearby the remaining two Archer-Lyall boys. Sporadically he took a walk by the borders, hoping that the smell of Deacon's return might waft in on a stray wind, but eventually he figured out that when it happened they would know, and opted to keep his muted gold gaze on Castiel and Greer.

In a sphinx-like pose Rowan reclined with his belly to the ground and his blackened legs outstretched before him. He lay just past the mouth of the den, turned at an angle so he could see if anyone came to approach. Elettra was not present, and thus the yearling was as vigilant as he could be. It was why when one of the pups began to shift about in the darkness his head turned like a homing device to the little shadowy figure.

Deacon's disappearance was a fresh wound and for a moment he considered sticking his nose in the den and pushing whoever was coming back into safety - but after a rational breath he knew that was a stupid thing to do. The nervous air that consumed the Ridge territory likely bothered the young like it bothered the adults. Instead he casually slid one foreleg closer toward the mouth of the den and waggled his paw in the grass enticingly.

Not at all! :) @Rowan

He had retreated back into the depths of the family den after absorbing the warmth of the sun. Remaining close to the mouth of the den, Greer turned away from it, his denim blue gaze focused on his resting brother. The light had enticed him to go outside, but he preferred the darkness that the den offered. The air was much cooler, and the den reeked of comfort; of family. Greer knew his mother was deeply troubled about his brother’s absence – where had he gone, and why had he not yet returned? The slender pup had taken on some of his mother’s worry, and often dreamed of his brother returning to them. His mind was also haunted by nightmares, filled with visions of his brother disappearing forever. Shivering at the thought, the shadow prince curled up tighter, his stubby maw tucked in beneath his tail as he listened to the muffled sounds of the outside world.

A new scent disrupted his thoughts, causing his head to turn ‘round once more. A shadowy figure rested in the grass, their paw stretched toward the entrance of the den. Perplexed, the slender boy shuffled forward; although he would much leave the safety of the den alone he was curious as to who this wolf was. His soft gaze was focused on the stranger’s paw as it wriggled in the grass, and he was unable to stop his stubby tail from wagging frantically at the action. Unable to stop himself, the usually solitary pup leaped forward, his small forepaws stretched forward as he aimed to land on the stranger’s outstretched paw.

A smirk crept onto Rowan's expression as he kept his gold eyes focused on the mouth of the den, anticipating the attack. He tried to stifle his tail from whapping on the ground too hard, not wanting to cause a distraction with all that noise. Just as Greer was drawing closer, Rowan was holding his breath on the rebuttal. This was perhaps the most exciting event to happen to the Attaya boy in recent times, so he wanted to milk it for all it was worth.

Then - the pounce! An inky black body launched into his baited paw. "Aaahh," he fake-yelled, wiggling his paw with a little more intensity. Greer had grown quite a bit in the months since his birth, but Rowan had to remind himself that he was still a gumpy puppy - perhaps the smallest of the gumps of Willow Ridge - and it probably wouldn't be wise to thrash around one of Elettra and Angier's pride and joy. Still, that didn't mean he needed to go easy on the pitch-black pup. He put just enough resistant force into his movements so Greer would be required to pull out a few more stops if he wanted to wrastle the devilish Rowan's leg into submission.

The slender ball of fluff was far too young to understand that the stranger wasn’t actually hurt, and that his cry wasn’t one of pain. Gripping onto the older wolf’s paw, Greer attempted the most ferocious and threatening growl he could muster (which was more of a squeak-growl) as Rowan wriggled his paw in defense. No, this was his paw now – Rowan wasn’t allowed to have it back. His tiny forelegs wrapped around the yearling’s paw as he growled once more, his needle teeth attempting to gnaw on his catch as he shuffled backward in an attempt to drag the paw with him.

Although he preferred to be on his own, and often refused to play with his brothers, Greer could not deny that this was sort of fun. A good rough-housing was okay once in a while – Greer just didn’t want to make a habit of it. He enjoyed being on his own, and felt as though he learned better that way. His brothers were usually full of beans, which often bothered the calm Archer child.

With another attempt at a growl Greer gave another lurch back as his lips pulled away from his needle teeth. He was determined to win this game of tug of war, and wasn’t willing to give up. Archer’s never gave up; it was in their blood to succeed. He wasn’t sure how the older male was going to react to Greer’s sudden game, nor did he care. He just wanted his prize!