why do you take me down this road

Beneath silky black fur, already Mace sported substantial muscle; running up and down a hill everyday certainly contributed, as did genetics and a constant stream of energy. He was nearing his fifth month, and already boasted an impressive size for his age, and regality enough to cause even the most steadfast of wolves to blink in awe. That didn't change his status — he was a mere pup, and chastised for attempting to assert any authority over any adult in the pack — but already he was shaping up to be the picture of the perfect Attaya, in more ways than one. His devotion to his family was unquestionable, and his confidence unmatched.

However, all heroes hid deep within a number of flaws, and Mace had many, none of them ones he admitted readily to. Some of them were unintentional, many of them going unnoticed by the boy, but some of them were grating even to him.

This was one such flaw.

Damnit! his mind screamed as his paws skidded to a stop on the leaf-litter of the forest, and he watched with heavy, flaring breath and heated eyes as his prey — a hare that should have been fat and slow enough even for him — disappeared into the thick underbrush. His chest heaved in fury, anguish, and exhaustion as he turned from his failed hunt (another one, as he hadn't succeeded in one yet) with an angry scruff of his paw against the ground. His tail lashed in agitation behind him, and Mace, being yet young and brash and full of passions, found that he could not control his temper.

Quil and Rowan had both caught things, and Cinder, he hadn't seen… But he was certain she had caught something as well. That left only him, the biggest, the strongest, the elder son… But also the slowest and most bullish of his siblings, and sadly, cut from the cloth of warriors and guardians, and not at all from that of hunters. He was too slow, too loud, and too large to do so effectively. He hadn't given up on it, had continued practicing and trying, but to no avail, and finally, the result of so many failures, when he had put in so much effort, overwhelmed him and struck a fire in his belly.

Woe upon the creature that the fierce young Attaya came upon next.

gorgeous set by kydnt

As he hobbled away from Magnolia Glen at his excruciatingly slow pace, Kyros found the ability to smile; some days, it was rare, but today he felt especially good. He had left all by himself, and he wasn't lost! Granted, the borders of the pack were not terribly far away, but it was still the biggest accomplishment of his young life, and especially sweet given he had managed to best his own shortcoming: his missing leg, which ought to have prevented such extensive travel. He had always been made to believe that he would not be taking grand trips around the Lore, not because anybody said so, but because the pack still watched him like he was going to fall over any second... But he was more capable than that, in his mind.

He would be a hero someday. He would amount to something, and be an asset to his pack. He would make his father proud, and be equal to his more-capable sister, and put tears of joy in his mother's beautiful eyes.

His smile and good spirits weren't long for him, however, for soon he had lost his own sense of direction and, being yet young and foolish and easily disoriented, he could not even place himself. The forest boasted the same colours of autumn that the Glen had begun to display, but with much more vibrancy than he could even describe. The words to explain the intensity of the orange abundant here simply did not exist in his vocabulary. So awestruck had he been that he had lost his way and now, having realised it, began to feel familiar panic settling in his chest. What if he never found his way back?

He couldn't survive on his own, and although the wolves of the pack tried to make certain he believed otherwise, Kyros knew this deep in his stomach. Denied it, but knew it all the same.

Having never stepped foot beyond his front door, and incapable of comprehending the danger of strange wolves, one could imagine Kyros' relief and joy when in his panic-stricken wandering he stumbled upon another wolf, larger but probably not a lot older based purely on proportions. Maybe, he would reflect, that was why he had so jovially approached, tail wiggling behind him despite how weird he must look with his horrid stump of a leg, without taking note of the other's body language; they were agemates! Nothing bad could happen!

(This post was last modified: Sep 21, 2013, 12:59 AM by Kyros.)

Little did Mace know that, in this moment of fury and disappointment, he was behaving most like a hunter, and more than he ever had before; his body had slung itself low the ground, bearing agitated as if it formed a visible aura around him, and his paws, oft so heavy and careless, were placed with weighted precision now. His ears, usually slung back comfortably in a slacked, “chill dude” manner, now forced upright into rigid peaks. Never had he heard with such clarity and focus, and never had his eyes been so fixed on his immediate surroundings; what he didn't know is this is how a hunter succeeded.

All he knew was that he needed somewhere for his temper to go, and not being the type to return home in a foul temper, he was left with his only solution being wandering in an angered sulk until he finally cooled off enough to return to Darkwater Rapids.

That would've been the case, but he honed in on the rustling of leaves and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, nose and ears quivering with a sort of anticipation, even though the thought of failing another hunt rankled him. Nonetheless, the boy crept forward with his barrel chest nearly brushing the ground, with elongated steps to match a panther's grace, and still the foliage rustled, as if the animal contained within had not noticed him... As if he would finally catch something, and bring it home proudly to his father… But he got no further than that, for a strange white wolf emerged from the foliage that had rustled, causing Mace to draw up short of his would-be conquest.

His blood boiled; he had been so close this final time, only to be thwarted by the nature of the creature he stalked. He could scarcely believe that the closest he had come to success was this, a white wolf with what appeared to be a friendly, if hopeless, demeanour and, he noticed with horror, a missing leg… His nearest victory had been this… This cripple.

A roar of fury split his lips as his continued failure overwhelmed him, and suddenly he was rushing forward, with a mix of terror (where had that leg gone?) and anger spurring him, with every intent to knock over and dominate and punish the wolf who had tricked him into thinking he would finally succeed in a hunt.

gorgeous set by kydnt

Kyros had much to learn about the nature of others. Perhaps that was why, in his naivety, he had believed that the other wolf would help him.

Instead, the wolf's snout wrinkled in contempt and his lips parted to release a bellow of rage that forced Kyros's legs to buckle. His trunk fell comically, his single leg unable to hold up the weight of him and allowed him to collapse onto the stump with a shrill yelp of pain and humiliation. On an ordinary day he might have puffed out his chest and pretended to be brave, but so sudden and shocking was the negativity that he could not have reacted in any way but this: with the fear of a disabled wolf, knowing he could not run and escape the incoming assault.

And it was swiftly delivered: Mace's jaws connected heavily with his nape, and though a shot of adrenaline caused him to struggle valiantly to rise, he did not possess the balance and strength to overthrow the larger child. Pressure on the back of his neck as the Darkwater Rapids prince clenched his jaws caused him to cry out in worry and fear and set his hindlimbs scrambling futilely against the rugged earth. He could do nothing, not with Mace's superior weight above him.

Even with four functional legs he would have been helpless to this. He was forced down, and finally the strength holding his hips aloft collapsed and the entirety of his body was ground into the forest floor by the force of the other pup, who was unrelenting in his dominance display. Still, a fire burned in the breast of the Argyris-Tainn, and confusion and anger at this treatment began to overtake him, prompting him to defy Mace's intent with a growled, "What is your problem?" that forced dirt into his mouth.