castles of ice

@Chulyin This sucks a little bit sorry :(

High rises of snow and ice surrounded the small pool that sat above Bramble Falls, itself having frozen over in wake of the recent temperatures. The winter afternoon sunset basked the surrounding forest in a golden glow, but within the snow-forged castle all was blanketed in blue shadow. The small waterfall that fed the now-icerink had frozen, but evidence of some activity beneath the ice remained as Bramble Falls below refused to halt its flow, though the rush of running water sounded like something more of a trickle of defiance to her ears.

Quick stood within walls of white, perched delicately on the frozen pool's ice surface, and ran her silver eyes up the snow-capped mountain as it rose far from her. Though unforgiving and, frankly, intimidating, she couldn't deny the beauty of the icicles that reached for her from the bottoms of severe cliffs and crags lining the way up. That is, if there was a way up. All she could see was ice coating the sharp rocks, glinting in the sunlight as if to tease. No matter, of course. She was fine down here.

Though there was something awfully unromantic about this empty castle. She was supposed to be the lady of one, the princess among noble wolves, a high-born possessing all the powers of diplomats and all the grace of dancers. In truth she felt unimpressive - but not totally disconnected from the realm of ice. She had previously established her place was yet unfound, but it was comforting to think every relic of her past was not so aggressively against her as she had thought. This is not your palace, Quick reminded herself as she turned away from the mountainside and slid-walked across the thin ice toward the opening in the mounds of snow that had brought her there in the first place. She cast her silvery gaze over her shoulder in a detached goodbye, to continue her original search.

Her white limbs pushed her into the winter labyrinth beyond the Hidden Grotto, careful of where she placed her hapless paws. The little hide-away she'd found was beautiful, but not fit for shelter as it was for the eyes. She was still skirting the local packs robustly as she could, their heavily-marked borders to her uninviting. Once the pit in her stomach grew ravenous enough she assumed her stubbornness could be placed aside, but until then she continued to scout a temporary palace of her own.

The dark man trailed along the base of the great mountain he'd once called home. His nose was twitching at a rate it had likely never twitched before. The wolves of the Keep had recently hunted, just a few days past, but the result had been minimal and there were many mouths to feed. He didn't like to travel so far from home, not with the weather like it was -- even as he traveled a light snow fell; the air felt "warmer" than it had in a few days. But the pack needed to eat and he would go to whatever lengths he needed to get whatever food he could find. He'd not yet come upon a trail as he moved southward, soon reaching Bramble Falls. It had long since frozen over, any attempt to break the ice to reach whatever might of been swimming within would be futile. Even if he could break through it was unlikely there would be anything worthwhile in the depths.

He eyed pawprints in the snow, and inhaling found nothing familiar to the scent. Swinging his head around, he spotted a pale form not far from where he stood, around the side of the water source. His ears twitched, a scowl coming upon his face at the prospect of having a challenger. If there was food around, he'd have to fight this wolf for it. Not that there seemed to be any sign of food. His nose swept lightly across the surface of the cold blanket, trying to see if there was any sign of prey about. He could not go home empty handed, energy partially sapped. What a waste. A nagging voice in his mind told him to ask the stranger if they'd had any recent luck, perhaps they could point him in the right direction. It wasn't disparity that would drive him...

Pushing through the mounds of snow again, he approached the searching figure. The man barked alerting the white wolf of his own presence. He could not say if this wolf was bound by a pack and he could not identify any overwhelming scent on her. He was unsure if his appearance would be seen as some sort of threat. <b style="color:#a51919">

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Her careless wandering was halted in an instant by a voice she'd never heard before. At once she twisted her neck to find the source, gaze as soft as steel and of the same color as she saw the approaching wolf. Her bristling guard hairs rose no further as she met her match from across the snow-decorated landscapes. Humorlessly she regarded how they were complete opposites: him dark and golden-eyed and coated with muscle whereas she was white and silver-eyed and mostly leg with unfortunately little strength in battle. The scent of a pack wafted off him like temptation off a corpse, and his build - tall, broad-shouldered and well-muscled - could not refute the fact that he was more a threat to her than she was to him. She lowered her head, aiming to lessen her claim to aggression, though she failed to buckle her legs any closer to the ground just yet.

Quick realized with a deep inhale that she could not smell anyone residing in the nearby area. His presence then begged the question, what was he looking for here? She had no idea he had as much trouble finding sustenance as she did, and grew suspiciously optimistic that perhaps there was a cache nearby that she might benefit from. Not that she could fight off this stranger. In fact, she had no confidence that she could out-fox him either. But what the lanky lady did have plenty of was patience, and she could wait all day if it meant she'd be lead toward food. Before she got ahead of herself Quick flickered her gaze, which had been wandering about his toes, once more toward his own as if he might be looking in the direction he ought to go. She got nothing (of course) and realized she would need to try something else.

Delicately she probed, "I'm not intruding, am I?" If she had been, she probably would've known by now, but it seemed the least invasive question to propose over what are you doing here or do you have any food, both of which she was happy to have suppressed. She had half a thought that perhaps he was here on visit to the same castle she'd found; maybe there was treasure yet held within its fortress. The only way she'd know, of course, was by casting him a quizzical side-eye and waiting for an answer.

Silence fell between them when she turned. He lifted his head, gaze curious and intent. It was now that he could get a better look at her, moving forward a few steps. Her eyes were lacking in color as far as he could tell, and for a moment the man had to really ask himself if she was even real. Chulyin was uncertain that he'd never seen such pelage before combined with such vapid eyes. She was certainly made for this weather, nearly invisible against the winter landscape save for the skin that showed upon her face. As he rose, she seemed to fall slightly, driving the man forward another step. They were careful movements, as though he were trying to convey that he was of no threat. Unless, of course, she had food. In that case, he might be tempted to steal it from her.

It was not in the man's nature, admittedly, to stoop to such levels of cowardice, but food was scarce, and there were children in the Keep. His ears lifted when she spoke, glad that she'd spoken first, as he'd already closed a bit of distance. He gave a slight shake of his head, <b style="color:#a51919">"Not at all," The darker man answered. <b style="color:#a51919">"You haven't caught any prey trails, by any chance?" The question hardly sounded like a question as he tried to keep the exhaustion from his voice. Shaking out his fur, he could only stand in the snow waiting for an answer. <b style="color:#a51919">

(ugh this is awful. i'm sorry)

Lurking until the end of July - Please PM/tag me to get my attention

Nonsense!

He edged closer, but lacked implicating boldness that would have set Quick to alarm. To counter his movements she lifted her head, white ears perking forward. She was hesitant to bridge the gap herself, still unsure of the shadow who had found her outside the castle walls, but she had to convey at least some capability of her fortitude, loathe to remind a stranger of her obvious weaknesses. The wolf's voice, however, betrayed his appearance. There was a gravelly tightness hiding in his honest answer that carried on into a question, one she herself would have asked if given the chance. If he was a bad egg he surely had her fooled, so she relaxed her spine and gave the weary stranger her own truth.

"I haven't," she admitted sadly, adding, "They've been few and far between. The last time I did I was among the cedar trees and it's been days since then." Even those had been faint, and there was certainly a pack taking up residence in the area - such a risk was beyond her better judgement and Quick did not have the strength to tempt the devil. Now, of course, she regretted not delving deeper into the trails when they had been present, but it did her no good to dwell on her mistake. A brief inner struggle would lead her to part her dainty jaws again, slide her pale gaze across the frosted branches that hung over the frozen falls and ask, "Is it always like this?"

Emphasis on like this, meaning did every winter in this new land come for the wolves like a hellhound with vengeance? She was still uncomfortable admitting she was not from around these parts, though any wolf half a sleuth could discern so from the lack of local scent in her pelt, but when she came to terms with her distinct need for a pack to survive it wouldn't be beyond her to accept an alpha's pity for placement. Quick wasn't hoping for this wolf's pity, necessarily, but she could sympathize with their shared plight and didn't think it unreasonable that he might too.

Look Out!

A fight broke out between two male mountain goats. Hunt Opportunity

Something he'd said or done seemed to relax the stranger, something for which he was thankful, especially when the topic of food was at the forefront. Though the man had come from further north, he could not say that he'd seen a winter so terrible in his almost five years of life. Ears falling back, Chulyin dropped his gaze for a moment while his lungs exhaled a weary sigh. Shaking his head lightly, he let his gaze lift. She seemed honest and so he took her at her word. There were many packs in the area, so any food that was about had probably been snatched up eagerly before this loner could get her paws upon it. But he could not pity the lone wolf. There were packs galore on this side of the mountain, perhaps not all of them welcoming, but certainly one could harbor a hunger soul. But he could not get ahead of himself, hardly familiar with the packs in the area.

The dark trees that surrounded them tossed lightly beneath a breeze, depositing what might've been upon their branches to the earth below. If only prey was want to do that, fall from above right into their laps. The woman spoke again, attracting his copper gaze. <b style="color:#a51919">"I cannot say. I have not been here long." He responded, tail swinging slightly erratically behind him, betraying some inner frustrations. <b style="color:#a51919">"I must admit that those more native to these lands do seem unsettled." He could not truly imagine this place being as inhabited as it was if every winter threatened to wipe out the master species. Tempted then to leave this female to her own searching, a sudden resounding crack caught the man's attention.

Chulyin froze, meeting the silver eyes of the female, hoping she'd heard it as well. Head tipped back, he caught the scent of goat, suddenly strong in the air. It seems the mountain goats had left the precarious stone peaks. His muscles tightened with anticipation. <b style="color:#a51919">"It seems the fates heard us." He spoke with an inch of humor. <b style="color:#a51919">"If you help me, there would be a meal in it for you," and perhaps a home. If she proved to be a good hunter, then why not try to coax the female back to Hollowheart Keep? <b style="color:#a51919">

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So he hadn't been within these parts as long as she'd thought - that was interesting, surprising too, but not quite as attention-grabbing as what the wolf said next. Apparently she had arrived on the heels of a wicked winter. If that was a testament to her luck she chose to ignore it, though her superstition persisted. The female cast her gaze upon their surroundings once more, this time regarding the frozen forest with suspicion. As if the winds angered when they saw her chastisement they shook, giving her only a second to side-step a scatter of branch snow aimed for her head. Whether or not she was karmic-ly attached to this season no one could truly say. The idea was hard to shake, that's all.

Or, perhaps it wasn't. Quick too heard the noise of warring prey, followed by the scent of opportunity. It'd been so long since the Arctic-blooded wolf had gotten wind of such a fresh trail. One deep breath and she felt the blood rushing between her teeth, wanting for a taste. When the dark wolf addressed it she spent no time in consideration, pale eyes flickering between the stranger and the source of the trail. He had given her no reason not to trust him, and every reason to want to cooperate. Her head dipped in accord regarding the fates, a pleasant "I would," rolling from her tongue immediately after.

Time was not wise to waste in this winter. Off she went on the trail. Her movements were swift, but cautious. With each step toward the scent the ground beneath her paws grew more treacherous. They were moving toward the mountain, whose rocky surfaces were slick with hidden ice, making the art of catching prey more of a challenge than it already was. Determination hardened her gaze, not sullied by the conditions. Some ways ahead through the frosted branches, she could see two males had come down off the mountain as a result of their fight. They were engrossed in their masculinity, and she was careful to be quiet. The two wolves wouldn't end up with both, but the chances of them getting one were better than she had hoped.

Her paw-steps slowed to a halt, eyeing a break in the branches before turning her attention to her hunting partner. "Go on ahead," she suggested, her voice no louder than the hush before a storm. "Whenever you're ready, I'll send for you." Not that she would be sending herself. A half-hidden grin attested to that. Oh, she could taste the spoils already.

He was more than pleased when she agreed to assist him. It would not have been beneficial to deny him, for more likely than not they would be enemies after the same prize. And Chulyin would not lose. This way they had a better chance of going after a single goat and being successful, rather than if one of them both went after one. The air was thick with musk, so certainly the mountain goats would not be so docile and kind to those that were trying to kill them. He followed at her heels, pushing himself forward to run at her side. She was smaller, possessing more speed than he would ever have. It would be useful here.

Pausing beside her, undercover, he kept an eye on the situation. The two males were still at it, causing painful cracking noise after noise. His tail twitched at his back, and he turned his burnt golden gaze upon his company. His ears twitched at her words, uncertain, but he went off anyway, sliding from beneath the snow-heavy branches, stalking towards the warring goats. As they rushed in again to bash heads, Chulyin ran towards the one that was nearest to their hiding spot. The reaction from the goat, who had just reeling back from its own attack, was delayed, though its brother had already backed up considerably, retreating quickly, as though defending its opponent wasn't worth it. Being essentially the same height as the goat had its advantages and disadvantages. It was no effort at all to be upon the back of his prey, able to get his teeth into the creature's back in an attempt to sever the spine.

But the goats had impressive horns, pointed and dangerous, and if the goat threw his head back too aggressively, Chulyin would be in trouble. He kept his grip and teeth low, hoping to be out of range of the horns as the goat reared and bucked beneath him. From his locked position upon the victim, his eyes searched with slight difficulty for the woman who had agreed to hunt with him. Blood began to stain the snow as his teeth sank further into the goat's back, nearing the point of no return. Blood filled his mouth, making it difficult to breath, but the goat continued to writhe, desperate to keep its life. <b style="color:#a51919">

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Quick held her position, clamping her jaw as the scent of prey tempted her to leap. They were so, so close to food. Muscles burning with adrenaline, she waited until she was sure the goats had not realized the wolves' approach, and only then did she spring from their cover alongside the dark wolf. He chose his target quickly, bee-lining for the nearest goat. Quick left her options open as her paws thundered against the ground, claws gripped at the icy surface while snow sprayed up from her heels. It was far from elegant, the way her legs pulled on the earth to propel her forward, but her form was less than important as she gained speed, hoping the sheer force of her bite would make up for her lack of weight.

The pack wolf pushed on, jaws reaching for one of the goats. She locked her silver gaze onto the retreating goat's form, her target standing out while the background dissolved into a sheet of white. She realized quickly that he was too far gone. Her ear twitched in irritation as he high-tailed off toward the mountain, knowing they were far too skilled on the rocks for her to bother. For a fleeting moment she felt disappointed, how much better off they would be if they could have caught them both. But they were only two wolves swimming in snow, and the black-coated male had made his catch.

The ivory wolf swung her body back toward the male, legs outstretched as far as her stride could manage to take the distance between them swiftly. The goat swung its neck violently, trying to spear the pack wolf as his grip tore the flesh of its back. It was a gift that she gave it then, leaping forward to wrap her jaws around its neck and sink her teeth into the soft flesh guarding its throat. Freeing it from an agony of slow death she clamped her jaws again, planting her paws firmly in the snow and jerking downward. As the goat buckled under death's influence a horn nicked her beneath the eye, but the cold could not sting as sweet as his blood tasted.

Once its struggle had ended she released her hold, letting its lifeless head fall into a pillow of snow. Her stomach ached to be filled, but she didn't dare eat before a superior. Her pale eyes trailed from the kill to the killer, seeking permission.