Willow Ridge get back behind the wheel

@Angier <3 might be opened to others near the end if relevant?

The muskrat was limp in his jaws, its crushed head dangling at an unpleasant angle. The gore had stopped dripping from the destroyed skull some distance back, the blood drained or no longer flowing to the wound. The body was otherwise untouched; Craw had already consumed the other. This one was for the pack.

The stench of the pack's females hung heavier the closer he got to the main den and gathering place, though the thick musk of blood right under his nose did much to alleviate it. There was only so much temptation he could steel himself against when it went against his every instinct, but rational thought was still winning. For now. They had no idea how difficult it was to deny himself this. They had no idea.

He tossed the body to the ground near to the den with a grunt, not bothering to properly bury it in the cache; he didn't have the patience and expected it would be eaten soon anyway. Glancing about at the quiet area, he heard no chatter or other signs that there was anyone lurking, and thus deemed it suitable to sit for a moment with his thoughts, which were many and brooding. As he swiped his tongue over his lips and muzzle to remove the blood, the masked stench of bitches in heat crept ever in, and the ceaseless rumble of his breathing sounded so much more like growling.

The scent of blood had roused Angier from his spacey train of thought, the nearby sound of something like growling immediately catching his undivided attention. All he had done was leave the den in order to relieve himself and give his limbs a good stretch before settling back down again. Once before, he had actually tried to keep on Ravenna and Elettra's trail and had failed, defeated to a point where he had lost their tracks and had to backtrack from where he had originally come from. Now that he had pretty much abandoned his spot at the side of the communal den, it had seemed that someone or something had taken interest in the area.

As best as he could, he put on a snarly face, waiting for his olfactory senses to be hit with a wall of testosterone and musk (and, by pure assumption alone, Skoll's heady scent). Apart from the fading potpourri of his usual visitors, the only one that stuck out strongly from the rest had belonged to a certain man that he had not yet heard of in quite a long time. Maybe since before the snows had fallen on Relic Lore.

He easily hobbled to where he had been laying just moments before the hefty brute had arrived, the favored resting place indicated by a shallow, wolf-sized depression not even five feet away from the den opening. "Well, well," he greeted in a rather amused tone, nose and whiskers actively twitching as he regarded the younger male. He stood as tall as he could manage with arthritic shoulders and lower vertebrae. "Craw finally turns up. 'Aven't 'eard much from ya lately... Still out hunting th' locals, I see. What's the occasion?"

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There is a moose carcass that has been scavenged by coyotes nearby. +15 Health

The indentation of snow and earth had caught his eye only a few minutes before its maker arrived. Craw had heard the footsteps, an ear twisted in their direction as he considered the resting spot, wondering who it belonged to. Angier was certainly a likely contender. Once the old man was close enough to be seen, Craw's head turned slowly to watch him, seeing the weakness in his legs, the emptiness of his eyes, the grimace of his face - who did he think was waiting for him? Craw had not exactly gone out of his way to engage with Angier, for the man had fallen in importance very soon after accepting the silvered wolf and thus in Craw's list of priorities. Perhaps that was a mistake; hearing Angier's jeering tone as he addressed the company he could not see, Craw wondered just what had become of the man and what would become of him. For his own part, the pack's Fourth found himself absolutely disinclined to bow his head or avert his gaze for reasons entirely different to the fact that Angier wouldn't have been able to see the signs of respect anyway.

Craw' tail swept from left to right and then laid still, his gaze narrowed and fixed firmly on that blind yet alert face. "Providing for the pack," he sniffed, not bothering to glance at the muskrat's body as a hint. "I've been around." You just haven't seen me. Pistons steadily firing inside his skull, his ears came about to focus on the elderly Third more, openly assessing his condition and expression and posture; standing tall, as though it still meant something. Craw noticed he didn't bother to lift his tail. Licking his lips, making a judgement, Craw said with light, even tone: "How is Nicolo?"

Without facial cues or posturing Angier had to trust what he could hear. The rest was up to his imagination or what he could possibly assume. It was with slow and wary movements that he sat down; his pride was still there, keeping his back straight even if his shoulders had gotten their way and forced him into a sort of informal slouch. Even then, he still had his eyes and ears trained on Craw's throat; if he had been staring just a little bit higher, he would have figuratively looked upon his inferior's marked face.

"Good," he commented towards the other man's first statement. When it had come to asking about his brother-in-law, Angier had to scoff. If he had been able to shrug in or roll his shoulders at all to express his indifference, he might have. "I couldn't say," he admitted, turning to seem as if he had heard something move into the pack den. "No one's told me anything. I only have my concerns... and, they all center around my daughter, @Morganna." He had made sure to drop in the relation to the Willow Ridge Leader, not because it had granted him some sort of 'free pass' for anything, but for the sake of letting Craw know that he, like the rest of the family, held Elettra's daughter in high esteem. If anything should happen to her, he was going to be one of the souls the imposer would answer to. Surely, Nicolo could hold his own.

"How are you?" he offered back, returning his sightless gaze back to where Craw sat before him.

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So he was right, Angier was not close with his brother in law. It was good to have it confirmed all the same, though it still left the matter of where Angier fit in everything wide open for discovery. And then Angier all but said it out loud: no one's told me anything. Irrelevant and left behind, the Lyall was little more than a relic, his leadership taken by a relative he didn't seem to have respect for and his role in the pack's affairs dwindled to nothing by his own admittance. His concerns for Morganna were sweet, no doubt, but she had not mentioned her stepfather in any meaningful way; as far as Craw understood it, Angier was not one of Morganna's own, not like he was Elettra's. Which was how it should be. But daughter had replaced mother and step brother had replaced father and Craw did not see how either of them offered Morganna much of use; she already had the power of her mother's name, of the legacy and pack she had built.

And if Angier was not ingratiating himself with Nicolo, just how did he rationalise his own importance?

"I am doing very well," he said, having paused a moment to consider the question, guessing at how much bite there had been behind it. "My strength has fully returned. You have my gratitude for my acceptance into the pack; it would have been harder otherwise." It was not untrue, and it was not falsely meant, either - but it did not make him beholden to the man as though a life was owed. The debt had been paid in dutiful service and respect, and he had respected the old man long enough.

"Forgive my error, but I thought you must be his advisor," he said, an edge to his tone. "Seeing as how you have much more experience in the role compared to him. I'm not aware that you are for Morganna, as such - I assumed it was how you still justified your rank."

To hear that Craw was well only gladdened the older wolf, causing a smile to appear on his silvered face. While there might have been some sort of pointed tone in his question, it was all due to curiosity and getting a straight answer. Without the ability to see, scent and sound were all he had to rely on in regards to interacting with the pack. There was a small nod given to acknowledge Craw's gratitude; though, the smile that had appeared along his maw evened out as the younger wolf continued.

Angier as Nicolo's Advisor? The Lyall stifled a guffaw with grin and a snort. The amusement on his face clear to see by the way his whiskered brows had drawn upward and his sense of humor returned. It did not last for long, however, the more Angier dwelled on how stern the brute's tone had been and the longer Craw continued, the more the elder realized just why he had been approached.

"I hold my rank because I do not let jus' any ruffian brush me aside," he revealed, his two triangular ears facing forward now. "I've 'ad my share o' fights; an', I ultimately fought for @Elettra's heart. I hold my rank because it isn't jus' 'er heart that I hold dear, but @Morganna's as well." His lip twitched but it was not out of aggression, rather frustration instead. "Think what ya want, but I will not fight you. Ya want my place, I will ask ya some questions an' we will 'ave a negotiation. I will 'ave ya know that to be in my place is ta put yerself at Death's side with Skoll... an' I would rather ya survive fer the pack's sake."

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Craw's eyes narrowed at @Angier's open derision of the mere notion that he would be supportive of Nicolo. There was so much animosity towards one of their own, so much blatant disrespect and dislike, yet none of them did anything about it! It was as though Nicolo were his own father, sat in a lofty place despite so much hatred and distrust pointing his way, but there were two key differences; Craw's father had wrangled a lot more support than Nicolo, and Craw didn't hate the Archer's guts with every fibre of his being.

As Angier realised the implication behind Craw's probing, and began his pretty speech, Craw's lips curled up with every passing word, teeth bared brazenly at the elderly man's face. It was a cowardly act, perhaps, petty, hollow, for Angier could not see it to react to it, so the insubordiation and disrespect was pointless. Yet there was something freeing about the man's disability, Craw was realising, in how he did not have to mask his unpleasantness and distaste with a calm expression, with good manners and respectful lowering of the head, as though any of them were worth more than he. He listened to Angier, the silent snarl twisting into an ugly sneer, liberated by Angier's blindness. It was so tiring to play nice all the time.

Yet he still had to. I will not fight you, said the has-been, and Craw bit down on his tongue so as not to laugh. How brave! How gallant! And if Craw pressed the matter, chose to exert his superiority through physical means, would the Lyall roll over obediently? He wasn't going to fight, after all. It didn't matter two shits whether the man gave his gracious consent or approval, that wasn't how it worked, not at its core. It was kill or be killed, fight or surrender, win or lose. It hadn't been on Craw's mind to challenge Angier when he sat down, but it was now his decision to carry it through fairly or not. It wasn't within Angier's power to dictate how this would go.

But he would play nice for longer. As he openly regarded Angier, all his ageing flesh and weakened bones and withering muscle, the notion of how easy it would be to just end the man danced through his head, a bloodthirsty tease. Angier was right, of course; it would be no fight. And then the would be no question of the ranks at all, for a corpse comes lowest of all...

Except that Morganna and Wraith would both sorely disapprove, he knew, and so it was with their continued appeasement in mind that Craw did not move save to lift his head a little. He would not throw away all he had been building for one moment of satisfaction. It was adorable that the man thought Craw needed protection from Skoll. Just precious. "Very well," he rumbled, passing his tongue over his muzzle, having composed himself into someone calm once more. "Let us negotiate."

"Very well," came the note of agreement. "Let us negotiate." This, Angier took as a good sign. His ears turned to the sides before returning frontward. For a moment it seemed that, with a small tilt of his head, the old Lyall was considering some things as he stared into Craw's throat. "If you do this," he began, his tone slow and thoughtful. "I need ta know that ya 'ave @Morganna's best interests at heart, that the pack will survive with 'er at its head in 'er mother's stead. I want ya ta promise me that you can be more than I am an' 'ave e'er been." Again, those large ears fell back, but this time they did not come back up.

"Morganna deserves to 'ave someone who is... so much more at 'er side. If I could 'ave stopped Nicolo and Skoll, I would 'ave. Jus' like any other father might've with their lil' girl." He blinked and his clouded pupils drifted downward to his companion's feet in the soil. "I trust that she can do so much, just as Elettra had. Per'aps even more with youth at 'er side an' favor."

There was a lengthy pause as Angier tried hard to collect the last of his words. "You came 'ere fer a fight, I imagine," he murmured. "If that's the case, then fight for her an' don't let anyone try to bring her down. As a wolf of Willow Ridge you are sworn to the Queen an' that is an oath on yer life to protect her. No matter what." For a moment, it seemed the Angier's head was going to dip downwards, but it didn't. Instead, his expression hardened and he did his best to try to look into Craw's face, "Ta hold such a position of power as one o' the three highest-ranking males is an honor an' a responsibility. In th'past we were once Elettra's Guardians, strong an' smart... sacrificing at best for all that we men are to the women we endear."

"You said your strength 'as returned... Can I trust that you'll do as I've asked to take my place?"

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@Angier <33

It was a pretty speech.

Craw sat silently, eyes narrowed and muzzle faintly rippled with the barest beginnings of a snarl. Angier had hit upon many realities, if unknowingly; Morganna was key, was central to almost every non-selfish reason the man had for existing within these wretched southern willows. That would make it easier to appease the old man, for it was always more devastating when you could wield truth over lies.

It wasn't sounding like a debate, though, so much as the sermon of some grand ceremony at the end of which Craw was expected to bow his head and solemnly say 'I do'. Unsurprisingly, Angier believed that Craw had come with the intention if fighting, and had reiterated that he would not be engaging with that. The Lyall still had his words, though, plenty of those, so he brandished them like the sharpest steel, attempting to pry right into Craw's heart and soul and lay bear the intentions inside to see whether they were good or evil.

Don't get him wrong, Craw had always greatly valued rank challenges and the subtle shifts in power they demonstrated, the ways it was easy to see the ambitious laid against the complacent, the powerful against the weak, the competant against the useless. He also tended to prefer physical displays, which was why his limbs ached to just get this over with, because sitting there listening to Angier's sentiment was so, so hilariously insulting. As though the Archers played out their power struggles like this. Craw didn't know where Angier had once come from, but he was not made of the same cutthroat stuff as the family he had joined. He valued nobility and honour and goodness. In a way, it wasn't so far removed from Craw, who himself placed loyalty, respect and power above all else.

But they were mighty grand words to be exchanged for something as mundane as the rank of Third. Craw half-believed that he was challenging for the rights to the leadership or to be Archer patriarch, Fenrir forbid.

"Morganna's interests are very much my own," he rasped, keeping his voice as level as his expression was not. Angier may have been blind, but it would only make him better at hearing the nuances of speech, and Craw rather liked not giving too much away. Just enough. "I have supported her unwaveringly, and will continue to do so as long as she desires it from me. She is safe and strong so long as I am here."

Was that enough? Surely Angier could appreciate that Craw was obliging his softly-softly approach. Itching to approach the man, feeling as though it were a sign of weakness to just sit here and take the lecturing (and even partake in it!) Craw remained still for the sake of the very woman he was promising to protect and cherish until death do them part. The pack was in a delicate enough state without him maiming or murdering her popular stepfather.

Besides, it was almost funny, in a sick kind of way. He would indulge it just a moment more. "I am more than capable, Angier, of looking after your little girl. Is there anything else you would ask of me?"