Kettle Pot Pond [TfT] Black Raven Feather

Tit for Tat, This or That

A lone, black feather floats upon the shallows of the pond. Its former owner must have plucked this nuisance and flown away, or possibly sunk to the bottom of the lake. Who knows.

Apart from the wide lake which sat at the craggy southern face of his monadnock, the tundra offered few water sources. There had been creeks and rivers and ponds aplenty in the willows and surrounding woodland, and even a great lagoon to its southwest. The Whitestone wolves were fortunate to have a large and clean supply of water so very close to home, but even so, Craw had taken a liking to this kettle lake ever since first coming across it. On clear, sunny days like today, its surface was a glassy blue which, somehow, seemed more vibrant than the sky. The soft croak and hum of its various inhabitants made for a unique soundboard in the otherwise quiet tundra.

Craw had been listening to their quiet chorus as he drank, yellow eyes watching the slow drift of a single black feather in an ocean of blue. It floated along, guided by the barest touches of air, perched atop the smooth surface as though it had been delicately placed. When he had first come to drink, it had been several feet from the the little half-circle cove he stood directly in the centre of, but now, several minutes later and gently coaxed by the wind, it was less than two feet from his nose.

Stepping into the shallow water, Craw reached for it, taking its quill gently in his smallteeth. Coming back to the dry grasses of the cove, his forelegs wet halfway up to his elbow, he placed it back down on the ground and sat, ears held out as he quietly watched it, watched the wind's fingers tickle its edges, his eyes and mind very far away.

Capable had discovered the kettle pond once before, on a casual investigation of the land surrounding the Whitestone wolves’ immediate territory.  Before, it had been a mere curiosity.  Now, the redhead sought it out with intention – she wanted to eat, wanted something fresh, and she figured the first place to look was the local watering hole.  However, there were no signs of prey – soon, she saw the reason.  A familiar white pelt at the perimeter of the water, wading in, drawing back.  Moving too slow to be fishing.  Perhaps he’d the same idea?

The woman chuffed as she approached, shoulders slung low and tail behind as she moved easily though the tall grass.  Soon she pulled up beside the alpha and took stock – no fish, as she’d surmised, but a black raven feather instead.  Weird.  She raised a brow, dark brown eyes shifting from the little trinket to the male instead.

“Starting a collection?” she asked.  Didn’t seem like a good puppy toy.  It’d disintegrate if they chewed on it – and wasn’t that all kids wanted to do, anyways?  Allowing him a moment to answer, she leaned down for a drink.  The water here was clean, clear, crisp – almost better than the fresh water pack at their home.  When she glanced back up, Capable bubbled another question.  “What’re you doing out here, anyways?”

bring me home, bring back what's stolen,

Capable

like you're supposed to

A wild dissertation appears!

The sound turned his head, his movements almost sluggish as if he had been roused from a sleep. The familiar red sight brought a lazy smile to his face, a small jerk of the muzzle in wordless acknowledgement of her greeting. He did not protest when Capable came up alongside him, her eyes falling to the simple feather which had so absorbed him in those brief moments, and idly he wondered what it looked like from her perspective.

He needn't have; her tease made him snort in blunt laughter, and he almost said 'no, but my mother -' before stopping himself, having dragged himself out of that dark pit too much to indulge it, too awake now. The red woman bent her head to the water, and he watched her, the feather momentarily forgotten, and the next question on her lips was the exact same as the one waiting behind his. She'd gotten there first.

"This is where I found that packwolf," he said, subconsciously glancing to the very spot where the strange muddy man had sat, only a short ways across from where they were now. He'd made sure to tell the pack what had happened that day, so they would not be so surprised at encountering the same. "I thought perhaps..." The half-formed thought died in his throat, his gaze dropping back to the raven's gift - or was it the raven's garbage? - before twitching his head to snap out of it. "This is one of the few good drinking spots. Thought there might be more signs of his pack if they live nearby. Didn't find any." Nothing except the feather.

He looked at her, a faint smirk colouring his expression. "Why, were you checking up on me?"

The feather was not addressed, and the woman gave it another curious glance.  It was black as midnight, but wet.  Sad.  How the raven lost it was anyone’s guess, but the woman surmised it was not a bad prize – as long as he didn’t plan on giving it to Morganna’s puppies.  Tiny, toothy beasts, those were.

“Naw,” she replied easily, shoulders rolling in a shrug.  She shifted her gaze outwards, scanning the horizon.  As far as the eyes could see, it was them, only them on the lowlands they’d made into their home. “You don’t need checking up on, far as I can tell.”  Her mouth flickered in something that resembled a smile.  Despite everything, despite how much she’d hated the man upon their first meeting – Craw was slowly becoming one of the wolves she did so prefer to spend her time with.  Only Craw, really, fell into that category, now that Morganna always had the ankle-biters by her side. 

Deciding she had no interest in examining that particular revelation any further, she shook her coat out. “Naw,” she said again.  “Wanted to move.  To see.  Got used to travelling around after I left Moose’s Tooth.  Still weird, being in one place.  Despite everything.  Weird being so flat, too.” Her mouth twisted again, eyes seeking the mountain in the south.  That was here kind of place.

“Dunno.  Suppose I was looking to stretch out.  Exercise.  Train, if I could find anything worth fighting.”

bring me home, bring back what's stolen,

Capable

like you're supposed to

(This post was last modified: Jun 18, 2016, 02:39 PM by Isuni.)

A wild dissertation appears!

Her answer was well-received. The smirk grew into an appreciative grin at the winding compliment, seeing something almost like warmth in how the corner of her mouth crooked upwards. Could it be? But he would not press his luck and remark upon it, oh no, lest he crush that delicate butterfly by showing too much enthusiasm.

Fortunately, the red woman had more to say, and Craw's eyes followed her own as she glanced to the mountain, hearing her speak so candidly about their situation, about how she felt of it. He would have made some comment about that had she not ended the speech the way she did.

He huffed once in laughter, lifting his head a little, pulling back his shoulders squarely, almost as if he was preparing himself for some kind of attack. "And have you?" he asked pointedly, smiling with all his longest teeth.

Capable studied the horizon a few moments more before allowing the alpha to draw her attention back to the present.  The monadnock, she knew, was not a poor substitute, though significantly harder for a wolf to scale than even steep, rocky slopes.  A challenge, though perhaps for another day.  Even having grown on the crags of Mount Denali, she wasn’t a goat – it would take practice to learn how to defy gravity once again.

One brow quirked and the toothy grin returned, something much more wolfish about her expression at the veiled offer.

He’d changed some, Craw.  Not so blunt.  Whether this was the result of Morganna or simply the wolf he’d been underneath someone injured and hunted, she didn’t know – but she liked this version better than the pale lump she’d kept safe through the night from hunters in dusk.  “Maybe,”she replied, tail beginning to wag behind her ruddy rump.  It was an offer; she’d bet her dinner on it.  It’d been awhile since last they tussled, and really, Capable didn’t have a great deal of options among their current packmates.  “I’ll wrestle you, yeah?  Winner takes the feather there, how does that sound?”

A fight was so much more interesting when there were actually stakes.

bring me home, bring back what's stolen,

Capable

like you're supposed to

A wild dissertation appears!

@Isuni - attack is a HIT

His thinly-veiled offer was met with a grin, and with that it was settled; both wolves understood each other well enough by now not to need more explicit confirmation. It had been a while indeed, but he enjoyed wrestling with her. He liked how she didn't hold back, how her underlying, undying anger fuelled her fighting, how sometimes he wondered if she ever considered going the whole way and just killing him. In a way, he did owe his prolonged existence to her. He considered their current arrangement as payback; she'd been given a home and a purpose and not forced to partake in pack duties she didn't want to.

But he still wondered, partly because he sometimes thought the same about her.

Her tail gave her enthusiasm away, and Craw tensed just a little more, ready at any time, eyes and ears trained on what was now a (friendly) hostile target. A soft huff of laughter escaped him at her terms - sure, they could fight with stakes, especially if she was really that interested in the thing. He didn't want it, but if she did, then he did too. She was right in that conflict was more satisfying when there was something to be won.

"Deal," he wheezed, and then charged without further ceremony, not wanting to waste time posturing or dancing or blowing hot air. He wanted her on the ground, him on top, a writhing mess of teeth and limbs and growling - sheathed teeth, of course. It wouldn't do to harm her. But there was a little payback in order for the time she had bested him, and Craw was certainly a creature driven by revenge.

The feather was trivial – but what a trophy it would be when she tucked it in her ruff, a symbol of her victory.  Given, she’d have to win the damn thing first, but you would never find victory if you could not envision it first.

No sooner had Craw agreed to her terms than did the ghost fling himself forward, bolting like a bullet out of a barrel.  Isuni braced herself there, calling the bluff – but it wasn’t a bluff at all, and the full force of the wolf’s weight hit her only moments later.  A last second dodge did little except perhaps save her from going down completely, for the majority of the tackle hit the woman square in her broad chest.

A grunt escaped her as she dug her nails in, sliding and scrambling across the earth as she fought to stay upright.  Twisting her red body, Capable rocked onto her haunches and surged forward.  There was no room to gather speed, but plenty of space to surprise the alpha.  Jaws gaped open as she grabbed his ruff and puffed, trying to force the older wolf down and away, give him the upper hand in their rematch.  Perhaps friendly wasn’t quite the right word.

bring me home, bring back what's stolen,

Capable

like you're supposed to

@Craw -- She expects a bluff, but it is not!  Craw hits Capable's chest almost dead on, her attempt to escape only saves her from falling and nothing else.  (She's gonna feel that in the morning!)  She rocks back on her haunches and grabs Craw's ruff/neck as she tries to shove him down/away to gain an advantage.

A wild dissertation appears!

In the interest of reaching a minimum of 6 posts, but considering that Craw won by dice rolls at this point, we can either get into a situation where he 'wins' in my next post, and she relents in the one after?
also i'm sorry if this is confusing trying to describe fighting makes my brain melt

Any lesser wolf would not have been able to withstand a direct hit like that, but Capable was no lesser wolf. It always gave him a dark thrill to face off against her, in these not-entirely-civil matches they partook in, with a strange underlying taste of mutual antagonism. The impact drew a wonderfully gruff, involuntary sound from her and she rocked backwards, and for a moment he thought she might just barrel straight over - but then her teeth came flashing up to grab at the thick fur and skin on his neck and goodness she was strong.

Determined not to go over and lose his advantage, Craw twisted his rear around to the side she was trying to pull him down so that he could plant his hindlegs in the dirt and ground himself with them, struggling and failing to twist himself out of her grip. For several moments they were locked in a stalemate as he refused to go down but was unable to prevent her from trying, until he had had enough, and in one instant stopped pushing back with the intention of surprising her into losing her grip and distraction - and regardless he would push forward more, aiming to get his own jaws around her snout and wrestle her onto her back.