Umbra Copse full moon fever

FWD dated 5 days. Full moon Random Event, all welcome!

She traveled in the cover of the night with Aves, Sitamat, and Ataneq. The four as ever split up when the time was right to cover their bases. Siku was most interested in the offer of Phineas. In all likelihood, she would join him when the time came. She preferred Mountainous terrain, but wherever they settled would be temporary for her if she were to follow him. Siku would make her own intentions perfectly clear. It would be unfair to lie to him. And if he would not have her, someone else might, and for the time that she was there she would become their most valuable. Siku desired a place where primarily her bloodline ran. She understood she might not mother a litter this season, but the reasons for that were plenty. Her own stress levels were high; she was in a strange place on an important mission. Tartok had rooted itself in many places. Its ways were spreading. Her family, her name, and her line were, too. The purest were the ones that came from her womb; but those that she named were named because they were Tartok.

She missed them, but she was sure they were doing well.

It was cold this night. She was in a forest shrouded by fog. It reminded her of home, and so she was content here. There was a moment when the fog offered respite, moving away and allowing the moonlight to thrust itself in shards past the thick copse of trees. The light was dappled, and as the trees themselves shifted, it was gone. It likely could only be seen because it was a full moon; she was certain that light, otherwise, would not have found its way in here during the night.

The world here was considerably warmer than she had been when wandering on open terrain. The trees offered her cover, and the fog offered warmth somehow. Her scent was thick due to it, but she did not mind; while she did not care for company, she also was not in hiding.

— He arrived. Bound in subtly, the youth rebelled against his cumbersome size and moved with predatory ease. Ease, but this was far from poetic, far from a glissade or a float, a drift. This was the sleuth’s pace, of a sneak thief ready in the night. And in the distance, he had found her – the one who made him, the one whom carried this boy wonder into existence. And by this favour alone, he’d been ingratiated to her. He was her willing pet, her plaything. She was mother, she was warmth. She was nourishment, she was strength. She was all of these things, and so much more: mentor, teacher, Issumatar. These were just snippets, just pieces of a whole truth. Alone, they carried the weight, the wealth of well-told lies. But together, together they were… Well, they just simply were. They were greatness, fame. And he, my dear Sitamat, he was only a worm, an ant staring up at such greatness. He was a slave, happily bound to servitude, and love, and worship. A smile, a wolfish imp’s grin, graced the line of his mouth, the corners drifting into an upward coil at the sight of her. And his heart, just by looking upon her alone, warmed the ragged edges of his simpleton heart. His stride abandoned concealment, abandoned effort to look half as great, and leaped. It reached, and pulled him greedily towards her. Behind him, his tail gave into a pendulum sway. And upon reaching his mother, he slipped along her side, driving his nose into the warmth of her dark pelt. He spoke nothing, yet. It wasn’t necessary then. No, with his nose reaching to nudge her chin in greeting there was little else needed to be said. She’d understand, she’d know. Her little boy was just happy to see her.

(This post was last modified: Apr 04, 2013, 06:33 PM by Sitamat.)

Siku understood that she needed to learn of the others here. She did not care much for the opinions others held on her—she was never one to attempt to ingratiate herself—but it was important to know the sort of animals she was dealing with here. Having seen the wolves from the Salvajes wedge themselves among those of Seahawk, Siku could understand the threat one might feel when another power came to be from out of nowhere. Siku's power was the most frightening. It was not a simple conquest. She sought to stake a claim here, and for her family to become so large that they were a stranger to none. Her family would then spread further. Tartok would become a force, a superpower, that all would know. She shared her dreams with her cubs. It was them who would continue the legacy. Her blood. Her namesakes. Sitamat was by no means a small boy. Of her sons, he was largest in girth; he was stocky and thick, and as a cub he had been pudgy rather than muscled. Now that he was a year, this had changed; she had exercised him to his limits, and at last, she saw in him results. Her bear cub was still the largest of her sons, but it was by no means because of his gut. She could smell him now, and as he abandoned his quiet approach for a more noisy one, Siku turned her mighty head to see her large son move nearer. Perhaps the only wolves she would tolerate this sort of closeness from were her sons, but even then, affection was not something she returned willingly. Siku was cold, a low chuff being emitted; but he was an adult now, and so she did not coddle him. She had not for a long, long time. Her own tail twitched, pleased he was with her; but she, too, had nothing to say. So instead she would act, as she always had. She moved forward, beginning to walk again through the copse, again into the fog. Sitamat would be no stranger to this sort of fog. Ikiaq Forest was shrouded in it, and so she was sure her son was accustomed to being unable to see. Instead, they would rely on their nose, their ears. Ever-training. As always. xx

The doting son – always, and forever shall he be the loyal son, the amicable boy wonder. Ah, but the chuff – a greedy sound, a loathed chirp – drove him away. Puzzled, his brows furrowed, tightening so to make upon his face a thoughtful frown. He pulled away from the matriarch, his Matron, his Queen, Goddess. He watched, and waited. His eyes, warmth incarnate, swam across her very image. She, an image of strength and valor, of glory and honor; how could he not stare? And if only, if only by look alone such greatness could be passed upon someone like he, that would be grand. Simple Sitamat – that’s all he was. Simple Sita. Too-trivial-Taqukaq. Well, at least he had his good looks to fall back on, not that vanity was something the boy wonder truly understood yet. Vanity and narcissism were things he existed without, never practiced and never quite implicit when he found them in others. Often seen, but never truly known. But, this was all beside the point. These weren’t things found in mother, no. And though, she urged him away from wanting these coddles, and cuddles, pets and acts of appreciation, he was resistant to it. His head quirked to the side, cocking in thought at this. But, he understood in the end. He watched wordlessly as she acted, pulling away from him. Youthful, he wished to play. Exuberant, he had energy. But alas, with the swell of spring had come his birthday. And it was quite clear, perhaps not in that particular moment, but he was not a child any longer. With the velvet of his ears falling back into the warm spray of his coat, he moved to follow. His steps hesitant, but lacking the volume from before. No, it was clear. Her lessons had yet again begun, just as before. Before he had shed the plushness of his baby fat, before the roundness melted free of his body. She intended on him to learn something. With his frown untouched, he continued, perturbed as it were. After all, it was only natural to be concerned of what you do not know, what you cannot expect. And there, in the blistering – yet familiar – fog, Siku led him. And the loyal hound, could truly do nothing more but follow the Matron. The sway of his tail had stopped, and his head lowered itself – as though such a thing helped conceal a big brute like him.

(This post was last modified: Apr 04, 2013, 06:32 PM by Sitamat.)

Sitamat had done well to ingratiate himself with his mother. Even for those conceived of her womb, it was not an easy task. The massive she-wolf thought of her litter. They had all done well to ingratiate themselves with her, truth be told. They—so far—were beings she was glad to have brought in the world. In time, there would be true reason to be proud of them. They had much to achieve. Many battles of their own to enter. Scars to earn, to give. When she was gray and old, she would see them. Know them. Much would have changed. She was eager to see just what. They moved deeper into the Copse. This was where they would reside, she and hers, until a pack would hold them. Strong limbs carried her large body forward. Siku wondered if he missed his brothers—the runt, Tonraq, and the iceberg, Pingasut—and she wondered if she missed her sons. No, she decided, she did not. Nunataq was being trained beneath Skull, a soldier, a man of war. Sitamat had trained beneath Lasher. Ataneq, too. Lasher had made her son not-so-simple. That had been the point. Iluliaq led Tartok, now; he had become one, as they all had, and Taltos the eloquent was beneath him. Her blood would return there to rule. They knew that. Perhaps a son of her sons. Perhaps one of them. The training of the future-leaders would be extensive. Unlike Brennus the arrogant whelp who rose as a yearling to be Beta, her sons were not ignorant. But she did not pretend to herself that they were ready to lead, either. They were young. They had a long way to go. And even born leaders did not always lead at the helm from the get-go. This was her lesson to them, her family. Patience. They moved through the fog, the thick scent of prey rolling in roves around them. She was disinterested in the scent; she and her family had eaten well recently, and Siku was not greedy. They would hunt when necessary.