Post by Therdde on Jun 29, 2011 17:06:12 GMT -5
Characters:
Tyr - Male Wolf
Skahla - Male Wolf
- Wildwood Acre -
The summer is growing longer with each day but for a relatively solitary wolf there is still a degree of difficulty catching easy meals. Having managed to escape his sister's watchful eye and his brother's less than attentive watch, Tyr found his paws driving him strangely north. Perhaps he had forgotten about Ute's wrathful spirit, or perhaps he remembered it too well and didn't count on Anu following him this way. With a bit of tracking and a quick, exciting hunt, the dark wolf managed to snag himself a yearling hare that just wasn't quick enough to escape underground. The wolf stood over it protectively, his head bowed as he devoured his territory-poached meal, his ears erect for any unfriendly approach. Not that Ute held anything against him but his years in the northern lands did not allow him to relax his guard much at all.
For a time, now, Skahla has been looking to pick any fight he can. He has tried his absolute best to keep himself from taking that mood out on his packmates, but that has not left him many options. How lucky for him, then, that some foreign wolf might come and give him plenty of excuse to start a fight, even if it is a fight he cannot win. Skahla, after all, has a decided lack of experience in true, adult fighting, although he has had plenty of practice. With the scent of blood and an unrecognized wolf carried to him on a breeze, the young alpha stalks in Tyr's direction, taking no extraordinary precautions to disguise his approach.
He is certainly consumed in his meal, his eyes ablaze with the taste of blood on his tongue but he would be a poor solider, and a dead one, if he didn't know to recognize the sound of such an unmasked approach. He looks up from his kill, the fire in his eyes seeking the source of the disturbance. The young wolf enters his sights well after he has heard and caught the scent of him, and a cursory glance of the other leaves him with a snap decision about his intentions. "Ah wouldn' bother wit' eet, boy," Tyr drawls, his thick northern tongue still slick with blood as he rolls his shoulders forward in a subtle display of dominance. "Ah don' much feel like sharin' t'day." This boy is not Hahtalekin and he will not bow away from his kill.
A comforting anger settles over the young male, and with a growl, he responds, "Neither do I." One thing Skahla worries about regularly is food, and for a wolf who tends not to worry about anything, that makes it very easy for him to justify fighting over even such a small thing as a hare. As he approaches Tyr, he holds his tail and ears erect, and he keeps his gaze on the older male. At least the boy is bright enough that he doesn't rush directly for the stranger, since though this may be quite the foolish act on his part, he truly isn't looking to get himself killed.
There is a quick flash of his fangs as Tyr's upper lip curls up in distaste and then falls back down; another short warning that the dark wolf really, really doesn't want to share. He watches the younger wolf, his nose widening to scent the air between them. Dominance is thick but there is an uncertainty of thought that betrays the other, allowing Tyr the confidence to mirror Skahla's defiant tone. "Ay, so best be on yer way. Y'ain't alpha 'ere, pup, an' you ain't much cut yer milk teeth let alone be right in the mind enough t'be takin' a meal from me." Again his shoulders roll forward, the hair along his spine shivering, his head erect. Tyr isn't much more than a year or so older than his would be challenger but he's damned sure he could beat him in a fight if he had to. "Think about eet a'minute 'n'ask yerself if y'really think eet's a good idear."
"I /am/ the alpha here," Skahla growls in return, as he takes a menacing step toward Tyr, watching closely for the attack that he knows is coming, but more comfortable in prepared reaction than in action, so that he does not attack first. "And even if I weren't, this is /my/ pack's land, which gives me more of a right to it than you have."
Tyr issues a derisive snort and is quick to follow it with a dark chuckle. "Careful, pup, where I come from 'tis death t'any that pretends t'be alpha when ee shore is not." He holds his ground over what is left of the hare, unwilling to back down but also silently challenging the youngest to play his hand against him. As his eyes examine Skahla, it is clear in his hesitation, a subtle shift in the intensity of his display, and the lack of conviction behind his words all scream to him that this pup is either looking for an easy meal or out for some fun; either way, Tyr doesn't feel like playing. "Ah've spoken wit' Hahterlahkin," he drawls, "an' 'is mate; they ain't you, boy-o." Now he almost sounds amused, though his relaxed grin belies then tension in his shoulders. Waiting. "An' Ah doubt y'bested that wolf in brains or brawn, so you'd best stop prentendin' before someone takes yer bluff seriously." There is a distinct pause, then with a sparkle in his eye and a roughish swish of his tail, Tyr offers. "Come oon, ah'll split wot's left if yer really -that- poached of 'unger."
"They /were/ my parents." And having them brought up is, unfortunately, the last thing Skahla wanted or could handle. With a growl filled with a combination of anger and pain, Skahla flings himself at this foreign wolf, no longer willing to be cautious. It is, of course, the attack of an angry child, even if it has an adult's weight and dangerous teeth behind it, something that would have been easily put down were Skahla to have tried it against any of the more experienced adults withing the pack. Like, for instance, his father, when he was still living.
He misjudged the younger just a little. Anu would have a field day of that if she saw. Luckily, she didn't. Caught off guard for a moment, Skahla's enraged charge hits him with full force, though he moved to try and avoid it, their shoulders crash into one another though Tyr only issues a grunt of discomfort. He takes a few wild bites to his shoulder and neck, snarling in irritation, before with as much muscle as he can muster, digs his hind legs into the ground and shoves forward with a throat-ripping snarl. He swings his head away from Skahla's jaws and then sends his skull, club-like, toward the other's own head and neck, his own muzzle snapping and slavering for a solid bite -- one that will hurt but unlikely damage -- Angry youth. He knows it well.
Skahla is thrown back by the older male's shove, which gives Tyr plenty of room to maneuver and land his own painful bites. Ah, but this sort of pain, the kind disconnected from emotional turmoil, he can handle, as it is not the first time he has had his skin torn open, much less simply bruised. Skahla looks away to protect his eyes from the other male's teeth, before crouching in order to spring the short distance forward to the other male again, foolishly hoping to use his weight, which is no greater than Tyr's, and his momentum, which is pathetic with the amount of room he had, to bowl the other male over. What he really does, without realizing it, is compromise his footing for, likely, no gain at all.
Parry, parry, thrust, dodge -- and the tell. Loose footing and a quick step away from the battle rather than into it allows Tyr to avoid most of Skahla's attempt, though he barks in annoyance as sharp teeth continue to find purchase in his skin and tear away at his thick coat. He shoves again, this time to the side, trying to use the other's own forward motion and lack of footing to turn the tide and get the other to the ground. His mouth is drawn tight in anger and his ears slicked back, and he fights with a strange kind of stillness in his eyes as if he really doesn't enjoy it.
Skahla may not have been moving quickly enough to achieve his own goal, but he was moving quickly enough that, when he is thrown to the ground, it /hurts/, especially over the bruises he's already gotten from Tyr's teeth. Despite the yelp that accompanies his feet coming out from under him, the growling does not cease, and he immediately struggles in an attempt to get back to his feet, but his surprise limits his ability significantly.
Instinct. Training. It is hard for him to distinguish the two sometimes, but with that almost dead and calculating stare, Tyr turns and makes to pin the boy to the ground where he fell, his jaws snapping in Skahla's face and his forepaws trying to pin him still. His own father would have killed the boy on the spot, and frighteningly so the thought occurs to him for the briefest moment in time, but he continues to try keep his own balance and forcing the other into submission. He has a few choice words but keeps them tightly lipped until the risk of injury has subsided.
Unfortunately, the delay in trying to get his own feet underneath him again gives Tyr plenty of time to pin the younger male to the ground, and Skahla is left struggling more to try to save himself from injury from those snapping teeth than in order to free himself. The boy still growls, his ears slicked back against his head, making it clear that, were Tyr not holding him down, there would be no submission on Skahla's part, but he does not continue trying to bite at the older male, mostly because he's too busy trying to protect his face.
"Knock it off 'fore I knock wot's left of yer damn brain out o'yer skull!" Tyr shouts, his voice strained with the continued exertion of trying to keep Skahla in his place. "Yer a daft damn fool, s'what yer are, an' I 'ave 'alf a mind t'kill yer now! It's a damn good thing yer father's dead 'cause he ain't wantin' t'see 'is fool son die over a piece o'meat not worth spittin' at." Tyr snaps his teeth again, almost falling on Skahla with his weight as he brings his muzzle close, dark and angry eyes staring down the length of his nose. His voice drops from a snarl to a dangerous whisper with the cadence of his words marked by a low and constant rumble in his chest. "My alpha'd not think twice 'bout breakin' yer sorry neck an' leavin' ye for th'birds. Even 'is son. I ain't here fer you, an' I ain't here fer no one, an' I ain't answerin' t'no one. If yer alpha really is dead, then you'd better learn the rules of the game, boyo. An' fast. An' you'd better play the game better'n'anyone else, 'cause when someone comes'n'breaks the rules, they're out fer your life. Now, Ah'm gonner let yer up, an' you can 'ave the damn 'are fer all I care, but you'd best wisen up, puck, and pick yer battles wit' yer brain."
The shouting ends Skahla's growling quickly, though no sooner does he look at the male who has him pinned before he flinches away from those snapping teeth once more. Though pained by the statement that his actions would shame his father, unlike when Shawnee was shouting at him, the other day... Skahla actually listens, now. It is much easier to do so, after all, when the one yelling at him is not someone he had previously trusted to sympathize with him, even if she does think he's useless. With his struggling ceased, save for his occasional attempts to push himself further into the ground, and further away from Tyr's teeth, Skahla responds with, of all the things he could possibly say, "What are you here for, then?" Apparently, this wolf's lack of respect for a meaningless title no longer bothers the new alpha. After all, Skahla has just been thoroughly and quickly beaten, and he knows enough that to try to force his dominance after such a thing has happened.
Submission is easy but it is undesireable for any creature. His diatribe quite finished, Tyr pushes away from Skahla with a dismissive snort. "Who cares?" is his initial response, feeling no obligation to explain himself to Ute's supposed new alpha. The alpha he quickly put in his place. He shakes out his coat and nibbles at a particularly ginger spot on his shoulder, frowning and huffing slightly before another shake of his pelt and a hefty plunk on his hind end. Tyr's sudden and relaxed demeanour is a polar opposite to a moment ago that it may as well be a different wolf. He blinks, smacks his lips, scratches at his belly with a hind paw, and then lands his eyes on Skahla's face once more. "Ah -was- eaten a quick meal 'til you decided to dance wit' me." He is curious, though, and his attitude shifts toward the slightly more serious spectrum. "Ute's alpha was a good'un. Wot's a pack doin' wit' an alpha like you -- Ah tell yer, pup, when Ah come from yer'd be as dead as that 'are by now."
To his credit, when Skahla works up the nerve to roll away from Tyr and put what he imagines to be a safe distance between them, he moves well away from Tyr's unfinished meal, and when he stands, he does so without and displays of dominance that might cause Tyr to repeat what was a vary painful lesson... even when Tyr justifiably insults his ability as alpha, though it's clear that he finds the too-truthful statement distasteful. "I... I wasn't supposed to be. Yet. Not until next year. But..." But then his father died, and even with the surprising amount of open honesty Skhala shows to begin with, he still cannot talk so easily of his father's death, nor look at the other male when thinking of it.
Blink. Blinkblink. A long silence follows Skahla's admission though it is difficult to accurately determine the emotion playing out behind Tyr's eyes. Outwardly, his face remains neutral, but the play between his eyes is fast and mixed. Then, with a distinct dilberateness in his voice, response, "Ah ain't known o'no alpha -given- 'is position. 'Ee takes eet. None such is -given-." Blink. What kind of pack is Ute, spirits and freely dispensing in their titles? Whatever caused Hahtalekin's death was not another wolf, he can be sure of that much, else his son would not be in the position he finds himself in now. Tyr takes a deep breath and allows it to seep out between his teeth. "Hnn," he grunts, considering his words, then with a sigh and a rolling of his shoulders to relieve the tension that has built there, says, "Well, boyo, this is where y'find yerself... wot're y'goin' t'do 'bout eet?"
"I wasn't /given/ it. I /earned/ it. And I'm still earning it." So he didn't exactly take it, no, least of all by attacking and besting his father, but despite this fight he just lost, he still has some confidence in his ability to keep his position. "/You/ might have beaten me, but no one in Ute can. Not in the ways that matter. And they'll support me, because... because Ute protects its own." His mate more than himself, sure, and he's not entirely proud of admitting that he has to rely on his pack more than, maybe, he should, in dealing with outside threats, but... well, there it is.
"Y'are tryin' t'convince me or yerself?" Tyr responds, one ear canting to the side in his curiosity. "Tell me, then, Ute alpha, wot is eet -exactly- that y'earned." The northern wolf isn't so sure that Skahla really knows what it is he has, or has earned, or has yet to earn, or yet even to understand what it is to be an alpha. Not that Tyr knows any better for he's never held that title between his fangs, though he certainly could have once upon a time.
This one, he has an answer for, and a good answer at that, he thinks. "I earned the right to help my pack survive, physically and spiritually. To make decisions that will keep us in good health." The making good decisions part will likely continue to prove Skahla's weakness, but he truly is in this to see Ute thrive as it was intended to, with the spirit of his mate's ancestors kept strong. It is, he thinks, a position befitting an Ute alpha. A position that would have made the alphas he has heard stories about, like Skelaghe and Shawnee's aunt and uncle, proud.
Tyr snorts, attempting to hold in an outright laugh, and failing. He barks a short, biting laugh, and shakes his head. Ute certainly has spirits, he's seen that, but the boy -- "Y'seem t'me t'be a bit o'an idealist." Tyr shakes his head. "In a perfect forest, aye, you'd do well -- but Ah'm sorry t'say this ain't yer perfect forest. An alpha -is-, boy. Y'just know by their command, their body'n'mind; spirit if y'want call eet that. Y'aren't more'n'a yearling; s'all I see in y'now and 'tis all I saw when yer eyein' me dinner. Shore, I know Ah'm huntin' on Ute lands but iff'n a real alpha'd shown up I woulda' bowed out an left fer another hunt. But. Ah didn't." He leaves the 'because' unspoken, implied with a lift of his brow. "Alpha's a lonely creature."
"Fine. Why don't you teach me to be an alpha like your alpha, then?" Because while Skahla is truly interested in upholding the spiritual ideals of his pack... he does need to be able to keep them physically safe, as well. He has none of Askuwheteau's delusions that he'll ever be able to fight off a bear, but another wolf, like Tyr? Well, yes, he needs to be able to protect from that, instead of getting by on hope that, next time, an invading wolf will be as willing to back down as Tyr was.
"I ain't no teacher, just like I ain't no alpha." Tyr stands, shaking his head and chuckling at the boy's response. He turns his back on him, confident that he will not charge a second time, and noses at his kill now with disinterest. He picks at it with his front teeth for a second and then with a sigh looks over his shoulder. "An' I ain't got no alpha. No more'n'not again. My father woulda' tore yer throat open wit'out waitin'. I ain't got no wish t'see an alpha like 'im ever again." Then the solider-wolf laughs, "But next time use yer damn 'ead 'afore yer teeth," and he turns as though to make his way south and once again away from Ute.
It is sound advice, but Skahla still rankles from the whole encounter. He doesn't stop the other male, though. No, there is much this whole meeting has given him to think about, already, so after watching Tyr walk away for a while, Skahla turns to head northward... only to wince as he gets a reminder of how backly he was actually beaten.
Tyr - Male Wolf
Skahla - Male Wolf
- Wildwood Acre -
The summer is growing longer with each day but for a relatively solitary wolf there is still a degree of difficulty catching easy meals. Having managed to escape his sister's watchful eye and his brother's less than attentive watch, Tyr found his paws driving him strangely north. Perhaps he had forgotten about Ute's wrathful spirit, or perhaps he remembered it too well and didn't count on Anu following him this way. With a bit of tracking and a quick, exciting hunt, the dark wolf managed to snag himself a yearling hare that just wasn't quick enough to escape underground. The wolf stood over it protectively, his head bowed as he devoured his territory-poached meal, his ears erect for any unfriendly approach. Not that Ute held anything against him but his years in the northern lands did not allow him to relax his guard much at all.
For a time, now, Skahla has been looking to pick any fight he can. He has tried his absolute best to keep himself from taking that mood out on his packmates, but that has not left him many options. How lucky for him, then, that some foreign wolf might come and give him plenty of excuse to start a fight, even if it is a fight he cannot win. Skahla, after all, has a decided lack of experience in true, adult fighting, although he has had plenty of practice. With the scent of blood and an unrecognized wolf carried to him on a breeze, the young alpha stalks in Tyr's direction, taking no extraordinary precautions to disguise his approach.
He is certainly consumed in his meal, his eyes ablaze with the taste of blood on his tongue but he would be a poor solider, and a dead one, if he didn't know to recognize the sound of such an unmasked approach. He looks up from his kill, the fire in his eyes seeking the source of the disturbance. The young wolf enters his sights well after he has heard and caught the scent of him, and a cursory glance of the other leaves him with a snap decision about his intentions. "Ah wouldn' bother wit' eet, boy," Tyr drawls, his thick northern tongue still slick with blood as he rolls his shoulders forward in a subtle display of dominance. "Ah don' much feel like sharin' t'day." This boy is not Hahtalekin and he will not bow away from his kill.
A comforting anger settles over the young male, and with a growl, he responds, "Neither do I." One thing Skahla worries about regularly is food, and for a wolf who tends not to worry about anything, that makes it very easy for him to justify fighting over even such a small thing as a hare. As he approaches Tyr, he holds his tail and ears erect, and he keeps his gaze on the older male. At least the boy is bright enough that he doesn't rush directly for the stranger, since though this may be quite the foolish act on his part, he truly isn't looking to get himself killed.
There is a quick flash of his fangs as Tyr's upper lip curls up in distaste and then falls back down; another short warning that the dark wolf really, really doesn't want to share. He watches the younger wolf, his nose widening to scent the air between them. Dominance is thick but there is an uncertainty of thought that betrays the other, allowing Tyr the confidence to mirror Skahla's defiant tone. "Ay, so best be on yer way. Y'ain't alpha 'ere, pup, an' you ain't much cut yer milk teeth let alone be right in the mind enough t'be takin' a meal from me." Again his shoulders roll forward, the hair along his spine shivering, his head erect. Tyr isn't much more than a year or so older than his would be challenger but he's damned sure he could beat him in a fight if he had to. "Think about eet a'minute 'n'ask yerself if y'really think eet's a good idear."
"I /am/ the alpha here," Skahla growls in return, as he takes a menacing step toward Tyr, watching closely for the attack that he knows is coming, but more comfortable in prepared reaction than in action, so that he does not attack first. "And even if I weren't, this is /my/ pack's land, which gives me more of a right to it than you have."
Tyr issues a derisive snort and is quick to follow it with a dark chuckle. "Careful, pup, where I come from 'tis death t'any that pretends t'be alpha when ee shore is not." He holds his ground over what is left of the hare, unwilling to back down but also silently challenging the youngest to play his hand against him. As his eyes examine Skahla, it is clear in his hesitation, a subtle shift in the intensity of his display, and the lack of conviction behind his words all scream to him that this pup is either looking for an easy meal or out for some fun; either way, Tyr doesn't feel like playing. "Ah've spoken wit' Hahterlahkin," he drawls, "an' 'is mate; they ain't you, boy-o." Now he almost sounds amused, though his relaxed grin belies then tension in his shoulders. Waiting. "An' Ah doubt y'bested that wolf in brains or brawn, so you'd best stop prentendin' before someone takes yer bluff seriously." There is a distinct pause, then with a sparkle in his eye and a roughish swish of his tail, Tyr offers. "Come oon, ah'll split wot's left if yer really -that- poached of 'unger."
"They /were/ my parents." And having them brought up is, unfortunately, the last thing Skahla wanted or could handle. With a growl filled with a combination of anger and pain, Skahla flings himself at this foreign wolf, no longer willing to be cautious. It is, of course, the attack of an angry child, even if it has an adult's weight and dangerous teeth behind it, something that would have been easily put down were Skahla to have tried it against any of the more experienced adults withing the pack. Like, for instance, his father, when he was still living.
He misjudged the younger just a little. Anu would have a field day of that if she saw. Luckily, she didn't. Caught off guard for a moment, Skahla's enraged charge hits him with full force, though he moved to try and avoid it, their shoulders crash into one another though Tyr only issues a grunt of discomfort. He takes a few wild bites to his shoulder and neck, snarling in irritation, before with as much muscle as he can muster, digs his hind legs into the ground and shoves forward with a throat-ripping snarl. He swings his head away from Skahla's jaws and then sends his skull, club-like, toward the other's own head and neck, his own muzzle snapping and slavering for a solid bite -- one that will hurt but unlikely damage -- Angry youth. He knows it well.
Skahla is thrown back by the older male's shove, which gives Tyr plenty of room to maneuver and land his own painful bites. Ah, but this sort of pain, the kind disconnected from emotional turmoil, he can handle, as it is not the first time he has had his skin torn open, much less simply bruised. Skahla looks away to protect his eyes from the other male's teeth, before crouching in order to spring the short distance forward to the other male again, foolishly hoping to use his weight, which is no greater than Tyr's, and his momentum, which is pathetic with the amount of room he had, to bowl the other male over. What he really does, without realizing it, is compromise his footing for, likely, no gain at all.
Parry, parry, thrust, dodge -- and the tell. Loose footing and a quick step away from the battle rather than into it allows Tyr to avoid most of Skahla's attempt, though he barks in annoyance as sharp teeth continue to find purchase in his skin and tear away at his thick coat. He shoves again, this time to the side, trying to use the other's own forward motion and lack of footing to turn the tide and get the other to the ground. His mouth is drawn tight in anger and his ears slicked back, and he fights with a strange kind of stillness in his eyes as if he really doesn't enjoy it.
Skahla may not have been moving quickly enough to achieve his own goal, but he was moving quickly enough that, when he is thrown to the ground, it /hurts/, especially over the bruises he's already gotten from Tyr's teeth. Despite the yelp that accompanies his feet coming out from under him, the growling does not cease, and he immediately struggles in an attempt to get back to his feet, but his surprise limits his ability significantly.
Instinct. Training. It is hard for him to distinguish the two sometimes, but with that almost dead and calculating stare, Tyr turns and makes to pin the boy to the ground where he fell, his jaws snapping in Skahla's face and his forepaws trying to pin him still. His own father would have killed the boy on the spot, and frighteningly so the thought occurs to him for the briefest moment in time, but he continues to try keep his own balance and forcing the other into submission. He has a few choice words but keeps them tightly lipped until the risk of injury has subsided.
Unfortunately, the delay in trying to get his own feet underneath him again gives Tyr plenty of time to pin the younger male to the ground, and Skahla is left struggling more to try to save himself from injury from those snapping teeth than in order to free himself. The boy still growls, his ears slicked back against his head, making it clear that, were Tyr not holding him down, there would be no submission on Skahla's part, but he does not continue trying to bite at the older male, mostly because he's too busy trying to protect his face.
"Knock it off 'fore I knock wot's left of yer damn brain out o'yer skull!" Tyr shouts, his voice strained with the continued exertion of trying to keep Skahla in his place. "Yer a daft damn fool, s'what yer are, an' I 'ave 'alf a mind t'kill yer now! It's a damn good thing yer father's dead 'cause he ain't wantin' t'see 'is fool son die over a piece o'meat not worth spittin' at." Tyr snaps his teeth again, almost falling on Skahla with his weight as he brings his muzzle close, dark and angry eyes staring down the length of his nose. His voice drops from a snarl to a dangerous whisper with the cadence of his words marked by a low and constant rumble in his chest. "My alpha'd not think twice 'bout breakin' yer sorry neck an' leavin' ye for th'birds. Even 'is son. I ain't here fer you, an' I ain't here fer no one, an' I ain't answerin' t'no one. If yer alpha really is dead, then you'd better learn the rules of the game, boyo. An' fast. An' you'd better play the game better'n'anyone else, 'cause when someone comes'n'breaks the rules, they're out fer your life. Now, Ah'm gonner let yer up, an' you can 'ave the damn 'are fer all I care, but you'd best wisen up, puck, and pick yer battles wit' yer brain."
The shouting ends Skahla's growling quickly, though no sooner does he look at the male who has him pinned before he flinches away from those snapping teeth once more. Though pained by the statement that his actions would shame his father, unlike when Shawnee was shouting at him, the other day... Skahla actually listens, now. It is much easier to do so, after all, when the one yelling at him is not someone he had previously trusted to sympathize with him, even if she does think he's useless. With his struggling ceased, save for his occasional attempts to push himself further into the ground, and further away from Tyr's teeth, Skahla responds with, of all the things he could possibly say, "What are you here for, then?" Apparently, this wolf's lack of respect for a meaningless title no longer bothers the new alpha. After all, Skahla has just been thoroughly and quickly beaten, and he knows enough that to try to force his dominance after such a thing has happened.
Submission is easy but it is undesireable for any creature. His diatribe quite finished, Tyr pushes away from Skahla with a dismissive snort. "Who cares?" is his initial response, feeling no obligation to explain himself to Ute's supposed new alpha. The alpha he quickly put in his place. He shakes out his coat and nibbles at a particularly ginger spot on his shoulder, frowning and huffing slightly before another shake of his pelt and a hefty plunk on his hind end. Tyr's sudden and relaxed demeanour is a polar opposite to a moment ago that it may as well be a different wolf. He blinks, smacks his lips, scratches at his belly with a hind paw, and then lands his eyes on Skahla's face once more. "Ah -was- eaten a quick meal 'til you decided to dance wit' me." He is curious, though, and his attitude shifts toward the slightly more serious spectrum. "Ute's alpha was a good'un. Wot's a pack doin' wit' an alpha like you -- Ah tell yer, pup, when Ah come from yer'd be as dead as that 'are by now."
To his credit, when Skahla works up the nerve to roll away from Tyr and put what he imagines to be a safe distance between them, he moves well away from Tyr's unfinished meal, and when he stands, he does so without and displays of dominance that might cause Tyr to repeat what was a vary painful lesson... even when Tyr justifiably insults his ability as alpha, though it's clear that he finds the too-truthful statement distasteful. "I... I wasn't supposed to be. Yet. Not until next year. But..." But then his father died, and even with the surprising amount of open honesty Skhala shows to begin with, he still cannot talk so easily of his father's death, nor look at the other male when thinking of it.
Blink. Blinkblink. A long silence follows Skahla's admission though it is difficult to accurately determine the emotion playing out behind Tyr's eyes. Outwardly, his face remains neutral, but the play between his eyes is fast and mixed. Then, with a distinct dilberateness in his voice, response, "Ah ain't known o'no alpha -given- 'is position. 'Ee takes eet. None such is -given-." Blink. What kind of pack is Ute, spirits and freely dispensing in their titles? Whatever caused Hahtalekin's death was not another wolf, he can be sure of that much, else his son would not be in the position he finds himself in now. Tyr takes a deep breath and allows it to seep out between his teeth. "Hnn," he grunts, considering his words, then with a sigh and a rolling of his shoulders to relieve the tension that has built there, says, "Well, boyo, this is where y'find yerself... wot're y'goin' t'do 'bout eet?"
"I wasn't /given/ it. I /earned/ it. And I'm still earning it." So he didn't exactly take it, no, least of all by attacking and besting his father, but despite this fight he just lost, he still has some confidence in his ability to keep his position. "/You/ might have beaten me, but no one in Ute can. Not in the ways that matter. And they'll support me, because... because Ute protects its own." His mate more than himself, sure, and he's not entirely proud of admitting that he has to rely on his pack more than, maybe, he should, in dealing with outside threats, but... well, there it is.
"Y'are tryin' t'convince me or yerself?" Tyr responds, one ear canting to the side in his curiosity. "Tell me, then, Ute alpha, wot is eet -exactly- that y'earned." The northern wolf isn't so sure that Skahla really knows what it is he has, or has earned, or has yet to earn, or yet even to understand what it is to be an alpha. Not that Tyr knows any better for he's never held that title between his fangs, though he certainly could have once upon a time.
This one, he has an answer for, and a good answer at that, he thinks. "I earned the right to help my pack survive, physically and spiritually. To make decisions that will keep us in good health." The making good decisions part will likely continue to prove Skahla's weakness, but he truly is in this to see Ute thrive as it was intended to, with the spirit of his mate's ancestors kept strong. It is, he thinks, a position befitting an Ute alpha. A position that would have made the alphas he has heard stories about, like Skelaghe and Shawnee's aunt and uncle, proud.
Tyr snorts, attempting to hold in an outright laugh, and failing. He barks a short, biting laugh, and shakes his head. Ute certainly has spirits, he's seen that, but the boy -- "Y'seem t'me t'be a bit o'an idealist." Tyr shakes his head. "In a perfect forest, aye, you'd do well -- but Ah'm sorry t'say this ain't yer perfect forest. An alpha -is-, boy. Y'just know by their command, their body'n'mind; spirit if y'want call eet that. Y'aren't more'n'a yearling; s'all I see in y'now and 'tis all I saw when yer eyein' me dinner. Shore, I know Ah'm huntin' on Ute lands but iff'n a real alpha'd shown up I woulda' bowed out an left fer another hunt. But. Ah didn't." He leaves the 'because' unspoken, implied with a lift of his brow. "Alpha's a lonely creature."
"Fine. Why don't you teach me to be an alpha like your alpha, then?" Because while Skahla is truly interested in upholding the spiritual ideals of his pack... he does need to be able to keep them physically safe, as well. He has none of Askuwheteau's delusions that he'll ever be able to fight off a bear, but another wolf, like Tyr? Well, yes, he needs to be able to protect from that, instead of getting by on hope that, next time, an invading wolf will be as willing to back down as Tyr was.
"I ain't no teacher, just like I ain't no alpha." Tyr stands, shaking his head and chuckling at the boy's response. He turns his back on him, confident that he will not charge a second time, and noses at his kill now with disinterest. He picks at it with his front teeth for a second and then with a sigh looks over his shoulder. "An' I ain't got no alpha. No more'n'not again. My father woulda' tore yer throat open wit'out waitin'. I ain't got no wish t'see an alpha like 'im ever again." Then the solider-wolf laughs, "But next time use yer damn 'ead 'afore yer teeth," and he turns as though to make his way south and once again away from Ute.
It is sound advice, but Skahla still rankles from the whole encounter. He doesn't stop the other male, though. No, there is much this whole meeting has given him to think about, already, so after watching Tyr walk away for a while, Skahla turns to head northward... only to wince as he gets a reminder of how backly he was actually beaten.