Shall We Play?

[solta]

The quite rush of the river was always a draw. If not for the water it held, then for the fish hiding in it's wake which made an easy dinner for a tired wolf. For now, Solta was using it just to quench her thirst. Her head was bent to the surface, slowly lapping up her fill as her claws stretched and tug into the damp earth. To the casual observer, she might have seemed totally unguarded, perhaps an easy target of attack. But she wasn't. Her ears were up and alert, swiveling to meet each tiny sound. This was not an easy wolf to sneak up on. Her breed had excellent hearing normally, and hears was better than most. Several moments passed in this easy silence while the she wolf sated herself, until finally she lifted her head and looked around.

This place really was quite beautiful, she decided as she licked what droplets remained around her muzzle. It's only scar was the ashes that surrounded the volcano, testament to it's recent irruption. Not that she found the ash a bad thing. It had been rather useful in her stay. Solta had taken to rolling about in it to mask her scent while she spied on the resident pack. An effective, if crude, method to remain mainly undetected. The dusty stuff was so heavily scented with the smell of the volcano and that distinctive smell that soot had, that her own personal smell had all but disappeared. With careful management, she'd managed to stay hidden, and as far as she could tell whatever soot-soaked footprints had been left behind had been attributed to some other form of life. A cat of some sort, perhaps, or a large fox.

Not that the method was enjoyable. She'd had to take trips no further apart than once a day up into the mess, which had exposed her for brief spans of time. The wolf knew well enough that her white belly and legs stood out against the dark backdrop she was rolling in. Besides that, it also left her feeling itchy and out of sorts. It wasn't just the other wolves that she hid her scent from, after all. She was having a bit of a hard time smelling herself. Since she'd come here, she'd taken to having to use her ears to hunt, rather than her usual nosing out the prey. Oh, well. She gave a mental shrug and started on down the river. Usually she was careful to hide her footprints, taking special care to walk in the hard earth rather than mud like she was now.

It didn't matter anymore. She'd had enough of observation from afar. There was only so much a wolf could learn that way. She'd been observant, a living ghost, and careful to stay well away from anyone who happened to be away from the main body of the pack. She'd tried to leave no traces of her existence in this land. Hopefully, when she came across the pack today, and it would be today, they would think Solta had only just arrived here. That was the way she wanted it. No reason for them to know that they'd been watched for the better part of a month.

An itch made her stop, and as she rubbed away the annoyance behind her ear, the she wolf growled softly to herself. "Blasted soot." Such a nuisance. Then she stopped, her hind foot still resting against her ear. Now that would be a dead giveaway, wouldn't it? Odd for a wolf who was just coming into the territory to be covered with the soot that came from the heart of the packs lands. That would never do. She'd give herself away before she'd even begun! Her foot dropped and Solta bounded into the river, making as much noise as a puppy. For once, she really didn't care if she was heard. After all, today was the day she'd be facing the pack, whether it was by going to them herself or by them finding her. Beyond that, it really did feel good to get the grime and ash out of her coat. It seemed like forever since she'd felt so refreshed.

Well pleased with herself, she finally padded out of the river, relishing the cool air in her wet fur. Winter was her time, and her time was coming. She may have despised the cold, but it was the easiest time for her, when the snow and slumbering trees blended perfectly with her coloring. Game may have been sparse during the winter, but it was during this time that Solta truly thrived. Mulling over the coming days, the she wolf laid down on a rock jutting out over the river, allowing her fur to dry before continuing on. No reason to get more mud on her legs than she had to. Maybe she'd take a nap, she thought, laying her head down on her paws.

[irirangi]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,475,true][atrb=background,http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee114/MorningFever/Anikira/IriTable.png,true] Another month had passed in relative peace, the wolves of Zahir living in blissful boredom. Irirangi was out yet again, roaming the lands on her own. Despite her time spent with the pack she still had yet to fully squash her longing for solitude. Independence ran hot in her veins, a trait that had kept her alive for so long. If it was not for the spirit of Alya always watching her every move, she most likely would have never stayed. But the deceased alphess had needed her body and voice, and the time spent in the company of Kaoru, Dura, Vee, and his son had caused the strange little family to grow on her. Even with Alya no longer possessing her the Occasus had become too much her home. Thus, instead of wandering all of Anikira like she had in the past, the leggy female now wandered the territory, often reinforcing borders and occasionally gathering herbs. Her position as beta had caused her herbal knowledge to rust, not that the pack had needed such care now that the war had ended. Zahir had been so peaceful it was almost disconcerting. "We have a visitor, Puppet." The lingering voice of Alya caused the Maned wolf to stop. She'd spent a better part of her time meandering along the river, enjoying the comforts of the water as she listened to various spirits chatter as noisily as the birds. Cold silver eyes fixated upon the ghost that floated along by her side. Until now the apparition had been unusually silent, a bemused grin playing upon her Iranian maw. Iri hadn't thought much of it, glad for some peace of mind. Now, however, she knew something was up. Once again Alya wasn't telling her everything. Growling slightly, a single word left her lips in a questioning manner. "Alya?" Her tone was laced with an unspoken threat, demanding information that had been withheld. She and the former alphess rarely saw eye-to-eye; now was no exception. Whatever intruder she was on her way to deal with was no ordinary stranger. Without even meeting it had earned Alya's approval. Such a sign was not to be taken lightly. The Iranian only continued to smirk, her head nodding in the direction they were headed. Unlike her living companion, Alya had a free range of the lands and many sleepless nights to wander. The Mexican voyeur had not escaped her careful eye. When she wasn't lurking in the dens (listening to the daily pack chatter) or accompanying Iri fir the sake of having someone to converse with, she'd taking to watching their unannounced guest. The female had intrigued her greatly, especially her ability to remain in their lands for so long undetected. Had her careful watched of the intruder not lead her to the conclusion of mostly harmless, she would have voiced her concerns sooner. Only now that they were in range of the stranger's dwelling place did she bother to speak with the one who conversed with her most easily. Alya was smug in her secrecy too, enjoying how it only served to further irk her unwilling host. "Alya," Iri growled again, though this time is was more to show her discontent. She continued to glare at the ghost, letting her feet follow the familiar trails as they approached whoever it was that lingered just ahead. Only when the scent of wet dog hit her nose did she become more alert, senses focusing more on her surroundings than they did the ethereal chuckling of her unwanted companion. Coming into view was a soggy looking female seeming to enjoy herself on the pack's side of the bank. Instantly her posture changed, head and tail rising in a display of dominance. A cruel smile twisted up her maw as she approached the stranger, sarcasm dripping off her words. "Are you sure this is the first impression you wish to be making on Zahir?"

[solta]

A twitch of an ear was the only evidence Solta gave that she was aware of a presence other than her own in the nearby wilderness. The wolf held perfectly still on her rock, her eyes closed except for the smallest slit. For all intents and purposes, she seemed entirely asleep. She kept her body perfectly relaxed, mimicking the feel of when she was just waking up, or just falling asleep. For several moments she stayed that way, waiting, tracking the other presence with her hearing more than anything else. Just because she was playing possum didn't mean she had to be totally unprepared. Besides, it really was nice here. Maybe one day she really would come back to nap on the sunny rock.

It wasn't until this new female spoke to her that Solta decided it was time to end her play sleep. Still, she did it in such a way that it appeared that the rude welcome really had awoken her. She lifted her head and yawned, then slowly stood and stretched out her back in that way that only the canine had. Taking another second, she shook out her coat, sending a mist of dampness out around her. Then, and only then, did she acknowledge the maned wolf. "Are you sure this is the first impression you wish to be making on an innocent traveler?" she countered the question, mimicking it back at her word for word.

Solta looked her over with a carefully neutral expression, that slowly turned into a sneer. "Do you honestly think your posturing means anything to me? I am not a part of your pack. Don't waste your time on meaningless gestures." Finally, she decided to move their meeting to equal ground, jumping the short distance to the ground with a twitch of her tail. She ended up landing in the mud, a strategic gesture she had planned before moving, and picked her way daintily out of the muck. It was all for show, of course, she was used to her legs being matted down with what-have-you, but it gave her a chance to display the limp in her forepaw. It was neither pronounced nor understated, but it was visible anyway, and the she-wolf had found it to be a useful tool when it came to disarming potential attackers.

Once she was standing nose to nose with her company, though several yards apart, she lifted her head in her own subtle display of dominance. After all, in her pack, she was the alphess, though i helped that the pack consisted of only herself. "Now, maybe we can begin again on more polite terms." It wasn't an offer. "I am called Solta. And you are...?"

[irirangi]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,475,true][atrb=background,http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee114/MorningFever/Anikira/IriTable.png,true] Iri watched as the female rose from her supposed slumber, taking her time in stretching. Her brow rose slightly, unimpressed. Alya still wasn't telling her something. The ghost's silence was eating away at her short temper's fuse, and the stranger was unfortunately on the receiving end of her foul mood. The Maned female really didn't have a problem with the trespasser; she generally treated everyone poorly. It came from living a life where discontented spirits made better friends than the living. Her skeptical look dropped in favor of an uninviting glare as the female finally decided to descend from her perch. Her expression was the only thing that changed. If the Mexican, Solta, was expecting to gain any sympathy then she was shit out of luck. Limp or not, she was still alive. Considering most of her time was spent in the company of a vengeance seeking former alphess who still refused to move on, living with a little limp was like taking a walk in the park. It was easy. Speaking of Alya, the deceased Iranian was looking quite pleased with herself. Sparing a glance over her shoulder towards the spirit, something suddenly clicked. No wonder the former alphess seemed to like Solta so much. The pair of them had something in common. She was no stranger to the old Iranian's limp, even if it was no longer a consequence to the spirit now. When Alya had been in possession of her body, the bullet wound had often stung at the most inopportune of times. No wonder the spirit had kept so quiet. She had been impressed by Solta's stealth given the prominent injury. "Honestly, Alya?" Her gaze was still fixed on the invisible entity at her side. She didn't often address the spirits in her presence without first being addressed by them, but Irirangi was slightly miffed at the moment. If Solta could put on a show, she could too. If anything, it would show that the trespasser wasn't the only one not in her favor and maybe add a hint of intimidation. She wasn't sure now the Mexican would react to being in the presence of a ghost, but it was that same ghost that had turned her mood sour in the first place. Alya simply released a chuckle, a smug smile on her lips. She already liked this Solta without knowing much about her. If the female decided to join their ranks, she was sure she would be a worthy addition. Of course, Puppet was doing a fine job of putting kinks into that little plan. The Maned wolf could be so uncooperative sometimes. Why was it so hard for her to see that the Iranian's grand schemes were always for the betterment of the pack? With a curt nod, she tilted her head in the direction of their honored guest. "I believe you owe Miss Solta an apology." She could only laugh more at the soft growl she'd earned. Letting her gaze drop from the ghost, her nostrils flared as she released a snort. Why was her life never easy? She'd thought regaining her body would have put her in better spirits; clearly it'd made little improvement. Her tail may have lowered, but the proud manner in which she held her head showed she would not relent completely. Her silver eyes were piercing as they fixed upon the Mexican, a frown curling down the edges of her lips. It was hard to bite back the snarky comment she so desperately wanted to growl out, but both the living and deceased annoyances had a point. She wasn't exactly making Zahir look good in the eyes of a potential member, trespasser or not. If Alya already approved of Solta, chances are the others would do so as well. "Forgive me." It wasn't exactly sincere since the words were more of an obligation. Iri had always had trouble keeping the darker tone out of her words though. Being nice was overrated, especially when she'd long ago decided sweet displays were generally nauseating. Bluntness had always been her style. Though her chosen words could have often been simplified, her points and intent were always clear. She didn't like to beat around the bush. "I am Irirangi, beta of Zahir. Care to explain what you're doing in our lands unannounced?" It wasn't exactly the politeness Solta was looking for, but at least she wasn't dwelling on the past.