The Loner-Alphess [Open]

[salta]

Amber eyes flowed up the slopes before them, settling atop the snowblanketted peaks.
The sun had beaten upon her back while she crossed the wide expanse of the plains, but now she stood at the very feet of the mountain range, in its very shadow. The sky was light, and had been for several hours, but the sun had not yet broken over the top of them: she was too close to see it yet.

Salta shifted her weight from one front paw to the other and glanced over her shoulder, undecided. Did she really want to go up there, up among the snow and hard rocks? Most of the prey grazed down on these flatlands. It would be unwise, from that angle anyway. But as a breeze ruffled her new winter coat, her nostrils were suddenly full of pine and evergreen, and she felt it wrap around her heart and squeeze it. Those peaks, cool and solomn and serene-- unchanging, while the world changed it's colors around her-- had drawn her to them like a panting deer to clear waters.

It reminded Salta of her home-- that was her home no longer. Yes, there were pleasant memories there. Of her early years, her training, the thrill of youth and power. But there was heartbreak, too. Betrayal and a world turned upside-down. And though her power remained, and she was, maybe, stronger than ever, her youth had faded. She felt aged beyond her five summers.... but that was what sorrow did to you.
Salta glared at the gleaming peaks. They were the only familiar things in this strange land, so perhaps it was only natural for her to seek them out. But the familiarity still hurt.

The wind shifted direction slightly, and the dark gray she-wolf caught the scent of another wolf. Not very close, but close enough to make her uncomfortable. It seemed that the plains she had left behind her belonged to no single pack, and several times she had found traces of them in the form of scent trails and their meals... but each time she stayed away. She was in no mood for troublesome company, and that was what most wolves were.
Trouble.
Salta couldn't deny, though, that her dreams were getting stronger. Sometimes she woke with the taste of a deer killed with a friend still lingering in her mouth, or the warmth of a companion curled next to her just leaving the ground. Was she going crazy?
No. Not crazy. Just lonely.
Salta gritted her teeth bitterly and began ascending the slope. In days gone by, she had often been alone for moons without any company but the birds and creatures of the woods, scouting and patroling and, in the end, tracking down an exile. She had been fine then. Utterly self-sufficient and proud of it, eyes set on the goal before her, and her mind set on the knowledge that she would achieve it. But never before this aimless roaming.
Maybe she wouldn't mind an encounter with another after all. Even if only to be forced into a fight. At least it would take her mind off the pain.



words;; 532
mood;; Torn. Unhappy. A little bitter.
muse;; Going strong. ;D
notes;; Anyone can reply. Just want to get her started. If you have a plot idea that needs a character like her, please pm me!

[wicker]

The brownish yellow pelt of the old wolf seemed to have a dull shine to it. It was ragged and was very unkempt. He would pad across the snowy and cold area. He hated the cold but he still was on his mission. He didn't really know where he was or where he was going but he knew that he would eventually find someone or something that could help him find where he was going to.

This reminded him of his early years. Walking alone and on a mission. He would slightly laugh to himself as he would remember the days that he would wonder without a destiny, or at least what he thought one was. He recalled how even when he was walking that he found the group of wolves that would finally send him on his journey to the far unknown.

Munir would run across the snow covered ground and would have his tail down but it would still sway as he would slightly frolic almost carefree through the snow. Even if he hated snow he could find joy in just bounding in the cold flakes. He would be muttering to himself quietly until he smelled the unmistakable scent of another wolf.

At first he was imagining it that it was only an apparition sent to torment him as he was scouring the land. Trying to find any form of life that he could talk to. In truth no matter how much he hated to admit it years of being along has made him very lonely and all he wanted was some contact with the outside world. He decided to go and find the wolf.

He got excited and his tail wagged however it was still low and he would begin to go in the general direction of where the smell would begin to come from. He would wonder what kind of wolf it was and what gender. It really didn't matter to him but ideas were racing in his head he was crazy and he thought that me may have just found an audience no matter how many or few there was.

He would try to locate the wolf that was in the general direction of where he was going but after a while he would sit and would look around trying to find anything in the area. Then he saw it the color of the other wolf's pelt would give her away and he would move towards the shape. He would have a smile on his face and his tail wagging but still low as it was before.

He would get closer and would identify the wolf as a female he would smile at her and he would begin to wag his tail more. He would then mutter to himself more and he would laugh softly to himself as well. As if he was having a one way conversation that only he could hear, or a joke that he only knew the punchline to.

words;; 501
mood;; Happy, crazy
muse;; Alright needs a slight jump start
notes;; If you want to think of anything else he could do jump pm me.

[salta]

The snow beneath her feet crunched, almost pleasantly. The sensation of cold on the pads of her paws was a thing she had missed. The chill was invigorating, even if it brought stinging memories to the front of her mind. For they were always in her mind now, as if they had been burnt by a wildfire on the underside of her skull.

She inhaled the pine smell deep into her lungs-- and with it, unmistakable this time, the smell of a male wolf. Salta froze and lifted her head, amber eyes scanning her surroundings. He was close, but not close enough to see yet. The she-wolf wondered if she ought to run, to hide, and get out of his way so she wouldn't have to deal with it-- to deal with making small talk if whoever it was was friendly, or to be challenged to a fight if he wasn't. Salta hesitated. Running wasn't in her nature. When had she ever run, unless she was the chaser?
She had hesitated too long. No descision to make now.

The shadow-gray femme saw him.
She would not leave, now that they saw each other. Salta had lost a lot of things recently, but her pride wasn't one of them.
The she-wolf scrutinized him through bright, glaring eyes, and took in everything: First of all, he was smaller than she'd expected, and his coat with strikingly short. It didn't look natural. Did all of the wolves in this place look like that? Surely not, or they wouldn't inhabit these more mountainous areas. Perhaps he was deformed? She wondered. He was missing an eye.
Salta did not miss the friendly waving of his tail, and the respectful way in which he held himself. If he had a pack, he was obviously low-ranking.

She had already relaxed a little, but her limbs were still tense. Half-hoping that he would see her, then go along on his merry way, Salta merely eyed him. She stayed where she was. She was sure she was not on his territory, nor anyone else's-- for the mountains seemed to lack any sort of scent markers, so she didn't think there was any immediate danger of anyone-- least of all him-- attacking her.
But then he approached her, tail still wagging, but now Salta noticed that he was muttering to himself, and his eyes seemed slightly unfocused, as if he saw her but had a million other thoughts running through his cranium.

Salta narrowed her eyes and lifted her head and tail slightly. The commanding response was natural to her, and she certainly felt completely in control of the situation, although she was feeling irritable and a tad impatient to get this over with... though it wasn't like she had anywhere to go.
"Greetings, stranger." Her voice was low, alto, and very smooth, though her words were clipped and short, to-the-point.



words;; 502
muse;; Sleepy now. Gotta go to bed. *yawn*
mood;; Hmm, she misses belonging to a pack, but doesn't want to hang out with anyone. She needs to make up her mind! Lol.
notes;; Yay! Thanks for responding! I'll let you know if I think of anything.

[wicker]

The older wolf, not really hearing the female wolf's words, would look away slightly and just simply muttering to himself. He muttered as if he was trying to make a decision that he didn't want to make public. Then his eye would flick to her slightly as if hearing the words just then. He would look at her more contemplating the words and trying to think up a response. He ponder the deeper voice and the slightly annoyed tone that came with the voice. Then he spoke "Hello to you as well young wanderer. How are you this lovely day?"

He was polite but having a slight tinge of spite at the tone she had used towards him. He asked the question as to begin a conversation slightly in a rebuking way for her tone and that he could tell she really didn't want to be here.

His long face and wild eye would look over the females body. He could tell right away that she was in far better conditions than what he is accustomed to on his own. She was larger than he was for sure and she was more muscular than he was. She was strong and young but he was slim and old.

He would look at her and then around at the day it was nice and the light that he knew was there was still hidden that slightly saddened him and his ear would drop softly down and then he heard motion and looked at her and saw that she was in a more dominate poise than he was so he would sit up straight and perk his ears up.

He was sure that she thought that she was in complete control and that is how he liked to work. He was submissive and passive until the moment that it was necessary for him not to be. He would shiver a bit as he warm behind met the cold snowy ground but would try to make it look as natural as possible. He would look at her and then would tilt his head to the side awaiting the reply from the somewhat aggressive female.

He would look her over again getting all of the features of the female. He would see that she was fairly good looking and that she was defined in shape and figure. He would then smile softly his mouth creasing even more on his older yet still chiseled featured face.

In her face he could see something on the inside something hidden like a soft young girl that was hardened by her past. He would contemplate this muttering more to himself. Having a conversation with himself about her that she may get a few words from and then he would look at her. "You must have had a slightly rough past or something that has changed you forever has happened that caused you to become somewhat more dominate. Would you mind indulging a old wolf's inquires with an answer or no?"

words;; 509
mood;; Inquisitional
muse;; Getting there
notes;;

[salta]

The only outward sign the darkly-pelted she-wolf gave of her surprise at the small male's odd salutation-- and the irritation that followed it-- was the twitch of one black-tipped ear. Salta felt annoyance clinging to her fur like a small army of fleas. What a strange wolf! She had at least expected him to ask her name, or what she was doing here in these snowy forests, if it was his territory. But no. He didn't even seem to care who she was or what she was doing here. No, he was wondering how she felt. She'd expected something like, "What are you doing here, loner?" or even, from his happy demeanor, "What do you call yourself?", but not this.
How am I doing? I’d be even better if you’d hurry up and leave.

Salta raised a brow and blinked. On top of his prying way to begin a conversation, he'd called her "young". If she judged correctly, he looked to be about the same age as she was-- although years of difficult living had grizzled his features and made him look decidedly older. The thinly-furred creature before her didn’t look as if his hunts were particularly productive, and hadn’t been for a long while. They were at very different ends of life, although not separated by much time. His physical condition was poor, hers wasn’t too bad. She was certainly better off than he was, although she was hardly in her former trim and health, after going it alone these last months.
And yet he was cheerful and she was sullen and irritable.
Salta chose to ignore his patronizing words and tone. She didn't care. It was a nuisance, that was all, and it wouldn't kill her to put up with a few of them... but being a nuisance could get someone else killed. If he was crazy, there was little she could do. If he wasn’t… well, she'd soon find out how sane he was, and if he knew what-- who-- he was dealing with.

"I’m well enough, stranger." She knew, if she was going to be polite, general etiquette would dictate that she return his question, but she wasn't talking to him to be polite. She'd need a good reason to do that.
Salta opened her jaws to add something a little sharper to her retort, but stopped. The wolf wasn't looking at her anymore, his gaze had shifted to the sky. And his mouth was moving-- quiet muttering ensued from his muzzle once again.

Salta narrowed her eyes as the wolf moved his attentions to the trees and their dappled shadows that the sunlight cast against the glistening snow, still mumbling to himself. Now and then she thought she could understand a word, but most of it was unintelligible to her, and all of it made no sense. She figured that the skinny animal in front of her had gone insane-- he certainly wasn't normal, not in any sense of the word. She wondered who he thought he was talking to, or if he thought much at all… but the next words he uttered made her certain of one thing: he didn’t know what was good for him.

He was looking at her again, and he sat up straighter, gaining a more authoritative look with the change in posture. His yellow eye locked onto her, running over her body. If Salta had been any other female, this scrutinizing gaze of her physicality might have unnerved her.
But she wasn’t any other female.
She had become the queen of a mountain forest not too different from this one, and she had tasted blood on the way. She had more than tasted blood, she had drawn it and killed, though not for the sake of ruling. The she-wolf bristled.
He had no respect for her, or fear, that much was obvious. The fur on her neck and spine rose, adding slightly to her size.
And then the old loon spoke, impudent and grinningly, as if he knew what he was asking for.

Salta had been impassive and poker-faced before, but now aggression was seeping from her stance and face. She couldn’t believe it.
For a few seconds she could only stand there in the snow, completely shocked at the words that the stranger had spoken. Then she felt her body moving of its own accord, lowering her belly to the ground on sinews tensing to spring, anger pouring into her veins like blood. Her lip curled, revealing sparkling white fangs. How dare this scrawny, crazy beast presume to ask her lifestory, mere moments after speaking to her for the first time! He didn't even know her name, the flea-bitten half-wit!
And the way he asked it, too-- as if it was a trivial matter, like the weather, like asking if it would rain later in the day. It made her blood boil, and it too easily could boil over.
"No, I would most certainly not indulge you, you--!" Instead of calling him a name, she growled. It rumbled deep in her chest, low and menacing. The threat was unmistakable. "My past is mine own, and you have no business inquiring." Salta said it with an air of finality. Danger glistened in her eyes, and contempt poured from her gaze as she looked down at the loner.
If he wasn't crazy, he'd better wise up and leave her alone. Fast.
If he was, she would be only too happy to run him off.



words;; Like, 915. And I still am not writing very well tonight.
mood;; Angry. REALLY angry. He touched the wrong subject.
muse;; Ran away.
notes;; Sorry for not replyin til now. I've been super busy.

[wicker]

He would look at the signs on her face as she was confused softly at his greeting and was probably expecting something quite different from what was given out. He would move a bit and pace around her for a few moments making sure to take in all her features and then would sit back down and then give a slight smile. His gaze has drifted off again but it soon fixed on her again as she gave her response to his first line of questioning.

For the male wolf loved to try and get into the heads of others and poke around trying to find out what made them tick and what would get them to get angry,sad, happy. He was like a psychiatrist but sometimes would send it a bit to far and doesn't really know that when its too much. He would then smile again as she told him that she was well enough. It was a good response no matter how general and boring the answer was it was still close to what he was really looking for. After he asked his second question and with his posture change got a new look at the true wolf that was inside her.

He watched the reaction of the she-wolf and then deduced that he had defiantly touched a tender subject with her and that if he continued his line of questioning may get him killed. He would look at her and smiled softly. "If it was a touchy subject there was really no need to burst out." He would then would give a grin a slightly evil grin his teeth were yellowing and they had the distinct stain of blood on them. Who's blood it was he wasn't even sure.

He would be talking to himself and then he glanced at her and then would smell the air getting your scent and would make sure that he would remember it. "She doesn't know what shes doing don't take it personally.... But she really doesn't know what or who she is going up against." He seemed to have an argument with a disembodied voice that wanted him to attack her. His eye would flick wildly from one area to another and then they would rest on her and the eyes went from a happy old wolf to an angry killer.

He would then look at her and would let down his own low growl. "You don't scare me miss. I respect that you must be a true warrior but you wouldn't be able to kill me." He would smirk again and then it dropped as he would get down and into attacking formation. He knew that she was far more physically fit than he was but he was sure of his define providence. He knew that his gods would save him from harm. Please don't leave my side now you were always there so don't leave now.

words;; 507
mood;; Angry
muse;; Getting there
notes;; Sorry for not posting busy...

[salta]

A "touchy subject"? The tundra wolf gritted her teeth. He had no idea.
The face of Darrion flashed before her mind's eye: his noble, dark eyes concerned for her safety-- then proud of her victory as he stepped over to join her as she left Jada grovelling belly-up on the pine-needled floor of the forest-- then the shock in those same, brave eyes as the treacherous jaws of the deposed alphess closed on his jugular.
Salta felt her heart racing as she relived the horrible moment in a matter of seconds. Darrion... No!
Then instinct prodded her sharply in the heart, telling her that if she were to still be a survivor, she couldn't allow herself to think of the past. Not now. She needed to be a creature of the moment, to trust in her senses and not let them be blocked by memories or thoughtful musing.
Salta jerked herself back to the present. Once again she was facing the scrawny male wolf in the snow of a foreign mountain, among trees that she had not grown up around. And she had his impudence to deal with.

As Salta re-focused her amber stare on him, she caught the grin on his face and decided that she did not like his expression. There was a feigned carelessness in his yellow-toothed smile, and the calculating eye with which he watched her suggested to Salta that he was toying with her for a response. She narrowed her eyes. She knew his kind, and while she did not know his motives, she did know how to play this game. And since she wasn't feeling particularly obliging today, she already knew that she wouldn't let him win-- she wouldn't give him what he wanted.

It would be hard for her-- manipulation was her weak point. It was why she had been so easily manipulated in the past: she didn't know how to do it herself. It proved the old maxim: It takes one to know one. She knew she was a straight talker. Unless it was masking her emotions with a straight face, she was no good at utter deception. It was hard for her to say what she didn't mean, let alone say it convincingly, and she hated to even try. The she-wolf just didn't believe in it. And yet, it looked like the easiest way out of this irking situation would be to employ it. Fight fire with fire.
And maybe this time she would win the game. Though the thought didn't actually occur to her at the moment, it would later when she thought the day over: she didn't want to kill. She would remember, perhaps that evening, her willingness to take lives in the past, the ease with which she did it... and that she chose not to do it today. Why? It would take long nights of heart-searching to figure it out. Another thing she wasn't good at.

Her black ears tipped forward to catch the words that tumbled out of the loner's mouth like confused brooklets over a rocky stream-bed. Talking to no-one again.
This time, though, it was something she could understand. Oh, she didn't know who she was up against, did she? A sardonic smile tugged at one corner of her muzzle. She knew she could beat him physically, that was enough for her. But first...

Salta let herself ease up out of the crouch she had so quickly settled into. She had to force her muscles to obey-- they were unused to coming out of a crouch without springing. But maybe it was her mind she was forcing, rather than her body.
She breathed deeply, but quietly so as not to draw attention to it. The goal of the game she was about to embark on, she supposed, was to give the opponent as little to go off of as possible. If she could get him to do the reacting instead of her, then she would be in control. And if she was in control, she could do what she wanted. And she wanted to be alone. That was her objective. How she would get there was yet to be sorted out.

Salta noticed that as she reigned herself in, the male seemed to be preparing to fight himself. She had to be quick about this then, to start this confrontation down a different path. But how to do that?
Salta did it the only way she knew how: brazen and disinterested. Straight and plain.
"Thanks for the respect. But I don't want to kill you." She struggled to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, and mostly succeeded. Her tone was still a bit condescending, but she couldn't help it.
Where to go from there? She paused, her eyes half-lidded and shoulders relaxed, to show that she was no longer itching to use her teeth on his hide.
"I just want peace and quiet. Things have been... difficult, lately. That was true, at least. Now, why don't you give me some by leaving?
Salta was careful to let none of her feelings and thoughts show on her face or in her body language. She could disguise her true thoughts and feelings and keep them from showing through, but she couldn't pretend she had different ones.
Stay cool, collected. Don't react to him. Let him react to you. It was so hard to say things she didn't mean whole-heartedly. The she-wolf was still tempted to just go straight for his neck... wouldn't it be easier than this? At least battle was there to fall back on. As it always was. And wasn't she the queen of battle?





words;; 988
mood;; She's having conflicting thoughts and feelings-- which has been her problem for some time now. She's not used to it.
muse;; Good. *hugs Salta*
notes;; Erm... nope! If anyone else wants to join in, feel free!