Under Control [Iskierka]

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The furious storm clouds had gathered the previous night, dumping nearly an inch of rain since the early morning. All day, the horizon was dark as the sun refused to shine, hiding away safely beyond the menacing clouds that claimed the sky. By late afternoon, the steady rainfall began ease. The earth remained wet from the last storm only days before, and huge puddles were transforming into little lakes. Unhappy and wet, Datura had spent the day searching for refuge from the storm, seeking higher ground. Finally, as evening fell upon the land, the clouds finally cleared, leaving a clear, ink-colored sky with innumerable stars overhead. Datura stood upon the ridge that marked an invisible border between unclaimed lands and Vor’asa – Goliath’s new territory, and so by association, it also belonged to Datura.

The trees there were bare as autumn shriveled away, the final leaves of the season now decaying in the scarce shade provided by the empty, gnarled branches. In the depths of Delia Basin below, the dark waters churned dangerously as the rain flooded into the low basin from the surrounding hills. Winter was the most dangerous time for their species, but Datura had never experienced the season there on Anikira. In her former home, in the place where the two-legged monsters reigned over all other beasts, there were only two seasons: hot and miserable, or wet and miserable. The summers were scorching there. The winters were far from freezing, but still unpleasant, as the barren earth provided little sustenance. She was not sure what to expect, but she had Kairos to provide for her now – and she would provide for Kairos, in her own ways.

Datura sat, her fur still damp from the day’s precipitation, ignoring the discomfort of the twilight air as she attempted to groom her pelt. Ina’mos would be missing her – she had to return to her island home soon. Still, the auburn tinted fae was rather fond of Tas’alea and the lands that Goliath controlled there. She had never been bothered by being alone for long stretches of time, but found that she longed to be at her alpha’s side once more. Kairos was still ignorant to the presence of the all-female pack living just across the basin, safely tucked away in the jungles in the south. In Datura’s mind, every corner of Tas’alea belonged to Goliath now.

As the mating season progressed, Datura had been avoiding males like the plague, her mission to recruit new warriors forgotten for the time being. Just being near any other brute would be a sin, though no other creature could tempt her but her alpha. The she-wolf swayed for no others, only Goliath, but the time was not yet right to produce a strong heir or two. She had crucial plans for her future and the future of Kairos – she would be the mother of a new generation, powerful and fiercer than any previous wolves. She would make Goliath proud, even if it killed her. Her life’s mission was vital – he expected it from her, and indeed, she would demand it when her time arrived. Giving sons to Goliath, creating his sacred legacy, was far more important than any amount of risk to her own being.  In the end, it would all be worthwhile.

She could not be the only one birthing new little hunters and warriors, of course. Kairos would not grow with only one new litter, and the need for hunters would multiply with each pup born into their ranks. The hunters were expected to give themselves to whichever warrior claimed her. New females were crucial to Goliath’s goals. He could not claim every one of them – or at least, Datura hoped he would not take every femme for himself.

Her wandering thoughts were interrupted by a foreign scent floating on a cold ocean breeze. Immediately, Datura knew that she was no longer alone there, sitting alone at the top of the hill. The scent was too conspicuous to be left over from the last wolf who had passed through the area, especially following the day's downpour. Unperturbed by the presence of a stranger, the female glanced around, pale brown eyes carefully surveying the landscape around her.

words: 703
tag: @iskierka

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TAG: @datura WORDS: 709 NOTES:

The night sky was bloated with stars, thick with the scent of rain. It had been not but half an hour since the storm had passed, and a mighty storm it had been, roaring to the heavens and spilling its tears onto the earth below. The moon was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, and the ground was damp, overwhelmed by the intense shower that the clouds had unleashed. Shadows stretched ominously, reaching to consume anything and everything that they could. The only sound that could clearly be heard was the leaves rustling gently as the trees swayed, a strong wind pirouetting through the land. Nearly as silent as the night itself, a well-formed body slipped past the shadows, easily picking its way across the damp ground. The wolf, for that was what the body belonged to, quickly moved onto the winding path that crept upwards, leading to the rock formation that proudly jutted forth. The path beneath her feet was practically mud, and for a brief moment, the wolf glanced down, allowing irritation to creep across her features at the filth. Iskierka was proud by nature, and to see her lovely mottled fur streaked with ugly brown goop made the fur along her spine crawl. For the better part of the day, Iskierka had remained in the quaint little cave she’d found the night before, long after her company had departed. It had been so wet and dreary out that day, the sun nestled safely behind the clouds, and she’d received so little sleep the night before. So she’d napped while the sun crept higher and higher, and then lower, until finally the insistent growling of her stomach had forced her to action. Hunting had been easy, many of the animals drawn out of their homes by flood and fire. Iskierka had filled her belly with warm meat before she’d continued on her way, wandering while her thoughts buzzed about in her skull. She wasn’t sure where it was that she’d ended to go, so she’d simply walked, aiming for higher ground. Her travels had finally brought her here, and far beneath where she edged along her lofty vantage point, the water swirled and raged. Set on staying far away from the wild current, Iskierka continued on her search for higher ground, grumbling underneath her breath as she scaled the nearest hill, talons digging into the wet earth to propel her body forward. It was only once she was nearly upon the top that the scent hit her, fresh and startling. Jerking to a halt, Iskierka squinted her deep yellow eyes, gazing towards the peak of the incline. She could faintly make out the still shape of another there, outlined by the light of the moon, and the scent was most certainly female. Taking a brief moment to lick the dirt from her legs, Iskierka smoothed the rest of her pelt down with her tongue before she trotted forward. Not even for the briefest moment did she consider turning away, for it was dry land that she searched for, and the presence of another was not daunting to the female. As she came over the edge of the slope, her slender, feminine form came to a slow halt as she quickly assessed the other female. She was smaller than Iskierka, both shorter and lighter, although not by very much. Her pelt was a pleasant mixture of reds and browns, reminding Iskierka of autumn, and it seemed as if she were alone. The scent of her was slightly familiar, although for a moment it was difficult to place, and then she remembered. She’d smelled the same scent on Xena, the loner she’d encountered before. Interesting. Fleetingly she considered inquiring of the female where she had come from, but it was far too soon for that, despite the impatience that typically drove Iskierka. She would wait, first, to see how their little meeting went. Unintentional though it was, Iskierka found herself glad that she’d stumbled upon the she-wolf, unfamiliar in face and name and yet recognizable, second hand, in scent. Keeping her distance but allowing no wariness to show in her gaze, Iskierka gazed down at the water, ears pricked forward as she spoke. ”I hope I’m not intruding.”

Forged by LUCI OF ADOXOGRAPHY

[Deleted]

She appeared from the surrounding night, dark saffron eyes meeting Datura’s as she slowly approached. The mixed breed’s nonplussed expression lacked any visible hostility. A pair of chocolate hued eyes moved slowly over the stranger’s body to examine her form, shameless and obvious. She was bigger than Datura, but scarcely so. A battle would be an even match between the pair, but unnecessary violence was not on her mind that night.

The muscles beneath Datura’s ruddy pelt remained tensed, though she had already decided that the unnamed stranger was not a threat. Most vagabonds did not go in search of trouble, especially if the wanderer happened to be female. Challenging others was the usual domain of the brutes. But for the females, war was their disadvantage – no one wanted to start a fight that was theirs to lose, and for a wolf as diminutive as Datura and for many of her gender, picking random fights was likely to end in defeat. There were other ways to conquer that were less overt, without all of the blood and gore that the males enjoyed. Once her scrutiny of the other’s physique was complete, her focus returned to the female’s deep golden orbs as she addressed Datura, whose ears pricked forward at the sound of her feminine voice.

The stranger was not technically trespassing, so Datura saw no cause for alarm. On the contrary, her masked façade was the picture of calm, as if she were only caught in solitary repose instead of formulating a plan. Standing, her posture was rigid and chest strong, despite her small size. There was no need for Datura to ask if the newcomer was a loner, for this much was obvious. Few females had the audacity to wander through the nighttime alone. This one belonged to no pack, Datura knew before the other uttered a single word. The unknown female had nowhere to return to, Datura judged from the plethora of smells that Iskierka carried along with her like souvenirs of her wandering. The hint of desert sands suggested that the female had recently traveled across the volcanic rock that bridged Tas’alea with the rest of Anikira, and a familiar scent mixed with the stranger’s, but Datura could not place the smell to the wolf it belonged to.

”You have not trespassed, but you are very close to doing so. I will assume you are unaware of this fact.” Quickly, the Mexican wolf reined in the condescending tinge that veiled her velvety tones. The smile that appeared across her pale muzzle seemed cordial, but her sharp eyes remained fixed on the other, waiting for even the slightest movement. She gave a slight nod in the direction of Vor’asa. ”The lands to the north are claimed by Goliath, alpha of the Kairos pack. I am Datura of Kairos.” Here, the mottled female paused for effect, her eyes alight with pride as she uttered the words with perceptible reverence. ”Where we stand, no wolf may assert his ownership. But you must tread carefully here,” she stated with feigned concern as her stare finally dragged away from Iskierka to the dark waters flooding the basin. If Datura were a more fearful creature, she would have been concerned by the ever-rising depths, but the worry she wore was a farce. ”The waters below are dangerous. No wolf can escape once she has fallen into the chasm.  The storm will bring unfriendly company to the neutral lands.  One can never be too careful out here.”

So many loners, male and female alike, found their way onto Tas’alea – the place was ideal for Datura to gather up the wanderers, the land ripe for the harvest. Some of these solitary wolves needed only a gentle nudge in the correct direction, served with the semblance of a caring soul, something that came naturally to Datura, even if it was not entirely sincere.

Datura wondered: did this pretty little girl have an inkling of what lurked in the darkness? There was more to fear in life than death. With Goliath a short distance away and the lands secured, Datura feared almost nothing. The only thing Goliath could not stop was the weather itself – and sometimes, Datura questioned even this. He claimed that he was blessed, his blood sacred, made holy by some invisible force. Datura worshipped no gods, saving her admiration instead for someone she could see, who she could feel – and she was not going to argue with his assertions of divinity.  She was simply grateful to play an important part in the coming chaos that Kairos would breed, and the terror of those who chose the wrong side in the wars that were brewing on the continent, carrying with it the promise of something far more terrible than even the worst storm.

words: 797
tag: @iskierka