Swipes is draped heavily across the entrance to Eris' den, allowing the pups to chase after her tail and giving Athene a gentle buffet now and then when the top cub gets too rambunctious. She hops to her feet, however, at the scent of wolf-- packmate-- and whuffs a greeting.
Blood Singer's ears twitch slightly as she considers what she sees. Your brood?
Swipes's tail flags indulgently as she licks Athene's snout, almost camouflaging the slight tensing around her ribcage at the question. No, these are the Fury's. I mind them while she runs with her >muzzle wrinkle< human mate.
Blood Singer snorts, She cares not enough for her cubs that she runs with the apes while they wait? Her posture shows her intense distaste at this possibility.
Swipes's ears go back. She has more sense than some, but is still human-- and there is also her city pack's patrol which she has been neglecting for three months. Did your dam never leave you with a cub-sitter while hunting or away?
Blood Singer shakes, Hunting, yes, patrol, yes. To run with an ape mate? She was wolf, not even Garou. I understand the Fury's wish to keep to her patrol, this is why Summer Frost became, the cubs needed protection and guidance at all times, and I could not do so alone and yet hunt and patrol. Yet I did not idle in the scab as they grew, or lounge away from them when they had need of me. Swipes will not speak against the Fury, who goes seldom to the city and has stayed with her cubs til now. She does not try to understand why the homids feel at home there, but she has seen Eris teaching her cubs well and raising them strong, and will judge what she does know. Swipes-at-Salmon settles back down amongst the pups and is pleased to have time to teach and guard pups since she lacks her own this year.
Blood Singer flicks an ear, accepting that. It is good, if she must go, that she chooses so well for her replacement. Her posture has not changed since she arrived, not much. And, while not directly a challenging pose, it is not the submissive pose one would expect of the beta.
The pups sense the tension in the air and move back a little, watching obediently from a yard or two away.
Swipes sniffs the air thoughtfully and looks from the pups back to Blood Singer, her tail raising slightly. So. Have you seen the Sorrowful One lately? She roams far, and has not crossed my path in days.
Blood Singer answers, steady eyes seemingly considering meeting those of the alpha, I have not seen Brooding Sorrows in many nights. I worry for her, but know that should she have need of us, she would call.
Swipes lifts her head and ears, about to question further, but obviously growing irritated or uneasy. She stares at Blood Singer frankly, making pronouncements which might in other circumstances be questions. The pack needs a purpose. We roam. We watch the wolves. It is not enough.
Blood Singer's eyes meet those of the other female and hold them. Is that all we do? Is that not enough, were it all we do?
Swipes bristles and narrows her eyes to slits, lifting one paw in an arrogant stance. You tell me.
Long distance to Blood Singer: Swipes giggles. Swipes keeps trying to act macho while saying 'hey, you got any suggestions?' :)
Blood Singer's tail lifts and stiffens, her ears become errect, and her eyes seem to hold Swipes with a grip of iron. It is enough. It is more than enough. We patrol an area too great for our numbers, repel the wyrm at every turn. We keep the kin safe from apes who trespass, and world warpers who feel at home in the shadow of our land. It is enough, and yet we do more. We raise pups who are not ours, so that they may roam the lands in safety, rather than die at the hands of apes or wyrm or other predator. This is our task, this is our duty, this is what we do.
Swipes's tail starts to lower in agreement, but the gruff Talon's pride catches at that and she gives a low growl in her throat, advancing a step closer. And do we also bring into our homes human things for our cubs to chew on, yet criticize those for whom these things come native if they sometimes go home to their paved dens? Do we leave those wolf-born left who guard the wolves because we have decided to take a side-quest for our own glory?
Blood Singer snorts, standing taller still, her ruff beginning to bristle as her hackles raise. She does not answer the questions put to her, apparently feeling no need.
Swipes stamps her foot, ears going back as she continues to glare sorely at Blood-Singer. You left defeated. You left saying you had no place. You have a new name, alpha-no-more. Do you think you have a place now, so sure that you ignore your own alpha?
Blood Singer's tail twitches ever-so-slightly, a sign that she considers the words. Her ears remain upright, her hackles raised, and her tail becomes stiff once more. I think, she says as a growl rumbles softly in her throat, that I have returned and now make a place for myself. You are valuable to this pack, and I would not lose you, however you are no alpha and are not meant to be. Swipes's tail stays stiff and high for a few angry breaths, but the wolf's heart just isn't in it. Her gaze drops for a moment as she glances sideways to note whether the cubs are attending, and her eyes do not raise to meet Blood Singer's again. The rumble in her throat goes strained and quiets, and finally she gives out a rueful, wary whuff.
Blood Singer steps forward, places her muzzle above that of her packmate, and waits with halfclosed eyes.
The pups are huddled together, watching frightened, but raptly, like a bystander at a fatal accident.
Swipes drops and rolls onto her side in a simple, eloquent, almost languid gesture startlingly lacking in resentment, and tilts her muzzle back, throat bared with grudging pride.
Blood Singer lowers her head, slowly reaching down to the neck of the other. Her tongue stretches out, giving the fur of the throat a rough lick. That done, she stands back a pace, to study the pups.
Swipes's tail relaxes by slow degrees as her ears return to normal. She holds the pose for a measured, deliberate moment, before pulling her legs back under her to stand. Her tail wags slowly with only the faintest need to restore a semblence of being in control, but beneath that protestation of dignity it's obviously also a sign of thankful understanding. Swipes-at-Salmon reassumes the comfortable posture of a beta with ease and confidence.
Blood Singer closes the distance between them, nipping her beta playfully on the shoulder, an eye to the pups as well.
Swipes licks Blood Singer's muzzle and gruffly admits that she likes the new name better anyway. Blood Singer's ears tilt outward, her eyes wide in a pleased amusment. Sometime you will have to hear my song. She moves off slowly, continuing now the long patrol of Summer Frost territory.
Swipes whuffs a /Good hunting/ and circles around the area, then pads back to the pups.
