Ah, success. Between her jaws was the lifeless body of a hare, a prize for Glaciem and a victory for the silver-coated huntress. Her own frame was still rather emaciated, but she?d started putting on weight, started earning more muscle. With each passing day Argent grew stronger, coming closer and closer to her former glory, all thanks to the assistance of Isardis. Once more she found herself owing her master, and thus she?d decided to set out on a hunt. Maybe in a few days she would go to the borders and bring home a few new bitches, but today she was focused upon feeding the pack.

She paused for a moment, taking in the eternal winter that encased the north. She did not mind it in the least, but it certainly made hunting the slightest bit difficult, running in particular. She placed the carcass at her own paws, taking a breather before she would try to return back home and give it to the females who were unable to hunt for themselves. As far as Argent knew there were currently no pregnant or nursing women, but then again she?d only had her rank of Overseer for a few days. She had yet to see the entire pack, and there could be a few lurking in the safety of the pack?s depths, slowly growing heavy with the King?s spawn.
Part of her wished she could fulfill such a fate; it was what Isardis had deemed most women worthy of, and she wished more than anything to make him happy. However, she would not linger on in her self pity, sighing and instead refocusing upon the hunt. If she could not deliver children this season, then this season she would hunt and fight. She would prove herself again, and she would never let herself part from her duty to him ever again.

The seas wine red; This is the death of beauty

this is the time and this is the place to be alive

. . .


Champion was wandering again. The harder she felt herself nailed down, the stronger her paws pulled her away. But no matter how oftne the excersion or how far the trail, she always ended up point back towards Newt at the end of it. Her sense of friendship was waging war with her inborn wanderlust, and it was playing tricks on her soul. She'd never had to puzzle about these things before now. Up until the fall of Amenti her duties in the pack had been different but she'd still found purpose and promise in them. She'd shone. She'd found peace with structure, and become perhaps what some would call a stronger wolf because of it. But she didn't know if that really was for her. She was a dare devil, a whirlwind - she felt no fear and would shrink from neither death nor pain. But when you attached yourself to others? Well, others weren't as ready for whatever fate had in store as the gold and white bear was.

It was a puzzlement.

But Champion could shake off her troubles for one day at least, as she went to go play in the snow. The dangerous, collected girl who had walked in there with a confident, warrior's waltz, suddenly dissolved into a pup: her curled tail wagged uncontrolably, her paws dances over the snow light as pixies, her tongue lolled out the side of a toothy smile. Champion started by chasing snow shoe hares around. She wasn't really interested in catching one - she wanted to race about like a nut. But then one lead her to an patch of snowmelt that had iced over. It was like a temporary pond - perfectly smooth and frozen thick as stone.

Without hesitation, the behemoth hopped out onto it. There was some slipping and sliding and skittering around on her mop of belly fur, but eventually she got the hang of the claw to pad ratio needed to keep her balance and control. She'd dig her claws in and start running down one side, only to dive into a roll and slide the rest of the way - bumping into snowbanks on the far end. It was AWESOME.

This was how Champion liked it: the world her playground and nothing more. Her last surf had taken her straight through a drift and out onto the solid ground at the other side. She lay there on her back for a bit before she caught the scent of wolf in the air and realized there was someone around. Her head popped up to see a grey she-wolf who stood about as tall and strong as a canine could before they went into the range of freakish like herself. How long as the other fae been standing there?, Champion wondered. No matter though. She perked her ears forward and gave a wide, half panting, wolf smile. "Good day, stranger!" she called.




. . .

She found herself coming face to face with a golden-accented woman, a tall masterpiece of a woman who seemed to be built like a warrior. Argent was not a small woman by any means, and yet she was at least half a foot shorter than this stranger, and immediately she went on the defensive. She dropped her kill and stood over it, not flashing teeth, but clearly standing protectively. The introduction was friendly enough, and it relaxed her a bit, but she still remained hovering over her kill. ?Hello,? she spoke with a hard edge to her voice, but it would be clear the reason why. If this strange woman announced her intentions then Argent would relax.
?Lovely fucking day for some bullshit small talk,? she said bluntly, uncaring if she offended this giant. ?You?re not getting my kill,? she said simply, and maybe it was presumptuous of her to assume this was what the other sought, but Argent had been raised in a harsh world. She had been taught that she had to fight for every morsel, and that around every corner was always someone waiting to steal from her. She was doing well by not attacking, but for now she remained stiff, clearly uncomfortable and protective over the prey she?d caught.

The seas wine red; This is the death of beauty

this is the time and this is the place to be alive

. . .


The grey stranger?s first word was harsh, but promising enough. Of course then Champion got a better look at the defensive posture she had put herself in. The wanderer shouldn?t have been surprised; her size scared a lot of people. She was tall than some bears for creator?s sake. Before her birth it was usually assumed that that kind of height was reserved for dire wolves of old legend. What if Champion told the female that there was a Dire Wolf living. There was a Grey Queen even larger than herself that she had served under? Nah no point in scaring anyone.

By that time the stranger had delivered her load of angst. Champion snorted at the retort, closing her eyes amused and laying back in the snow. "Well it was," she muttered to herself in less than a whisper.

"Cross my heart, stranger," she said reluctantly turning her head and opening her eyes again. "I've no intentions of stealing your kill. I just ate this morning." She arched her back and lifted up her giant white stomach to the sky. "See?" It was still slightly distended from the wild boar that hadn't gone down easy. Course, all that slipping and sliding on the ice, probably hadn't been the best for her digestion. Whoops. Oh Well.




. . .

It would seem that this golden-kissed fae would have no desire for Argent?s kill, a fact that boded well for this strange giant, for Argent would not give it to her. Even haggard and tired she was a competent fighter, and maybe she was somewhat arrogant in assuming she would be able to defend her kill. Nonetheless, she took the woman?s proof when offered. ?I suppose I will have to take your word for it, although you must understand why a worn out fucker such as myself might be so defensive over her kill,? she said. Even if it wasn?t for her own malnourished mouth, exerting energy in her condition was somewhat dangerous.
?Argent Zaldun at your service,? she spoke, a figure of speech above anything else. She supposed that, since she had been rather rude, she ought to at least offer her name and try to make a good conversation. Maybe she could learn something useful about these lands, something that she, as a woman so very new here, would not have previously known.

The seas wine red; This is the death of beauty

this is the time and this is the place to be alive

. . .


Well the other woman still sounded sour enough, but she seemed to more or less take Champion at her word. Her words made the ex-Beta cock her head. "You don't seem that old to me," Champion murmured, running a burgundy pair of eyes over the other's frame with all the analytically clearness of a regular fighter. The other wolf was full grown - but only just. She was built and she was roughed up by travel, but she didn't look haggard. Champion had seen her slide into a defensive stance - it was obviously a well practiced move, but it had no stiffness of age. The pelt bore few obvious scars. "Hmmmm," she murmured to herself. "You've seen your share of fun, I'll warrant, but for all I can see, you could be a two year old like me." Be nice to meet someone else who'd used their few years as energetically as the northern wolf had.

When the smokey stranger gave her name, the golden girl rolled over, pillowing her belly in the drift of snow. "Champion, at yours."


. . .