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Time of day: It's a little after seven in the morning.

Weather: It's a partly cloudy day, a bit chilly. There's already a few inches of snow on the ground and there's a chance of more.

To begin: As the sun rises, it's quite apparent that tensions are high within the pack. Roughly a month after Alpha Waylen's disappearance, the wolves have began making their suspicions and beliefs on what actually happened. While everyone is seemingly comfortable under the new rule, another problem appears. The previous few nights, it sounded as though the Beasts of the Night were moving closer and closer. Alphas have sent the Scouts out to investigate, unsure of what they're going to find (could be nothing, a dead body, dead prey, etc etc :O cause some drama here). Hunters have been assigned to check the southern areas of the territories in hopes of scrounging up some food. The Shaman and his apprentice have been sensing something, unsure of whether to tell the new Alpha pair. Subordinates and everyone else mixes and mingles in the camp, not daring to try and leave as the new curfew and harshness of the Alphas can be a bit... intimidating.

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Remember to type at least 300+ words per post/character to keep things moving :). Also be inclusive!

Ranger | M | Scout | Mentions: Eirini (IND.) | Location: Somewhere in the woods

The peace and quiet drenched the male as he sat in total silence. The only thing that could be heard was the gentle bristle of leaves as the breeze rustled them. That same breeze made its way through the male’s deep and soft fur all the way to his pink skin underneath. His head was slightly lifted up to the sky as he breathed in the crisp, cold, winter air, filling his lungs. The freezing air seemed to bring a sense of life and awaken him all the more. All the while, his fluffy paws pressed against a mixture of rock, moss, and frozen earth below, his small claws digging into the earth though it took some effort. The winter has taken it’s hold, that’s quite obvious by now. While the leaves, or most, were still clinging, many had fallen to the ground only to be covered by a mixture of snow and ice and even frost. There’s just something about the whole forest sleeping that gave way to some sort of comfort to him. At least it usually did. Winter was a tough time, like a beauty that was quick to kill. An allure to draw one in before extinguishing its light once and for all. The mere thought makes Ranger’s claws sink into the earth below and the fur along his back rises. The winter was beautiful.

But the winter was deadly.

It was something he couldn’t refute. He’d seen his fair share, and seen what it can do to wolves. Starvation was guaranteed as the prey hibernated and slept. Oh, they sleep while the wolves sit and wait for certain death. How greedy. How selfish. That thought made way to anger, anger Ranger had been stewing in for so long. It wasn’t fair. And when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

The alpha disappeared. Talk about selfishness. Talk about greed. How could that wolf think he could just up and leave? Ranger didn’t believe the stories that someone would just succumb to a sudden death. And even if the alpha did, it only made Ranger all the more furious. Couldn’t he fight? Isn’t that what an alpha is for? The fight until his dying breath? To suffer countless deaths for one pack member?

Oh no, Ranger didn’t believe that Alpha just ‘disappeared’. He couldn’t. He knew everything; he knew how the alpha was struggling. How young he was to take such a position. Yet Ranger knew physically he wasn’t weak. Oh, Ranger knew what it was like to be weak. So why did those who were strong take their strength for granted? If he had even an ounce of that strength…

The male shut his crystal blue eyes. No. He wouldn’t let that anger consume him. How could he think poorly of someone else when he allowed that monster of apathy devour him whole?

Ranger snorted, his breath rising as a small cloud in the air, and his fur went flat. He had a reputation to uphold. And in this time of need, he had a pack to take care of. So his little pity party would have to wait. He needed to push through and suffer for his pack. Someone around here had to.

So at that, he rose to his paws and drank in the air one final time before he turned and began to trot away. He had a job to complete; secure the territory. And that’s what he did. He walked along the border and weaved through trees and bushes, keeping an ear out for any prey… or enemies for that matter.

Ranger wondered frequently if he should have been a hunter instead, though he always reassured himself he’d never be able to take large enough prey down to feed the pack. Being a scout is what he was good at. There had been very few times where he’d had to actually use what bit of little strength he had, and for that he was grateful. But something in this wind warned him of something greater. That soon, he’d have to find every bit of strength he possessed to survive. If the Alpha did truly disappear, and was taken or killed, whoever… or whatever had done such a thing wouldn’t just leave the pack alone. It almost felt like they were being taunted. Like a being more powerful than them was just playing. They were all pawns in some bigger game. And Ranger hated the idea that he was being used. He’d been helpless before. He refused to be helpless now.

With a long sigh, Ranger paused, taking a final look at the forest in front of him before trotting all the way back to camp. His tail swung back and forth as he made way with a quick pace through the frozen forest land. He was usually the first one to go out on patrol anyway, but recently… he really needed time alone to think over everything. His trust had been destroyed with the disappearance. It just reassured the thought he couldn’t trust in anyone here, even in a pack he was ready to die for.

As he neared camp, Ranger slowed his trot and entered the small clearing, wondering who all was up. That’s when the rattling coughs came from a few sheltered dens a few ways up, though when they subsided, his fur lay flat. He knew it was his mother. Yet another thing burdening his heart. Will things ever get better? He wondered to himself.

Vivien | F | Elder | Mentions: Alpine, everyone (ind.) | In camp

Rattling coughs erupted through the wolf’s chest, sounding hollow and crunchy. She gasped and wheezed as getting a breath suddenly became impossible. It felt like her sides were ripping to shreds and her ribs felt as though they were caving inwards. Her lungs tightened and her throat constricted as well. The cold air didn’t seem to help. In fact, it only made it worse. The dryness in the air caused her throat to feel like gravel. As the coughing ensued, so did the pain along her boney body and specifically in her head. It felt like an entire oak crashing down on her skull.

Though instead of whimpering, the old thing rose to her paws and growled, forcing herself to breathe. She refused to back down. So, on wobbly legs, and swallowed down the coughs, which proved to be more painful, but the coughing eventually subsided. “Ha!” She grinned weakly and defiantly as if her sickness were a real being in front of,” Not going down today.” She chuckled some more, maybe because of how silly she looked to anyone else. Would people think she was losing her mind? Maybe. And maybe she was. Or maybe she’d just grown to appreciate life a little more.

No, it wasn’t because of old age. As much as she cursed the sickness that riddled her up and down, it had given her a new look on life. Each day she could wake up was a day she beat that sickness. One day she wouldn’t wake up. And she knew this. And she was ok with that. But for now, these sorry wolves would have to deal with the loud, grumpy female.

Though one thing did manage to get under her fur. Not the thought that any day could be her last. The thought she’d be leaving behind her pack when they needed all the help they could get… that’s what bothered her. Not that she was much help anyways. Maybe that’s what bothered her. If anything, she was getting in the way. Like the sickness, these wolves are just going to have to deal with it cuz I ain’t going anywhere. Vivien sighed and plopped down right outside the den with a slight huff, allowing the breeze to blow through her fur. She tried not to curse it; it made everything dry and cold, and the food was far less available.

As she sat, she looked up at the murky sky, covered in clouds swirling above, and closed her tired eyes. Sleep came difficult nowadays, yet it always seemed to bite at the corners of her eyes. And if she were to get sleep, it wasn’t all right either. Nonetheless, she wouldn’t let it get the best of her. Mornings like these brought about a little bit of comfort. It would be better if it were warm. Everything would be.

Her eyes soon drifted open and across the soft clearing as movement caught her gaze. The tip of her tail twitched ever so slightly as she spotted Ranger entering the camp, heading off. For a moment her heart ached for her pup… though he wasn’t a pup anymore, was he? Hmph.

As the female rested, her ears flicked and she rose to her paws. If she had to be woken up this early, then so would the rest of the pack. So, she snorted and rocked onward, limping slightly across the camp to a few moss covered dens, her claws scraping the rock and frost. The old wolf bowed her head to peer inside the den, and looked around. “Alpine? You in there?” She grumbled,” The sun’s up. You’re losing daylight! While you sleep, prey parties, ya hear? And that goes for the rest of ya!" The old female barks as loudly as her tired, scratchy voice will allow, and chuckles to herself as she limps back to her nest.

• SULLIVAN •
Rank: Juvenile | Mentions: Alouette

As Sullivan's dream of tracking down the lost alpha, Waylen, was interrupted by the loud bird call, he stirred from his slumber with a jolt. Blinking away the remnants of his dream, he lay still for a moment, listening intently to the sounds of the night that surrounded him. The call of the bird echoed faintly in the distance, a stark reminder of the world beyond his solitary den. With a sigh, Sullivan rose from his makeshift bed of leaves and twigs, his senses on high alert. His keen eyes scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement or danger.

Outside, the moon cast a pale glow over the landscape, illuminating the trees and underbrush with a silvery light. Sullivan's ears twitched as he detected the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of the bird again. Despite the tranquility of the dawn, he knew that the camp would be bustling with life. With cautious steps, Sullivan emerged from his den, his muscles tense and ready for action. He moved silently through the undergrowth, his senses attuned to the slightest disturbance. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves sent a shiver down his spine, but he pressed on, determined to unravel the mystery of the lost alpha. He could feel in his gut that going for an early morning wander to clear his mind would be a good start to a busy day for him.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, still staying close to the camp, Sullivan's thoughts drifted back to his interrupted dream. The image of Waylen, strong and proud, haunted his mind, fueling his determination to find him. For Sullivan knew that only by mastering the art of tracking and hunting could he ever hope to uncover the truth behind Waylen's disappearance.

As he circled back towards the camp, his thoughts were still muddled as to how the pack’s previous Alpha had just disappeared into thin air. He could not get the facts straight, and for an intelligent young wolf such as he, it frustrated him. Just as Sully took a well aimed kick at a nearby tree with his hind foot, he smelt something odd. Not odd… he thought. Off…. decayed, rotten. These words swirled his mind as he paused near the camp entrance before trotting to a nearby hollow, all the while working his nose to follow the scent.

What he came across was shocking, and he had to admit, terrifying. A rotten hare, although freshly killed in the night, was rotted out and green. He could tell it was freshly mauled to death because blood was covering the ground beneath the kill and it hadn’t yet dried. This was the work of something feral and potentially diseased. Maybe even a Beast of the Night. Sully shuddered immensely at this thought and hastened back to camp.

He approached his mother, Alouette’s den without care and flung himself upon her in an attempt to get her to rise from her slumber. “Alouette! Mum! Wake up, please…” Sully spoke in a frantic whisper while prodding his mother.

Alpine groaned tiredly turning and lightly snoring. He could feel it in his bones, his sleep was coming to and end soon. Alpine cherished that sleep for the last few seconds before a loud cranky wake up call could be heard.

Súsán | Alpha Male | Mentions: Kéthil, Ranger [dir]; rest of pack [ind]

There's a certain air of unease when it comes to the dreams that Súsán walks in, all forests littered by dense trees; if he wanted to move, he'd have to weave through them like a needle through threads of fabric. The woods only thicken the further he goes in, unable to do anything but keep going. Something draws him in, but where ? So close the trees are that their branches scrape against his pelt until they pierce his skin, and yet he marches on like a rat in a maze as he continues on this journey. It's only a matter of time before he reaches what seems to be a clearing in the woods, a dead tree standing center point. What draws him here ? Perhaps it's the heart of the woods. Something draws him in closer to the decaying tree, something abnormal. Something.. celestial ? Wake, the tree suggests, or is it a command, in an airy whisper, Súsán being sucked into the hollow trunk of the tree.

Abruptly opening his eyes, Súsán takes a moment to catch his breath before pushing himself up in a seated position. Next to him was his mate, Kéthal, still asleep as it seems. His mind begins to wander for a moment. Such a strange dream he had, wasn't it ? Nothing to worry on. Dreams are nothing but fantasies that we wander in. They are nothing but figments.

Súsán nudges his mate, in a low voice beckoning "it's time to get up," before standing up himself and approaching the mouth of their den. There was snow outside, and it appeared as though whatever got in the den was swept away. Likely one of the subordinates. How well behaved of them, isn't it ? Exiting the den, standing right outside of the mouth, Súsán scans the area around him. Most wolves were asleep, of course they'd be, though he caught sight of Ranger, one of his scouts, returning to his den. "Ranger," the alpha beckons in a raised volume to ensure he's heard, "come here."

There's no doubt in his mind that Ranger must've went on an early patrol. He wants to know what he saw, and what he has to report. Matter of fact, might be time for everyone to get up. Licking his lips, Súsán's voice booms as he sends out a waking call. He's awoken, so now everyone else must rise too. There is work to be done, territory to patrol, prey to be caught, and more. The day is young, and much needs to be done before curfew comes. "I want everyone to come 'round," Súsán commands, trotting towards the center of the area, "I have much I need to discuss for the day." Coming to a halt, the dark wolf scans around, tail raised about halfway up and ears swiveling about to catch what his eyes cannot.