The den of the pack had shifted sundry times throughout the year as they conquered fresh territories in the woodland. This lair was proximate to the swamps, yet not too proximate to readily reach humans making their livelihood there.

As the sun began dipping below the horizon and the balmy summer day gave way to a chillier evening, the sounds of the woodland metamorphosed. Birds aloft sang farewell to each other as they settled down for the night, while the rustling of leaves could be heard as diurnal creatures scampered about returning to their dens.

The wolves traversed the woodland, swiftly running along the well-trodden path. The scent of the nearby swamps intensified as they drew nearer, and the sound of croaking frogs could be heard in the distance. The trees of the forest began to grow scarce as the ground grew softer.

As they reached the verge of the woodland, the wolves halted, surveying the land ahead of them. The swamp was a colossal expanse of marshy land, intermixed with cypress trees, their roots enveloped in towering grasses and murky water. The sounds of insects and other creatures could be heard buzzing and humming all around them.

The wolves continued, their paws sinking fleetingly into the soft earth on each step as they made their way through the swamp. The air was thick with the smell of mud and decay.

As the last rays of sunlight vanished, the swamp teemed with the sound of nocturnal creatures. The low croak of bullfrogs, the chirping of crickets, and the occasional splash of a fish jumping out of the water.

The swamp was not Roro's preferred terrain, per se. However, she would have to concede that it was far more fecund. Life flourished in water, particularly during summer when rain lured the frogs for a breeding season.

They encountered a dozen lustful frogs attempting to mate and spent a while bounding around trying to collect some.

The wolves' ears flicked when they heard a thrashing in the bushes. A nutria had become ensnared in the humans' trap, futilely attempting to free itself. Its blood stained the murky water nearby as it grew weaker, the trap piercing deeper into its skin. Frogs are chewy and could sustain a wolf for a day, yet nutria was definitely a more worthwhile meal, and so very tempting presented to them in an easy steal. Yet there was also sounds on the water. Something was approaching.

"Iron-bearers' trap," Hayam shook his head. "Go fetch it, Beta, and do it quickly. Hear the iron-bearers' machine whirring nearby."

Parardya and Bimo went forth and crept to the trap. The rest of the team stayed behind in the safety of the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on the deeper waters that curved a mass of cattails.

Bimo endeavored to wrench the nutria out of the trap as Parardya held the trap from snapping with her jaws. However, it proved to be arduous, and the nutria was not exactly thrilled about it. It splashed around, dousing Bimo's eyes with muddy water.

Meanwhile, the reverberation in water intensified. "Drop it, the iron-bearers are coming," Roro snarled. Their ears flattened, yet the two persisted, struggling with the nutria. The rest of the pack watched them as their hackles began to rise.

"What are you doing? Return!" Hayam growled. Just then, a boat peeked from behind the cattails. Two humans on it swiftly spotted Parardya and Bimo and yelled in fury.

The four wolves barked from behind the shadows, instructing the two to return. Something was amiss. They were still there, panicking, struggling with something.

"Mother! Father!"

Payada yelped and rushed towards them, yet Roro apprehended the juvenile male by his neck and forcefully slammed him onto the ground, exerting pressure on his thorax with her forepaws. She snarled at him in fury. Raksa promptly restrained Payada.

Hayam was already sprinting to retrieve the two, and Roro pursued him. Upon passing them, she observed that Bimo had become ensnared in the trap, with Parardya's gums seeping blood from her attempts to impede its closure.

Hayam aided them, while the she-wolf hastened towards the humans, submerging herself up to her knees in murky water, barking and growling to intimidate them from approaching. The humans became agitated and stumbled with their weapons, with one of them propelling the boat further away from shore to evade the wild she-wolf. Her hackles erect, she howled to summon the rest of the pack.

Before Acheron's chops tautened in a rigid clasp, his lobe swiveled when a distant screech penetrated throughout the clouded, swarthy welkin, reaching the coves and him. It was thought-provoking and to that unpredictable sound, his muscles rippled as he ascended to his feet, fur bristling and his figure looming over the wee heir. ''Huh-'' her voice frail and flimsy lingered in the after-stillness of the moment.

''Don't flee the cavern-'' his tone gurgled in earnestness as his callous bridling figure brushed over the heir, trampling outside in an impulsive stride. Apparently, not only he had gotten apprehensive about the screechy sound ear-split the welkin but also the totality of the clan. Even Dune had dwelt in the assembling canine batch, his face furrowed and whizzing with bewilderment. ''All of you - remain calm and do not panic,'' he said, his voice clamorous and unfaltering amongst the canines that were percolating in apprehension and bafflement, muttering under their breaths to one another.

But Acheron's tassel flitted as he observed the veering terror in their glistening irises before joining in. He was more inquisitive than perplexed - the call was apparent and distinctive, but what Dune thought about it piqued him to mutter. ''It's the opposite clan...I suppose they seek aid,'' he uttered in a silky, palliative tone, cranium tilting and irises boring into Dune's as he awaited an answer from the brute. ''Indeed, although I'm not sure if it's safe to approach their situation,'' he said, nearly instantly whilst his satiny and fluffed-out pelt tousled midst the south current.

''It can be considered perilous, but we have divided the territories and we are sorrowing from the same problem,'' before anyone could've answered or chimed in another statement, Shikari had pried into the conversation, her willowy figure halting beside her mate; Dune. Nonetheless her temperament and how, not-so-likable Shikari was, many of the canines acquiesced and so did Acheron. ''Probing and in case, lending a paw seems appropriate and courteous from our side,'' Shikari mentioned, flitting her lobes at Dune's nettled glance, clearly noticing how indisposed he was, uncertain and tense.

''Fine. I, Merikh, and Acheron will investigate, all others that haven't been cited, remain here,'' his figure withdrew from Shikari and the rest, just Acheron and Merikh had tailed after him, their swiftness prompt and anchored as they thundered through the woodland in hefty thuds and rustles.

This dreadful though eerie wetland will be an interesting biome to meddle with. Same as encountering this clan, they evaded for merely centuries.

"The Retainers would not be here in time!" Payada protested, extricating himself from Raksa's grip. Raksa permitted him--they had gone through enough hunt together for Raksa to understand: Payada may not be a prodigious youngling, but imprudence was not among his vices. "We're the future of the pack," Raksa answered him with an even-keeled tone. Despite this, Raksa too surveyed his mother with unease, awaiting any approval to hasten forward and assist.

Roro was fully engrossed in keeping the bipeds at bay, while Hayam was occupied with aiding Bimo.

Clink of metal brought the wolves relief when Bimo was set free, bleeding. The humans, having gathered their wits together after the initial shock of Roro's demonstration of ferocity, reached for their weapon properly and commenced firing as the four wolves scurried to withdraw into the obscurity of the cypress trees, welcomed swiftly by the two Heirs. Hayam assumed lead position, guiding their escape.

Gunshot ruptured the air. One, two, and a yelp in return. Roro's head whipped towards her son. Raksa had his sights on another wolf. Roro followed his eyeline and it landed on Parardya, who growled in pain but did not cease running. The pack entered the shadows as splashes of water were heard behind them, followed by the clunk of boots and the creaking of the boat.

Another gunshot, but this time no yelp ensued. Roro could smell blood in the air--wolf blood. The pack ran and ran without regard of their prior path, and as the sounds and smells of humans were no longer caught by their senses, Hayam's gait slowed down and eventually came to a halt. Right then Parardya toppled over to the ground, panting hard, but stubbornly refused to whimper.

Bimo and Payada rushed to the she-wolf's side. Bimo was openly whimpering as he licked his mate's wound, ears pinned and tail between his legs. Groaning in pain, Parardya still seemed to soften when Bimo came close, and she licked his cheek gently in a calming gesture, while Payada seemed to freeze in fear as he beheld the wound on his mother's leg. Blood trailed all the way behind Parardya. The blood on her muzzle had dried, while the wound on her leg leaked bigger and bigger stain of crimson starkly contrasting her white fur.

Hayam looked at Roro, hoping. She shook her head. "Never dealt with iron-bearer's bite," she said. "Lirio must know better."

They looked around them, an unfamiliar sight. Hayam and Roro had always hunted together- Roro needn't ask if Hayam knew where they were.

No matter how they strained their ear, they couldn't hear the sound of Lirio nor Gitarja's howl in response. "Their howling is pathetic," Hayam comforted Roro, and he took a deep breath as he sat down. Roro followed suit.

Hayam initiated the howl with a long, low note that reverberated across the night air. He held the note for several seconds before gradually shifting to a higher pitch, his voice rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. His chest expanded with each breath, and his powerful lungs pumped out the sound with a deep resonance.

Roro joined in, not as powerful, but her timbre had a haunting quality, blending seamlessly with the male's deeper howl. Before long Raksa chimed in, with a deep haunting tone resembling his mother; and Payada, whose howl was relatively indistinct, also joined in. They had no idea if the Retainers could hear their call, but they had no alternative but to endeavor to give them a hint of their location.

As the clangorous bay outstretched throughout the canopies of groves, Dune had halted his strides, trotting forward with a furrowed countenance on his sallow muzzle. Mulling over how will the three-pair of canines approach this matter without earning any consequences that would put them at stake. ''Without my directive, do not do anything but remain coolheaded,'' he said, endowing a solemn eye to Acheron and Merikh that were tailing side by side.

It was opaque, but the odor of canines had given them a straightforward indication of where to go. And throughout the thickset coppice, the spiny gnarled branches that penetrated their fluff, Dune had spurred his cranium first, his saturnine figure occurring from the vegetation, those emerald-hue irises gleaming like two fluttering fireflies. Whilst Merikh with Acheron shadowed in suit, ogling the in front circumstance with lidded eyes.

The three bode there stiffly, their breathing labored and their minds like a washing tide colliding into the sandy beachfront. They all had a distinguishing howl, one was unearthly, and one was resonant, and guttural whilst the remaining canines had melded impeccably into one harmonious call.

However, the situation was far more drastic. Scrutinizing the batch of canines, Acheron's golden-threaded irises settled on the wounded one, observing the gurgling streamlet of blood besmear its furred physique.

It appeared severe, treacherous to the eye, even. But despite, their little to no capability of aid, Acheron peeked a prompt glance to Dune, who was there, boding in stillness. Taut and impatient.

For once it was Bimo who reacted first - the danger his beloved mate was in had coursed through his veins, spiking his ordinarily inattentive senses with a potent surge of adrenaline. The usual meek and undistinguished look on his countenance was supplanted by a ferocious, protective snarl as he sensed the three unfamiliar wolves entering their space. He charged between Parardya and the three, his form rising to his full height, thick chest baring as an impregnable fortress. "Who goes there?" Bimo demanded in a deep, resonant bark, a hint of a tremble in his voice at the end of his utterance betraying the intensity of his emotions. Payada, trembling as he was, stood by his father's side, his body tense and low to the ground in a slight crouch.

The howls had died down abruptly as the pack realized the three wolves' presence. Roro did not wait for Hayam's order, who was assessing the situation still with his wary light blue gaze. She sprang forward without hesitation at them with her jaws gaping wide. Offense is the best defense, or so Roro had taught herself.

A quick glance was enough to determine - one white wolf seemed to be the oldest and the smallest between the three, and as if singling out the weakest of the prey herd, she aimed her jaws at his hyoid bone, hoping to hear a satisfying crack of it when her maws snap shut. A former lone wolf herself, she had known to aim at the weakest spot that might even kill a stronger wolf in an opportune strike.

The aggression triggered Hayam into fight instinct. A far more experienced fighter in pack versus pack aggression, he, too, targeted the same male. Take down one as quickly and efficiently as possible, and less to fight against later. He aimed his jaws at the male's back, hoping to knock him down in one swift, decisive strike.

Meanwhile Raksa, having spent his entire puphood training to be the future beta, for a moment forgot his current position as the precious alpha heir who should be receiving protection. He reflexively moved to shield Payada, hackles raised, tension on his entire body as he fought the urge to charge and fight by his mother's side.