As Nezera trailed her border, scenting for another sign of the encroaching rogues, she allowed her thoughts to wander. An acquaintance - not a friend, for she certainly didn't allow those - in the territory next to hers had heard rumors of the growing pack, hungry for bloodshed and land. The male, for all his dimwitted comments, was good for information - somehow, he always carried fact, omitting any falseties he had heard along the way. He had friends, companions he relied on.

Perhaps that was what had killed him.

Not two weeks had passed since Nezera had smelled the rotting flesh of her ally, since she had dared to slink into his territory only to find him dead, picked apart by the crows. She hadn't believed his words fully until that point, hadn't considered that the rogues would be here now.

For the first time, Nezera felt true fear pierce her heart as she patrolled, the unfamiliar pack's scent rolling as the tide did under a torrential storm. They hadn't found her yet, surely hadn't scented her - the wind worked in her favor, masking her presence for now. She stalked the edge of her territory low to the ground, belly brushing the long-dead leaves as she inched her way further into the overwhelming smell of decay.

She was not afraid of anything. Before the rogues approached, she had never felt fear in her life - had always been gifted the upper hand, the ability to outweigh her opponent in one aspect or another. Perhaps she was slightly insane; years of isolation could do that to a wolf, drive them to the precipice and dangle them over the edge.

Now, though, she lived in a constant state of fight or flight, her grip on the ledge of sanity waning. She woke at night to the slightest creak of the trees, leapt in the air at the faintest hint of another's presence. Just as she did when a voice called, teasingly low as it mocked her, threatened her.

Her hackles raised in an instant, muscles tensing as she lowered herself even further to the ground. Her eyes met those of a rather interesting wolf - the female's pelt was nothing she had ever seen before, complex patterns that confused her eyes until the she-wolf moved. Most startling of all, though, were her piercing green eyes, seemingly cut from the earth itself. Her own eyes nearly glowed in response, amber hues flashing in the fading sunlight.

"Who says I cannot hold my own?" Her response was biting, cold in its delivery. "Who are you to say that I won't best you, as I've bested every other who has dared to challenge me?"

It was true; Nezera had many scars to attest for her continuous winning streak, breaks in her fur that indicated a life of cruelty and battle.

"I would recommend you leave now," she said, tone eerily still as it cut through the forest. "I don't much care for a fight, and I'd truly hate to cover my coat in blood at such a late hour."

Moving off from her spot she once sat, Yukon began to circle around the other, her orbs never leaving the other as she did so. Her audits laid in a defensive position on her skull, her lips drawing back into loud snarl. "Now, I suggest to you..." Her words trailed off, her pupils turning to slits. "Run.." Yukon wasn't one to be swayed easily of a challenge. Especially one she found easy. Though, little did she know she would soon have a large choice dropped in front of her. To either make a friend, or to simply be put to death without any hope of suriving.

For now, the dame was left with a smaller choice. Though, she'd leave the first decision up to the smaller of the both of them.

Nezera was only slightly daunted by the size of the female as she dropped down, beginning to circle Nezera like prey. Though she was much larger than Nezera's own stature, it gave her an advantage - Nezera was nimble, deft in her movements, and the female's bulkier frame would make it harder for her to keep up.

As the two paced each other, Nezera noted the muscle tone lurking beneath her hefty pelt, the way her skin rippled with each powerful step. Her own ears flattened, hackles raised as her tail swished angrily against the ground. She kept herself low, allowing the female to think her smaller than she was - let her think Nezera tiny, uncapable of withstanding her own in a fight. At her words, Nezera let out a barking laugh, the sound ringing in the desolate clearing.

"I don't run," she chided, voice taking on a melodic, teasing quality. "To back down from a fight is to lose, and I am certainly not willing to allow that outcome."

As the females circled, Nezera formed a plan. Clearly, the she-wolf was not willing to attack first. Nezera had no such issue. She watched for a weakness, an opening she could take to wound the other wolf in the first strike. She found it in the way her tail swished as she walked, the movement opening her flank just that tiny bit that Nezera would need to strike and retreat before she was caught in her foe's maw.

Just as she prepared to move, a low chuckle echoed through the trees. Nezera froze, dropping to the ground as her muscles bunched, skin prickling with unease.

A black male leapt from the ledge her foe had previously occupied, a manic smile twisting his jaw. His eyes would have been a brilliant shade of blue if they harbored any life - instead, they seemed dead in his skull, dull and cruel. "We've been tracking you, little wolf," he gloated, staring at the female that was now beside Nezera. "And it seems you've brought us a treat!"

Nezera snarled, bunching her legs underneath her as she snapped her jaw towards the male. "I could fight you myself - what makes you think you're able to best two wolves alone?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of that," the male quipped, voice taking on an edge that sent Nezera's ears flattening. He sounded as she did when taunting prey, belittling and deranged. Something wasn't right here. He shouldn't sound so confident, so sure of himself.

Just as her fears peaked, Nezera scented the air; she didn't need to, though, for the five scents she had caught presented themselves in the form of a small pack, jumping down to circle the male. They smelled of death, of carrion long wasted, and... of her neighboring ally, whose corpse rotted a league away.

The rogues had found her, then.

She angled her head slightly to the female at her side, flanks quivering with anticipation. "Well?" Her voice was hushed, barely audible over the rasping breaths of the newcomers as she looked to the she-wolf. "Run?"

A silence thay was broken by yet another..

For once in minutes, Yukon's gaze was torn from the other dames frame, landing on a rather large black male with a dead, cold stare. It was like he had no reason to be living. Though, the way he talked to the littler of them, made her realize that her smaller foe wasn't one of them. Yukon reamined silent, listening to the conversation that ensued. The smaller dame having such confidence made the large roll her eyes. How could one be so confident with a size such as hers? It was as admirable as it was stupid. Lowering her crown once more, Yukon's gaze would remain on the large brute. She would be ready to help mangle his corpse. Though, the air of confidence in the brutes voice made her uneasy. How could he be so sure of himself against two of them? Lifting her head slightly, her auricles perked before she watched four other wolves emerge from the surrounds. The smell that radiated off of these wolves was the most vile smell she had ever scented. A smell that even the most vile of wolves didn't want to smell. Rotting and decay, a disgusting, lowly smell..

Seeing the wolves made Yukon's lips curl back into another silent snarl. Her crania lowering back to the position it was once in. The large dame wasn't afraid, as showing fear made her feel weak. Though, on the inside, Yukon was trembling. Though she knew death and accepted it, the thought of being mangled and left a corpse without respect for her made her tremble. No one deserved nor wanted to go out like that. Glancing toward the other dame, Yukon felt and saw the fear wafting from her. The word run sounding in a question through the air. Yukon never backed down from a fight, but, if it meant living another day, she'd cut her losses.

"Run."

With one simple word, Yukon turned on her haunches and took off. Her auricles folded to her crown, her muscles propelling her into a long-strided, high-speed bolt. The eurasian female knew she would tire quickly, but would run until she couldn't any longer. Yukon kept her gaze forward, not looking back at the way she came. She could hear the manic cackling of the rogue group behind her, their pawsteps fading. They didn't seem to be trying -- But why? The group had caused so much destruction already; why stop now?

After a good ten or so minutes of running, Yukon began to tire. Her muscles ached and her breathing grew heavy. She had been following her smaller foe to the best of her ability. Which, now she found stupid. Yukon was now vulnerable. Soon slowing to a stop, the large dame collasped to the ground. Her tongue lulled from her maw in a pant as she laid there. How stupid could she have been? To follow the other. The eurasian female knew she was around, only being able to scent her, not see her. Which made her even more alert of the danger that lurked nearby.

As soon as the affirmation left the female's mouth, Nezera bolted. Her legs, short as they were, propelled her through the terrain with force, trees flying past her as she raced away from the baying cackles of the rogues. She didn't dare look back, even as the echoes grew further, her legs refusing to slow. A bramble caught on her forelimb, causing her to yelp in pain, but she did not falter, pushing herself faster, to her very limit as she fled death.

Nearly ten minutes later, she heard her counterpart slow, coming to a trot herself as she circled around the now panting female, flopped on the ground in a rather undignified sprawl. Her steps were light, silent as she observed from the shadows of the trees in the twilight.

She watched, inquisitive, as the female seemed to halfheartedly look fer her, still on alert despite her heaving breaths. Nezera debated leaving her, considered how far she could get if she vanished now. Though her own breaths were shallow, her stamina prevailed - she was sure she could make it far enough that the female would never be able to track her before she disappeared.

The night life of the forest began to spring into action, crickets chirping their harmonious song as the sun faded entirely. Instead of fleeing, as she knew she should, Nezera found herself watching the female, tracking the slowing pant until she was able to breathe normally. Her ears quirked, nostrils flared as she searched for any sign of the rogues that had given chase. There were no other wolves nearby, though, the scents long faded from moons of abandon.

As she watched, she considered the possibilities. She could run, could leave the she-wolf to her own. It would be beneficial to her - she didn't remember how to act around others, wasn't able to keep her temper in check. Watching the back of another wolf would fray her already tense mind, let alone finding the time to sleep when she felt the need to constantly keep an eye on her foe. On the other hand, she had been met with five rogues, an uncountable number of scents lingering on their pelts. To be alone was to be in danger with them running rampant - she feared death, feared its ability to grasp her so easily, and anything she could do to postpone its inevitable hold would let her relax just that tiny bit.

She wanted to survive.

With a sigh, Nezera padded into the clearing, eyes narrowing on the female who still lay on the ground. "Get up," she barked, voice harsh.

"We can't go back. My territory is no longer safe, as much as it disheartens me to admit. Until I've figured out how to disband that wretched pack, I've no home and no safety, and neither do you."