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Here ya go. My replies will be slow, but I figured we could at least get it started.
He had been sleep-deprived for the past two days...the nightmares had grown worse. Phoenix had made him feel better about the Inferni incident, it was good to know that he wasn't alone in that, but the worst nightmares were always about the Shadow War, and none here knew enough about that to console him. Matrix had been too young to see most of it, and their altars...never had he seen something so despicable. He didn't know why he was so bothered recently...whatever the reason for it, he had been tired for a long time. After a particularly grueling hunt, he filled his belly and lounged quietly, drifting in and out of sleep all day, until the sun began to fall, and he rested his head against the snow-covered floor and shut his eyes, off into a sleep deeper than any he had enjoyed in a long time. His vigilance down, his mind deep in the embrace of slumber, he was away from the world, and no sound would wake him.
A few hours passed, before two wolves, grey and white mottled, crept silently upon his position. The slightly smaller of the two, the elder, possessed one icy blue eye and one yellow. His fists clenched and his eyes widened as he spotted Skoll's sleeping form, and he held his hand up to stall his brother. The larger wolf, blue in the eyes like their third brother, Urbald, stopped. The fire in his eyes was less in its ire than Glaesring's, but greater in its comprehension and lucidity. They had sought for this wolf by his pack land, but had caught no scent of him. It wasn't long, though, before they caught a new lead, and followed it here, deep into the Moaning Woods.
"C'mon, Argus," he beckoned his little brother forward, until they stood only a few yards from their target, one on either side of the sleeping warrior. The elder wolf held his hand up, like an axe, and then cast it down in a chopping motion, giving his little brother the signal to leap into action. Leap he did, and the bronze warrior woke with a start as over two hundred pounds of werewolf landed on him. His first inclination was to rise, which was of course impossible with someone sitting on his chest. Argus reached for his arms, and grabbed one in each hand. The old fighter wrenched and twisted, loosing one arm before grabbing his enemy's wrist. It didn't afford him much, but now he at least had more leverage on his right side. Still, he was trapped underneath the other large were, and he felt hands digging through his pack at his hip. His axe and his knives were all withdrawn from it, before a wolf he recognized in the moonlight stood up, and looked into his eyes.
"So much for honor, huh?" he intoned, still working his grip to whatever advantage he could, which wasn't much. Even if he could prevent the first wolf from hurting him, he couldn't push him off from this position...at least not in what time he had, which meant that he couldn't stop the other..
"You sundered Urbald's leg. Now I'll sunder yours," he said with with a feral grimace. "Before I kill you." Skoll's eyes widened, still analytical and in control, though it was dawning on him that this was an impossible situation. Great, I just haaad to injure the reasonable one. Indeed, the brother this mottled wolf had spoken of had been willing to deal, provided that he would still probably win. Glaesring had never liked the idea of dealing or talking in the first place, and had wanted to just stick Skoll with his throwing knives, which he no longer had, since Phoenix took them at the end of their last fight. Glaesring lifted Skoll's own axe, kneeling by his right leg, the axe reached its apex, and the mottled wolf's muscles tensed as he began to bring the axe down...
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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[html] http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j40/k ... efinal.png);background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-bottom:140px; background-position: bottom center;">Can we backdate this a day to the 17th?
There was a familiar tang in the air, one that triggered memories of violence. It took Phoenix a while to identify it at first, but he did know that the wolf the scent belonged to meant trouble. Fortunately for his friend, the alpha of Storm had a keen memory, and it didn’t take long for him to dredge the file from the folders in his memory. He remembered quite vividly the day, not long after becoming Gamma, finding two wolves intent on killing a then-member of his pack. That had instantly made them his enemies, and he’d ruthlessly (and less than honorably) fought to defend his pack mate. It was something Phoenix never came to regret.
But if those enemies were back, then Skoll had to be warned. One had lost a leg in the battle… but there was a new scent accompanying Glaesring’s. Before the memory fully played out in Phoenix’s head his spine had already ordered his legs to move, almost like a reflex. Adrenaline filled his veins as he ran as Phoenix considered the possibility that they might find Skoll before he did. For only the second or third time in his life Phoenix attempted to shift as he ran, from wolf to seccui. Even if the older wolf was no longer a member of Storm, he still fell under Phoenix’s umbrella of protection, being one of his closest friends. This was especially true now, after their last… encounter, when Phoenix had inadvertently violated his mind and rifled though his memories. Only a true friend would be able to look past as huge and unorthodox a faux paus as that.
His worst fears were confirmed as the scents grew stronger along the trail Phoenix followed. It was a smart move not having one permanent sleeping place, since it made it harder for Skoll’s enemies to track him down… but it also made it harder for his friends to find him as well, especially when it was a matter of life and death and Phoenix didn’t’ have all day to look for him leisurely. Desparate, Phoenix did something that screamed against every instinct: he stopped in his tracks and began to calm himself. He wanted to run, to tear the entire valley apart to find his friend, but that would be inefficient. The massive male forced his breathing to steady, then shut his eyes and began to focus. Extending his mind outwards, he began searching in more than one direction at once, something that would have been impossible to do keeping within his corporeal body. It took all his mental will to extend his mind farther than he ever had before, and it almost wasn’t enough. But he and Skoll had a connection from their previous bonding, and his friend’s duress screamed out at him. Gasping, Phoenix forced his eyes to open and recalled his mind back into his body. He felt exhausted now, both mentally and physically, but he pressed on, running faster than he had before.
As he closed the distance he shifted again to two legs. That cost him even more time but he knew he couldn’t face Graelthrim again any other way. A furious roar escaped his dark muzzle as he saw the axe swinging down. Time slowed. Phoenix began to favor one side as he ran, tackling himself into the other wolf and the two wolves and the axe went flying safely away from Skoll. Phoenix grabbed the steel end of the axe and attempted to yank the weapon away from his foe, but Graelthrim’s grasp somehow remained tight on the other end. At a momentary stalemate, Phoenix took a moment to assess his foe for anything new since their last tango. “Didn’t you learn your lesson th’last time around?” he asked, smirking sickly. Even Phoenix had a dark, ruthless side, but it only came out when he saw a friend in danger. “I hope y’weren’t plannin’ on havin’ pups someday.”
he almost got a sense of satisfaction from the hateful glare Graelthrim gave him before the stalemate was over and the two began wrestling on the ground, struggling for control of the axe. | [/html]
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Rated T for teen, violent content.
Skoll didn't waste any time. Hopeless as his situation had been, he had stayed true to his training throughout, seeking opportunities even as the inevitable fall of the axe began. The eruption of Phoenix onto the scene shocked the brothers, but Skoll being tensed for action reacted quickly and decisively. Argus heard the commotion and rose to one knee, and Skoll gracelessly pushed himself out from under his enemy. Realizing his mistake, the youngest brother tried to bear down again, but the older male already had one leg between them, and set his foot on the mottled wolf's chest, keeping him from regaining his advantage. Kicking off, Skoll rolled into a kneeling position himself, bracing one knee against the ground just in time to take the impact of a second tackle, but his legs were beneath him now, and he would not be taken so easily the second time around.
The muscles in Skoll's legs bunched as the younger male--he couldn't be more than two or three--tried pushing the two of them to the ground, powering his legs against the cold earth. They were about the same strength...the other male was shorter but thicker, but Skoll had taken a lower stance, and had a much clearer idea of how to win. He rose slightly out of his kneel, and his hand reached out to one of the mottled wolf's knees, pulling it toward him and pushing forward with his body, sending his foe onto his back. Rolling onto his belly, Argus tried to rise, but Skoll was upon him quickly, his right arm wrapping around his throat, constricting with assistance from his left into a choke.
Writhing on the ground, face in the snow as Skoll brought the weight of his torso onto his foe's neck, the younger wolf tried desperately to wrench the golden arm from his throat, but to no avail. His eyes rolling, he desperately switched tactics, claws extending and tearing the flesh on his enemy's forearm. Skoll gritted his teeth in pain. Theoretically, it was a good plan. The claws could do great hurt to the flesh of his arm in the time it would take to choke him out, but there was a serious oversight to this idea, one which Argus had missed. With the grey wolf's arms no longer pulling on his own, there was no resistance as Skoll opened his fist and dragged his claws brutally across the other wolf's exposed neck, sending a spume of red across the snowy earth.
Skoll pulled himself up from the ground, eight claw marks on his right arm, but otherwise unscathed. He hadn't done any groundwork for a while, but the training he'd had so long ago, and experiences similar to this one, had meant the difference between life and death for the both of them. Argus curled into a ball, clutching his throat, quivering and making a sound that was a cross between a whimper and a gurgle as he lay dying in the snow. Skoll turned to see how Phoenix was doing.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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[html] http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j40/k ... efinal.png);background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-bottom:140px; background-position: bottom center;">Sounds of furious growling Phoenix clearly recalled the day he had first clashed with Glaesring. He was bigger and stronger, but back then he had lacked experience or discipline with fighting. It had been only his brute strength that got him by, but already he could see that Glaesring had prepared himself for that. The other wolf had been working out, Phoenix could tell by the firm yanking on the axe. Now, though, he had a little training thanks to Skoll, which put the advantage back in his field, if only slightly. Eventually his enemy gave up on trying to reclaim the axe, and instead tried to thrust it into Phoenix, since he had the bladed end. But such a blow was merely a ploy of desperation, since the axe had only one sharp end, which was easily avoided. However, it brought Glaesring’s arms closer and left them vulnerable. Leaning in, Phoenix chomped down on one thick limb as hard as he could.
This finally weakened Glaesring’s grasp on the axe, and Phoenix yanked it free finally. However, he was unused to using human weapons and instead of turning it against his foe he merely tossed it away. He was still unused to combat and not as ruthlessly-minded as the wolves who made a career of fighting, so the possibility of attempting to use the weapon never even crossed his mind. Instead, he relied on his hands and teeth, which he worked his way up onto Glaesring’s shoulder. He tried to deflect as many of his foe’s powerful blows as he could, but many made it past his defenses and came down on his sides, back and neck. However, Phoenix continued to bite down while relentlessly pounding into Graelthim’s own gut and chest. Being on the ground didn’t leave much opportunity for leg work, but every now and then they each managed to land a kick on each other.
Somehow his enemy managed to position himself and flip them both around, leaving Phoenix on the bottom and on the defensive. However, this didn’t last long, since after a few blows were taken Phoenix managed to free his arm and punch Glaesring in the throat, or right next to it—at least it was close enough to cause him to weaken and make some kind of sick gurgling noise. Seeing his opportunity, the massive male pushed Glaesring off himself and kicked as hard as he could into his belly. Another kick, this time to bring himself back on his feet, and Phoenix towered over the wolf on his knees. Mercilessly he clutched Glaesring by the scruff of his neck and smacked him a couple times, open-handed and claws extended. Glaesring tried to stand back up and fight back but Phoenix merely kicked him between the legs (again).
Defeated, Glaesring collapsed in a heap and Phoenix stood triumphantly over him. “This is th’second time you’ve tried t’kill my friend,” Phoenix said as he picked up the axe. Looking back, he felt a wave of relief to see Skoll standing alive over the corpse of Glaesring’s accomplice. Though not a stone-cold killer, Phoenix had seen enough death in his day not to be shocked by the site of a dead body. He did not abominate the wolf, but since he had tried to kill his friend Phoenix couldn’t feel an ounce of remorse for him either. Sorry, tough luck. “Already it’s cost you one brother’s leg an’ another brother’s life. I told you I’d kill you if you ever tried again… but instead, I’ll leave you to his mercy.” This was, after all, Skoll’s enemy. Phoenix had killed once before but he didn’t want to do so again, not an enemy who was already beaten. Phoenix held the axe up and motioned for Skoll to come and take it if he wanted it. The Alpha of Storm wasn’t about to do another wolf’s dirty work no matter how close they were… and he didn’t particularly want to watch either. “Skoll, do whatever you want with this guy.” | [/html]
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Skoll had finished a little sooner than his friend had, but Phoenix wrapped up his own battle relatively quickly as well, using some of what he'd learned in their training sessions, Skoll noted. Standing solemn and grim-faced, Skoll received the weapon from Phoenix, and waited for Storm's alpha to turn away and take a few steps before he turned his eyes to the broken form of Glaesring. There was no honor in this creature, at least not while the fires of rage burned in his heart...he had been tempered by his brother before, but had proven beyond control after their first defeat, or so it would seem. Skoll had seen a little of the fight between his friend and his enemy, and gauged Glaesring's weakness: he relied too much on his heart, too much on his emotion to carry him. Not to the same extent as a berserker, but his weakness was the same in essence. He was a little bulkier, he had tried increasing his strength, but had banked too heavily upon his righteous anger to bring him victory. This was the result...his other brother dead, and he had been defeated just as thoroughly as before.
"Stand up." Skoll commanded, but he knew from the hate in the mottled wolf's eyes that he would not comply. It was a small honor that Skoll was trying to bestow upon him...dying on one's feet was something that every warrior should be able to do, but Glaesring wasn't a real warrior...he had experience according to his brother, and obviously some kind of training, too, but he had never been taught the lifestyle, didn't know the rules, didn't know what it meant to know what he knew, or what responsibilities came with it. Skoll's yellow eyes looked down to Glaesring's mismatched ones as they gleamed in fear and anger. His face twisted into a feral leer, but no words escaped him...his throat had gone dry, for he knew what came next. The axe fell, and the body of Urbald's brother slackened. He had never risen, but died lying on the earth where he had fallen. Skoll turned to Phoenix, who could have guessed by the sounds what Skoll had chosen.
"Couldn't have him trying again. We gave him a chance before, and he almost killed me for it, and would have killed you if he could have. Two chances is enough." He knelt down and did his best to clean the blood from the blade, looking up from the task when he was done. "I appreciate your help, here, Phoenix. I haven't been sleeping well...I didn't wake up at their approach. I'd be dead if you hadn't reacted like you did. How did you know they were coming for me?"
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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[html] http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j40/k ... efinal.png);background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-bottom:140px; background-position: bottom center;">That was it, he had nothing more to give. The adrenaline could only take him so far, and he had even exceeded his max with that. Perhaps more—he felt like he had loaned from his physical limitations and with high credit. Slumping visibly, the massive male trudged over to a large boulder and stand down on it, trying in vain to wind own even as he hurt the sickening thud of Skoll’s mental imbedding itself into Glaesring’s flesh. He wiped a finger across the area underneath his collarbone experimentally. Just as he had expected, there was a rather ample amount of blood leaking from a wound somewhere on his shoulder, in an area he couldn’t angle his head to look at directly. And there were dozens of other small cuts and bruises all over his body.
Phoenix was not weak… he knew it was necessary. But he feared becoming comfortable with the concept of killing other wolves. If that day ever came, he would be no better than the ones he fought to protect his kin. It seemed somehow wrong to slay a beaten foe aying curledup on the ground helplessly, though he agreed with everything Skoll said as the older warrior came up behind him. No, he didn’t regret defeating Glaesring once more… but he was thankful that he hadn’t had to make the killing blow himself. He had killed another wolf once before, and it was an experience he hoped never to repeat.
“I smelled ‘em at Storm’s borders,” the alpha answered, pointing a thumb towards his home unnecessarily. They both knew where it was. Phoenix’s voice was flat, dull… he was drained, and he didn’t even have the auxiliary strength to try to hide the fact. “That was th’ first place they came lookin’ for you, I guess. It took me a while t’ find you…I hadda track you down telepathically, an’ if we hadn’t made a mental connection b’fore, I wouldn’ta been able t’ find you in time.” Yet another unexpected benefit of that mistaken connection. Perhaps it was worth the nightmares Phoenix had gained afterwards, after all. | [/html]
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My apologies if I made any mistakes. I assumed Phoenix was tired because he wasn't quite over the river incident yet, but I wasn't sure.
The level of fatigue that Phoenix showed was disturbing. The entire fight hadn't lasted long, but Glaesring was a fierce fighter, Skoll knew. Larger fighters tired more quickly, it was true, but still...Skoll didn't know what had transpired in Storm since last they'd spoken, hadn't been aware of his friend's fall into the river and the ensuing period of recovery that he had just recently come away from. It had cost Phoenix more than Skoll knew to come out here for his sake. Looking him over, he wondered if he shouldn't help him get back, he looked exhausted.
"Well, that little trick of yours never ceases to amaze, does it?" he said, with as much humor as he could. His fight had resulted in a lot less injury, had been a lot cleaner and simpler, and while he wasn't stronger than Argus, his technical skill and his opponent's lack thereof had allowed him to finish that fight without pushing his muscles to their limits for more than a few moments. He picked up the contents of his bag and replaced them, still looking to his friend with concern.
"Maybe we ought to get you back to Storm? I can dispose of these two in the morning, the smell can't be too much worse than it was before, eh?" He kept trying to be light-hearted. It was embarrassing to have been taken unawares like that, to be caught in a situation where he would have died on his own. Two wolves, neither of whom were really close to his own calibur, was all it had taken. One of them could have accomplished the same goal, had they not wanted to hack his leg off first. It hadn't taken more than a few nights of too little sleep, and his well-known vigilance had been taken from him, and he'd been rendered completely open to attack.
"Well, thanks for the rescue, Phoenix. I'd like to say I could have handled the situation myself, but..." He let that hang in the air for a moment. It was ridiculously obvious that he'd have died. He hadn't been that close to death since his fight with Korbal, who had chosen to leave him where he lay. "Well, it's a good thing you showed up when you did." He stood beside the burly male, offering a shoulder to be leaned on as they made their way back.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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[html] http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j40/k ... efinal.png);background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-bottom:140px; background-position: bottom center;">He should be fully recovered by now, but I figure the run, the telepathic endeavor and the fight all added up. Sorry for the shortness.
He could tell Skoll was trying to be upbeat for his sake… but it wasn’t really working, and the larger male only stared at him blankly. Phoenix wasn’t the type to appreciate humor in a dour situation. The fact of the matter was that two lives had been snuffed out, and the two lives could have just as easily been his and Skoll’s. He saw no reason to be mirthful—and even if he did, he hadn’t the energy for it. Granted, the two wolves weren’t worth mourning… but Phoenix believed that all lives had value, to a certain extent. He was only glad that his telepathy hadn’t been active when the two wolves died. Death was a terrible sensation to experience.
Still, he had reason to feel upbeat. Skoll was still alive, and that was what mattered. Sliding off the rock, he took up his friend’s unspoken offer for a shoulder to lean on. That was how one could tell someone was a true friend, when they could communicate without words. “What’re friends for? We make a pretty good team, doon’t we?” he asked. Something was bothering him, but he didn’t know how to bring it up. “How old are you, Skoll?” he finally asked. He knew Skoll was over twice his own age and that he was past his pinnacle. He didn’t like the idea of Skoll being out here on his own when he didn’t have to be… Fatin and Gabriel be damned. | [/html]
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As some of Phoenix's weight shifted onto Skoll's frame, they began walking back the way both the alpha and their enemies had come. He could understand the larger wolf's reaction...death wasn't an easy thing to face, especially if it wasn't something you faced often. In truth, it wasn't even something that fighters faced all the time. He had run into a series of conflicts with an unfortunate rate of lethality. The Creek's dead accrued primarily of starvation, the Four Pack War's of steel and claws, the Shadow war's was as vicious as his past experiences, except that he had encountered death by ritual sacrifice, as well. The old wolf had seen far too much, and was rather intimate with death...rather too much so. His comfort with it had led him to make rash decisions a few times...to overgeneralize a few situations where patience and mercy might have been the better options. Still, there wasn't much choice in this case. Glaesring had come back once, and his hate had been undiminished by his second loss. He would have returned again, and the chances of his own death were too high to let the zealot have a third pass.
"I'll say," he smiled, "Course, you're always the one coming to my aide. With you around, how am I supposed to get any more pretty scars?" Obviously humor. It was ironic that he was the only one who was ever in trouble. It was something of a reversal of what he was used to. Accustomed to the role of competent warrior, he was in the habit of helping others in danger, not being helped. His right(and only) ear twitched at his friend's next question.
"No one's asked me that in a long time," he said, setting one foot in front of the other. "This is my...seventh winter. I was born in the summer, so I'm six and some months, I guess." He turned his head askew slightly, regarding the other as they continued walking. "What about you? How old are you anymore? You look a little older than when you got hurt in the pack hunt."
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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[html] http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j40/k ... efinal.png);background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-bottom:140px; background-position: bottom center;">Skoll had once been the self-proclaimed protector of Storm, but now it was his turn to require aid. In a way that is how it always should have been. The old protected and nourished the young so that when they were too old to care for themselves any longer the young could step up and return the favor. Phoenix’s first pack hunt might have turned into a tragedy had Skoll not been there to bind his wound. The massive male turned his leg to look down at the scar he still had from that day, a rather sizeable length of skin that started on his chest and ran around his arm. There was always some kind of story behind each scar—and while Phoenix had some doozies, he was sure Skoll had better ones. “A was still pretty much a pup back then. Guess I’m a little over three years old now… I ain’t exactly sure,” he answered.
It was odd to think that Skoll was almost old enough to be his grandfather. Up until relatively recently, Phoenix had always looked at Skoll as an elder, but as the two spent more time together Phoenix saw him more as a friend, maybe something somewhat close to a big-brother figure. He wondered how highly he ranked on Skoll’s own friends list. They’d fought side-by-side twice now, which had given Phoenix a glimpse into Skoll’s world. He knew it was not the life for him, but he didn’t think any less of the bronze wolf for living in that world himself. And he hoped Skoll didn’t think any less of him from shying away from warfare—just as with any other friend, Skoll’s opinion mattered to him.
“I want’cha to come back to Storm. For good, I mean,” he stated, deciding not to beat around the bush any longer. “You need a better home, an’ we need more members right now. That way we can watch each other’s backs without havin’ t’ travel so far, okay?” He didn’t want to accuse Skoll of not being able to take care of himself; but well, everybody needed help from time to time. And that was what being in a pack was all about. | [/html]
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We can finish it there, unless you want to keep going?
The older wolf was quite for a moment. He hadn't expected that, though he supposed it made sense given the circumstances. He didn't have much backup out here, Aivyr and the others didn't come into Bleeding Souls themselves. While threats from outside of Souls were few, he knew that if these two could get the jump on him in his current state of unrest, then Gabriel or those under his command could probably do the same. It wasn't a pleasant thought, not only due to the thought of waking up with teeth in his throat, but also the idea that he couldn't count on himself. He had been trusting himself with his own safety for over five years, not being alert enough or strong enough to take care of at least himself was alien and unpleasant.
"Well, if you've changed your mind about it, I don't see why not. But I'm only agreeing to do this until you aren't so short-handed anymore, and until my sleeping patterns improve. We'll have to see how things stand after Storm's ranks fill out a bit, and after I can get over these stupid nightmares, start sleeping all night again." He had no problem extending his strength to the Storm border again, but the thought of being protected in turn bothered him. He wanted to get out of this funk of his soon, incompetence wasn't in his creed, and letting himself slip again could get him killed, without much stretch of the imagination.
How old am I, really? he wondered. He knew his age roughly, but it wasn't the number that mattered, but the state of the body. He knew that he wasn't quite as fast as he had been two years ago, but it wasn't enough to be a serious hindrance...he just had a harder time fighting on all cylinders. His lifestyle and routine kept him strong, kept him fit, kept him sharp. Yeah...speed is all it is. I'm not slow, I just used to be faster. Know your limitations, push them if you need, but know where they are. He was guilty of not always acknowledging his limits...the fight with the cultists on the Storm border had been foolhardy, he suspected. He could have called Gibraltar and the others...but he would have sacrificed the element of surprise, and would have certainly got a packmate killed. He looked down at his left wrist as they walked...he felt a dull ache there, after fighting with Argus it was reminding him that he had broken it before. Most of my worst wounds in one fight...still, without that act and the accompanying stories I couldn't have rallied the support against cult. Foolhardy, stupid, but it may take a little of that to motivate people these days. A small smile crept onto his lips, but was gone again shortly thereafter.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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[html] http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j40/k ... efinal.png);background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-bottom:140px; background-position: bottom center;">Phoenix awaited the answer nervously. Skoll probably thought him some kind of flake for doing this, inviting him back into Storm, then uninviting him, and now reopening the offer. But times changed constantly, and the situation was slightly different now. As always, Phoenix tried to adapt. Sadly, things had unlikely changed with Fatin and Gabriel, but he didn’t care about them any more. A meddlesome female and violent crazy were unimportant when his friend needed his help. And what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t do everything in his power to help his friend? He would worry about the nettlesome details later.
“It’d be under th’ same conditions as b’fore,” the Alpha clarified, but didn’t elaborate—Skoll new what they were. Stay away from Inferni and don’t meddle in the affairs of other packs. Aside from that, his friend was free to do as he wished. Phoenix was not the same leader as Gibraltar, but he could learn from his predecessor’s mistakes. He would take the word of his friend and pack mate over that of a belligerent stranger’s, but if Skoll did start something—which he would never do—then Phoenix would deal with him himself. “But I’d like you t’ come back t’ stay. I’ll put you as subordinate, but don’t let that stop you from doin’ th’ job you love.” having Skoll keeping vigilant at the borders left right somehow. It brought back a sense of normalcy to the pack that Phoenix had missed since his banishment. And having someone who had been around longer than him made it feel like they had regained some ties to their past. | [/html]
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