What kind of world is this? One where wolves of the same genus discriminate against one another for a difference of species or even subspecies. One where looks dominate the field of judgement of ones character. Where the wolf reigned supreme and all other canids were inferior. It was a scary world for a dingo. Everyone was bigger than you. Back home it didn't matter, all the animals were bigger, but you knew how to deal with them. Here one animal could look like another, but they were entirely different, and they had different ways of handling. The closest thing back home was the difference between an emu and a cassowary. To her they were entirely different creatures, but some gubba* from this place wouldn't be able to tell and do something stupid. Here, she was gubba. Different. Outsider. She was thinner and had larger ears perched atop her head. Her solid coat of reddy-brown made her stand out like a bush fire. Coyotes saw her from kilometres away and deviated their course to nip at her heels. They were thicker and more  solid in body than her thinner, lighter frame. And none of them looked the same, like she could definitely tell they were coyotes. Some looked skinnier - like her - and would run off at a sprint. Others looked bigger, with fluffier tails and more wolfish features. She figured these were the mutts, the ones whose lineage was not pure coyote, but had a little wolf in the mix. She figured the skinny ones were either underfed or that coyotes were really much smaller than their wolf cousins. She didn't stop to ask. Under the beating sun she padded on, glad for the heat and warmth after so much snow. Eventually the other canines left her alone, bored when she refused to enter into their games. Her massive ears continued to flicker about, listening for the sound of prey. She hadn't seen a roo, nor even a little wallaby since she left home. They were her favourite, she missed chewing on a kangaroo tail. All she ever seemed to find were rabbits. There were these big hooved things with bone sticking out of their head, but she couldn't take one down on her own. So rabbits it was. She shrugged, at least there weren't red-bellies here. There were these snakes that rattled their tails when you came too close. Rattlesnakes they were called, an unimaginative name really, but then, red-belly black wasn't the most creative of titles either.

There was a rustle in the underbrush, a tiny squeak of rapid breath and a flurry of action. The dust of the plain swirled about, masking her hide and making it necessary that her sense of smell be keen. It lead her right to her quarry, a fat hare, frozen in fear just metres from his warren. He was dead in moments, hanging limp from her jaws. She trotted off proudly, tail waving a triumphant banner in her wake. Only some thought her victory belonged to them. The coyotes came snapping at her heels, this time doing more than just toying. They wanted her prize and they would stop at nothing. They started drawing blood from her skinny ankles and tried to jump her. Some of them picked at the carcass from her teeth. But she clung on tightly and put on a burst of speed, sprinting for the forest she could see ahead. They ran after her, snapping and snarling, aiming their teeth for her hindquarters. She pushed herself harder, running faster, the mangled rabbit flopping about her muzzle. There was a thicket up ahead, with a tiny gap barely large enough for her to fit through. She forced the jump, throws scraping her side on the way through. She heard the coyotes slide to a stop, growling from behind the bushes. She pressed onwards, trying to get far enough away from the beasts that were not her friends. She ran until; the bushes thinned out and gave way to a magnificent grove of trees. The afternoon sunlight poured through the leaves, making her grin. She dropped her meal and looked up, letting out a howl of jubilance. To a wolf it might sound strangled and mournful, but dingoes did not have the same vocal abilities as their larger cousins. Then she lowered her muzzle to enjoy her spoiled kill. It was still better than nothing.

*gubba is an Aboriginal slang used to typically describe a "non-Aboriginal person". In this context it would mean "non-dingo", "different" or "outsider"

The raven demon huffed along as she trotted around her designated perimeters, mentally grumbling about insubordination in the pack. Some of the members, if they ever so much as looked her or Desmond in the eyes again, would get their heads put on backwards and their tails removed by each individual vertebrae. There was enough relaxation with the formalities of respect before, as everyone was settling in, but it was about time things truly changed. Kicking a branch out of the way, Fel padded onwards, still highly alert in terms of her surroundings. Desmond was growing tired and disenchanted from the lack of respect, and so she would ensure that things changed around here. For him, her alpha, she would do nearly anything he willed. And those who opposed the fairly reasonable requirements? They would all burn in her fire.

Chuckling slightly, a very quiet gesture make to herself under her breath, Fel thought about the flames. She was not an ember, no… She was a coal. But even coals can burn the paw, perhaps even more than the fire’s tongue. And her eyes, her icy orbs, they would look on heartlessly as her victim writhed beneath her in a pool of crimson. No! The elite shook her head, stopping in her path to do so. She was not her father. She would never be her father. Yet, the programming he did upon her mind and the blood he gave to her veins was still his. The brute was surely gone by now though. He was none of her concern anyway… He denounced and exiled Blackfur once and for all.

The thoughts drifted away from her head as she picked up a stranger’s scent. Fel isolated it but was unable to identify it. It smelled like a canine, but not like a wolf. Stalking forward in silence, she decided it must be a mutt mix of different coyotes. It didn’t take long to reach the intruder, even though she walked only among the shadows. But when she first caught sight of it, Fel was confused. What was that thing? It didn’t matter. It was small, and it was eating on their lands. As the pathetic call rang out, Fel emerged with a quick stride, piercing eyes trained on the others and tail arched over her back in authority and standing. The elite figured she would ask it a few questions, then either dispatch it or chase it off. Stopping right in front of the canid, her form loomed tall over the other. “What are you, and why do you dare eat on Agavos borders?” The deep, icy voice slid around the grove. It was such a small beast… And still, the wolf’s muscles rippled and tensed under her thick mountain pelt. Upon closer examination, the creature was already carrying minor wounds at her heels and sides. The slight tang of blood had found its way into her nostrils, and the grass behind her gave it away. Fel returned her heartless gaze to challenge the other’s, waiting to either get some sort of submission or attack.

The mangled rabbit wasn't her best meal, but it wasn't her worst. Still isn't a roo either, she thought a little bitterly. Homesickness was a terrible thing and often struck at the most inconvenient times. She didn't feel this longing ache to return home, but she missed some little things. She missed eating the foods of home, the Roos and wallabies, finding a dead emu or brumby was an added bonus, even better if it was fresh. There were no Roos nor wallabies here, nor anything that resembled an emu, although there were brumbies, but they tasted different. More of a tang to them, she decided. Brumbies could be a bit tough and tasted a little more... It was heavier. There was something about brumbies that seemed just so much a part of the earth. Even though they were prey if she could work it, she liked watching them run in their herds. As one they could descend near-vertical hillsides of a treacherous terrain. They could navigate bushland, deserts and snowy mountains all with ease. They were an admirable species. She missed the blue mountains near the east coast and the beautiful beaches there too. She missed her family a little too, mostly her brother Luca whole she was sure had staked himself a large territory with abundance resources by now. But she chose this life and would live it until it ended.

She tore another ligament from the little body, it's length slowly decreasing as she gathered it up into her mouth. By the time she'd swallowed a wolf had snuck up on her. Sure her ears had heard the other approach, but back home everyone had the courtesy to announce themselves upon arrival. The females silence preceding her approach and demanding words suggested an attempt at secrecy. She looked up with her tail hanging lazily behind her in no show of force. It would be smarter to run rather than fight, this female was far larger and likely stronger too. This black female had a strange accent, similar to the coyotes and other wolves she'd met on this southern continent, but still dissimilar in its way. "Oh, sorry mate," she said in a heavy accent of her own, "I didn't realise there was a pack here. If you want me off your land I can be on my way." She remained casual and polite, though her accent was different to this females. Narla hadn't considered herself to be speaking strangely before, but a number of creatures she met on her travels made the effort to point it out to her. "Oh, I'm a Dingo if that answers your first question," she said with a happy grin.

Fel listened to the other’s voice, which took some adjusting to. The accent of the female was strange and foreign, like the rest of her. Fel’s own voice only held the formality, natural ruggedness, and paradoxical elegance of the mountains up north. The elite didn’t belong here either, but she had made her way here and thrived. As for this small creature, it would be even harder for her. When the little golden female looked up and their gazes met, the wolf unleashed a warning growl with her lips curling up to show her canines. It would stay that way until the eyes were averted. The direct gaze of a stranger was obviously a sign of aggression and a challenge for any species. The bears knew it, the coyotes knew it, and all wolves knew it too. If and when some decent canine manners were shown, Fel would drop the growl and continue. “I assume your coyote-sized species has an underdeveloped nose, since you are ignorant of the strong scent of Alpha Desmond around here. This land belongs to Agavos, the pack of Alpha Desmond and the misfits of the lands around here who fit neither into Helidos or Erenyx. And I, Elite Fel, am charged in part with protecting our borders and bringing in new faces into the pack.” Her words then took a turn to the less formal side, “And you, little dingo with a strange voice, are trespassing. Get out or I will make sure you can’t walk without a limp. I’m sure your coyote cousins would love some foreign food.” Fel glared down at the thing, which she still believed to be some mutated coyote from afar.

She hadn't initially intended to look the female in the eyes, only to appraise the females features. It would be rude to address another creature whilst staring at her paws. In any case, she definitely hadn't intended offence or a challenge. Back home looking someone in the eyes was more a courtesy, it meant they were telling the truth and were sincere in their intentions. She lowered her gaze to her own eye level - somewhere about chest height on the female - then a little further so her paws were in her field of vision. "Apologies miss, our customs differ and sometimes I forget myself." Her eyes caught sight of the half-eaten rabbit. "Where are my manners?"She lowered her head, rolling it towards the larger female. "Would you like some? It's not in the best condition but better than nothing right?" she offered with a smile. But than grin slowly began to fade as the wolf drew up a very lengthy and formal statement that boiled down to "You're not one of us". She clucked her tongue quietly in distaste. How she had hoped this female would be different. "Pardon me for saying so but, must you rely on pointing out our differences? It seems a petty thing to focus on when we have far more in common. In my travels of the two great northern continents I've met both your kind and those coyotes you call my cousins and I must say I'm offended. We dingos share a heritage with you wolves, evolving to be suited to our much harsher climate.  Your coyotes are only on this continent and have never travelled to the other northern land and certainly aren't down under. My nose is just as keen as yours, only where I come from, it's polite to announce oneself upon approach, so that's what I did and that's what I gave you the opportunity to do. My howl, though different to yours, was both a cry at excitement of my escape and an announcement that I was in the area for anyone nearby." She took a breath, annoyed at herself for babbling on like that. "Sorry love, mouth just doesn't know when to shut up sometimes." She stood quiet, thoughtful for a moment over the females other words. She called herself something like an Elite, she made it sound as though it was a big responsibility, which it probably was if her leader trusted her to greet new faces at the border. "So, you say you're in charge of bringing in new faces, yeah? Well, I'm a new face, what about me? Now I know I don't know much about your fancy ranks and ways of doing things, but consider this: if you, an assumedly  well educated wolf, were so perplexed by me, imagine how my presence would affect your enemies in battle. Why, they'd be as easy to kill as one-legged emu." She gave a small smile, lowering her rump to sit in the dirt. She winced, having forgotten about the marks left by the coyotes.

Still distasteful of the female, Fel let her growl silence down in her chest. The dingo apologized and lowered her gaze respectfully, as was proper to do so. The rabbit carcass that was offered did not distract Fel’s gaze from the dingo. Not even considering it, the giant fae simply moved it to the side with her paw, not tossing it or being rude to the dead creature in case this golden dog wanted to finish it. She could not help but chuckle at the ridiculous statement. Much harsher climate. Right. “Dingo-creature, I care not for what happens on these other continents, nor for who roams there. But looking at you, I cannot help but wonder what your kind defines as a ‘harsh climate.’ If you were once related to us, you have certainly degenerated. Smaller, and apparently weaker, you are. Your coat is thin and would never survive even the summers of where I hail from. In the winter, you would be dead in a matter of days. And here, where things are nicer and things grow and thrive, I am surprised that a puma or a rouge has not eaten you for a meal yet. As for your undeveloped nose, I say that not because I approached you but because you could not tell that there is a pack here.” Fel shrugged her shoulders unevenly, stretching them instead of making a gesture. But it only took a moment for the little canine to pick back up and begin to ask about joining. The idea was preposterous. “My being perplexed with you now on a meeting such as this would have no effect on how readily I would kill you in a battle. They may stare for a moment, if they are Helidos. But if they were from Erenyx, they wouldn’t care. Teren would kill an ibex just as quickly as another wolf, even though he’s probably never seen one before.” She paused, glancing over the small, golden body as it sat down and winced in pain. “Besides, you look like you can barely handle an apprentice – let alone a fully grown, trained warrior. What makes you think that a dingo like yourself, who has relatively little strength, minimal experience with pack life, and likely very little experience fighting other, true wolves, is a good fit for Agavos? What can we possibly benefit from dealing with you on a daily basis and teaching you how to conduct yourself in a wolf’s social setting?” Though the elite would not yet admit it, there was one thing she was interested in doing. She would let the little canid react in whatever way, and should it be adequate, Fel would take her in on one little condition. “What is your name, dingo-creature?” The unnamed being would be subject to Fel’s own training. It was skinny and weak, and needed guidance not only in war but in peaceful life as well. Fel would break her and then remold her into something better. It could truly be her greatest success as a mentor yet. And if she failed her? The dingo’s small size made it even easier to throw her off of a cliff.

The dingo shrugged. "We're built for the intense heat of our land. We can manage snow and cold when we have to but it's never as strong as the places I've traveled. But I wouldn't say I'm weaker, just differently adapted. I've survived because I'm fast and I'm resourceful. Plus," she said, nodding towards her half-eaten kill, "I'm not about to give up what's rightfully mine. My kill, my rules." If this female didn't think the dingos differences would be an asset on the battlefield she was, unfortunately, mistaken. There were so many times her differences had made others stop in their tracks in confusion. Then they underestimated her, thinking her smaller stature equalled weakness. She rather enjoyed seeing the looks on everyones faces when she outmanoeuvred them. She enjoyed breaking the expectations set for her, it was liberating. She'd just found herself a new opponent in her little game and she was determined to win. She wasn't sure who this Teren was, but she figured he was just another ignorant wolf, she'd take him. She gave a confident little grin before answering. "The name's Narla. It's from the old language of our kind, it means lookout." She liked her name, it had meaning. "Well, I'm not totally incapable of fighting other wolves, I did live with some on the other continent for two years, though the experience was not the most pleasant. I'm hoping this will be different. I could offer you an extra soldier on the field or a social experiment. I can teach you about my world and you can see if I can survive in yours. If I fail, I'll be dead anyway and if I survive you'll have gained a well-adapted dingo. Either way, you'll get something out of it." She shifted where she sat, attempting to make herself a little more comfortable on her injuries.

Fel listened, giving the creature a fair chance to speak. “My siblings were killed at birth because of their lack of a dense enough pelt. We both come from different, rather opposite environments. But here is the difference. You have survived. I have risen.” Her gaze drifted towards the pathetic morsel she had just rejected, “Dingo-creature, you will learn to give up that way of thinking. The pack eats before the individual. Your rules are worthless in our system.” Fel paused for a moment after this ‘Narla’ proposed her terms and conditions of entrance. Pathetic. “No. If you are to enter as a member of Agavos, it is to be by my terms. You will enter under the rank of a warrior, but will be subject to my physical training and lessons on pack etiquette. Your form is scrawny and weak, and though you boast of your speed, it will do nothing if you’re caught in someone’s jaws. No, I will destroy you and rebuild you. If you survive my training, you will be ready for a true war with other wolves. If you fail me, do not worry about dying to escape. I will kill you myself.” She smirked. The dingo’s name was not the only one here with a meaning. Fel meant ‘tainted,’ and the bearer certainly lived up to the title. “On the other paw, for the duration of your training, if anyone is to question why you are here or try to mistreat you or send you away, they will answer directly to me. Additionally, you will receive accommodations for living, if you live, that is.” The smirk faded, but the elite grinned mentally. She would have another project to experiment with, or at the very least, a body to satisfy her inner bloodlust. Fel would never admit it, but she missed the taste of wolf blood. There was something about it that was beautiful to her tongue, though she would never attack without due reason. Everything is done for a reason. That was Fel’s motto. “What say you, Narla?” The raven demon stood firmly, icy gaze glaring down at the dingo as she waited patiently for a response.

Surviving is a far cry better than dying, she thought. But she had to amend some thing for the wolf. The whole while she kept her voice calm and friendly, though her accent was as stubborn as she was. "Nah mate, you've got it all wrong. I get that whole pack-mentality-everyone-works-together business. Pack's important, I get that, but I won't roll belly up to a bunch of thieves." She thought a little bitterly of the coyotes that had dogged her for days, chasing off her potential kills until a single moment where they slipped up and she was able to get that rabbit. No way she'd let them take it from her. The Dingo bit her tongue to stop a chuckle. The wolf had effectively restated what Narla had offered, only shed posed it as if it were her own idea. Who am I to say she didn't think of it at the same time? But, I still said it. Fine, she'd let the wolf have her power play, she had to maintain her authority somehow. Where was the point in arguing back and forth when they'd both be arguing the same point. As for the addition of the female almost offering her protection, well, it was unprecedented to say the least. But it made sense, and it could only benefit her, especially the part about being given a place to live. It'd be good for her to sleep in a place with a bit of protection. What say you, Narla? She smiled. "Sounds like a decent deal to me. I'll take your challenge." She thought it over for a moment. "Warrior Narla,I like the sound of that." Her furry red tail wagged in the dirt happily.

The female agreed. How quaint. “Then I name you Warrior Narla of Agavos,” Fel rumbled in her most formal tone before adding, “Your training with me begins tomorrow at the break of dawn. Until then, I want you to stay away from others – particularly Desmond. You may bear the rank of Warrior, but I told you already, you will learn some things about pack life before I allow you to participate in a situation that you could screw up in. You aren’t a soldier yet and this is no social experiment. I honestly don’t care about where you come from either. If you have any useful techniques that the rest of the pack could learn from, those should be shown. But your quirks and customs… I suggest you keep those to yourself.” Fel turned around and began to walk away, already bored with the dingo and her excited wagging. “Follow me to the camp clearing so we can find you a den. Or go and explore… Maybe stumble off the edge of a cliff? Make my life a little easier.” With a grumble, she disappeared into the brush, not caring if Narla followed or not. They would have to sort out an available den soon though. However, if they could not find a suitable one by dusk, the dingo creature could take hers for tonight. Fel’s cave was huge and spacious to ensure that it was always cold. The little creature could fit in some corner of it with ease and comfort.