Even though it was spring, fog cloaked the cliffs and lake in its omniscient, eternal grasp. Thick and humid, moist at the bottom. It rolled off the sides, curdling at the bottom at the surface of the lake and winding around the edges. The afternoon sky was dotted with grey, despite the crisp, fresh air that heralded the season of ever-blooming flowers and new life, joy in all its wondrous ecstasy. The frost had melted, leaving the moss on the rock and the grass to breathe whatever sun it could steal from the clouds. Nothing touched the lake, not even so much as a loose piece of rock or old moss having fallen off. Even the dead were sleeping soundly. As Tye made his way towards the bottom of the cliff, a dead raven in his jaws, he cast a glance to the still waters. He had heard of how many had perished here, even the ones who were supposedly the best, the strongest, the greatest. Even they had fallen, their bodies doomed to underwater graves and never to be set free. Tye was not the superstitious type. To him, whatever happened after death was not absolute. Spirits leaving the body was just a notion that helped the grieving to accept reality but it was a necessity. Sometimes one needed distraction from the pain of losing someone dear to them. It was easier to believe a wolf was resting peacefully instead of rotting. He believed in ghosts as much as he believed in some ravenous, bone-crunching, bone-tearing monster that swallowed naughty pups whole when they were sleeping. So he didn’t believe in them at all. Still, those who were lying in a watery grave deserved a measure of respect for their efforts and sacrifice. So he inclined his head low and murmuring to the fallen,“My sincerest apologies, brothers and sisters.” He hopped down swiftly from the ledge onto the ground, landing near the small pile of dead birds he’d killed that were littered across the grass and rock. Four hawks, a falcon, a swift-tail and a raven. The raven he would eat now to satisfy his hunger for he couldn’t carry that much back and it would be inefficient. The hawks and raven, he would hold in his jaws and the falcon and swift-tail he would curl his tail around to carry. He dropped the raven onto the ground and tore into it, teeth scissoring viciously through bone and flesh to get to the rawest parts.

He had ventured here once more for exploration and hunting purposes for he could do nothing else in his current predicament. Prey was abundant even in a lonesome place like this. Of course, that was if one knew where and when to look. As he continued to tear into it, the sounds of ripping flesh cracking the air in regular intervals. Blood coloured his nose and muzzle, mixing with the pitch black of his fur. Still, with fog-laden cliffs to his left and right, the calm waters to his front, nothing to his back and tranquil silence it was serenity at its finest. Tye’s heart beat in rhythm with the blessed peace of the feared Satan’s Edge. The devil had no hold on him. He treated the devil like a prickly old friend, difficult at times but at other times, warm and jovial. He welcomed danger and even more so, fear. If one was certain of his or her own self, then Satan’s Edge provided nothing but solitude and placidity. Standing within the vapours of fog that had formed in the air, concealing his robust form in partial spatters, his thoughts wandered to Cliché. His heart had jumped when he’d felt her on his shoulder at the meeting. A rush of feelings had barraged him with an intensity he had never felt before. It felt strange and slightly disorientating as if he’d been spun around a few times and lost his balance but it wasn’t unpleasant, far from it. He stopped eating, as if struck by a lightning bolt. He stared at the surface of the water, his eyes suddenly a shade lighter. His reflection stared back at him, the realization mirrored in his expression. He enjoyed Cliché’s company. He liked her smile. He liked her eyes. Her touch made him feel jittery and warm. After running through these thoughts in his head he came to a final conclusion that the irreplaceable, irrefutable truth was that he had feelings for her. He said with a blank face, “Well… this is new.”

He did nothing for a long moment, the cogs turning in his brain as he came to terms with his sudden revelation. His reflection stared up at him with a blood-covered muzzle, his expression becoming even more thunderstruck. So this was what it felt like. Either that or he was experiencing some kind of mental breakdown every time he neared her. A mental breakdown involving a failing heart and stomach problems. Unlikely. He pushed his meal aside, lowering his head to sniff it. It smelt healthy, like a dead bird should. No, there was nothing wrong with the food either. He straightened again, his tail flicking the air in thought. Things had changed drastically within the past six months, more prominently the after-effects of bringing the Helidos turned Erenyx hunter to the pack. He had not been completely shunned by the others, not exiled or sentenced to death but he had been punished nevertheless and it was a secret shame he would carry throughout the rest of his life. The former warrior was glad nothing had changed between Cliche and him. Everything felt normal and would continue to do so, no matter what their respective ranks. It was at this point he heard something, his trained ears pivoting along with his head to search with piercing eyes for the culprit. It was a twig breaking. He recognized the sound, like a sharp split-second crackle that lashed the air. There were no signs of anything lurking in the fog, not a single rabbit, or raven or an innocent deer. Or a wolf. He returned his attention back to his kills until he heard something again. Soft sounds, controlled within steady breathing, infiltrated them. He sniffed the air. The stench of blood from the carcasses, the thick fog and the waters all rolled into one indistinguishable mass of smells. Though, it was mostly the blood and dead avian that made it difficult for him.

Then he heard her, a familiar voice laden with sweetness and amusement, seared the air. He started to turn and again, he felt that funny churning in his stomach as he saw her. Surprise froze him as her lips brushed the outline of his ear, her voice sending shock-waves through the roots of his fur. Tingles shot through him as her pelt touched his delicately. The toned male grew slightly rigid at this, muscles stiffening in apprehension as he wrestled with feelings he was not yet accustomed to. The question threw him, emblazoned in bright, neon lights that was riddled with a hidden challenge that he didn't quite understand. He caught side of their reflections in the water, her earthy hues dancing in tandem with his pure black across the surface. He relaxed as she shifted, her face nearing his neck. He could smell her scent, sprinkled with a mixture of the aroma of fresh herbs and dew, along with something that was uniquely, wholesomely her. When the droplet fell, distorting their image in a mini whirlpool of ripples in a perfect symmetry of colours he turned his head, muzzle bumping into the side of hers. The corners of his lips tugged upwards in a slight smile as she laughed.“You are,” He responded, blue eyes peering back into hers. There was fire in his now, muted but distinguished and calm. As another drop of water hit the water in front of them followed by more rain-drops that peppered his nose and coat, he added wryly,“And the rain, probably.” He prodded the hawk towards her with a paw,“Hungry?”

A myriad of emotions washed over him. All he knew was that he felt secure, warm when Cliche was with him and as of late, she eased the inklings of restlessness that had crept into his mind from his demotion. He pressed his nose against the fur on top of her head, breathing in her scent and murmured, "I came here to help the pack in whatever way I can. Ever since my demotion I've wanted to prove myself, to be better than I am so I've been hunting for food as I've always done but tripled my efforts to get the best food I can find. Then there's you. You confuse me. You make me feel strange but I feel happier with you around. You make feel safer than I have ever felt in my life and..." He trailed off, not finishing the sentence. What was it he was feeling? Fear? Fear of being weak? Of showing his vulnerabilities to another? He felt weak because Cliche made him lower his guard and it scared him. He broke away from her a little, averting his gaze. "...And I want to get to know you even better." At this, he turned his head pretending he was watching the crows overhead but really, it was because his face suddenly felt warm. Clearing his throat after a moment, he looked back at Cliche as she accepted the food. His rugged features, carved from pain and hardship, seemed to soften into something that signaled he harboured feelings for her that could become something very special. Never had the male appeared so tender and it was only in front of Cliche that he would reveal this side of himself. The rain was coming down harder, pattering on the ground around them and plopping into the water, causing a mass effect of circular ripples that spread out across the surface. It doused his coat, seeping into his skin through his fur.

He dipped his head into the water, washing the blood off his face and handsome muzzle. Upon straightening he heard a rumble in the air and lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the area in a white flash. He cast his gaze back to Cliche, a slight grin creeping across his lips at her words. In truth, he had traveled up and down the cliff-sides four times ever since dawn, in search of some food that was of the feathery kind. He would have gone to the Hunting Grounds but for some reason, the prey had been quite scarce and it had been for a noticeable while. The kill-pile had grown unbelievably enormous though so he guessed either pups were on their way or for some reason, there was a food shortage coming which he doubted. He said in response to her teasingly, "I used my god-like skills of power and stamina, my amazing mind and a flawless tactical plan of sneak and attack." Really, the hawk had been perched on the edge of a ledge, its back to him while it gobbled down a dead mouse. He glanced upwards as another clap of thunder rumbled again. The rain was getting heavier. He bent down, clutching the remaining hawks in his jaws and wrapping his tail around the falcon. He gestured with his head to a hollow opening that had formed in the side of the base of the cliff to his right, big enough to fit the both of them and the kills. They could go there for shelter, wait out the storm. Fried wolf definitely wasn't good. He started to head there, a weird tension in his usually calm movements.

(occ: Stupid computer ate my post two times)

It had startled him, her confession just as his own that had seem to come from his beating heart. He hadn't thought he was capable of something so heartfelt. So full of feeling. It made him feel some kind of pleasure, a pride that he could incite such things in her. To make her feel invincible. An invincible Cliche raining destruction and chaos on their enemies with a smile on her face and joy in her heart. It was a glorious image. As he had been entertaining this notion Cliche had closed off whatever distance they had between them by moving, forcing him to look at her. He was caught, entranced. He had started to smile, the corners of his lips reaching upwards in a half-daze. Whether it was a charming smile, well he hoped it was. For all his strength, he could not resist the might of the fae before him. The physical, he had mastered but it had left no room for him to master his emotions except for learning how to control fear and anger, two emotions that were of absolutely no value in a fight when not handled properly. He had never felt so out of his depth. He had continued to look at her, as requested with the same charming smile plastered across his muzzle. Then he had the thunder had broken the skies, causing Cliche to press her ears against her skull. He glanced back over his shoulder to see if she was coming, the rain streaming down his pelt. When she laughed at his joke, his eyes warmed seeming to shimmer silver-blue. Again, that rush of happiness washed over him. Her laughter, and the fact that he had been the cause of it, filled him with joy. So much that he didn't realize that his tail began to wag, making him seem more open, youthful.

Reaching the cave, he set the kills down carefully, nudging them as far as they could go so that they were shielded from the rain and lightning. Thunder, well that was just harmless noise. They were both cold, coats damp from the rain. Tye's pelt was thick, whatever rain that had been accumulated in it having dried off. He had no idea if his pelt was thicker than hers but upon seeing her shiver, he walked over to her taking residence right beside her and placed his foreleg across her side, resting the side of his head against hers and angling his body so that they were curled up against one another for warmth. He looked across at her at her question, the lack of light causing shadows to dance across his features. Licking the side of her face partially out of the desire to make her feel less cold and make her feel at ease, he responded with a low chuckle that reverberated around the cave, "I don't know. Maybe until the morning, or for another few hours." As he spoke, three more thunderclaps punctured the air in rapid-fire successions along with lightning. The wind started to pick up, tossing the rain sideways. Tye watched out of the mouth of the cave ears alert for any signs of predators or wayward wolves that wanted to seek shelter and chase them out at the same time. When it was clear he looked to her side and said, "There is one thing. You're a healer. What is it about healing that you find so interesting that you chose to pursue it? You told me you were trained in all areas so you could have been a warrior or a hunter but you chose this path."

So sorry it's so short. ): I'm typing this from my phone.

The rain clattered against the rock noisily, spitfire against metal. It was like a lullaby to Tye's ears, a melody composed of a cacophony of brash winds that started to howl around them, rain that pummeled and wailed, ear-splitting thunder and flashes of lightning that lit up the skies and threw the cave in occasional bursts of white. Luckily those were few and far in between otherwise they would have been blinded, spots of white dancing in their visions. Here, with Cliche nestled against him he could not have asked for a better companion. He enjoyed watching the weather, the atmosphere that played to his heart and he could tell Cliche enjoyed it too despite what the chaos it brought. To have her with him in this moment and time, among the discord outside was a precious moment he would cherish forever. It was a perfect symphony of discord and dissonance. His tail swished the cave floor, responsive to her touch and it was a mark of how comfortable he felt that he nuzzled her back with a brief but caring caress of her muzzle with his own. "We should get to used to a lot of things, cramps probably if we're to pass the night in this position," Tye murmured, his voice coming out in a low rumble. "If I were stuck in this cave with any other I wouldn't have as fun a time as I do with you."    

The coldness seemed to be non-existent, evaporating with the incredible warmth he felt cuddled next to Cliche. It felt so foreign, yet so right at the same time and her answer only amplified the sensation with gusto. At her next words his concern rose to the surface, fire rising in his eyes to turn them into muted ocean blues."There will be a time when we will need you," Tye said and though his voice was soft, it resonated in the air above the noise. "Aziza cannot look after every single wolf. Honestly, she doesn't have that many paws." He buried his head into the crook of her neck, nuzzling her as she did him. Her eyes seemed to lose some of their luster. She was upset, the cause of which pointed towards the information she had just revealed. A pregnant pause, a momentary silence descended between them filled with only the increasing might of the rain. Another boom of thunder crackled then Tye rested his head on the back of her neck, intending the action to be soothing and said in his strong voice, reassuring and calm, "You're important to me and you are important to the pack. We have so many here but one healer is not enough. We need you as much as we need Aziza."  

occ: Shortness not a problem.

He had hoped that his words would have offered some comfort but it seemed it had the opposite effect. The muscle in her jaw was enough proof and it was an action from her that he had never seen. Bewilderment washed over him, shadows playing on his features as the storm raged outside. The silence between them thickened, wind morphing into howls. As she pulled away from him, Tye watched her carefully eyes seeming to shimmer silver-blue. He had attempted to reassure her, suspecting that the cause of her self-doubt was the only other healer present in the pack which proved to be true when she spoke of Aziza. But nothing he said had worked. It puzzled him, that she would be feeling this way when to him, she was not usually like this. And it seemed as if she were going through some inner turmoil independent of her anxieties about being a healer, something he became even more bemused about. Her eyes seemed bright but not from life but as if they had been splashed with water and there were was still some residue left that left them glistening like dewdrops. When she finally lifted her head to face him, his concern grew larger and suddenly, the pit of his stomach began to churn. There were those emotions again. There was nothing in the world that had prepared him for this feeling. His own heart was suddenly beating hard, skitters racing down his spine. Maybe he hadn’t chewed the raven properly. Maybe it was indigestion. His lips parted to speak, trying to place his feelings into words then she finally faced him with an expression of uncharacteristic seriousness to the highest degree. Tye’s words died on his tongue, apprehension dousing him in flames. And her words trickled into his ears, ingraining themselves into his subconscious and shattering the silence like a bolt of lightning. His expression didn’t change, shock paralysing him in place for a good minute. Then when she trailed off, at loss for words then tried again he uttered her name,“Cliché…”

Then she folded her ears down, turning away from him and stood, going towards the mouth of the cave. Tye rose to his paws, starting to connect the pieces. She looked as if she felt humiliated for confessing this to him and perhaps, it was further enhanced by her anxieties with Aziza. Tye could not fathom how to make those feelings go away. The closest he could relate to was that of the inadequacies he had experienced when he had fought wolves in his old pack and lost, when his own brother and father had taunted him and beaten him for doing so or showing the slightest shred of fear in the face of death. In order to relieve himself of such feelings all he did was harden his heart and mind for he would not be regarded as weak as it would have spelt death for him. To him, it could not be any more complex. Survive or be killed, do what one must to live while honouring one’s own self-beliefs and morals. In regards to her, he would have thought bettering herself by her own means or with Aziza would have been the logical step to take. Maybe it wasn’t so straight-forward for her. Her proclamation had blindsided him, unlocking something he didn’t know existed. Usually he had a response for everything, blessed he was with sarcastic quips and short one-liners but nothing came to his mind because her words affected his being more than he had liked. But there was a reason her words had this much of an effect on him and in that part of his heart that was still innocent and whole, it acknowledged and embraced her feelings with happiness. Not the killing part though, definitely not the killing part but the intention. He approached her, coming up in front of her and pushed her further back inside with a gentle shove from his forepaws.

“Lightning,”He said simply, nudging her further inside with his muzzle.“Don’t be so eager to die hey?” Tye took another step forwards, the lightning scoring electric nets of white gnashes in the sky and thunder punching the humid, wintry air like machine-gun fire. He threw all of that to the back of his mind. It became white noise, relaxing in its own way. Two swift strides closed the gap between them, controlled power propelling his compact frame forwards silently. Taut muscles contracted underneath pitch black fur. He lowered his head, coming to a stop directly in front of her and wrapped a foreleg around her back, bringing her close to him and said quietly, in a voice that was still able to be heard over the chaos outside, “What does it matter what Aziza thinks, or the pack? It should only matter what you think of yourself and that you can be the best you be. And I care about you, more than anyone else in this pack. I said I wanted to get to know you better. I see you in my future, always and that will never change.” He did not know what she was expecting of him but he knew this was true, the truest words he had spoken since he had set paw inside these lands.

Dying can't be all that bad. It was a sentiment that had crossed his mind many times in his old pack. The times when he had been on the verge of death only to come back to the land of the living to endure months with broken bones, even the pain of being paralyzed, immobile and useless. He had thought that in those moments when he was vulnerable that death would be better than to continue being tortured. It was a product of suffering from too much, to grasp a release from unimaginable pain that the heart could not take anymore. The spirit had a limit after all and when it was strained to breaking point, dark thoughts were sure to come to the forefront of the mind. To be devoid of hope, of life and emotion, of ambition and dreams and aspirations, it was a tragic thing. To live was the hardest thing on earth because it meant feeling. It meant exposing the soul to be scarred and torn by mental and emotional pain as well as the physical. It meant baring one's heart to all the callousness that the world had to offer and for them, it was an enormous, infinite amount. One moment of pain was nothing in exchange for a life-time of agony. The trade-off in terms of suffering was insignificant. It was easy to die. It was far harder to live. And it caught him off-guard, just for a second that she had those thoughts. When her eyes flared to life again filling with so much passion, his uneasiness diminished until it was nothing. It seemed like it had just been a fleeting thought, a momentary slip from her unhappiness. He could not know what was happening inside her mind, only assume and guess. Though, he could feel her heart beat so fast just like his own. That was a good sign. He supposed it meant they were on the same wave-length, in some magical way.

What he had said was as close to spilling his heart out for her as his capabilities allowed him to express. He was not one for expansive displays of emotions but the way he held her against him was testament enough to how strongly he felt for her. Tightly, warmly, whole-heartedly. He had never so much as hugged another wolf for such a long time without killing them or with the intention of enacting harm on them. The times when he had, he had been on the receiving end of a fighting move to end his life or it had been an action that he himself had done in order to do the same to another that had challenged him or tried to intimidate him. Violence was the only action he had associated with such an intimate action but Cliche had pried something else from him. It was tenderness. When Cliche looked at him, he felt his heart lurch to his throat. He was nervous. He was nervous. But he didn't remove his paw from her back or move. It felt too good having her against him. He pulled back a little so that he could look at her properly, his already ice-coloured eyes seeming to become lighter and lighter the more she spoke until they were two silver-blue glimmering pools in a panorama of pure furry black.                        

"I do feel the same way about you," Tye's voice rumbled through the air, seeming to fill the entire cave in rugged warmth. "Every time I see you, I feel happier and if there is one thing I'm glad of, it's that Steele didn't kill me. I would never have been able to see you again. That is what I would hate most, more than the punishment I've received."

To her words about their Alpha he silently agreed for the most part. He would not pretend to know what the other male really thought or what his innermost desires were. He could speculate from rumours and hearsay, piece together motivations for his actions using those nuggets of information but that was all. There was still some spark of something that resembled goodness in him Tye supposed. Mercy was not something monsters practiced or offered. Perhaps it was true, that his callous front was just that, a front. Everyone had their masks and the true monsters were the ones that were unfeeling and heartless while feigning the opposite on the outside. They were the ones that delighted in the suffering of others while doing nothing to prevent it or doing everything in that moment to prolong it all for their own amusement. Tye had seen too many of those before. He had never questioned whether their hearts weren’t as black as their actions suggested. Tye had no interest in extracting the complexities of the heart. If there was a speck of light underneath the darkness it would grasp onto whatever it could find to pull itself out. He had seen a silver of it when he had been spared. Perhaps it could nurtured into something much more with some help. His son it seemed could provide some aid. Time would tell. He gazed into Cliché’s eyes, speaking again,“Monsters are created, not born. But there is hope for him as he exercised mercy with me. If it’s a show then he’s not a monster no more than me or you.”

Tye paused, a distant memory of lifeless eyes staring at him from the corpse of a pup he had killed. Bloodied and broken, with its neck bent at an ugly angle. It had been so much older than him and ruthless but he had been even more so, taking it down. The landing had caused the neck to bend so it was in more pain than it should have been. They had both known it was a death battle and he had held onto its throat until the light had died in its eyes.  And he hadn’t felt a single thing. Cliché’s voice broke him out of his reverie. He said slowly, “My parents were as loving as they could be in a pack full of monsters. My father was a great warrior. He was as I remember, the bravest wolf I knew but there were sides to him that I loathed. He was protective of all of us and at that time to me, he seemed completely fearless. He wasn’t scared of anything or anyone, not even our Alpha. He would not hesitate to kill anyone who tried to hurt my mother or me and my siblings but he was also very calm, even when his children were fighting for their lives in death battles in front of him. He was harsh and strict with me and my siblings, pushing us and pushing us to become the best warriors we could be so we’d be able at the very best, to defend ourselves against the horrors of the pack. If we showed any sign of weakness he would beat us or taunt us. In those times I wished him dead and wanted to kill him myself even though I knew it was because he was doing it with the best intentions.” Tye chuckled but the sound was hollow, empty emotionless words following.“He died protecting my mother from another wolf that wanted to have her for himself.”                      

“My mother was a healer who had tremendous courage and gentleness but she was quick with words and she could give twice as much when it came to insults. I think she taught my father how to show affection and tenderness and that strength wasn’t just physical but mental as well. I was closer to her than my father in the end for my father prized my siblings over me and I think I had some resentment towards him because of that but they both had the strength to do whatever it took to survive,” Tye’s ear flicked towards the mouth of the cave. The thunder had trickled down into soft purrs. Drops of rain slid off the roof of the cave, dripping in light drizzles in front of them onto the grass. He came up alongside her, strong legs powering his muscled form forwards with cool ease until coming to rest beside her. Rainwater scattered the ground in haphazard puddles, the remnants from the storm still splashing over the rocks. Fog masked the area in an eerie grey partially obscuring the terrain. Tye looked at Cliché as she sighed, knowing that she saw the hazards in travelling down even though the weather had settled down. She didn’t seem worried. At her challenge he glanced back down, assessing the possibilities of danger. It was a short way down and they still had the food to carry. He told her, “Wait.” He disappeared back inside. There was a scraping noise and the dead avian rolled to Cliché’s paws one by one. Tye re-appeared out of the darkness, smiling slightly. “The food.”

Loyalty was paramount for a pack. Without it the pack would crumble. Whether that loyalty was genuine or not was another thing altogether. Usually dictatorship didn’t inspire utter devotion that was earnest. It was a breeding ground for terror, resentment and hatred. All the good things in life. Just like a flesh-eating virus. Such was the circumstances suffocating and decimating whatever chances Tye had for a peaceful life from birth. He could not respect a virus and he would not expect anybody else to. Tye had disengaged himself from his old pack long ago. There was nothing to respect about it but he appreciated Cliché’s words about his father. Even if his father had hurt him he had a son’s love after all. The sympathy he discarded unconsciously. He had made peace with his past at the same time he had severed all ties with his old pack. It would remain buried in the past where it belonged. As for her separation from her family the closest he could come to experiencing that was the massacre of his mother and siblings by the claws and fangs of his former Alpha. It had been a separation in that way, though incredibly cruel. Their lives had been taken. They had been torn away from him and him from them. He nudged her affectionately, trying to comfort her in the event that she was upset, “We can’t change the past but we can change the future. There’s no use dwelling on things we can’t change so we focus on the future because that’s the only thing we have control over. We’re only mere mortals after all.” He grasped the remaining corpses in his jaws and bundled them up in his tail in a tight bunch. Ears swivelled as he heard Cliché’s murmur about wishing to see his mother. The corners of his lips were turned upwards, making it seem like he was smirking teasingly especially when she picked up the corpse. Bloodied feathers stuck out of his muzzle creating a false impression of a macabre ornament. Though he didn’t say it he was pleased that she had those thoughts and the light in his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter, leaping out against the darkness of his fur. The mane of eternal spikes was tossed to the forefront. Overall, with the bird carcass, he appeared wild as if there was a caged beast lying in wait inside but that part of him was sleeping as it always had been since he’d come here.

That was his paradox. His calmness was besieged with insanity that lingered at the edges of his psyche which had sprung from the horrors that had been graced onto him from his old pack. Both things had been forged into one unbreakable bond over time. If appearances really spoke of who he was he’d be labelled a maniac but luckily, that wasn’t the case. Cliché fascinated him in ways he couldn’t explain. He could never predict what she would do. Standing there beside her he stood regal and tall, a magnificent, carelessly cool creature of ebony mystery that seemed to have been formed from the shadows. He watched her go with soft eyes, following her warm rusted-shaded pelt through the mist for just a moment before darting straight after her in swift, quick bounds. His forepaws touched the peak of the rock, absorbing the weight of his body as the rest of it came down into motion before vaulting for the next closest one in an easy, confident spring. It was controlled, precise. Soaring through the mist close to the base he heard Cliché’s yell, spying her landing at the bottom. He didn’t say anything for he would’ve dropped his prey but a low chuckle sounded from his chest. “Challenge accepted,” He murmured. He cleared the last rock in one powerful lunge, symmetry in motion. As soon as his paws hit the ground he shot forwards, tearing through the mist with lightning speed like a black shaggy torpedo with wings. Adrenaline fuelled him, blood rushing in his ears. Though he definitely more than liked her, he still wanted to win their game so he paid no heed to his surroundings as his field of vision narrowed to a hollow tunnel that only had Cliché and the closest part of the lake for her and him. He slowed as he neared the edge, losing speed but he overlooked the dip at the edge of the lake’s bank due to his haste and the fog curdling up near the surface. Left forepaw sinking into the ground, his upper body moved forwards carried by the momentum of his speed. Pitching forwards, he slammed his other forepaw down into the shallow end of the lake into the water with a splash preventing himself from falling in. Unfortunately he side-swiped Cliché in the process, knocking into her when he came close.

It had not been his initial intention to push her into the lake’s waters or anything of the sort and he had tried to avoid to her as much as possible. Unfortunately he had been unsuccessful and ended up doing exactly just that. He darted towards her into the shallow end of the water, momentary concern ghosting across his features. Momentary because he saw that she wasn’t hurt from the fall but seeing her like that had an unexpected but incredibly warm reaction from him. Laughter rumbled from his chest until it spilled out into the fog-encrusted air, vibrating in endless, rich resonance. He was not laughing at her expense but with her, at the outcome of the challenge that had caused both of them to end up in this position and out of relief that she had not been harmed in the process. He had been too excited and they had both not moved fast enough to avoid each other during the race. At her exclamation he stopped and smirked slightly at her, tail raising into the air like a victory flag in silent declaration of winning. He started to head further into the water, if only to help her out, when she started to move around him feeling her fur brush against his slowly. It made his heart give a little jump in surprise and warmth spread from the bottom of his heart, the spark of the beginnings of a crackling flame. Though the only outward signal was the searching look he gave her, expression turning into mild confusion. What was she looking at? His ear flicked, eyes staring into hers as her gaze met his. His heart beat a little faster. Again, his stomach churned doing little, jittery flips. It occurred to him that Cliché was the one wolf he couldn’t completely assuage. He wondered what she was planning. Perhaps to push him into the lake or exact some kind of revenge. But she was smiling so it couldn’t be bad. Then again, it didn’t mean she wasn’t planning on doing it anyway. He had seen that look on a lot of females’ faces before they had played a prank on the wolf that had wronged them. Tye was not ultimately concerned, rather, curious which showed in the slight tilt of his left ear. His paw lifted into the air, inter-twining with hers not on purpose but it remained there out of conscious desire. Usually he would not care if another was right up against him. It meant nothing and though he didn’t particularly dislike it, he didn’t like it either. He would have no reaction but he found he enjoyed the touch her against his body even if it was partially soaking wet. Tye found himself imagining what it would be like to be able to see those eyes and smile every day, wondering what she liked or disliked, what made her upset or annoyed and most of all, what made her truly happy. He already knew she enjoyed healing and causing joy in others but perhaps there was more.

He started, caught off-guard as she sprayed him with water. Drops of water slid from the tips of his fur down onto the ground. He laughed again, a faint grin pulling at the edges of his lips and dropping the bird carcasses, leaped for her as she splashed him this time, water spraying everywhere. He missed, hitting the surface with loud crash, paws scraping sand and hard earth underwater and disappeared for a brief moment before re-emerging water-logged. He turned, seeing her further down the bank and paddled after her, legs pushing through the water effortlessly. He could see the branches of water cascading down the sides of her body in rivulets, shining and making her coat gleam bright. He called her bluff, shielding himself with a forepaw as a spit shower came for him anyway. He ducked underneath the water and with one push, twisting in one graceful, powerful arc to roll over onto his back in a languid, practiced motion and pop above the surface, vaulting through the air and tackled her onto her back. “Guess you’re the spoiled whelp,” Tye said with a slight grin, gazing down at her. Their noses were inches apart from one another. His fore-legs were on either side of her, broad shoulders resting comfortably above her. His tail flicked idly and if one were to look carefully, just with a smudge of playfulness. He had not tackled her hard for their size differences were too large so he would hurt her if he threw his whole weight onto her and so controlled it so that he would not crush her. Wisps of fog hovered in the air around them. The spine-tingling silence would have been disconcerting but together, with just the two of them Tye was content, at ease and somehow he felt like this was how it should be and that even though he had known Cliché for less than a year it seemed like they had known each other for much longer than that. The grave atmosphere, the masses of perpetual fog and the ageless, spectral cliffs were background pieces, playgrounds for those with some remnant of adventure or life in their souls. And if one wanted to believe, the invisible ghosts that roamed the grounds or were anchored to the bottom of the lake in watery coffins. Here in this sombre, grey space with just the mist, the cliffs and dead for company he felt loose and free. The dead did not bother him with their ghastly presence, the cold, grey fog and mist were companions and Cliche was his dearest treasure.

occ: Not my best. sorry been feeling a little sick lately. We can finish here with your post with what we agreed on in our PMs or discuss our next move