He knew what was coming, just as he knew that he would not be participating. When the Alpha male called to his pack members, limited strictly to that of the male gender, the Beta male had already been present, dark gold eyes calculative, thoughtful, as they reached up the length of the rock to look inside of the leader’s emerald gaze, reading the hunger, the ferocity, that was inscribed inside of their depths. It would not have mattered to him, had he been expected to take part in this test of the wolves’ overall worth just like the rest of them. He understood how deadly this test was going to be. He understood that, had he been expected to be a part of it, his life would be hanging loosely by a thread that his leader would feel no such obligation to prevent from running straight into harm’s way. But that was not the case. None of it was. The danger that his pack members were about to face was surreal - it would, certainly, feel like they were all still fast asleep and partaking in a chilling nightmare - and he would do nothing but stand along the outskirts of the show to watch, for that was what would be expected of him.

He had not taken an interest in the males gathering around them, caring not to see who was appalled by this quest, and who was eager to prove themselves to their beloved Alpha. When the wolf in question leaped down from the rock, the bronze, muscular second-in-command took a position at his flank, walking in sync to their destination, mindful to maintain a respectful distance between their bodies the whole way. He had not said a word since the male population of Erenyx had been called forth from their various chambers. Teren had this under control, and so for the time being, he would serve as nothing more complex than a watchful post.

He read the undertones of injury that Teren expertly wove into his woeful song, golden ears pricked, prepared, waiting for the bear to make an appearance and, thus, meet the wolves of Erenyx with a brutal challenge that they would all be expected to excel at, lest they fail miserably and suffer the consequences that would follow their failure. At the Alpha male’s side, he was poised, carved out of stone, his expression careless; a wolf could die today, a handful of wolves could die today, and he would not so much as blink to reveal a semblance of melancholy. He was uncertain of what the others would think of this challenge that was being forced upon them, but surely, now more than ever, it was becoming increasingly clear that Teren had meant what he had said when he promised to make this pack stronger - to make it more lethal. This test would reveal to him who were the weakest links, and from there he could shape them into something worthy of being one of his followers. And, if not, then they would wither away like a flower in winter, with nobody to save them, to help them, and to make sure they revived with the coming spring.

Reluctantly, his sparkling eyes - sharp, even while drowsy - were greeted by the morning sun that had yet to fully rise, the wind forced to carry upon its gentle current a message, lulling him awake, lulling his stiff muscles into action. There was an undertone of importance, of urgency, and although he was in no such hurry to meet the demands of his Alpha male - he would get around to it on his own time - he found himself to be among the first to arrive, to assemble, regardless.

True as it was that he was but a mere Healer, his size often had his position second-guessed. He was built as though leading the everyday life of a common Warrior, sparring, picturesque of athleticism, even though he spent many a dawn and a dusk wrapped cozily inside of his medical den, waiting with the patience of a black widow anticipating the arrival of its next victim.

Pardon, there was a slight misunderstanding. Of course, he meant his next patient.

Despite what would be expected, the words that met his ears were not registered with surprise. Instead, he flicked them boredly atop his bluish-black head, a cunning twitch of his lip forming itself into a wicked grin. He was prepared to prove himself worthy of the Alpha male, and the Beta male’s, attention. He belonged in the spotlight, after all - if he had to fight his way into that glowing, brilliant light, then he would not waste his time doing it. He mused that, despite how much he adored putting up the charade of being nothing more lethal than a Healer, it was about time that his pack members came to know him as something more than that. Sure, he had a preference for managing the delicate balance that was life or death, but that did not mean he was not interested in understanding how to teter said delicate balance through equally pleasant methods of brute force. He knew how to fight. He knew how to fight admirably - mind, not entirely fairly, but that was besides the point.

He followed in step behind the pair of authoritative wolves without pause, his momentum confident, his posture eloquent, until they arrived at their destination and he began to understand the full extent of this challenge. The scent of a bear was fresh on the wind. He hardly paid any mind when the Alpha male tilted up his chin and beckoned the dangerous creature forth from wherever it was hiding, eyes trained forward, watching for any sudden movement in the brambles ahead. He heard Teren yelling at them to go and fight the monstrous animal - he was not stupid, nor was he deaf - but he simply refused to be the first idiotic Erenyx specimen to blindly go crashing through the foliage, undoubtedly straight into the expectant claws of the bear. He would time this out perfectly, for he did not like to admit that his life was potentially on the line; he liked to stay on top of the game. He liked to be informed, to be in charge without any true authority resting on his shoulders to back it up. This, here, had been a challenge that he had not expected to wake up to at the first sign of light stretching across the horizon. He would fight the bear - for being an Omega would simply not due - though, the whole time, he would be intent on seeing if there was any possible way of guiding it towards Teren instead. There was no hard feelings, of course, but nothing good came from trying to pull at the puppeteer’s strings - he was not particularly fond of being made into one of his many puppets when he was already so accustomed to fulfilling the role of the master.

The blood that pooled from the bear’s wounds served as an addiction to the Healer, tempting him to lick his lips, to stand aside and let the others fight his battle so that he could enjoy simply watching the way that the monster bled. It was peculiar for someone that was meant to put a stop to the bleeding to, instead, find himself fascinated and intrigued by it. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Something in his head that was not right; a screw that did not quite tighten all the way like it was supposed to. Regardless of the possibility of it, he would not deny himself the simple pleasure of perceiving death at its finest. Even though this had all began as another one of their Alpha male’s games, where they were nothing but mere pawns to do his bidding, he was no longer focusing upon that. As far as he could tell, they were holding their own just fine. Minor injuries had been sustained here and there, and sure his shoulder throbbed a little because of the way he had landed on it when the bear aggressively rolled its shoulders and threw out its back legs to get rid of the persistent nips of Tye and himself. But it was not like he had never felt pain before. Just because he preferred to avoid being on the receiving end of abrasions did not mean that he was completely oblivious to the way that they often times felt. There was no more pretending that he was another one of their pack’s worthless remedial artists that could set a broken leg, but went off whimpering into the shadows when it was a matter of their own limb being broken. The glint in his cerulean eyes was hungry. It was downright cannibalistic, as though at any second he would willingly avert his fangs to the soft flesh of one of his fellow wolves if the bear proved unable to satisfy.

The thought was fleeting, but a thought nonetheless, having momentarily pictured the Lead Hunter’s head caving in when he made a move for the exact spot he had been planning to strike at once again. It was him (as well as the Lead Warrior, but he was not one to give credit where it was due) that had caused those initial injuries, holding the bear back and keeping it from standing on its hind legs like it seemed to wish that it could. It took everything and anything inside of him that was even remotely humane to stop from going for the Lead Hunter’s heels, having settled on making a dash for the hind leg that had not been claimed by Magnus’s teeth. The pair of them had a similar mindset: in that it’d be intelligent to continue making a target out of the areas throughout the bear’s body that were already wounded. If they could further damage its precious back legs, perhaps even to the point that said back legs were useless to it, then the bear would no longer be able to fight back as dangerously and, thus, victory would be theirs.

His ears had rotated atop his head at the sound of another wolf’s voice, but he had not paid enough attention to actually consider acting upon the words that had been spoken. This fight did require that they work with one another as fluently as possible, but that did nothing to lessen the fact that doing so would prove quite troublesome for the band of ruthless carnivores. Cheshire did not like to rely on others for his safety. He was doing what he thought best; the fact that he was contributing at all was a miracle in itself. He had little to no desire to prove himself in any way, shape, or form to the Alpha male or his right-hand Beta. The only reason he was participating was because he liked for the others to get a glimpse at the kind of skills he brought to the field. It grew tiresome, after all, to continue withstanding the disgusted looks of his peers - they thought so lowly of him because he was a Healer. It was equally tiresome to keep pretending that he did not wish death upon each of them in their own special way … though, truthfully, only someone completely wicked, completely out of their mind, would be contemplating the extents to which his peers managed to crawl under his skin and annoy him beyond repair while tearing into the flesh of a bear’s limb.