Taijo :3

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Skill - Berserker 1/5

He liked the snow, he had decided. Zeek bolted now through the flurry, curly tail a-wag, barking and jumping at puffy snowflakes. They melted on his tongue, and he considered each a victory in the imaginary battle he waged against the storm. Snowshoe paws kept him light across the drifts, and though it was cold, his thick fur made that little impediment, especially with all the running amok!

His chase carried him down the mountain's edge, where eventually the ground grew steep enough to roll — and Zeek tumbled down, laughing the whole way until his game landed him, covered in snow, at the mouth of an unfamiliar den.

Thuds disturb the peace of their den.
They weren’t one with Jakten.
They were their own nest. The queen of their mother against the workers of the outside world, the workers who fed them, brought them gifts, and fled from Azalea triplets.

So, he stayed an isolated little boy. One who knew few names and few scents other than brothers, mother. Them and them alone.

A boys nose was inside that deep dark, eyes big and wide as he scattered to the safety behind tiny little stones and twigs. The littlest gasp and flattened ears, and only one green iris peeking at the fallen roadkill.

Whispering, words suddenly feeling thick in his mouth. “Heblo?”

There was movement! Zeek rolled onto his belly, ears pricked with a high-lifted tail. A wet nose twitched in the cold air, and from it he smelled wolf. And blood. This was Jakten territory, for sure, but there was little to prove the ones living here were part of the pack.

Had he found an invader? Had he found the Big Bad Wolf, warned about by Papa? Zeek wasn't scared, no way, not even a little... but his fur did bristle magnificently as he growled. To show he was bigger and badder, obviously.

Then the Heblo came. Mumbled and small and not at all scary. Nothing this small could have hurt Papa. So it had to be a different kind of stranger.

Zacharie had known that! Of course! Totally! He shook the snow off his fur (though the downpour of flakes would undo that work quickly enough, and several clumps stuck stubbornly to his coat.)

Salut! Qui es-tu? (Hello! Who are you?) He demanded, not quite willing to step closer to the dark mouth of the cave where the one eye peeked out of gathered gloom. But definitely not scared, either! Zeek held his ground!

The words that vibrated off dark cave walls were alien. As alien as every voice in the crevices of the stone maze. Revolting, ugly sounds that were incomprehensible and terribly quiet against the loud voices of brothers. Brothers. Mother. All Taijo wanted. Brothers, mother, and water. Always thirsty.

Never to hunger.

Cowering deeper into the dark, quiet for many moments and more.

The sound in him was loud and popping, with each a jump of where he had learned big red things to be. Thumping, thumping!

No answer! At all! Saa-luut ? Zeek tried again, brow furrowed. Tu parles français ? (Do you speak French? (informal))

Obviously not. Which probably meant they weren't worth speaking to at all. But not leaving would kind of feel like admitting defeat. So...

A loud, exaggerated huff, blowing air out the side of his mouth. Hello?

A whisper in the dark, meek and even. “Toopahrl Frahnsay isn’t here.” And wasn’t welcome!

The words were fat on his tongue and moved around awkwardly in his mouth, and he hoped whatever mother named their child such things did not have fresh dinners. But for that matter, Toopahrl Frahnsay was another one of the strangers cubs wandering in and out the levels.

He prickled, unable to hear the words sharp behind the fuzz of his scalp burrowing into the inside of his smoothed ears.

Roadkill boy was looking in all the wrong places.
Taijo never lost his brothers.
Mother’s big belly wasn’t blocking the door, and without it, vulnerability felt strongly upsetting. Roadkill stood in her place.

A shy shake of head in his corner. “Better find him elsewhere.”

hello i would die for Taijo

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Zeek frowned, confused. Was the stranger... trying to speak French? They weren't very good at it!

Non. Zeek corrected, Too-pahr-lay Fan-say. I said do you speak French. Another huff. But you clearly fucking don't. So. A shrug.

I'm Zacharie. A little nose stretched out toward the den, sniffing. He decided to be very extra brave and take a step forward. What are you called?

Fuck you!

But Taijo didn’t say it.
Was a good boy his mama raised.
One who didn’t know about too-parl-ay-fancy and the whatsits.

The den was intruded by fat paws and big bones, and mirrored the vision of the same weak entry Jaxxon made into their home.

Small little shivers, cowering to his belly before facing his chest to the stone walls. Chest in and out, heart pumping out into twitches of the nose idly sniffing desperate around a long familiarized cave. His legs were pulled in neatly, an awkward shrug of the shoulder.

I’m Zacharie.

But hatred was taught and not birthed.

“..I’m Taijo.”

It’d always been that way.

“Who’s your mama?”

This was just another pup! And a scared one, at that. Well, Zeek had suspected it all along, of course, and wasn't really surprised. Definitely not. He would never mistake this for a cave with a monster inside! Never!

His tail wagged at Taijo and Zeek dropped into a play bow, eager to prove the courage which absolutely was not ever at all even a little bit in doubt.

Cocked his head, Uhh... His mama? I don't have one. I have two Papas. Unless you mean Saga.