fraction of a nickel's worth in a golden field

Set somewhere near Tsukiishi.

---

He heard them—behind him, above him, somewhere just further up the mountain, a ledge away—before he saw them. He heard the sound of their footfalls. Blunt nails against jagged stonework, and heavy, shifting weight.

The scent of pack strong in his nostrils, his lungs.

And without looking, paws coming to a halt—

“What do you want?” He called. Fighting back the instinct to spit out, extra.

His stance low. Head in line with his spine, and shoulders slouched, sloping. Stiff-legged, with his hackles bristling. Prickling. Teeth on edge, and his ears held back, against his head.
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^^

Tiberius was back on the patrol. This time he had decided to scout the lands outside of their borders, as if to intercept any danger before they decided to piss him off and step freely into claimed land. So obviously claimed, since he had been cocking his leg every which way and ensuring his scent was nearly fucking overbearing for anyone with a nose. If he could, he'd piss on the fucking cat that had started his irritation in the first place. Alas, it was not a cat to recruit, train up and have on his protective team that he came across. Instead, it was a clearly on edge wolf that held his body in an aggressive, defense stance with a voice of venom, spitting out a question.

Not one to be intimidated, Tiberius kept his own stance dominant, tail flagged above his head yet he did not try to appear like he was about to lunge. This one was testy and whilst a younger Tiberius might have lunged instantly, he was part of a Pack that rather needed him and his skills -- that and he'd surely disappoint the Iceling if he died too soon. "Ya a fuckin' aggressive one, ain'tcha?" He grunted, lifting his chin as his golden gaze remained upon the man. If he remained this aggressive near the lands of Shiroshika's claim, then they'd have an issue. A real fucking big one that Tiberius would need to sort. "Calm ya shit, ya gremlin. I ain't come runnin' up ta ya an' showin' ya mah fuckin' pearly whites, am I?" he huffed, his golden gaze never leaving the brown hued man.

^^

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He faced the giant, lumbering idiot that smelled like piss and pack, and—
 
You had to be fucking kidding him.
 
You had to be fucking kidding him.
 
Because not only was he fucking big, and annoying, and stunk to fucking hell and back—
 
He couldn’t talk for fucking shit.
 
Seriously, it was like he spent his entire life chewing on fucking rocks, and he bet it wouldn’t be beyond the man to have actually fucking done that.
 
And with raised, bristling hackles and narrow, red eyes, Daighre went—
 
”No.”
 
Nothing more, and nothing less.
 
Standing there, awkward and stiff and tense like it was pulling teeth, slouched shoulders and a dangling, half-raised tail. White teeth on edge.
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