Spoken words like moonlight.

“So,” now was as good a time as any to make her intentions known, she supposed, “whatever this is and... whatever you two are,” meaning the relocation and, naturally, @Meissa and Flynn's weird relationship, “I want in on it.”

Not the latter part, obviously, but she felt it important to mention, “I'm not going to kiss your feet and I sure as shit don't want to be some third wheel, but-”

She had already made herself part of it, clearly too stubborn to follow the law and belief of an already established pack. Tavra lifted her tall ears, curious to see if her companion might pause their exploration of the sinkhole's underground chambers to better focus on her.

“I'm done following. I want to be a leader.”

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 Meissa glanced back from the stone and moss wall she was sniffing, ears perking to listen. At first, she misunderstood, eyes growing wide. Was the meanness some sort of weird courting ritual? The soldier wasn't sure what she thought about all of that, a shuffling exhale all that left her lips until the woman continued. Her voice was accompanied by the distant sounds of the waterfall, echoing across the halls in a soft lullaby.

 Ah.

 “I'll have to talk to Flynn about that,” she said, “But I see no harm in you taking a leadership position.” Not as the leader. With Meissa deferring to Flynn's decisions and she suspected Archon deferring to her, there was a beginning to a hierarchy already beginning to be established. She wondered if this would become a struggle for power over their fledgling nation. “There's enough of us now to consider us a pack, if everyone's deciding to stay.”

 She considered the implications, claws scraping at the moss near a stalagmite, where dripping from the sky led to a small tower of stone and calcium. “I figure once everyone's settled in a bit, we'll gather to plan it all out. I don't want this to be like Elkshire where one woman and her family make all the rules that make it shitty for everyone else.” She wanted them to discuss things together as a democracy of sorts.

 Though, when did those ever work?

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Her mind was already made up: if her comrades denied her a leading role, she would forge her own path. Tavra would do so as many times as she would have to, pick her way from one end of the world to another in search of what she deserved. After a lifetime if being belittled by a mother who saw nothing but disappointment in her, Tavra felt that she was owed some level of respect - even if she'd done nothing to deserve it.

On careful paws, the young Mayfair crept along the uneven stone where the river had eroded its way through long ago. Her claws clacked with each step, echoing softly through the chamber. Her brow furrowed a little at the response Meissa gave her, copper eyes confident on her face as she lifted her chin; Tavra would assume a position of leadership in this fledgling pack wether they liked it or not. It would be up to them to force her dispersal if they didn't, but as far as she was concerned it was not up for debate.

She would stay, on her own terms. Tavra had been made exhausted by those of others, family and strangers alike. She would tolerate no more disregard, false promises or bullshit lies, and would fight for no one willing to fight for her.

“No one wants that,” Tavra scoffed at Meissa's reference to Elkshire, to Célnes and her arrogance - their group would not have moved on, otherwise. “I'm just saying, that I'm not really willing to settle for less.”

Meissa and Flynn didn't need her, Tavra knew, just as she didn't need them. But she felt they'd be foolish to deny her position among them, she with the sharp tongue and dragonfire in her heart.

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 Meissa made her way in Tavra's general direction, focusing on their surroundings. Her claws clipped against stone as she reached the erosion and she inspected it. She wondered how deep these tunnels were, how far the waters went. Would a wolf who fell into it be sucked under stone and rock, stolen away by the planet itself? Would their corpse eventually rise to the surface in the river downstream, bobbing about until eventually either vultures or the sea took them?

 Would it be a painful death, a caress by the earth in a deep underwater hole?

 Painful, terrifying, the like.

 Yet, she wondered if the pool directly below the waterfall was safe or if simply stepping foot in it would be tempting fate. Was there even a pool? Surely, at some point, unless the water drove directly into the earth itself. “What were you thinking of?” she asked, looking back at the petite woman. So far, she wasn't certain on ranks. Perhaps she would do as some sort of noble within their ranks? They would need to plan out and discuss to determine their ranking.

 Hopefully their rank names would make sense and they wouldn't have shadowy young neighbors mocking them to their face. Though, she doubted Tavra would let them get away with anything so foolish as a dumbass name.

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As the duo picked their way further through, Tavra decided that she didn't much like the caverns. They were damp and stunk like so, and the air within felt stuffy. She felt water droplets land on her back from above and they made her skin crawl, but not as much as the echo of.. was that a bat she heard?

“Beta,” the wildfire lashed her tail, the word rolling smoothly from her tongue as though it already belonged to her, “or whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

Her parents' pack, that which she'd been born to, had ranked their wolves in a traditional sense. She knew those best, as well as she knew herself as most of her youth had been devoted to proving herself worthy of a title she'd never received, but had learned that not all clans operated in the same manner. Some held their comrades as equals, which she found ridiculous, while others looked upon some skills with higher regard.

Tavra shook out her coat quickly, briefly, and boldly suggested: “you be Alpha, you and Flynn. I've supported your cause this far, have I not? Let me do it better as second.”

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 Beta, hm? Meissa chewed on the idea as they moved through the cavern. She lifted up onto her hind paws to place a paw on a column presented by the combination of stalagmite and stalactite. Her claws dug into the calcium and she considered giving it a lick but decided against it, instead coming off of the stone and huffing softly as she moved away from it.

 She considered Tavra's request with a hum, looking back at her as she added the points about supporting them.

 Honestly, had Meissa not been considering the request fully, she might make some comment like, well, all of them so far were supporting the cause. Rosemary and Florence had given up good jobs as healers and well, Archon was probably the one wolf of the group who had no say in the matter at all. Nevertheless, they were here together and Tavra was the first to finally light a fire under their asses. “As equals in Alpha-hood, then, I should discuss it with him,” she said, voice and face carefully neutral until she gave a grin. “But you've got my vote.”

 Her paws hit moss again and she noticed that the cave was getting lighter up ahead. Another exit? “You know, Florence joined up with us on the way out,” she hadn't said, so obviously Tavra wouldn't know. Her voice had the slightly higher pitch that meant she was still talking, “I think you and he would get along. Both of you don't take crap.”

 Then she grinned, looking over her shoulder at Tavra. “Or you might just piss each other off to no end.”

 It wasn't so much that she was trying to hook Tavra up with anyone but she figured that both the fiesty girl and the bicoloured man had been fairly reclusive in their times in Elkshire. At least, they both seemed to be by the way they were so eager to leave and didn't seem to care to say goodbyes. Plus, if Tavra had a man (if she even liked men) taking up her attention, Meissa felt that there would be less, ah, competition - even if that competition was wholly imagined.

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Tavra felt sludge beneath her paw as she trailed through the cavern after Meissa, and she turned her nose up in disgust. With a quick shake of her slender forelimb she freed the clump that clung to the pale fur there, though it continued to squish uncomfortably between her mottled as she carried on through the tunnel.

Fucking gross, she mused as the pungent scent of stagnant water, disturbed, wafted beneath her nostrils. Tavra made a mental note to avoid this smelly underground sithole for the rest of the warm season.

She was glad to have gotten Two-Tails on board with her wish to claim title, though that was only half the battle. Flynn was another challenge, though Tavra doubted he'd be difficult to sway. Both he and Meissa seemed rather laid-back, especially considering the length of time they'd spent beneath Célnes harsh judgement, but her own paranoia niggled at the back of her mind: they'll just tell you what you want to hear.

A change of subject followed swiftly, irritating the young Mayfair who wasn't really done saying her piece. With a thoughtful frown she listened to what Meissa had to say about another who'd joined their party, Florence, and the first thought of what sprung to mind was how he, like Rosemary, went by what she perceived to be a very feminine name.

Another transgender among them, perhaps?

“Hmm,” the vixen drawled, already unimpressed, “if this is your attempt at trying to set me up with someone, don't bother. I'm not interested.”

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 Meissa let out an unintentional bark of laughter at that, “No, nothing like that!” She chuckled through her words, shaking her head. Tavra's dismissive reaction to that was pretty funny, even if there was some truth behind it, she'd pretend it wasn't her intent. “I figured it's good to know who your new packmates are so you know what to expect. He wasn't with us when you set off so I figured I'd mention him, not catch you off guard when he shows up.”

 She paused to scratch at her neck, “On route, Flynn and I discussed potential names for our group.”

 She sniffed, lifting her head to peer down the hall before her eyes returned to the smaller wolf. “We were thinking... Little Haven. It's unassuming, fits the bill of our band of misfits.”

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She rolled a shoulder at Meissa's response, unusually unphased by her laughter. It definitely sounded, to her, that the pink-eyed brute randomly brought up the topic of a sharp-tongued stranger with the hope if piquing her interest in him. Surprisingly Tavra had gotten on alright with Rosemary, but her idea of a life partner was not one who was in any way like her.

As a matter of fact, her idea of a suitable mate did not exist because she'd never really thought about the type of wolf that might be. Romance was far from her mind, considering how fleeting her friendships could be. Relationships were tough to maintain, and she was content to commit to a life as a singleton.

Still, Tavra pondered, and she was lost in a faraway world of him own as Meissa stopped suddenly. This pause to scratch resulted in the crimson yearling colliding her shoulder to her comrade's flank. “Hey,” she barked, squeezing her way roughly between Meissa and the cavern wall, and peering over a winged shoulder with sharp copper eyes, “Little Haven, huh?”

Honestly, she hated it. Her immediate opinion was that it sounded ridiculous, and she didn't appreciate being lumped with the term "misfits". Katavra frowned thoughtfully, deciding not to comment negatively; this was primarily Flynn and Meissa's circus, after all, not hers. “Place doesn't smell like haven, at least not down here. This tunnel is more like the arsehole of the world.” She snorted, amused by her own description for the place they'd found themselves in - where stepping the wrong mud puddle released toxic fumes akin to rancid farts.

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 When Tavra bumped into her, Meissa let out of huff of surprise, then apology. “Ah, sorry. Some sort of bug, I think.” Which wasn't ideal. Regardless, she clung to the side of the wall as Tavra moved through, noting the sharpness in the way she spoke the name, the look in her eye.

 Did she not like it?

 It was pretty cliche, but if she didn't like it she needed to speak up, perhaps offer some alternative. “We're not exactly the most conventional pack,” she mused with a shrug, following after the girl. But then she gave a grin at the comment on smell.

 “Hopefully the other tunnels don't smell so bad. Maybe we can use this as a stinky prison for intruders.” Would they have intruders? Wolves - or other - who came and wanted to mess with them? What would they do if some scout from Elkshire showed up and wanted to return with news of their new home? Would they have to move on or would they try to capture and stop word from returning? She shook out her pelt, discomforted.

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The idea of using the rotten tunnel as a place to hold prisoners did appeal to her sadistic streak. As long as there was a powerhouse guard posted at the appropriate entry point to prevent escape, Tavra could imagine it being a rather successful venture, but the problem they presently had was the lack of wolves to fill such posts. Rosemary was blind and there was the possibility of Florence fitting the job requirements, but no one else. She was certainly not the wolf.

Perhaps, in time, their ranks would flourish, and having bodies to defend the tunnels would not be an issue.

Until then, Tavra would scout them further. She'd map the maze until she knew each curve, each dead end, each opening. In the meantime, however, with her senses overwhelmed by the stench, the little wildfire swung her tail encouragingly for Meissa to see. “Hold onto that thought, I think you're onto something. Let's carry on toward that light, see where it brings us?” And she was off, more than ready to breathe clean air again.


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 “I wonder if they open up elsewhere in the Plains,” Meissa wondered aloud, mostly to herself though the thought was one she wanted Tavra to hear. Perhaps, if there were all of these openings... they would have safe places to flee if there ever came a day they would need to. Places to sneak in, hide out, perhaps close off if they ever needed to be secretive.

 A dream played out before her eyes.

 An underground network, carrying vulnerable wolves from the Temperate to the Plains. Refugees, from a war not yet begun? Surely there would be, wolves who did not wish to live under whoever's rule, for there would certainly come a day when the Temperate would be ruled by some band, be it Elkshire or Nightwalkers or some mixture of the two. The thought had been deposited in her mind straight from the Nightwalkers' mouths and while the queen of Elkshire had never stated they would claim beyond, beyond, beyond - she had made it clear she wanted all that the elk's hooves touched.

 There would come a day when wolves would flee, again - on threat of their lives.

 She wanted to make this a safe place, a protected place, where these refugees might find refuge, might find a home to build and work towards. “I wonder when they'll start coming,” she said, continuing her unsaid thoughts unwittingly as she traveled behind the smaller wolf, towards the light and, hopefully, fresh air.

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