always

oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise. I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you.

In the aftermath of the fight, Alcide had done his duty to completely erase any trace evidence that Arlo had even dared encroach upon his lands, much less challenge for them. The day after the battle, Alcide had returned to the site and duly marked over every trace of snow that so much as hinted at his scent. When the task had been completed he had returned home again. Since then he had, much to his dismay, been forced to rest as much as possible, to allow his wounds to heal and for his strength to be regained. Unable to hunt for himself, Sleekwing had brought him meals. Dany had provided him with company. Ceal with entertainment. He’d moved about the territory, and languidly traced the borders and strengthened his markers. After all, he couldn’t be completely sedentary or his injuries would just stiffen and cause him more problems. The back of his leg had quickly scabbed and was now simply a pink puckering that would soon begin to grow hair once more. The puncture wounds to his chest had slightly bruised the area, but thanks to the healing aid of Niviaq had not become infected. It was the injuring that lay just above his forepaw that was taking the longest to heal, due to any motion in the area preventing it from healing quickly.

As he paused to strengthen a fading marker, yellowing the snow, Alcide sniffed the air. An odor carried on the breeze that he was most unhappy to smell. The cologne of Arlo mingled with the smell of blood, an all too familiar and fresh scent in Alcide’s memory. He wasted no time in picking up a lope, wincing the first time his injured leg took the full weight of the running beast on it. After that he showed no sign of the injury debilitating him. No, if Arlo was back for more Alcide would not let him think he had caused the aged alphen any pain. But he would gladly deliver the young wolf a reminder of how he had lost.

It was as the scent of Arlo and death drew stronger that he heard the yipping bark of one of the youth of Spirane. His ears flattened against his skull and his tail arched over his back. He was an impressive sight as he barreled towards the two, exploding from the bushes he could have easily gone around but chose a more direct route. His lips fleered back to expose his fangs and a snarl ripped from his throat. Quickly he placed himself between Lavender and Arlo, lowering his head defensively and glaring at the auburn brute. With hackles raised he remained like this for a few moments until he realized that Arlo’s jaws were not stained with blood. Lavender did not smell injured. Slowly, he quelled the snarl in his throat. His posture remained defensive, hackles prickling over his shoulders. But he raised his crown and stared down into the face of his former opponent. Taking note of the whole rabbit hat lay at his paws, Alcide eyed Arlo suspiciously

“Why have you come here?” he asked, his voice robust and demanding. If this was some kind of trick, Alcide would not allow it to be played out. If he came here seeking peace, refuge, he would truly have to work for it. Although Alcide had seen a lot of potential in Arlo during their battle, he could not so soon forget that the boy had thought himself man enough to take his throne. The alphen was no fool, he would not readily welcome this would be usurper into his pack where he could come to harm those Alcide held dearest. He knew the creature was strong and an able fighter, despite his youth and inexperience. Would he be able to show Alcide the change in his heart? The challenge was to at least try.

alcide | sixteen | moonglow | polaris of spirane
sleekwing, swallowbane, orca, daenerys, ceal, taliesin | ♥