Nike scrambled awkwardly down the rocky slope, her pale eyes flicking from her pawsteps, to the valley before her, and back. She had taken the difficult way down, strewn with large boulders and slippery pebbles, but she’d done so on purpose. She never seemed to be able to pick the easy way in anything- it seemed like cheating, or falling short. She liked the accomplishment.
Even so- she’d bitten off a little more than she could chew. Her paw caught the earth at a bad angle, and the smooth stones sent her sliding and skidding down the remainder of the slope. She yelped with surprize, but gathered herself as coolly as she could when she reached the bottom.
Rodwen had sent her on a mission- well, he’d asked her to do something that she had interpreted as a chore. She was supposed to properly introduce herself to the wolf to whom she was betrothed… Mohawk. She’d met him briefly before when her father had met with Tilika, and even in that encounter he’d seemed… peculiar. He didn’t talk much, and didn’t seem much like a pup at all. Her nose wrinkled as she thought. But perhaps she was wrong, maybe he was nice. Her father had told her they were betrothed, and the thought was frustrating, frightening, and terribly grown-up sounding, but for her father’s sake, she would try to like him.
She could see the golden Havirian family a short distance away, and she slowly slinked towards them. The large, brooding pup was nearest to her; she slowed her pace as she warily approached.
When she was within eye and earshot of the dark-cowled pup, she bobbed her head, introducing herself unceremoniously, “I’m Nike.”
The fiery pup, ordinarily so self-assured and curious, shrunk into the snow, his black-tipped tail wrapping protectively around his paws. He stared out at the foreigner pup with beady red eyes as she approached and offered a brisk greeting. She was peculiar-looking, with violet eyes like the color of the heather in Spring. Her name hardly registered with him. He remained low, poised to run. He’d never had a strange individual interact him so directly before. Even if she were merely a pup, it still intimidated him. His ears held flat over his head and he glanced back toward his Mother’s den as if seeking help from his sister. But Yuaei was preoccupied; Mohawk was on his own.
“Be strong for me,” his Mother’s words echoed through him.
The golden pup rose very slowly, all the while keeping his crimson gaze trained on Nike. At his full height, he felt slightly more comfortable, drawing enough nerve to speak.
“Mohawk,” he grumbled quietly. No sooner did the name leave his mouth had his jaw shut and he took another step back from the little female. There, they had exchanged names. This meeting was over with, right?
The pale pup’s head shot up at the other’s reaction. Her head cocked and her delicate brow wrinkled. Why would he act like she was on a warpath? He tensed and flattened his ears to his skull, the stony expression she recognized from their last encounter became even more defensive. Her tail wagged instinctively to defuse the tension, but the power behind it quickly ebbed, leaving the tip of her tail to droop downwards. She backed up a step as he stood up… he was big.
He mumbled his name, ‘Mohawk’.
“I know,” she blurted.
She did know. They were engaged, after all. She realized that probably wasn’t the best way to hold up a conversation, though. She regarded him skeptically. Her father had specifically assigned her to talk to him, and if she was honest, she wanted to get to know this funny stranger that she was supposed to marry someday.
“You don’t talk very much,” she stated, brow wrinkling a little further. Why not be straightforward? “What’s your favorite color? Do you like frogs?”
This seemed like important material to cover.
Did she ever stop talking? He wondered in earnest. The little female spoke so fast and with such verve that Hawk wondered how it was even possible that her mind could possibly jump from concept-to-concept so quickly. The golden pup stared at Nike like she was a completely foreign specimen. The only thing that could register from him was a drawled out “umm…” and a blank face staring back at her.
He longed to flee this strange encounter but bit back an uncertain whine. “Gold,” he answered her first question abruptly. It was the color of his mother, and sister and holy father, the color of sunlight, and everything bright in their world. Of course, his favorite color was gold. He did not ask in kind, he was certain Nike’s favorite color was gold, too. Wasn’t it everyone’s?
Her next question caused Hawk to screw up his face in confusion, “Fur-awgs?” He tested the word tentatively on his tongue. He wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Was it a type of food?
Her pale violet eyes stared hard into Mohawk’s bight, golden ones- trying to read his mask-like expression. The only thing she got was: disgruntled. Her head drew back slightly as he answered monosyllabically.
“Gold…” she murmured.
It was an interesting answer, she hadn’t expected that one. Most pups would answer “blue like the sky” or “green like a valley”... but Gold? She liked that answer, it was different.
She tried to draw out the conversation further, “My favorite color is-”
There was no rhythm in this conversation. She was cut off by Mohawk’s… was it a question?
“Frogs,” she overennunciated a little too loudly. “Have you never seen one? They’re gross and slimey and jumpy. They’re awesome!”
Her eyes shifted past him to a marshy puddle of standing water- drainage from the melting snow. A most dastardly plan formulated in her mind. Her little tail wagged slyly.
“Let me show you, they live in the water, follow me!” she motioned excitedly as she brushed past him, scampering to the miry little pond.
She waited for him at the edge, her tail wagging so profusely that her whole back end wiggled.
When he was close enough, she shifted next to him and bent over the muddy water, pointing into it with her paw, “Look closely!”
Interest piqued, the little pup trailed at the princess’ hocks, abandoning his earlier suspicions for curiosity. Slimey, AND jumpy? He had to admit- these frog things sounded kind of cool! Maybe he could chase them up and down the stream, and if he caught one, he could eat it! Mohawk licked his lips and picked up his pace behind Nike.
She lead Hawk down a trail to the banks of a small pond, and directed him to look deep into the water. Mohawk followed her guide and scooted close, positioning his paws at the edge of the murky pond. Peering into the shallows with wide eyes, Mo’s little nose nearly brushed the surface. His gold eyes searched for movement beneath the depths, but he could see nothing aside from the stillness of the pond.
“Where? I don’t see any…”
Nike had to play it cool. She kept her eyes on the gently rippling pond until Mohawk had come up beside her. She watched out of the side of her eye as he padded up to the edge of the water, earnestly falling for her ruse, eyes searching for the water’s slimy treasure. Nike had lost track of her tail that was still furiously wagging, betraying her intentions.
“Keep looking, they’ve gotta be there!” she urged.
She quietly pulled herself back from the water, pale eyes trained on the other young wolf to make sure he remained distracted. She moved behind him, pivoting until she found just the right angle.
Perfect.
She lifted her paw, sticking her tongue out with intense focus as she aimed. Ready. Set. GO! She gave Mohawk a hard shove on his hindquarters with all of her weight.
Mohawk squinted, studying the pond intently- until suddenly, a heavy force from behind sent him tumbling face-first into it! “AHH!” A surprised cry escaped his lips as he plummeted into the puddle. His once-immaculate golden coat was now covered, head-to-toe, with dark brown sludge. Frozen in shock, Mohawk regained his breath before wiping a thick layer of mud from his eyes.
Abruptly, he heard Nike erupt into fits of laughter. Tricked! She’d tricked him! And his torment was somehow amusing to her?! He shot the scrawny princess a furious glare.
“Why, you!” He searched for the right words but had no way to adequately express his outrage. “You’ll pay for this!” He yelled and attempted to lunge after her. But the sticky mud coating his limbs hampered his strides and he tripped, falling back into the murky puddle.
It was perfect. The large Havirian pup went nose-first into muddy water, sending dark water spraying upwards in all directions. A few drops spattered across Nike's nose, which only further fueled her uncontrollable fit of giggles. She had tried to hold it back; snorts and stifled guffaws puffing from her closed mouth as she looked on- but as soon as Mohawk looked up at her with furious eyes from a sea of deflated, muddy fur... all bets were off.
"Bheheh... BAHAHAHAHA," she laughed, tears gathering to the corners of her eyes.
Mohawks threats were in vain as his lunge was thwarted by the mud suctioning him back into place.
Without a word of apology, for she was not sorry in the slightest, Nike scrambled backwards. She turned and began to run in a full-out, floppy-pawed sprint away from the scene of the crime, still laughing inconsolably as she went.
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