The situation with Calliope had improved—they were “back to normal” now, as if nothing had ever happened, which made him both happy and uneasy all in the same confusing instant. Aside from whatever unfinished business between them was nagging in the back of his conscience, refusing to show itself, all that remained for his part of this dramatic love triangle was to locate Allure and impress upon her the same message he had upon his own mate: the end had come. Things were going to be peaceful around here, and if that meant beating them into it, damnit, he would.

Kind of like Ravn…

His cousin had been on his mind recently as well—they were coming upon the one-year anniversary of her tragic demise in the DarkLands, which coincided roughly with his own arrival in the Salvajes, moreover with the original creation of the Nova Mountain pack. Lots of bittersweet memories there… maybe a lesson or two: how would Ravn have reacted to this? She probably would have destroyed or disembarked them both—her way or the highway, they were clearly more alike than Sinistra wished to publicly admit.

Before his mind could move on to the newest political problem his no longer new pack faced, the Alpha’s attention was caght by a familiar face in the distance—Allure (was it funny how that happened, like magic, think of someone and voilà…?).

He didn’t approach, being already close enough that she could see him, deciding to leave the decision-making up to her. If she wanted to discuss their problems, she would have to close the gap. But if she didn’t, there was still plenty of time to turn away.

Apparently choice A would win today—she was going to approach him, which was supposed to be the option he preferred. After all, he was the leader and all, and it was his “duty” to deal with this issue, and that was what he had told Calliope, that he would tell her what they had decided would be fair. No one would start or end anything (except him, which was always fair as far as he was concerned…)… and if Allure disagreed, well, that was her prerogative and her ticket to defect.

But really, he actually preferred choice B, just between himself and his alter ego (coincidentally also himself). Life would be much easier if she would do the avoiding bit; in this manner, Sinistra could “try to do the right thing” and not actually have to do the right thing, essentially having his cake and eating it too. Alas, no such luck.

Her submission was a surprise, even though he figured it shouldn’t be when it struck him so oddly. That was an appropriate reaction, realistically, for one who had erred as had Allure… it was just so odd to see, and even stranger to hear her apology.

Your disrespect of her should be the least of your worries, the Novan said, swallowing all of his desire to avoid this and stepping into the position he felt expected to fill. It was how he had reacted to Calliope, it was how he had to react to her—in fact, if anything, if he recollected correctly, she was higher up on the shit list. She had gone against his wishes and insulted him. It seems you’ve both forgotten who I am.

Damn, I must be pretty good at this. After all, Calliope and Allure had been quick to apologize once he dropped the humor and adopted the stern, dominant, harsh demeanor of an irate Alpha. Neither had argued or put up much of a defense—true, Calliope had not been quite as docile as Allure was being, and true, the meeting with Allure was young yet. But so far, Sinistra was two-for-two in the discipline department. They weren’t challenging his authority. Perhaps they wisely each realized how thin their ice had become.

You say that to me, the wolf now challenged in the same calm but disappointed voice as before in this conversation, and earlier with his mate. It was also the same path of discussion Sin had used with the other party in this battle—yeah, yeah, you’re all real sad and sorry now, but tomorrow when you come face to face with her and she threatens to push you off a cliff? Going to be sorry then? What are you going to say to her when I’m not looking?

He paused, not trying to imply that she was in trouble but Calli was not—indeed, Allure’s white adversary had been—this conversation was made difficult by the politics of it. If he wanted to act like it was an issue of respect for the Alpha, he had to act like the Alpha and treat them each fairly, evenly, without regard to personal relationships—which he intended to do, but what was real and what others perceived often differed considerably. You both say you’re sorry, but next time you cross paths… what happens then?

And so is she, he said, recounting what Calliope had promised him in their meeting. They both said similar things, reacted in similar ways—they were, indeed, so alike that if it weren’t for the black markings of Allure’s coat it might have been a challenge to tell one from the other. And there were plenty of times when, in spite of their outward differences in appearance, Sinistra wondered if falling for his current mate had been based on her own merits or on her similarities to the first female he had truly set his sights on here. Every time he asked, though, he promised himself that he loved Calliope because he loved Calliope, not that he loved Calliope because he loved Allure.

Or so she says, the black wolf continued pressing; it was just too easy to accept that they wouldn’t go at it again the minute one pair of jealous eyes threatened the other with too lingering a gaze. I don’t know that I believe either of you, he stated the obvious next, pursing his lips together like an elderly woman chastising children for playing too roughly for their own good. Tsk, females these days!

But, Sin continued, stringing it out for just that much longer, …like I told her—I’m done, too. He thought that was clear enough without explaining exactly how he meant it: that if they weren’t being honest with him they would be in trouble, both of them if there wasn’t a clear antagonist, or whichever if there was.

Perhaps you both need something to preoccupy your time—I’d like to have a pack hunt. You should be able to handle planning for that? She had, after all, been the Hunter… once upon a time.

Then I’ll have to show you, was correct alright—they both would have to show him. Part of him hoped they would, part of him almost hoped one (preferably Allure, in all honesty, because that just sounded easier to deal with…) would not, so he could end it once and for all and none would have to live with the threat of another explosive encounter. But that was the childish desire for avoidance and a perfect world, and some unseen third part of him advised him to grow up just as Allure was asking another question he might have hoped to avoid.

I hope so, he said without even considering it for a moment; a gut reaction to how he felt about the situation. They would never be “together,” but then they never really had been—they had really only ever been friends with the possibility for something more. The possibility was gone, but the friendship? Maybe it could be salvaged. He had enjoyed their time spent together.

But back to the business at hand: hunting. The pack hadn’t hunted together… well, ever, he realized, under his leadership. Perhaps Tobin had led them on a group feast; if not, the Nova Mountain pack was now planning for its very first. And they had nearly been together (well, established, anyway) for a year… As soon as possible, Sinistra replied, We need to start practicing our tactics. They were going to need plenty of meat over the later part of the winter and through next spring to support the puppies—not to mention, one never knew how harsh the winter itself would be on the adults of Nova.

He vaguely remembered Azarieath’s desire to hold a hunt—that had been shortly before Sinistra and Calliope had left the mountain in search of greener pastures. The memories were so foggy now that he only knew she had a ghost of a plan and it would have worked perfectly if, for whatever reason, it hadn’t fallen through… but as for Rook, no, he didn’t think she had ever done much to contribute to Nova Mountain. Perhaps she had mentioned a hunt once or twice, but nothing ever materialized there, either.

We’ve never had one, the wolf said plainly, shoulders shrugging slightly after the words settled upon their conversation for her to make what she would of them. There was no standard to live up to (other than Sin’s expectations of how things should be), so her first foray into the world of directing a Nova hunt should have proven fairly easy. Plans, but nothing ever worked out, he continued, implying that their past hunters hadn’t been complete failures—they were only halfway failures.

What’d you do to your face? Sinistra suddenly opted for a change in subject—perhaps back to their original topic of conversation. Did something else happen between you and Calliope? Somehow the gash across her cheek had previously not registered—he had been too preoccupied in wanting to crawl under a rock and hide until the turbulence somehow fixed itself. Now he was curious if he had missed yet another great Nova brawl… seemed he was out of the loop, somehow, these days.

Brow furrowed as he considered this—so it wasn’t a Nova brawl, but a brawl with some unknown stranger. The Hó’nehe immediately came to mind, even though he suspected they were more peaceful than not, he also knew they were upset with all the trespassers. Perhaps they had sent their finest warriors out to wreak a bit of havoc on whoever they could easily victimize? It was a possibility that couldn’t be ignored… they were, afterall, spying on the Salvaje wolves…

Sighing lightly, Sinistra smiled ever so slightly at her comment about how the other had fared—he didn’t know if it was true or not, or if she were joking or trying to throw him off any idea he might be having of vengeance. And he felt a bit better hearing that Bronx didn’t know, either, because that somehow meant it wasn’t just the Alpha who had no freakin’ idea what was happening to the Valley these days…

Where was he from? the Novan asked, trying to figure out if this was your average psychopath from one of the neighbors, or a Hó’nehe, or some weirdo loner who had decided to attack creatures at random on his way through the lands. Either way they clearly had a death wish attacking a pack wolf—trespassing was pretty grievous, but bodily injury was in another class entirely.

Silver Creek.

It was almost like someone else had taken over the controls of his reactions as those words met his ears—eyes narrowed menacingly while they turned, well-trained at the art of glaring, towards the general direction where he knew the pack to reside. The rest of his brain was frantically trying to verify that his ears had heard correctly, to catch up with the instinctive reaction to leave that very instant and storm down there for a heart-to-heart with the Greatest Alpha There Ever Was.

The thought of Sphinx made him snort. Audibly. What was her problem, anyway? The Greatest, Allure had told him once in Wild Fire Forest, yet this was at least twice that she could barely manage to keep her snot-nosed little cretins out of trouble. Tiamat had paraded all over Nova as if it were hers to claim—she had even interfered with pack business. Now one of those fools had attacked a pack member of his?

Blood. He was going to go find Bronx, regardless of how much she begged and pleaded that her brother not be told (and maybe he would round up a few more sizable fighters for good measure), and go down there, and he wasn’t going to leave unless he was dragging someone’s carcass behind him.

This was war.

What did he look like? Sinistra asked, trying not too sound too demanding—too aggressive towards her as a consequence of all the fiery anger he felt towards them at the moment.

They were going on a hunt alright.

Black with red eyes. No, he didn’t disbelieve her at all. In fact, it fit so perfectly into how he was currently envisioning the pack beyond the hill that not a syllable of it seemed out of place. Menaces. Monsters. Something had to be done—they had gone too far—someone had to stop them before they hurt again, or worse, killed. Black with red eyes. Black was common. But red eyes? Oh, there would be no task in finding him. None whatsoever. It would be like looking for a tree amongst the swampy reeds.

Sinistra’s gaze only finally shifted back to Allure when she insisted that there was no strong proof to suggest he was from Silver Creek. A gentle snort escaped his nostrils, eyes slowly darting back towards enemy territory and remained their briefly, then returned again. There was absolutely no doubt in the Novan’s mind that their criminal was one of Sphinx’s rag-tag crew; and although her words suggested otherwise, Sin had a sneaking suspicion that Allure did not have any real doubt either as to the stranger’s home.

You work on that hunt, he said firmly, …and I know I can’t stop you from going where you please, but I’d rather you stay around here until we figure this out, the Alpha continued, his tone growing slightly more gentle towards the end of his speech. There wasn’t anything more to be said now: Sinistra had his project, Allure had hers.

Easier than expected…

And he nodded, though said nothing, when she demanded he confirm that he would be at the hunt. Actually, the mind had been turning busily and decided that a quick, knee-jerk reaction was perhaps not the best way to deal with this situation. They could fall in far too deep, too quickly and fail miserably—that would be disastrous. How did the hunt fit in? Well, anyone who wished to remain a pack member would be expected to attend—perfect opportunity to find out what else, if anything, the Creek had been up to. Also a perfect time to inform them that they were to stay away from Silver Creek, and that they were not to permit any Creek members upon Mountain lands…

Then the hunt was the next best thing to mock fighting. Battle tactics; killing tactics. Sad, but true.

Shifting unsettled upon his paws, Sinistra was surprised more by the Iota’s next statement: Did he want the whole story? Yes. He did, but had been wary of asking, lest she take it as an implication that he believed she had started it, that she was somehow to blame. And maybe she was, yet it was better that he not say so—still, Sin did need to know the whole story before doing anything drastic. She clearly knew this.

Entirely unprovoked, the Novan thought as he listened to what she recalled. Entirely psychotic…

And he was, consequently, entirely in his right to go lodge some threats against Sphinx and her finest minions. I’m going to tell Bronx, Sinistra announced when Allure finished, continuing swiftly so she realized the point, …Unless you want to do it yourself. But someone’s going to tell him.

Again he nodded, adding “find Bronx” to the top of his list, just a notch above “destroy Silver Creek.” He wondered how difficult it would be to convince the Guardian not to storm off to the swamp and track down the lowlife bastard who had attacked Allure—as had been Sinistra’s own first impulse—but had a fairly good plan of action to offer, which hopefully would be enough to convince him that waiting a day or so in order to put other parts of the plan in motion would be well worth the wait.

I don’t know yet, was his verbal response to her question, and it was half-true: there were some ideas, enough to form a coherent plan to tell Bronx, but nothing was decided yet. Ideas, plans subject to change… Bronx and he could not take on an entire pack alone, who else would come with them? Danflower and Tobin, their other resident warriors, would surely want to at least be considered. Sinistra knew nothing of the lower ranked members and their qualifications outside of Dannyboy—perhaps there were others there who would prove useful.

But rest assured, you’ll hear about it when it happens. Indeed, it would be headline gossip throughout the Salvajes. She wouldn’t be left in the dark for too long at all.