At first, the idea of going out into the wild and breaking up packs repulsed Ranshee. She sent Nocol'Fita and Noiku off with snarls and insults for even thinking she would be party to such a thing-- she, who held the idea of family and pack above all else! It was unthinkable! Much to her frustration, though, not only did neither one understand, but neither seemed much put off by her fury and left her to her small, somewhat chilly room to pace and growl to herself.

It was cruel, that's what it was. Cruel, to separate a true, cohesive, family-tight pack. But apparently, these creatures-- dragons, humans, Fleshshifters, whatever they were-- did not follow the instinctive wulven principle of Pack. Even chyriths, for all their annoying habits and confusing ways, understood that one did not forcibly break up a pack without serious consequences. These soulless, heartless things here didn't even consider that what they were doing was wrong-- it went against the way things should be. Where was the loyalty? The pride? The joy of another body to curl beside you at night and stand beside you in battle? Did none of them respect that? Noiku and Nocol'Fita didn't even seem to respect Ranshee's respect for it, assuming she would take part in such wrong-doing.

And yet, for all her disgust and rage at the thought of these Hunts, Ranshee was only one-- and an alien, confused, probably mistrusted one, at that-- and not only was there nothing she could do, no one would even deign listen to her protests. If she could manage to make herself understood, she would be scoffed at at the least, perhaps snarled at, or run off at the worst. Nocol'Fita had assured her without having to word it that no one would actively try to bring about her death, but there was nothing stopping the inhabitants of this place, this Shivran Aerd, from chasing her out of it.

Even so, as she mulled on it for a few more days, prowling around the Aerd and picking up bits and pieces of the language, an idea began to form. It was slow to grow and slower to make itself clear to her, like most of her ideas, but when the full idea hit her in full force, on her seventh day in the frozen maze of her temporary home, she had to sit down. No, she could not stop the dragons from going on their Hunts, nor could she spare the current packs from destruction-- but she could rescue however many of these Wylds as she could who would be willing to form a new pack-- a new pack with her.

It seemed too perfect. It was a small resistance, but it was resistance, a chance to show these heartless dragons and their "bonds" the importance of Pack. She would go on as many of these Hunts as she could, gathering Wylds to herself, a new pack that would not have to give in to the strangling rules of the Aerd-folk. They could find a territory somewhere, and they would be large enough to hold it. And Ranshee would have her pack. Her family.

There were, of course, problems with the idea. As she worried it, chewing and gnawing on the thoughts as if they were bones whose sweet marrow was alluding her, she mulled over those problems.

Firstly, no matter how strong her will or her courage, she was still not a powerful mage, and never would be. These dragons seemed to have more magic than she did-- not as much as her chyrith heritage should have given her, but more than enough to out-power her-- and so she would have little ability to subdue a troublemaker that way. She was not very big, either; even in her more natural form, which she had yet to shift into and probably wouldn't for a while, she stood only half as tall as the smallest of these dragons-- not counting the gnat-like "flitters" who were always zipping about. So she could not subdue them that way, either. Yes, she was fierce, and yes, her mind was powerful, when she thought to use it-- but would that be enough to prove that she was strong enough to lead them?

And, of course, dragons she came across might not want to be led, not by her. Even if their own packs were being destroyed, their pride and loyalty to their previous leaders might make them resistant to someone new trying to claim leadership. Ranshee wasn't particularly good at speculation that wasn't direct planning-- that is, when it came to abstractly putting herself into a situation she had never been in before, she failed utterly-- so she didn't know what she would do in that situation. But it would be wise to plan for such a thing in these Wylds she would confront.

The only problem she could think of a solution for-- and even that was an uncertain one, at best. She needed permission to join these Hunts, and she needed to somehow conceal why she wanted it, or they wouldn't let her. One thing Ranshee did know about herself was that she could not hide things: it wasn't natural for her, and she hated doing it. After hours of consideration, she decided that she simply couldn't do it-- and would try not to even mention the "why" and hope that her desire alone would be enough.

The only two in the Aerd that she knew, and so far the only two she cared to know, were Nocol'Fita and Noiku. They almost never left the Aerd, and in her restless wandering, she had grown to know the places that had their scents the strongest. One of these had to be their den, the place the two of them lived: a larger room first, probably for Nocol'Fita, and within, a smaller room, probably for Noiku. This was where Ranshee went, not daring to go further than Nocol'Fita's chamber, hoping to find them-- and when she did not find them at home, where she waited, crouched impatiently on the floor just inside the massive door.

*

Noiku came in from a short flight with Nocol, an all too brief escape from the constant press of minds, walls, and cold in the Aerd, entering by the inside doors to his own set of rooms. The black dragon pushed open the large doors to his own part of the suite-- and was surprised to find a small, partly-furry, glaring Ranshee looking up at him. Noiku hurried through the rooms and out the other side, frowning with annoyance at her temerity to just barge in and make herself at home. When he burst out into Nocol's room, cursing his trembling limbs that kept him from looking suitably threatening, she transferred sharp, golden eyes onto him.

"Hunt," she said simply, with a fierce expression that said quite clearly what she wanted. Somehow, she'd changed her mind about the evils of the Wyld Hunts and had decided to take them up on their suggestion to take part.

::No,:: Nocol sent, the only way he knew to keep the words private, despite that they rang in his head painfully-- again he thought black things about the Lady of the Aerd, like he did every few minutes, it seemed. Unable to even talk clearly with his own dragon in his own head....

But what Nocol's denial implied, and the overtones of emotion and background information that came with it, once his thoughts settled again enough to pick them apart, was enough to bring a smile back to his face. No, she had not changed her mind-- but she wanted to Hunt, anyway. And Noiku liked that idea very, very much.

"Tell her I'll sign her up right away for as many as she likes," he told the great black dragon almost gleefully. Nocol snorted at him, and made as if to do so, but the half-feral thing crouched on the chill stone floor rose quickly, nodding firmly.

"Yes," she said, her voice roughly accented. "Good. Hunt soon, Hunt much. Good."

And with that, she strode promptly out the door Nocol had left open in his surprise and out into the snow, as if she didn't want to give him any more of her attention. Noiku shared a glance with his bond, then peered after her. "I wonder how many words she's picked up already," he mused, impressed, her trespass already forgotten.

Nocol shrugged his wings wordlessly and kicked the door shut, cutting off the draft of cold air, and Noiku grinned up at him. "Well, more power to her," he said. "I think she'll be an entertaining little trouble-maker to have around, don't you?"

The dragon's only answer was a snort, shaking himself free of snow before climbing onto his couch-like, comfortably padded shelf in the stone, and Noiku chuckled before retiring himself to cheerfully nurse his spite with daydreams of how the alien woman could cause Drakiera no end of strife.

Chapter Three

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