Natasha | Female | 3 yrs. 8 m.| Belgian Malinois | Pet/Guard
Mentions: Layat, Drake :c
One moment, Natasha was listening to the quiet sound of her companion's breathing, and the next, she was leaping to her paws at his stuttering breaths. "Layat? Are you alright?" He stared at her with wide, panicked eyes, like he couldn't bring himself to respond. Natasha hardly noticed that Drake had gotten to his paws as well, and was slowly backing away, ears down. The black and white male seemed to choke on a breath, and the sound that left his muzzle had Natasha whining in a similar pain. When Layat's head suddenly dropped to the snow, Natasha froze, and then crept forward a few inches. There was no warm cloud of breath leaving his muzzle any more. The Belgian, suddenly frightened and confused, turned to look for her larger companion, but found him no where. "D-Drake?" she called out, ears suddenly folding back as her tail drooped. "Drake?!" Whining, she circled Layat's body, starting to tremble. It wasn't from the cold. She leaned down to lick the dead dog's cheek, torn between looking for her alive friend and moving Layat's body out of the streets. Confused and alone, she finally let out a small, broken howl.

Denahi | Male | 4 yrs. 2 m.| Alaskan Husky | Sled-dog/Pet
Mentions: Wild Fangs
Only a few minutes before, he and Sitka had parted ways. his larger friend was heading home, knowing they'd be going for a run in the morning with their team. Denahi, however, had felt too restless to return just yet. So here he was, walking side-by-side with the forest. That was exactly when he heard the first low screech. It sounded like a pup, and his heroic side jumped to action; before he could think of how forbidden the forest had become, he was crashing through the snow and trees towards the sound. When he finally stopped, he was panting, and watching as a wolverine glared at him and dragged a small fox kit away. Blinking, he took a few steps back and let the animal continue on; he had no reason to pick a fight with the brute over a fox kit. He had thought it was a dog. Suddenly aware of where he was, his legs stiffened. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. In his haste, he'd crossed into the Wild Fangs territory. Glancing around slowly, he wandered whether he could sneak back out unnoticed... or if he'd already been spotted.

NORTH | MALE | 4 YEARS | BEAUCERON
Location: Forest, Approaching Camp
Mentions: Alaska, Ashira, Dax, Vegas

He watched the husky retrieve the quail that lay lifeless on the ground before them, her movements light and graceful in comparison to his large, lumbering form. He had the sudden urge to remain in the forest with her, pushing any sense of duty aside and spend the rest of the day enjoying her company. He knew that wasn't something that could be done right now, because although he wasn't aware of the perils that had occurred while they were absent, he sensed they were needed back in camp. Waiting for her to come up to his side, he silently leaned down slightly to give her a light lick on the cheek, before wordlessly stalking back in the direction of camp. It would be up to her to interpret the affectionate exchange.

The speed of his gait quickened as quite quickly he detected the faint scent of blood and adrenaline pheromones, the fur immediately bristling on the bridge of his thick-muscled shoulders and a low growl rumbling through his chest. He instinctively began to take on defensive body language; were there intruders? Was anybody harmed? He'd tear the throat out of any soul who dared to make one wrongful step towards his most loyal of pack mates. He was quick to spot the rather pitiful, bleeding form of Radjika, making a mess of their camp. With the remainder of his associates acting rather nonchalant towards the shepherd, North merely curled his lip in disgust. Fucking mongrel dirtying up their land. Stealing a silent glance at Alaska, he hoped she would take the initiative to remove him from the lands and do something with him. Heal him, he supposed, and then hopefully someone would toss him out. His eyes naturally began to pick out the familiar form of his superiors- Silaluk, Ashira, Dax. Something didn't feel right, and that feeling was confirmed when he spotted Ashira stalking through with a solemn look plastered across her features. He wanted to bound up to her and ask her what was going on, where the alpha was, but he did no such thing. Instead, he respectfully hung back, not making any sort of move until the ridgeback acknowledged him.

"Yes, M'Lady." He growled softly as she passed, turning his head to look down at Alaska. "I'm needed to report to the alpha's quarters. Make sure you get some food into you," His muzzle nodded in the direction of the bird he caught for her. "Even if you're busy tending to that brute over there. I'll come find you when I'm done." Running his tail along her side, he pivoted around and stalked after his alpha, glancing over at her face with a glint of concern in his golden brown gaze. Where is Silaluk?

RYKER | MALE | 4 YEARS | GERMAN SHEPHERD
Location: In Town, Alleyways
Mentions: Ruger, Lianna, Piper, Ikkuma

Streaks of scarlet stained his own coat, a few feeble bite marks visible in his coat from his attackers but not nearly as terrifying in appearance as the wounds he inflicted on the other dogs. His rage-induced adrenaline was dying down, replaced with a heavy sense of exhaustion and grief. He was so focused on the fallen corpse of his beloved companion he hadn't noticed Ruger had collapsed, Lianna lingering overtop of him in an attempt to wake him up.

The silence that drew around them finally caused him to lift his head and look away from the black and white form of Piper, his amber eyes widening with panic at Ruger's fallen form. He cannot die. The desire to not abandon Piper made his paws as heavy as lead, seemingly dragging him down, but he forced himself to stand on shaky limbs. The reality of the situation was that Piper was dead. No efforts he made would be successful, she was not coming back. Ruger, on the other hand.. his black and beige form heaved with light breaths, revealing he was still alive. Sore and tired, he forced himself to leave Piper's form and make his way over to his other shepherd companions. He collapses by their sides, his heavy form suddenly feeling very frail and useless. He presses his muzzle into the side of Ruger's shoulder, desperately trying to get a response. "Don't you die on me too, you bastard." Desperation taints his tone, glancing at Lianna with fear in his eyes. First Ikkuma, then Piper.. He could not lose Ruger.

NORTH | MALE | 4 YEARS | BEAUCERON
Mentions: Ashira, Dax, Vegas

The golden orbs of North's gaze remained trained on his alpha's form as she exited the den, splatters of crimson staining her coat and filling the beauceron's nostrils with the thick, iron scent of it. The announcement of the alpha's.. death or disappearance, he wasn't sure what he could truly determine it as just yet, seemingly lulled him into a rather distorted state of mind. Silaluk.. dead? The idea of it seemed foolish for any dog to believe. He was the lord of the forest, the big bad wolf of the reserve, and yet so suddenly his reign had ended. The urge to follow Ashira and demand more of an explanation made his forepaw twitch, but he remained planted to the ground. Her words had been confident and her eyes had held an undebatable sorrow; he was gone, and he was gone for good.

The silence that grew between the three brutes that remained in the den reminded North of the task at hand; celebrating Dax's rise to the alpha of the Wild Fangs, and determining who would replace his former position. Though Vegas' presence brought immediate discomfort and a desire to assert himself as more dominant, he ignored the other canine for the time being and stepped forward to congratulate the other beauceron. He bowed his head respectfully to his friend, a supportive smirk playing at the edges of his scarred up muzzle. "Congratulations, my friend." He said in his deep, firm tone, "I can't think of another dog I'd be so honoured to serve. You deserve this, Dax."


RYKER | MALE | 4 YEARS | GERMAN SHEPHERD
Mentions: Ruger, Lianna, Piper

I'm not going anywhere..
Ryker's head bowed over his forepaws, dazed and exhausted as if thrown into an abyss of dreaming in which he was unable to shake himself of, but the familiar voice of his friend made his ears prick forward sharply and his head raise. Ruger's voice wheezed and broke off when he spoke, but he was alive and he would survive, and that's all that mattered. He extended his muzzle towards Ruger's shoulder, giving him another nudge that proved to be much more gentle this time. "Good. If you left me already I'd bring you back from the dead and kill you all over again." He growled softly, though the slightest playful gleam was visible in his amber eyes. Glazed over and pained, he was unable to disguise the look of grief the depths of his gaze held. The left side of his body felt tense and tingly, facing the direction in which Piper's deceased form still lay unmoving. He had to force himself to not look over at her or else he'd lose it again.

A light wind ruffled Ryker's coat and he glanced up, his eyes squinted against the light dapples of white that floated down from the sky. It was about to snow again, possibly even storm, and the temperature was bound to drop. They'd need to seek shelter right away. "We need to get out of here." He said softly, looking over at Lianna. "Will you help me carry him?" Ruger was bound to need assistance with moving. Piper.. should they leave her here? No.. he'd come back for her body on his own time once he was sure his friends were safe and out of his terrible weather. Then he'd find an appropriate place to bury her.