Aggression and Survival

Meemo was proud of his work, whether it be his woodworking, metalwork, or fighting. Cooking especially. It was his turn to patrol yes, but not without finishing up the soup his momma had started in order to feed the returning patrols. Can't keep up strength without food and rest, so this was important work. Sooner than he would have liked however Meemo was pulled from the kitchen to aid his tribemates. At least these two were bearable, he hit hard enough to knock his brother's name from their smarmy words. Any younglings were taught that by Meemo, unless it was kind, or they knew Deeno, then they could shut the fuck up.

This however made the patrol quiet. No one wanting to upset the short-tempered crimson scale... Which was good, if they turned on him then he'd hear the shift. If an enemy approached, Meemo would be ready. The desert around them was always shifting, some flora here and there being the only stable pieces. The hooded shawls were kept from being out of place thanks to these pieces. The three saurians behind him were a bit jittery and still green. That wasn't ideal, but who was Meemo to complain about the leader's patrol set ups. Somebody had to make sure they learned, he guessed. Still a little annoying though. 

It was quiet, until suddenly it wasn't. Meemo crouched down, the others copying him. There were whispers, and Meemo tuned into them specifically. Inching closer to get a better read while keeping his steps slow and deliberate. One little twitch could give them away. The language that entered his ears was not of the desert, and if their equos allies' words were true than these could be the dark ones that they warned the tribe of. A threat that was spreading and making a nuisance. Meemo flicked his tail, looking at their fastest runner before tapping them twice with his tail. An order to run and alert the camp. 

As the green scaled saurian left as silently as possible in a speedy manner Meemo looked towards the origin of the whispers. Looking at the small group hiding in a crumbling building. This building once was a fort, he thinks. But to who it belonged to Meemo couldn't remember. Probably wasn't important. For now, he observed the structure. Wondering if he could cause some damage to make it crumble more on the intruders inside. There were four voices, but there could always be more. So, he's wait for back up. Meemo was strong, but not stupid. You don't survive long without knowing when to pick your battles.

But, these ones were not so patient.

"Meemo, why are we not getting closer? Surely we have an advantage."

Said saurian raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"And have them split? Flee the scene and lose us if they are smarter than we thought? No. We wait for reinforcements."

Another in his group was also impatient, hissing. "We won't lose them; this is our home and they're trespassers."

Meemo wanted to roll his eyes, instead, turning back to the fort. While his squad was whispering, the voices were getting quiet in the old fort. Meemo frowned and shushed them with a single tail twitch to the left. They could be going to sleep now, or...

"Enough, I'm goi-" before the other could finish Meemo grabbed him and pulled the younger saurian back.

"No, you will wait. This is not some trial for glory, and if you get hurt, I will make damn sure the tribe knows you were prideful and reckless. Now sit back down until we have back up and shut the fuck up before I make you. And we both know all that would take is me hitting your head."

That made the two under his watch grumble but sit down.

But then it was silent, the kind that tells you you've been caught. 

In resignation he mutter a blank "Fuck."

Meemo turned back and threw a punch, startling one of the mysterious threats who were close to stomping him with their hooves. There was more than four, there were seven. What's worse is without the messenger they were only three. Meemo did not like these odds and he stood toe to toe with his chief, even if he lost, he got two hits in to bide Deeno time. But seven mysterious threats were another thing entirely. 

But Meemo stood, stance loose and ready to throw hits. Tail swaying as a warning as his patrol was surrounded. The younger saurians gave him space, not wanting to be hit by his tail. They themselves held weapons, not a boxer like Meemo had always been. But the weapons may not do much if the infernal equos hit with their hooves or used speed against the heavier weapons.

These were not favorable conditions. Meemo growled in defiance, not letting that anxiety show. Puffin up and slamming his spiked tail down made a few of their enemies take a step back. When one tried to get closer, he swung, a satisfying cry of pain and crack of pierced bone. When two more tried to take advantage of his temporarily stuck tail his tribemates swung their axes. While puffing up was a deterrent this time it wasn't stopping the others. The wicked equos circled them, and even with his tail free he saw one of his tribemates get bucked down and moved Meemo to cover. Now down to two unless his second can get up.

When a horn blew, Meemo had to hide his relief. Thundering hooves and the roars of his tribemates were the only alert of backup now with equos allies... However temporary these other equos alliances are, at the least they can help get rid of these trespassers.

Meemo was still going to give these two hell in the tribe though, their failure to be patient will be known and learning will occur.