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OOC: ::Word Count:: 300+
Urma was on the move again. It was the second time she was taking this route, but this time she was decided to stop at the boundaries of Dahlia de Mai. By word of mouth, she had found out that Lubomir had joined this pack, and, judging by the fact that he had been the one to teach her how to write, she decided a visit wouldn't hurt. Lubomir was one of the few wolves with which she had had any contact in Shadowed Sun, and his departure after Skoll's death had affected her, in a way. She knew now, however, that she was a different wolf than the one she had been then, and she wasn't entirely sure the change was all for the better. In a way it seemed that all that had happened had made her mature faster, had left little time for petty worries and the like, and she didn't know how to deal with all of these changes. Somehow visiting old friends from the past seemed a reasonable escape, or, more likely, a reasonable break from the hectic workings of her thoughts.
As she approached Dahlia de Mai, her memories raced back to Emwe, and the incident not far from here with the little bird. However, that day spoke of her journey to Inferni, something that brought only pain to her. As the recollection of what had been said resurfaced, she quickened her pace as if in a physical attempt to run away from her own thoughts. Living with them was hard enough, let alone reliving them every step of the way. She only slowed down as the familiar scent of Dahlia de Mai lands filled her lungs. She found herself lost as to how to look for Lubomir, seeing as trespassing didn't seem like much of an option. Nor was it something that she would do. Instead, she reclined on her haunches and howled once, a long, questioning howl. As the silence settled, she waited a few minutes before calling, "Lubomir?"
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Sorry for the wait! >n<
500+
The beauty of the rain sang, ringing within her soul with familiarity and pulchritude. She could remember now that song, and she could listen now without the confusion of her Dreams. The question of the pups had been put to an end with their birthing and the revealing of their eyes (and souls). The woad-marked warrior knew that she must be patient still until the songs of war could be heard again, and so, for the pups she had whelped, she would be patient. And the song of rain that sang quietly within the greyed world was enough to satisfy the warrior’s restless soul. As she moved through the dampened woods as a shadowed wraith, she listened and she remembered and was at ease.
The rain muddle the scents of the woods, and she could find no clear path to prey. Had she been alone as she was accustom to being, such a thing would have been no predicament. But she had those mouths to feed, and she knew that she must keep her own body fed to accomplish such a thing. The black fae paused, the woad bound ears erected. There was a long, questioning howl upon the wind, rising and rising before falling into silence. Had the black fae been farther from the boarders, she would not have answered that call. As Cercelee had said, it was important for her now to uphold her responsibilities for her pups for there would be others to take up what she could not do for the first two months of her pups’ lives. But the boarders were near, and there was still a promise of game nearby. Like a flitting shadow she turned, her path now set upon the one that had sent the question upon the wind.
A question rose upon the air, and was a white fae with eyes of gold sitting at the boarders. And Cwmfen approached, her strides long and fluid, her grace transcending the earthly. And the black face, lit only by the white orbs and the woad upon her fur, held nothing but a strange tranquility as war had enlightened her, and as if she fought for passion. And then the movement ceased, although when she had ceased was uncertain such was her grace. The woad bound paws held her a spear’s length from the boarder as she considered the other, the warrior’s calculating gaze falling over the features as she scented the familiar mark of Crimson Dreams. "Is it Lubomir that you seek?" The alto melody wove an obvious statement that danced as a falling leaf upon the air dark with storms. The gracefully erected posture of the black fae was natural; it held no arrogance, nor even the need to represent the ranking titles that she held. It was simply the pose of one who carried a peculiar understanding of the physical. And as the warrior was still, she held her silence, that obvious query a prompt for the one who lingered upon the Dahlian boarders.
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 300+
As Urma spotted the approaching form of a wolf, her hopes were high that it had indeed been Lubomir who had heard her call. But as the silhouette took clearer shape, she was able to realize that the respondent was by no means her old friend, not to mention a female at that. Urma couldn't help look in amazement at the markings on the stranger's body, wondering what it all stood for. Her posture immediately told the white wolf that the female before her was by no means any kind of wolf-- her entire attire spoke of confidence and the kind of attitude most befitting an experienced warrior. She gulped at the prospect that her presence was maybe less welcome here than it had been in Inferni lands, but she tried to think about that as little as possible. Maybe the wolf before her was indeed what she seemed to be, but would by no means act in an unfriendly way with her without more reason than Urma's mere call for a fellow pack mate.
As the female spoke, Urma listened, a weight lifting off her chest at the wolf's words. "Yes, I am looking for Lubomir. He is a member of this pack, isn't he?" The moment she asked this, she felt stupid. Of course he was. It was the most logical explanation as to how come the stranger before her had immediately associated his name to a known wolf. The next worrisome thought that occurred to her was that she hadn't even bothered to say who she was, or where she was from, or at least what business she had here. "I'm from Crimson Dreams. Lubomir and I used to be in the same pack, once. He's an old friend of mine. I only came to see him. It's been a while since I last did." She rewinded what she had said in her head, nervous and at the same time frustrated with her inability to better handle her emotions. She didn't even know what about the female made her feel so self-conscious. She realized she had still failed to provide her name. "I'm Urma," she finished somewhat lamely, conscious of her embarrassing position.
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500+
The white orbs held the golden eyes with unnerving ease, and yet she held no challenge or domination within them, the intensity but the wild songs of war. An imperceptible smile moved across the tranquil maw as a single confirming nod was given in reply. It seemed as if the wolves of Crimson Dreams had a strange attraction to the wolves of Dahlia de Mai. Urma sought Lubomir just as Anu had sought Colibri Haki. Perhaps it was not within the same manner, but the warrior could not help but notice. The woad-banded ears drank in the white wolf’s explanation. Cwmfen knew that the wolves within these lands shared histories that preceded her arrival to Dahlia. She knew very little of these histories save for the occasional tale she heard upon her travels. Yet, she did not doubt that the words spoken were true, for she felt no treachery within the Crimson Dreamer. There was but a brief silence before the black fae offered a reply. "I’m afraid that I don’t know where he is," the soft alto admitted. "He may be working on the Dahlian libraries once more," she mused aloud. But the warrior, having met him personally only once before, knew little of his habits. She was not a social creature and so watched over her pack mates from afar.
The woad bound maw was dipped in greeting at the given name. "Cwmfen nic Graine," the Adonis offered in return. "I am afraid that I can offer you no more," the melody sang formally. Briefly, the double-banded aurals flickered back apologetically before retaining their erected poise. Urma had no doubt traveled a great distance to see ‘an old friend’, and Cwmfen was not able to provide a satisfying reply. While she had been pregnant, she had encountered many packmembers, socializing beyond what she would normally have done. Yet, now that the pups had been born, she saw very little of the members save for when they came to visit her. As Alexey had revealed, the pups required much of her attention, and the warrior knew that she must give her attention to them and relinquish the warrior’s path for two moons more.
"When I meet him next," the quiet melody continued, "I will tell him that you were here." A brief pause ensued whilst a soft smile was given. This was a brief meeting indeed, but the warrior had business with the hunt, and she knew that she must return soon to her hungry children. She considered also the possibility of danger befalling them, and, while Onus too watched over them, he too must continue upon his mission. "I must depart, as I need to hunt. You may linger to see if he answers." The soft melody sung with a strange formaility as the words of dismissal were given. Because the feeding of her pups was a necessity, it did not occur to the warrior that her sudden need to depart may have been rude, nor did it occur to her to comment upon her state. With a final dip of her maw, the fluid movements rose up once more as the Raven Dreamer turned to leave, the Kill Feather whispering as the wind moved it through her mane.
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 300+
Urma watched the stranger before her with a sense of amazement, as if she were watching a rare bird flutter its wings only inches from her face. The markings on the female lured the white wolf's gaze in, but she tried not to seem prying as she tried to take in the novelty of it all. She remembered feeling the same when she had first met Pilot, surprised at his piercing and the way none of that seemed to be anything new. Maybe the differences between Europe and her home here were not just about the wolves' attitude towards newcomers. Either way, the dark female's appearance kept Urma spellbound. She listened to the explanation, and gave a silent nod in agreement, before saying, "Working in the library would probably be something he would do," she explained softly, glad to know that Skoll's death hadn't been an incident of a nature to radically change Lubomir.
Urma's ears kept tightly pressed to her head at the hastiness with which the conversation seemed to end. Although she knew nothing about the impressive female before her, Cwmfen's words offered her a possibility of lengthening the time in which she could keep her company. Trying not to sound invasive, Urma spoke on a meek voice, following the dark female dutifully. "Well, like you said, you could tell Lubomir that I looked for him, whenever you see him. He'll know where to find me nonetheless." Urma paused uncomfortably, in a sense feeling odd for asking what she was about to ask. "If you wouldn't mind... Maybe I could join you hunting? Together we'd be able to tackle bigger game." She hoped that didn't sound as if she was implying that Cwmfen could by no means hunt anything other than rabbits by herself. She inwardly cursed herself for feeling so clumsy around the awing female.
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Another soft nod was given in response. While Cwmfen had not seen Lubomir since the early spring, she had heard that he had taken up the task of completing the library once more. The silent female said no more save for when the white fae countered the suggestion of waiting. "He is ambassador here as well," the Caledonian lilt informed, "and he may not be within the packlands." It would be ideal for Urma to not wait, the undertones spoke, and Cwmfen would indeed hold her word. She would tell Lubomir that ‘an old friend’ had come to visit. And so content with the brief encounter, Cwmfen had turned to leave.
The black fae paused, a paw still lifted as the woad-banded ears swiveled to catch the voice that offered. Slowly, the paw was placed upon the damp earth as the warrior turned to look back at the white female upon the boarders. There was a moment in which silence seemed to emanate from her. Those white orbs held the golden gaze, a mild curiosity moving through them as the half-light of the storming day made them dance. The silence was drawn out, lingering heavily in the air as the soft sound of the rain filled it. "You wish to help me hunt," the alto song rose in question. It was an unfamiliar thing, to hunt with another. She had not learned to do so until her arrival within the Dahlian pack. It had been Slay who taught her to hunt with another, and she had done it once more with the turning of the new year—a pack hunt. But since then, the black fae had hunted alone, feeding off rabbits and mice and the occasional beaver. Until Onus had provided for her in her time of need, she had never tasted fish. And so the offer that Urma made took the warrior aback. It would be an enlightening experience to hunt with another once more.
At length, an amiable smile crossed the tranquil maw, and she turned to fully face the white fae once more. "I accept your offer," the soft melody replied formally, "and I thank you for it." Once again, the woad-bound maw was dipped respectfully, not in greeting but in gratitude. Rising, she considered the words of the golden-eyed fae once more. "Larger game would be more efficient." With mouths more than her own to feed, it would be ideal to fell a larger animal so that she may return to feed upon the carcass in the days to come. And the weather of the day was optimal for the finding of deer, for the air cooled by rain was inviting. "Come," the warrior called. "We can hunt within the boarders." The warrior was not concerned with the danger that Urma potentially posed; while she sensed no ill will within her, should things fall badly the warrior was more than equipped to handle such a thing. Again, the black fae turned. This time, she paused to wait for Urma to follow before disappearing into the dangerous grounds of Demon’s Trail.
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 400+
Urma reclined to her haunches as she patiently waited for an answer from the dark wolf. All the while her thoughts went back to the first day she had met Lubomir, and how he had helped her learn to write for the weeks that followed. Again the feeling that there was nothing left of her old life engulfed her, threatening to send her back in the state in which she had first reached Crimson Dreams upon her return. She shook her head slightly, upset by her inability to move on and also afraid of what doing so might bring. Either way, old friendships and bonds remained, it was just the physical, day-by-day presence that was no longer there. A larger, more significant part of her felt a deep happiness in regards to Lubomir being a part of Dahlia de Mai; there seemed to be nothing that would be in the way of their long-distance friendship, and more and more she found this was the kind of relationship she had with her past friends. This recent thought brought to mind Naniko, making Urma sigh with a trace of bitterness.
The formality behind Cwmfen's tone took Urma by surprise, and the quick movement of her ears back and forth was testimony to this. It seemed somehow against certain surviving rules that any wolf stronger than another would take so kindly to an offer that could be read as a demeaning remark, an assumption that the helper was equally strong as the helped. But of course Urma needed to remind herself that, although this would have been unnatural in Europe, it wasn't necessarily the case here. The white female had never volunteered to hunt together with a wolf that did not belong to her own pack, and indeed nothing about this particular one had made her think that she would be in need of help whatsoever. However, Cwmfen's entire attire compelled Urma to follow her and aid her as much as she could. It was as if, upon seeing the dark female, one would instantly want to be of any good to her. The same kind of smile passed on Urma's maw. "I'm glad I can help, then." Just as she was about to ask where they would be hunting now, the dark wolf took to Dahlian lands; Urma followed, falling in step with her so that their paws hitting the ground seemed a fluid motion.
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The warrior walked, speaking only with silence. Her gait was calm, the fluidity as it once was. There was an easiness about her, a contentment. From the time of her last battle with Brennt nearly three moons ago, she had moved very little, the wound upon her leg most hindering and the pregnancy heavy. Even after the birth of the litter, she had been held within the confines of her own den, watching over the fragile lives and feeding them. It was now the providing of her young that drove her, and she had placed her duty second. "I thank you again," the alto melody sang, her voice rising above the silence that she seemed to command. Briefly, her eyes turned from the path upon which she tread to behold the white female at her side. "I have pups to feed," the tranquil song explained at last. But that was all that was said in explanation. The black fae was of silent tendencies and spoke only when necessary. And she found it necessary now to express her gratitude for the aid that had been easily given. Yet, her aptitude with verbal expression was lacking, and she knew it to be so.
Occasionally the woad bound ears would swivel back to make sure that the Crimson Dreamer still followed close behind. There were times when the path she chose forced them to walk single file. The sudden drops carved by water were dangerous, and she did not wish for Urma to be injured while under her supervision, for now, within the packlands, the Head Warrior and Adonis became the outsider’s escort, and she was determined to uphold that responsibility. Still, the woad-marked fae wondered at the other and the quality of the other’s person. "Watch your step," the quiet melody advised. "There is only misfortune for those who fall." The soft lilt of the Caledonian-Korean fell silent. While she spoke almost casually, her intent was far from such a thing. The answer that was given, or any word that was spoken, would allow the warrior insight, for the subtle changes of tone, of breathing, of confidence, was something that her ears were trained to hear, and she would hear them within Urma.
As the land opened up once more, the black fae paused, her maw lowering to the earth as she scented the air. Deer had passed by only moments before. Cwmfen’s white orbs briefly turned towards Urma, signaling silence. The hunt had begun. Slowly, with that strange, ethereal grace and with that wraith’s silence, the black wolf led the Crimson Dreamer about, moving through the occasional cover. Her paws chose silent paths instinctually. The eyes and ears and nose of the warrior worked to find their quarry, and there was a wild intensity within her gaze. This was no battle, but the hunt was invigorating after those months of stillness. There—ahead, she found several stags, grouped with the easiness of creatures not within the rut. It would be dangerous quarry to hunt one, but the older of the three was weathered and weakened by the many seasons he had seen. Without looking away, the warrior said, "That one, the older," with a voice so quiet as to be lost in the silence of the air. "You may have the kill, if you will take it." For Urma’s given help, the warrior gifted the right to kill.
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 500+
The alabaster femme followed the woad-marked she-wolf, her pace a perfect match to her leader's, determined not to break the silent spell that had befallen them. If it was the Dahlian's wish that their task be completed in silence, the Crimson Dreamer had no wish to counter her hunting partner's desire. The long stretch of road, accompanied by their mute legacy, gave her time to gather her thoughts, many of which she had not dared give any more of her time to recently. Some of the things that troubled her were old news--musings she had vetted time and time again, seldom with much of an outcome. Although it aggrieved the crisp white female to ponder at length the ever present concerns she had in regards to Pilot's safety, the subject was one she constantly mulled over. Although she would at times put it aside in favour of more pressing matters, it would return to her whenever her mind was vacant or otherwise unperturbed, as was the current case. The uneasiness would wash over her, leaving her distressed and highly agitated, and she felt the same anxiety flood her now that her mind was tranquil.
The timing could not have been better for the dark Dahlian to advise her about the dangers of the road. Her companion's voice temporarily took the pale female's mind off of the troubles that threatened to haunt her, obliging her to focus on what had been suggested to her. However, the steep road did not disquiet the Crimson Dreamer-- her journeys had brought her face to face with more impressive obstacles to overcome than this particular path. Although the colourless femme didn't appear like much, she knew her way around-- her months alongside Mörker had aided her in understanding the intricacies of the lands, be they snow-covered or otherwise. The raven she-wolf's warning did not go unanswered-- weary of breaking the spell that had settled once more, but also sensing that game was not far away, Urma inclined her head gently, in a gesture symbolizing gratitude and respect.
The alabaster female's nose picked up the scent of recently passed deer at the same time her ebony companion lowered her head to the ground in acknowledgement of the same fact. Aware of the signal the Dahlian's white orbs had proffered, the Crimson Dreamer fell back on her honed skills of moving stealthily, while still gracefully, neither she nor her leader ostentatious against their thinning surroundings because of this. Their paces matched perfectly, and although the colour of their pelts spoke different stories, their ability to blend in made it easy for them to approach the unsuspecting stags. Laying low against the earth, barely concealed by the scarce vegetation surrounding the selected group, Urma nodded once in response to her hunting partner's words. Her steps were slow and calculated as she followed the most discreet way, bringing herself closer to the stags without endangering her chances of closing in on the elected prey. As she reached the closest vantage point, her entire body stiffened, on edge, poised for attack as soon as the dark she-wolf was also ready. A soft rumble ensued from the back of her throat as she bared her fangs menacingly.
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Urma’s silence told the warrior that the white fae was either familiar with the dangers of such treacherous footing or arrogant. While the raven female did not turn her gaze upon the golden-eyed Crimson Dreamer, she did not think that the latter was the case. A mild curiosity wondered at the path that had been taken by the white wolf, but the wolf was silent, focused now upon the scents of deer and upon bringing down flesh to be devoured for the hungry pups within her den.
Already, the white fae moved to approach the prey that the black wolf had chosen. A soft smile moved across her maw as Urma poised for the attack, and Cwmfen, who had followed close behind in silence, paused. She did not doubt that this wolf had skill in the hunt, but the warrior had skill also in battle and in tactics applicable in the arenas of war and hunt. The woad-marked she-wolf made a subtle signal—curt but not curt enough to draw the attention of the prey animals—to urge Urma forward and to align herself either abreast or ahead of the eldest stag. Cwmfen herself would backtrack and move across. The distance that each wolf had to cover would still cause difficulties, and there was the possibility, although the warrior did not believe it to be highly likely, that the others would not flee. Yet, it as the uncertainty and it was the hunt itself that was thrilled the black fae. She did not expect each hunt to end successfully, but within each failure there was something to be learned.
With a final glance (although it was not given in luck, as the warrior did not count on such things) and a transitory and yet amiable smile, the black fae turned back, disappearing as a shadow might. That otherworldly grace that transcended that of others carried her with the silence of one who killed. The white orbs watched he deer, that gaze wild and intense, fierce with the blood of her making. Occasionally, she would pause, allowing the deer to relax before she would continue. When she had found a place behind and across Urma’s chosen point, the warrior waited until eye contact was made. She held the golden gaze for a moment longer before she turned the wild eyes upon the oldest stag. Cwmfen waited paitently, quietly, silently, unmoving. And, as if sensing the Death that the warrior bore upon her heels, his head lifted from the meal of plants at his hooves. And that signal was enough.
Trusting that Urma would sense it also, the woad warrior burst from her place, her muscles trained for endurance and speed, for distance and for agility, remembered. She flew upon the wings of a Raven, her legs stretching forth to devour the land beneath her, her tail moving to keep balance. While aware of Urma through her periphery, the white orbs were locked upon the quarry that had already turned to flee from the jaws of the hungry. The warrior did not move in for the kill—that was not her part within the hunt. Instead, as a herder, she moved the aging stag toward the white fae. But the stag did not know the plan which had been made, and his direction suddenly had changed. Cwmfen’s paws dug into the earth as her body leaned down. She followed him without trouble, pursuing as if her jaws had Fated the death of that creature. The warrior’s jaws snapped down upon the air audibly, like the crack of thunder. Fear caused the animal’s eyes to roll back, baring the whites as he watched both the path at his hooves and the wolf at his heels.
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 500+
The pale femme lay low, using as best she could the vegetation that was given to her, fully aware that her crisp white pelt stood out in the open. Her eyes glinted with a kind of thrill she had not experienced in some time-- her months fending for herself had also meant periods with scarce food or small preys to sustain her. She had not tasted the tender flesh of deer in a long while, but her mind clearly remembered the feeling of warm blood that came with the first sinking of teeth. The pattern of the chase brought to mind the first hunt alongside Mörker; although some aspects were strikingly similar, the alabaster female remembered the thick layer of snow that had made their stealthy progress harder to accomplish without being perceived, but also the game that had been more difficult to lure into a trap than the unsuspecting stag before her and the Dahlian.
Her eyes followed the woad-marked she-wolf as she disappeared, ready for the chase that was to ensue. The crisp white Crimson Dreamer nodded a late response, but wasted no more time waiting for an answer, as the ebony leader of the hunt had already turned her back on Urma. She followed Cwmfen's progress, while keeping an eye on the stag, in case the dark female's movements had alarmed the animal, but it became apparent that that was not the case. Certain that their positioning would only be perfect once Urma took her own spot, the pale femme covertly left her hiding place in order to surprise the wolf from abreast. If the chase took a rigorous direction, her current position and the distraction the woad-marked hunter would provide would give the white female sufficient time to take the stag down, providing none of its kin would interfere.
The second Cwmfen sprang from the shelter in which she had been camouflaged, Urma poised herself for the attack, calculating the perfect timing for her to spring herself, leaving no time for the old stag to flee in a different direction. Her fangs bared, the hairs on her spine on end, her legs aching for the thrill of the hunt and her mouth almost tasting the warm meal that awaited, she waited only a few moments longer before springing herself, conscious of the fact that there was no room for any mistake. She focused all her energy in the strength in her limbs, feeling the elusive texture of the ground as she gathered enough speed and momentum to overcome the possibilities of error that still remained. Her eyes fixed on the stag and its pursuer, and her ears registering the desperate flight the other members of the small pack had hastily taken, Urma appreciated the distance between herself and the elected game, as well as the direction it would take. By this point her bared fangs were inches from the stag's feet, and her leap was certain and on target. Holding on tight to their prey, feeling its last desperate struggle to rid itself of its hunters, Urma's teeth sank low and purposefully in the side of its neck. She did not release her tight hold, her jaws clenched fiercely, until the stag could barely stand. She released its neck only to prepare herself for impact as at last the once impressive animal collapsed, its eyes rolling around madly, seemingly trying to capture as much of its surroundings as it could before departing on its last journey to the other side.
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Hahah, “wood-marked” ^=^ It made me giggle~~
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Having known it only twice before, the black fae had almost forgotten the excitement that came with the hunting something so large. Like the fighting of an enemy, like the taking of a life, this hunt caused her body to sing, to move as it was made to move. The wild light of a hunter, bright and yet dimmer than the light of a warrior, shone within her soul. She could hear the deep drumming of the hooves upon the earth as the dirt and grass was kicked up before her. And she simply moved behind him, Death drawing them closer. Ahead, the black she-wolf could see the white form of her partner approach, fangs bared—and she leapt. Time slowed and the world grew silent. Cwmfen could hear her own breath, her heart beat. She could see the muscles beneath the coat of the aged stag, the sudden and yet slow flinch as it realized only too late that the jaws of another hunter had been lying in wait. The warrior’s body gathered, and then, as time threw itself back into time, she leapt. Her jaws parted as her teeth found purchase in his flank. As Urma’s jaws closed about the soft throat, the warrior’s clamped down upon the powerful muscles of the stag’s thigh. He buckled and was forced to the earth, dying now from the shock created by the jaws at his throat, from the blood that left his body in the torrents of a powerful rain. Cwmfen released her hold upon him.
"Wonderful," the tranquil voice commented through a wolf’s quiet growling. The white orbs momentarily beheld the wild eyes of the dying creature before she moved to the exposed belly. The wolf did not wait for life to disappear as she lowered her jaws, responding now to instinct as much as she responded to reason. The strong jaws and white teeth found their hold upon the live flesh as she tore it open, the blood of a still-beating heart pulsing forth upon the damp earth. Powerful tugs made effortlessly peeled away the hide as if she pulled nothing more than the blankets once used by the extinct humans. The stag struggled weakly now, his breathing shallow and harsh. And then, as the blood-soaked maw nosed through the contents of his belly, he grew still, the eyes watching nothing and everything. The act of the woad-marked fae was not cruel but practical, the act of a wolf whose instincts ran strongly still.
The newly-made mother who had pups to feed found the sweet, blood-filled liver. Her jaws wrapped gingerly about its rich body before allowing the organ to slide down her throat and nourish the milk her body would produce. The sanguine maw, the woad darkened b the juice of life, lifted to find the white companion, a soft, almost distant smile upon her quiet lips. "Come, Urma," the Dahlian invited. Satisfied with the nourishing organ that she had devoured, the black fae offered now the fresh flesh to the outsider. "You may have the first morsels of your kill." It was not instinct that offered the meal first to the outsider, for instinct surely bid her now to eat and feed her pups. It was the gratitude that offered the meal, for the reason of a larger mind knew that two wolves could not devour the entire contents of the kill. The warrior side-stepped, leaving open the way for the white Crimson Dreamer.
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OOC: ._. I'm sorry. It's just that whenever I start writing a word with wo--, it feels natural that it should be wood x.x *pulls a paper bag over her head and hides* Sorry :< ::Word Count:: 500+
The chase had ended successfully, and the adrenaline settled in her body, fueling her sense of accomplishment. She had felt the woad-marked she-wolf's leap, had known that that was the blow that had significantly slowed to stag down, as well as the wound that had bled him to death faster. As she released her grip on the quarry, she stepped aside to leave room for the leader of the hunt to feast on their prey, until further notice that she was allowed to do the same was offered. The game they had killed was Dahlian property, so to speak, and the pale femme could make no move whatsoever until the ebony female signaled otherwise. Instead, she inwardly feasted on the pride that coursed through her veins for not having let the Dahlian hunter down-- they had settled on a more significant hunt, and that was what they had managed to take down in the end.
The white Crimson Dreamer eyed Cwmfen with something almost bordering curiosity at the female's ways. Although practical reason was clouded by her own instincts, the alabaster femme did not feel the impulsive need to sink her teeth further into the agonized beast. However, she held no grudges to the leading huntress for her act-- Urma had never had pups, and neither was she particularly hungry so as to feel the need to fill her stomach with the plentiful meal. She simply watched the she-wolf as the latter expertly fed on the blood-soaked liver, a streak of admiration making an impression on her; she had found the vital organ with the minimum of effort, and with as little blood loss as possible. When she spoke, the fair Crimson Dreamer nodded in response, muttering a heartfelt "Thank you," before closing in the distance between herself and the fresh carcass at their feet.
Slowly, she bit long strips of meat from the quarry's thigh, enjoying the taste of the meat as it rolled onto her tongue. It was sweet and crude, leaving a lingering aroma in her mouth. It was the first meal of this kind that she had had in a long while, and she was grateful for having been able to enjoy it, while also helping the woad-marked she-wolf feed herself for her pups. She took a few steps backwards, not wanting to make the dark huntress think that she was abusing her kindness in any way by feasting on the prey for too long. Although the stag was impressive in its size, and had meat enough to spare, Urma was wary of angering the Dahlian female by appearing ungrateful for being allowed to share the meal. Licking her muzzle clean, she said, "Thank you, again, for being as kind enough as to share our quarry. If you'd like, I could help you carry some of it back to your den, so you could feed on it for longer. From what you told me, you have pups to take care of, and I imagine you do not want to be separated from them for long."
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Hahah, that’s okay; I just thought that it was funny, ^w^ We can probably end this one? And I know that I told you that we could have an Amata thread after some of the current Amata threads closed, but would it be okay to wait a bit? I’m still figuring out how much time I’ll have with classes and all, OnO
500+
A short nod was given to the white, golden-eyed female. "You deserve to feed upon your kill." The gesture had, indeed, been made out of kindness, for the she-wolf would have been moved to regain the kill for her own feeding. But that compulsion was not allowed to persist, for there was another. A leading wolf would normally feed first, but, at times, the younger or the inferior ranking would be permitted the first feeding. And so the black fae could more naturally allow this foreign female to feed. But, more strongly, she felt that such a right was well deserved.
A soft smile moved across her maw. "I thank you for the offer," the soft melody sang, the woad-banded maw dipping to emphasize her gratitude. "But I would rather the carcass be as far as necessary; I do not wish to attract other predators." Whether it be wolf or bear, weasel or eagle, the new mother did not want to attract danger to her pups. It was not only that she did not wish for predators to come near her pups, but it was also that instinct would not allow Urma to come near them. She knew that the wolves within Dahlia meant no harm, but instinct did not allow for other creatures to come near, especially males and foreign wolves. It was not a personal attack upon Urma. The warrior simply followed instinct, and she did so more acutely in this arena of motherhood with which she was unfamiliar. "This distance is not insurmountable, and I shall feed swiftly." Of course, because of her journey upon the fields of ice, the black fae devoured her meals with unmatched celerity, for if one devoured too slowly, the meal would be contested by another hungry creature. While such a thing was not entirely necessary within the safer lands of ‘Souls, the black fae did not allow such habits of survival to die.
As the white fae sated her appetite and stepped aside, the black fae moved in with a natural grace, lowering her already sanguine maw to the kill. She first took the softer muscles along the stomach, more tender with disuse than the muscles of the legs. Soft growls of satisfaction sounded from the warrior, whose belly was empty. Cwmfen normally did not devour much, but she took several more tears, swallowing them swiftly knowing that much of the nutrients gained by the feeding would be given to the pups. The white orbs examined the fresh flesh of the ungulate, but the woad-bound ears were alerted, swiveling occasionally to listen to the sounds of the forest and the song of the world. It was curious how she listened more interestedly than she ate. Rising, she licked her maw, and once more the woad blue was illuminated by the light of day. The pups would be satisfied, too, with the milk drawn from the blood of deer. "A satisfying kill," the warrior’s melody complimented as she turned her gaze to the white fae. "I would offer you some for the return journey, but the way to Crimson Dreams is long." There was a brief pause. "I will escort you back to the boarders, Urma, if you will allow me." And while it was spoken as an offer, the laws of packs did not allow the warrior to simply allow Urma to walk alone, unattended.
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