Survival
#7
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(Sorry for the wait, love! But I finally started a new position at my job, that will actually work with my school schedule instead of trying to screw me a hundred times over >.> FREE TIME AGAIN YAY! Oh! And Happy belated Birthday Big Grin)

Sonje by Sie!


Sonje would never be able to explain her immediate, superficial attraction to the young woman before her, but it was deep-rooted, like an itch she couldn't scratch. It were as if she were familiar to her, but couldn't remember who she was, where she had seen her, or who she might be reminding her of. The wolfdog shook away the feeling, keeping her eyes on the blood slicking her fingers and concentrating on the overwhelming tang of its scent. It filled her nostrils, her mouth, her brain, and its intoxication cited her hunger, which prevailed over anything else she thought she might have been feeling at the time. Being a loner, usually your main concern was your stomach.

Irritation clicked in the back of her head, as she usually didn't have to forcibly remind herself that she was hungry. She didn't like her attention being so easily taken, so she made it a point to remain as detached as possible—wondering now why it was an effort, when usually she had absolutely no trouble forgetting the face of another. Busying her hands on the dead pig (mostly brushing away larger pieces of rock and pebble lodged in its uncouth neck wound), she twitched a gold-laced ear, taking in the stranger's voice and nodded slightly. She wasn't familiar with the North, where warriors were raised, where it was kill or be killed and there was no other way. So then Sonje ruled out that she could have ever met this girl before. It was something else.

The loner had almost hoped that she would refuse her offer, regardless of the reason, but Sonje wasn't that lucky. She looked up again, but found she didn't have to force the smile that followed—it wasn't sweet, more like impish, but friendliness was applied. Or at least some degree of good-naturedness. She took the offered rope and slung it quickly around the wild one's head, making a secure loop into the horse's lead rope and making sure it was tight. It was a good strand and would quite effectively tow her quarry uphill. Thanks. Anyone who makes my job easier is welcome at my proverbial table, she said with a smirk, mounting Jagga effortlessly and spurring her with sharp heels towards the barn; her forearm kept strong as they slow-dragged "ol' porky" over yonder.

Smoke it? she echoed over her shoulder, glancing back and creasing her brows lightly. She'd tasted smoked meat before, loved it even, but she'd never taken the time to learn the proper practice herself; she only took it where she could find it. I've never smoked any of my meat before. Never took the time, she shrugged her thin shoulders. Feel like teaching me the practice? Again, she regretted asking almost as soon as she'd done it. This meant more time in her presence, possibly more time getting to know this young woman. She couldn't hope to escape this situation of her own devices because unconsciously, she obviously wanted to be around this girl.

Jagga tossed her head when they reached the barn door, half hanging from its rusted hinges, and Sonje dismounted to open them fully. She pushed them open, perhaps with more force than required, and they swung back with agonizing creaks. She picked up the rope again and dragged the pig to the middle of the place, kicking up dust and old twigs of hay amongst the stalls and support beams of the building. Jagga followed, going to sidle off to one side of the barn and throw furtive glances at the stranger's horse. Sonje stood up and stretched her overworked arm, the one that had been pulling the rope. She looked down, then back up at her "dinner" guest. Sorry to be so needy right now—do you have a knife? I'd planned on doing this old-school, but that would make my job much sweeter. She didn't actually mind mooching. Whatever it took to survive.


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