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Yay~
500+
After the pack meeting, Cwmfen had decided that she would take up the co-rank of hunter. She was now of a rank to accept a secondary rank, and, to help this new pack that she joined, the black fae would do what she could. Hunting had appealed to her when she had first met Cercelee in the town square those times ago, when the white Rosea had shared her knowledge of the pack with a curious bluet. She had always considered the hunt to be a type of combat, and her life, having been composed of combating other wolves for food and a place to den during whether when she had travelled as a lone wolf, would easily accommodate such a task. What had intrigued the young female most about the matter was of pack hunting—or even partner hunting. Even when she was a pup, she had never been out on a hunt—her father had forbidden it. What she had learned of hunting had been derived out of her desperate need to survive—especially after she fled from death....
Perhaps she was over romanticizing, but she felt that should she be hunt with even one other, the relationship between them would grow in a away that only combat could allow. The sudden urge to find Slay, whom, she was told by Cercelee, was the leading rank of the hunters, that she had felt after she had gained knowledge of such things was renewed. Now that the meeting was over, and now that the matter at the boarders with the wolf Sankor had been addressed, the newly appointed Circèe set out to find this wolf. Of course, the territory and terrain of Dahlia de Mai was vast and varying; the woad-marked female had no idea of where to begin to look, and because she had only briefly met him at the meeting, she did not know of his habits, of his likes and dislikes—his preferences. But that did not discourage the she-wolf.
Cwmfen nic Graine had set out early during that day, having risen before the sun himself. But even with the sun having risen, the world remained in shadowed grey with a crisp, biting air settled upon the land. The woad-marked female enjoyed such weather, and her mood had been light and her step quick. A light mist drizzled incessantly throughout the day, but the gelid moisture had not yet penetrated through the thickening black coat.
The Circèe had covered much ground already, though it was only just after noon. She had begun at the town square, returning to scent out anew the scent of the one being sought (the female had discovered his scent upon the land long before, yet she wished to re-sift through the air particles for accuracy). From there, she had made wide circles, trying to discern which direction to take through the freshest of his scents, but most were fairly old, and she ended up taking a wild guess. Along the way, two mice provided a barely sustainable snack, but she felt that she couldn’t stop now, especially when the scent grew stronger. Yet, it had already been several hours, and she could not discern the next rout to take, and she feared that if she chose the wrong one, time would be wasted, and there was an internal clock bidding her in urgency. Finally, the female pulled up, pausing to gaze about and listening to the soft song of the birds and the world through her soul. She felt that she was near to her goal...
The black, woad-bound maw lifted to release a brief howl of searching, a low, dark toned howl of silver song. As the alto voice relinquished the call, the black auds pricked forward, listening for a reply. She wondered then if she should shift, but thought against it for now. Her marked forepaw lifted in ancticipation.
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The arctic wolf in question lay comfortably on his belly, frost-white paws crossed so that his chin fit perfectly atop them. His eyes swept lazily across his surroundings - he was back in his old haunt, the Dahlia graveyard. He certainly had no desire to become closer to death, nothing of that morbid mindset. No, Slay often slept around the old graveyard because he liked how the decorative tombstones provided shelter for the wind, and a unique setting. Not many of the pack members - perhaps none of them - had realized that he was too claustrophobic to take a human house as his dwelling of choice, or even to dig out his own den in the thickets. Since it was difficult for him to fall asleep on his own, he needed the familiar sight of the open skies above him. Nothing was worse than waking up to complete darkness.
Besides, during the spring and summer months, the graveyard was a pleasant place, rich with flowers and thrumming insects, and abundant with rodents to snack on. As the weather grew sharper, though, Slay was beginning to foresee it being less comfortable... The ground was getting harder, the fallen leaves would soon be crisp with rime, and the flowers were already naught but a memory. His thick ebony-marked fur would have no problem with snow, but whether or not the rest of him was okay with winter was another story.
"And the ocean will be too cold for fish," he added in a discontent grumble, drawing his muzzle back against his fluffy chest. It had been misting on and off, giving Slay something to complain about. Rain itself didn't really bother him, although the feeling of wet fur was a pet peeve of his. Sighing with almost comical dejection, the wolf rose to his paws, about to consider wandering towards the shoreside, when he heard the unfamiliar howl.
Slay tilted his head in curiosity, white-tipped ears perked forward with interest. The call was female and non-threatening; a prospective pack member? No, that searching cry sounded too specific... A slow smile spread across Slay's muzzle, and he let his tail swish in a lazy circle as he padded towards the stranger. "From the pack meeting! She was in the two-legger form like everyone else, Cer said her name, what was it now... something tricky to pronounce..." Furrowing his brow in concentration, he tried to recall who she was but could not. Why would she be calling him, though? Wasn't she a higher rank than he, after his demotion? Well, he was curious. And certainly, nothing else was going on on this grey, drizzly day. Cheerfully, he tilted back his muzzle and howled his deep reply, strong voice carrying far across the open fields beyond the graveyard he called home.
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
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500+
The black, woad-banded aurals pricked forward. There was an answer upon the wind. The voice was profound, reaching out to her ears. The call belonged to a male no doubt; it was vaguely familiar and did not belong to Haku. The only other male of Dahlia de Mai was the wolf that she sought. In reply, the female lifted her maw once more to open for the heavens, giving a brief howl to the hunter, allowing him to know that she would be there soon. The wolf was pleased that she had received a reply so swiftly—perhaps she should have howled for him in the first place, but she would have never known whether or not it would have worked. Besides, she decided that the exercise was good for her. She needed to keep it up if she was going to keep her figure. The she-wolf smiled at herself.
Silly girl.
He wasn’t too far, if her ears were correct in their estimation. Discarding the inefficient ideas, the woad-marked female set herself in the direction of the caller and set off at a swift lope. Her movements were especially smooth at high speeds, and she seemed to glide over the terrain with the ease of an otter through water. Her breathing was even, and she remembered why it was that she had wandered for so long. No boarders could confine her. She pushed herself harder, curious as to what speeds she could obtain. The world about her became a blur, and the cool wind whistled in her ears, but she never lost sight of her quarry. The scent trail grew stronger once more, and she found herself in a familiar area of the pack. Leaping gracefully over fallen logs and wet rocks, she knew where it was that she was going. The graveyards. She was not aware of what exactly that locale was named, but it did not matter, necessarily. One day she would need to know.
Cwmfen slowed gradually to a leisurely saunter. She found that she was only slightly winded, and was glad that her endurance still remained with her. Picking her way carefully through the wet, slick undergrowth, she made her way to the graveyard. The scent of the wolf Slay was thick here—it was the first time she had been so near to this particular male, and she knew that it would continue to be that way should she decide to become a hunter beneath him. Slowly, as the tombstones came into her view, so too did the form of the dual-coloured male. Both colours of his coat were her favorite colours. He was pleasant for her to behold.
Approaching, she dipped her maw in greeting. "Hello," she said lightheartedly. The silver tones were like a melody of spring. "I’m Cwmfen nic Graine." Cercelee had given the names at the meeting, but, because this was her first encounter with the Head Hunter, she introduced herself formally. A light smile graced the woad-bound maw. She was excited to have finally found this particular wolf, and she hoped that she could learn much from him. Despite her excitement, she remained true to her initial shy tendencies, and she was at a loss for words. But she continued, hoping that there would be some action soon.
"I have sought you because I am interested in taking a co-rank of hunter. Yet, before joining this pack, I have travelled on my own." I have always been alone.... "I am unfamiliar with the concept of hunting in groups—or even in pairs...." She smiled sheepishly at the male, embarrassed for her ignorance, and uneasy because of his gender. She wanted to directly ask him to teach her what was involved in such activities, but she fell silent, awkward with this new acquaintance. The white orbs looked up questioningly at the male’s pale blue eyes. Perhaps he would understand the unsaid question.
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For a moment, his pale blue gaze swept over her - the one wolf in this pack with markings stranger than his own, coupled with those haunting blank eyes. There was something wild about her, too, as she drew nearer... Something... intriguing. Then she spoke, her voice sweet and shy, and he relaxed. Perhaps he had been imagining things after all. "Pleasure to meet you, Cwmfen," the arctic wolf drawled pleasantly, immediately dropping all formalities. It could be seen as insolence, since he had recently been demoted to the lowest in the pack, but he still held one of the highest co-ranks since no one was actually displeased with his behavior. He let his ebony-dipped tail thump lightly on the ground, pleased with the unexpected attention.
"I'm Slay, m'dear, and there's no need to stand on ceremony with me. I don't bare my throat to anyone, and I don't expect anyone to do so with me." He flashed a smile, wondering for a moment whether she was familiar with the old custom. Since a lot of the wolves in these parts adopted the two-legger form, they had been acting more and more human, dropping some of the old canine instincts as they went. Still, that one had been drilled into him as a pup - show your throat in submission to your elders, or get a snap on the ear for your impudence. "I know exactly what you mean - most of my years were spent in solitude too, so it's only recently that I've had a chance to hunt in a group. I've never pulled off tandem before... You know, pairs," he added with a wink. He had a weakness for shy females; he found it unbearably cute, and it wouldn't be the first time he tried to embarrass them into blushing. Little wonder he'd never had a mate, even after his fourth birthday.
"...You want to try it out, love?"
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
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Heheh, X3
700+
The black, woad-banded aurals pushed forward at the sound of his voice. It was a pleasant sound, and the tones of that sound were amicable, not belligerent. Not threatening. The she-wolf smiled, enjoying the sound of her own name on the dual-coloured male’s tongue. Her name was often unheard by herself—she gave it often, but not many said it. Perhaps they found it difficult to pronounce, but this male had a certain aptitude for it, and she found it strangely pleasing. He was informal with her, casual and comfortable, and it eased her troubled mind. She found that her shoulders had been tense, as if expecting to be rammed into, and she slowly relaxed them, exhaling slowly to relieve her body of the tension. Momentarily, her white eyes found the ground as if searching for some lost trail, but they lifted to find the face of the male, as if it were he who lay in the way of her path. She peered at him, intrigued.
She was intimate with the lupine customs, and his allusion was not lost upon her. Cwmfen smiled a smile that almost seemed to challenge the other. "Perhaps it is time that someone did bare themselves to you...." Her diction was deliberately vague, deliberately ambiguous. The timidity of her character seemed to fall away momentarily, revealing a part of that warrior that lay dormant beneath the sheets. The white orbs locked onto the pale blue ones. They were like the blue sky in the white dawn, so clear and vast. She let the silence fill the space between them, and then she filled that silence with inaudible words—questions, requests. The black, woad-marked plume waved once—twice—wildly in the air, as if gesticulating the ferocity that flickered within her soul. Then, suddenly, she had retreated back into herself, drawing the covers over that bold warrior. The smile lessened in intensity as did her gaze, and she blinked slowly as if brushing some indiscernible thought away. As if emphasizing the change of character, the fae lowered herself to a sitting position, listening to the other speak.
She was not so much surprised as relieved to hear that he too had experienced solitude. It was not as if she were glad that he had been there, however, but relieved that they were on common ground. She felt that he would understand the situation that she was in, and perhaps that would lend to the way in which this matter of hunting would be presented.
I've never pulled off tandem before... You know, pairs. The white orbs widened slightly before turning towards the earth as he winked, a shy smile upon her woad-banded maw. The black ears flattened against her marked head, embarrassed. She was silent, unable to reply in any way. If her fur had not been so black, her might have been able to see her blush, for she felt the heat rushing to her face, emanating from her in waves that pulsed in the air about her. She did not quite understand why she was reacting in such a way, but she could not help herself. Thus, the black female avoided eye contact at the moment as she attempted to gather her composure.
The woad-marked female was glad when he broke the silence, and she found that she was able to return her gaze to him. His choice of vocative, while she knew it characterized certain manners of speaking, mad her feel uneasy, though not in an unpleasant way. This male seemed to be able to subdue her effortlessly into her shyness. Her tail wagged once. She was excited. "I’d love to," the silver tones replied quietly. The smile softened as she rose from where she sat. Tentatively, and yet deliberately, she closed the distance between them so that she stood abreast Slay. The white orbs looked up at him. The nearness was to the extent that she could feel the warmth of the larger male, could smell his scent all about them.
She was, perhaps, surprised to find that he was a luperci also. She had seen not seen him shifted, she thought, referring to the pack meeting. Averting her gaze, she considered the possibility of asking him one day, perhaps when she became closer to the male—if he’d let her.
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Slay felt a true smile curving onto his black lips - he liked her. Cwmfen was full of surprises, and he felt a thrill of excitement race down his spine as her bone-white eyes met his gaze directly. There was indeed something dangerous and beautiful about her, a true huntress. She deserved the title, more than he ever did, and he could see that. But as abruptly as she had revealed this tantalizing side of her personality, she let it fade back into polite nothingness. It was almost as though a second, darker personality flickered beneath her timid exterior... and yet, both sides of her were just as appealing. He had no idea such a lady had been living in their pack!
"I get the feeling this will be an interesting hunt," Slay murmured, his white-tipped ears perked forward with curiosity. As she drew nearer to him, his gaze wandered over her brilliant markings, the daubs of blue that encircled her muzzle, banded her ears, and streaked down her athletic legs. Had she dyed her fur, like his younger cousin had been wont to do? Or was it some twisted quirk of genetics, as his own pelt could attest to? Slay found himself hoping it was the latter, since it would mean both of their solitude was for the same reason.
"All right, my radiant raven, let us seek a game worthy of the huntress within you! On your paws, love, it's time to see what you're made of..." He rose fluidly, waving his ebony tail like a banner of anticipation. This was exciting, indeed!
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
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Heheh, Cwmfen is a little weird right now, OuO
500+
A bright smile crossed Cwmfen’s maw, for the dual-coloured male had smiled as well. There seemed to be a genuine quality about it, and she took note of it silently, having appreciated it as it had held something more than mere politeness. Thus far, Slay had shown her nothing save for civility, and for that she was glad. Her timid nature was relieved to find such characteristics, especially since she wished to get to know this pack member. But the warrior within her wished that somewhere within that black and white exterior, there was a vicious interior. The black female thought momentarily of the brown Lilium, whom she found to be ideally bellicose. Consciously, she was not aware of her searching, but the woad-maked female was in the stage of life that sought for that significant other. She was more than capable of living on her own, of defending herself, but deep inside, she longed for there to be another, someone that she could lean on.
She heard his quiet murmur and responded with silence. She too felt that this would be an interesting hunt, and not only because she had never done something quite like this before. She hoped that she would be permitted to make something of this meeting. Yes, she was here to learn the ways of this hunt, but she was there also to create a bond with this pack member. Slay, Cwmfen concluded, was an interesting character. But she wondered if he had already been claimed, and if she even wanted to claim him. Smiling to herself, she remembered that nature had made the male to be the dominant one and that the male would do the claiming—if there was any to do. Inwardly, she chided herself from digressing from the task at hand. For now, she should be content with the hunt. And she was.
Radiant raven. She laughed shyly, like the chiming of icicles in the winter. Shyly, she averted her white gaze, occupying herself with a distant tree. As the male rose, she studied his movements, finding them to be untroubled by the diseases of the bone, for he was as fluid as she was. Rising, the black female commented quietly. “I hope it won’t be too disappointing.” Smiling—almost sadly—she turned back towards the black and white male.
Smiling, she remarked, “The weather is optimal for a hunt....” Hopefully, her supposition was not incorrect. The day was not too hot or too cold, at least to the white-eyed female. She herself had only found mice and rabbits, but then again, she had never really been looking for anything larger. A lone wolf had no need to hunt down an entire ungulate. A lone wolf did not even have the capabilities. It would be a long time since she tasted anything that even resembled deer—fresh, at least. Even at the pack meeting she had only eaten a piece of rabbit that had been passed to her. It was true that on her travels she had come across a carcass and had scavenged a meal, but that was not the same as hot meat. She thought then that they might not even be hunting deer.... Looking to the larger male, she asked “What type of fauna can be found in such weather at Dahlia de Mai?”
She hoped that she was not boring him. She’d stick to the hunt for now before she would allow herself to wonder about the wolf himself.
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OoC: So sorry for my absence! Thank you for waiting!
Cwmfen reverted to her polite, quiet speech, and Slay found himself curious yet again about her origins. His markings made him stand out wherever he went; he had learned to adopt a mischievous, cavorting, playful exterior, one to make himself seem comical and nonthreatening despite the foreign design of his fur. It had gained him acceptance and trust, even in lands with prejudice like this one. Had this mysterious huntress taken the opposite route, letting her self-conscious mind hide behind the oft-stared-at marks of blue? Or had there been some trigger, that caused her to retreat from the world? Her bright smile and chiming laugh made a fondness swell in his chest - perhaps he could bring out a braver side in her, that hidden confidence she had flashed for but a second.
"Our land has a variety, as I'm sure you've noticed - smaller prey, like rabbits, fish, and I've heard turkey before - and the larger, hoofed sort. There's a family of deer that grazes not far from here," he added, tilting his muzzle curiously to see if that was what she was after. It had been some moons since he had felled a deer, but it wasn't something easily forgotten. Pair-hunting intrigued him, and he hoped the newcomer was as ambitious as she seemed.
He had done well, in the years that had passed him since leaving his crazed father and his twisted pack. He had made great efforts to become as normal as he could, never tempted to take charge or be the leader he had been raised to be. Still... there was a deeper side to him, one that the drowsy friendship and cheerful jokes masked well. Slay's ferocity could be triggered by rage, a burning passionate anger that few had seen, and none wanted to see again. Not a soul in Dahlia knew that he was capable of violence. He was, after all, quite slow to anger. He had shamefully avoided the pointless war with Inferni for that reason. He would rather live peacefully.
Still, he had come close when he'd seen the pitiable injuries inflicted on his friend Cercelee, and heard that a coyote had attacked her. Slay wasn't sure why that memory had suddenly sprung to mind, except that the intense look of wild pride in Cwmfen nic Graine's bone-white eyes suddenly frightened him, and he realized he did not want to be the one to call on her warrior side...
"In any case, it is entirely up to you. I simply hope that I can make this an enjoyable pairing." Once again, he couldn't resist the obvious double-entendre -- she was a lovely young lady, enigmas notwithstanding!
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
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That’s okay, ^=^ Would you mind having a thread with her that takes place more recently?
700+
Cwmfen listened quietly as the dual coloured male began to list several species that frequent the Dahlian territory. She’d tasted plenty of rabbit—not all were trapped in her jaws, but many that she had pursued had found their final abode within them. Fish were an interesting thing to hunt—quite different from anything that traveled on land. She rather liked the taste of it; perhaps that was due to the fact that she had grown up eating it, as her father, who hailed for a country that favored such meat, had often brought it to her and her mother.... As for turkey, she was not necessarily fond of fowl. It was not that the taste was displeasing to the black fae; it was merely that she prepared the tastes of mammalian flesh. Of course, she was not a picky creature when it came to such things, and she would willingly and eagerly follow the black and white wolf’s choice of quarry, whatever it may be.
However, when he mentioned deer, the black fae’s curiosity was invoked. She had never tasted the flesh of deer freshly killed before. She had scented it in her most desperate days, when she had trailed packs carefully so as to not be detected. The frenzy of the packs’ eating had excited her, even from such a distance. And the unique smell of hot blood was unlike anything she had ever scented before. It was a creature that a wolf was destined to prey upon, but she, as a lone wolf, had never tasted it, had never hunted it. She had only come across old, frozen meat of carcasses mostly eaten. But the few scraps that she had managed to scavenge in those desperate winters had been delectable to say the least. She simply could not imagine what the meat of the fresh variety would taste like. Perhaps that prospect had been one of the few reasons she had joined a pack, and she hoped now that the male would provide an opportunity for her to experience such a thing.
She turned those white orbs to the male, catching the strange look in his eyes—one that tugged at her, invoking a response instilled within the most basic of instincts—but it was gone was he spoke again. A light but clear smile graced her woad-marked maw as her woad-marked tail waved several times behind her as she trotted with fluid grace. The young female responded eagerly, but her excitement was well contained and scarcely discernable (perhaps a hunter would notice?). "I’m already enjoying myself." Her words were genuine as the white eyes smiled at him. As she walked abreast the dual-coloured male, her timidity began to fade, and she allowed her soul to become accustom to the presence of the male. "If you wish to leave it up to me," the alto melody began quietly, "I would love to try and pursue a deer...." She was thoughtful as she spoke, and her nose twitched as she scented the air momentarily for the ungulates he claimed were near. The female hoped that the hunt would be a successful one—if it wasn’t, she was sure it would be her own fault for inexperience at such hunts. "I’ve never tasted the meat, nor have I ever hunted them." Of course, she had watched them, but a single wolf, especially one of her unremarkable size, could not take one down, and so she had stayed with the hunting of hares and mice.
The woad-marked female wondered again what manner of wolf Slay would prove to be, for she knew, perhaps better than others, of the darkness that must lurk in the hearts of all creatures. Thus far, there was a warmth in his personality that she found that she enjoyed. It was something new about him that she could not place, but she found that her curious nature was leaning in towards the diamond-marked male. The white orbs briefly flowed over the male wolf. While the luperci form had its uses, she would always admire the form of the natural wolf, and she could not help but admire his larger, broader build. Slowly and diffidently, her gaze returned to the unmarked path ahead of them. She was silent for a moment more before she built up the courage to ask him. (She was never really a social wolf.) "Do you hail from these lands, Slay?" Perhaps the use of his name was intentional and held some sort of meaning, but if it did, she did not let it show. The woad-marked female figured that this inquiry was most harmless of all that were currently flowing through her mind.
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OoC: Oh, that sounds lovely! ^-^ I like seeing these two together, with their funny fur, lol. ;D
Slay blinked in surprise for a moment, glancing over at the exotic wolf padding alongside him. "You've never tasted deer? Well, that settles it - we must do our best to bring one down, then, if only to let you experience a new flavor. Between the two of us, we should have a pretty good chance."
He offered her a confident grin, steering their path towards the bare-branched trees that clustered at the edge of the fields. That was the last place he'd caught a whiff of the warm hay-like scent of the local deer. Their narrow trails weren't difficult to locate - the hard part was staying upwind, getting close enough for the rush. There were a few different techniques for hunting that he was familiar with: they could split up, and one of them could lay in wait to deliver the ambush strike... or they could take turns chasing the doe, tiring her out until she collapsed... or they could run her into a body of water, letting her tire herself out... If Cwmfen hadn't hunted large prey before, he had no way of knowing where her talents lay. He himself, with his large size, was good at delivering the final blow, and usually took the ambush position. Cwmfen seemed athletic, perhaps faster in a sprint than he was. Should they go with that plan?
The shy query broke through his thoughts, and Slay turned his pale-blue gaze upon the smaller female. He had no qualms explaining where he was from; it merely surprised him to hear her ask a personal question. He should really give her more credit - she wasn't as shy as she first seemed, just extraordinarily polite.
"No, you caught me, m'dear. I'm from far away from here - the western coast, if you'd believe it. I was born to a pack in the mountains, surrounded by snow." He paused, unsure of how much information she wanted. Clearly she wasn't from around here either, and he was curious as to her origins as well. Letting her know more might make her reciprocate... and there was something he hadn't told anyone before, not even Cercelee.
"Slay... isn't the name I was born with. The name my sire and dam gave me was... Dreamer," he said softly, the sound unpleasant on his tongue. It was a constant reminder of his sleeping sickness, though there was no way his father could have known about it ahead of time. Or had he...? It wasn't something he'd pondered recently. Lost in thought, he continued scanning for the hunting trail, letting his ebony-dipped tail wave comfortably behind him.
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
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Hahah, me too~
500+
"I’d like that," she replied quietly. Cwmfen smiled brightly at the other male, returning his gesture. She liked to think that he was sincerely responding to her desires, that he sincerely wished to show her something new. But somewhere, she was wary, and she feared that he was merely being a polite and cordial host to a she-wolf that had sought him out. She sighed quietly at herself, for she often grew frustrated when she did not know how to read situations—but she wondered if anyone truly did. Of course, she knew that she was one who was not socially adept, and so she felt that she could do nothing but dismiss her frustration and ignorance. Experience would be the only way to remedy such a thing, if there was anything at all to remedy (she did not know). For now, she remained silent, pondering the possibilities of his words, needlessly perhaps, but at least she kept herself busy and alert.
The white orbs quickly passed over the bare trees about them. She peered through the naked obstacles with a calculating gaze, observing the open fields to which their paws carried them closer. The black female thought that she caught the scent of the ungulates, but it was brief upon the wind as they moved, and she was unsure, having not pursued the large prey creatures before. She wondered how close they were getting, and she was eager to stretch out her legs in a wild run with her heart pumping to the song of the hunt. The white orbs turned towards the dual coloured male, who had seemed to be deep in thought as she inquired about his origins. The she-wolf’s mind wondered briefly what he thought of—the hunt, perhaps, as her own mind currently considered. When he heard her, the pale blue gaze turned towards her. They seemed to consider her before she received an answer, and the white eyes gently met his gaze directly, trying to peer into him to understand.
A soft, serene smile spread across her maw as she listened to his reply. "Snow..." she breathed quietly, and the silent sound of its floating decent sounded in her mind. "It sounds like a beautiful place...." The black, woad-marked female loved the wintertime most, for she found nothing more beautiful than the land covered in newly fallen snow, or the snow falling so lazily down to the earth in the darkened, overcast world. The smell of the cold was something familiar to her, and she new that such days were soon and longed for them. "Dreamer?" She repeated the name. Cwmfen liked it, for it reminded her of an age old tradition. "A Warrior is always paired with a Dreamer." She knew that it was not the same, for Dreamer was his name, not an innate ability (at least, she did not believe it was). But she found this to be highly coincidental, and she did not believe in mere coincidence. The black wolf smiled at the thought.
"What made you leave your homeland—" Before she knew it, she had already asked the question; she had caught herself too late. She hoped that she had not tread upon thin ice, for she knew nothing of his history. The female knew that it was possible that his story was as dark as her own, and perhaps he did not want to say. Quietly, she tried to fix things with a, "I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that," and a light smile, but if there was indeed thin ice, it was probably too late. The woad-banded aurals flattened against her head apologetically as she looked away, lowering her gaze. She let a silence fall, before she was able to drag her eyes from the trail directly ahead of her paws. She tried to direct the conversation back to the hunt.
"Where is this place that deer frequent?"
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He felt relieved that the polite female was so accepting of his choices. He pretended to have much confidence, but was truly a self-doubting creature. As he reluctantly admitted his birthplace and name, things he considered very much a secret, Cwmfen seemed strangely pleased by the information. Slay watched her gentle smile as she spoke fondly of the snow he hated so much, and wondered how two wolves could see something so very differently. Snow was oppressive to him, mostly because of the way he had grown up, of course. It was winter all year-round, of course, and the deadening white made everything go silent and cold...
"'A warrior... with a dreamer'? What do you mean by that...?" Slay repeated curiously, his head tilting slightly as he considered the enigmatic statement. Hearing the name Dreamer again made a small shiver race down his spine, although he reasoned that that side of his past was long-forgotten now, and it couldn't be bad to talk about. He wasn't so superstitious that he feared his old pack would find him if he mentioned them... right?
Cwmfen asked the question, and then immediately regretted it, back-pedaling to offer him a way out. Slay bit his lip, steeling himself to answer her anyway. She asked, after all, and it had been years since he had been in the mountains... "It's... fine. I'll answer you. I... always wanted to leave. The pack that raised me... well, they had more than their share of issues. They refused to let in any outsiders, even though our numbers dwindled by the day. They'd rather bed with family then accept a stranger's blood." His lip curled at the thought of the arranged pairings, the daily incest. What a twisted mess. "When I was born, looking the way I do, unlike anyone else in those godless mountains... they thought... that I was some sort of savior, a... seer. Hence, 'Dreamer'. My father in particular believed it. He... well..." Slay let his voice trail off, pale eyes glittering.
He locked me in a tiny cavern for months, drugging me so that I would sleep forever and dream a way for him to lead the pack to glory. Not the best father-son relationship. He let his gait quicken subconsciously, not once suspecting that Cwmfen might have a tale even darker than his own. He liked to think that others had a happier upbringing, a normal one. That perhaps there wasn't so much depravity and abuse in the world.
"Ah... deer, yes. They... mm." He shook his thick ruff deeply, clearing his thoughts to focus on the task at hand. He could tell her more later, if she really wanted to know... "The deer frequent several places in these parts - there are thickets of berries they're stripping before the winter months, there's a clearing they tend to graze in, and there's a stream that runs toward the ocean. We're skirting up towards the stream - if we're lucky and they're there already, I'll ask you to ambush the smallest one. You can chase her back to me, and we'll finish her together. Does that sound like a plan, Cwmfen?" Slay smiled disarmingly, not used to offering commands. He might be her senior, but Cwmfen was a higher pack rank than he was, and also seemed notably more talented at hunting. Mercifully, his narcolepsy had not flared yet this day; if he were to drop asleep in the midst of the pursuit, a flailing hoof could easily crack his skull open. It was a danger to regular wolves, let alone ones with a sleep disorder who felt drowsy at all times. As far as he knew, unless Cercelee gave a briefing to new pack members, Cwmfen had no inkling to his disease. Should he disclose that? Most likely, for both of their safety, but it was a shameful weakness... It wasn't his fault he was a child of incest.
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
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When Slay spoke again, there was something strange about his tone. Cwmfen couldn’t quite place it, though she felt that it wasn’t of a buoyant nature. The woad warrior tilted her head slightly as she wondered to herself. However, she decided to answer his question, her tone cautiously gentle. "Where I come from, the packs have warriors and dreams. The former is self explanatory. Dreamers, are... well, they Dream. Once a wolf reaches adulthood, he or she goes off alone to experience their Long Nights—a rite of passage. During this time, the wolf discovers what they are meant to be. Dreamers also discover dream animals, which guide them in their dreams. These dreams are extremely symbolic, but they tell the future." The female paused thoughtfully. "Sometimes a warrior will get a Dream too, but it’s never as prominent as a Dreamer," she murmured, almost to herself. Then, talking to Slay once more, she concluded. "A Warrior and a Dreamer are mutually paired, for a it is not good for a warrior to enter battle without the aided visions of the Dreamer." A smile danced upon her lips, and for a moment, a wild fire was in her eyes. The female was certain that she was a Warrior, but she worried—who would be her Dreamer? Perhaps the gods would bless her with a strong Dream.
Then the dual-coloured male continued, answering the question she so greatly wished had never left her mouth. She listened silently to his tale. She knew that such isolation was dangerous, but she never thought that it would go to such extremes. (Even with the experience of her travels, it seemed that Cwmfen was ignorant concerning such matters.) Incest. A dry smile crept upon her maw. Her own father wished to do the same to her. She herself did not know why he so desperately desired to mate with her, but she suspected that it must be of a similar reasoning. The woad-marked female knew all too well the frustrations of confinement, and of the life of confinement that awaited her should her father ever find her. As the male fell silent and quickened his pace, she did not press him to complete his thoughts. If he felt the desire to tell her the rest of the tale, she would hear it. But such familial pains were never easily spoken of. Quietly, almost inaudibly, she offered an, "I understand." The woad banded ears flattened against her head as she regretted once more having brought up the subject. The she-wolf did not like to cause such discomfort in others.
The black fae was relieved when the dual-coloured male accepted the subject change. Having been unable to meet his gaze, she lifted it, facing him as he spoke. She made a mental note in her head of the place he described—perhaps it would be useful to frequent the area on her own sometimes, if only to familiarize herself with the topography. As he described his plan, she listened intently, nodding to herself as she struggled to allow herself to visualize the concept. "Sounds like a plan." The woad-marked female smiled back at him, glad that he did not seem put off by her slip up. She did not mind his giving orders, as she herself was unfamiliar with the concept of pair hunting. In fact, she was quite relieved for it, for she would rather him instruct her in these ways than have to struggle, perhaps to no end. The black, woad-marked plume waved excitedly behind her. She had a sudden craving for fresh deer meat. "Are we far?"
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So, it was a tradition after all. Slay was beginning to wonder what connection his tiny pack, the Anak, had to do with Cwmfen's heritage. The wolves in his family were always black, or white, and always so superstitious, spinning tales of gods and ancestors and seeing visions. It really seemed as though some ancestor of hers had influenced some ancestor of his or something. "...I've never seen any animals in my dreams other than wolves," he replied seriously, "but to think I was raised as a seer seems too strange to be coincidence. What... are your Dreamers like? And what is the 'Long Nights'...?" If she didn't mind talking about it, he would be happy to listen. Perhaps his affliction wasn't a bad thing after all. Perhaps his dreaming could help...? He could see the fiery pride in her shining white eyes, and glanced away, almost feeling embarrassed. Despite his size, he was anything but a warrior. He could hold his own in a fight, but given a chance, would always back down. If he actually was some sort of seer, well, that might change things...
After he admitted in part to his father's abusive role in his childhood, there followed a silence broken only by the sound of their paws padding against the earth, the swishing of their loose tails, their soft exhalations. It was quite obviously a topic he strayed away from, but Cwmfen didn't offer the false pity or empty sentiments that usually seemed to follow such a tale. Instead, she remained thoughtful, and finally said that she 'understood'.
And... Slay believed her. She didn't need to divulge some disturbing tale of her own for him to trust her - as long as she wasn't about to go spreading it around the pack for everyone to judge, then he was comfortable with where they were.
She met his gaze again, offering a smile, and he returned the gesture. In this short time, the raven-haired huntress - no, warrior - had become a friend.
"We're close now," he breathed in a husky undertone, slowing his pace to a stalk. The warm, pleasant aroma had grown thicker around them - it was clear the deer favored the area. Slay motioned with his muzzle - the dying grass had been cropped short by hungry mouths, and there were tell-tale pellets of dung scattering the site. "The river is around the bend, past that copse of trees. Will you circle around to see how many deer there are? I can scent more than one, but I'm not adept at distinguishing them. We don't want to tangle with a buck." He could only hope his instructions weren't patronizing. Slay was never too comfortable in charge of others, and he knew he was no true master of hunting. He wasn't awful at it; that didn't make him a savant at tracking and killing, though. "...a real seer could predict the outcome... wouldn't they?"
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A light smile flickered across the young fae’s maw. "I do not believe in coincidence." There almost seemed to be something enigmatic, something dark, about the way she stated that fact. And yet, there was something else flickering there, something lighter. "The Dreamers...well, they Dream." She laughed momentarily before continuing. "Dreamers are no different from the rest of us. Merely, they are connected more deeply to the gods and to nature, and this happens naturally—they’re born this way. Their Dreams come naturally, but they can call dreams too." She paused, considering Slay momentarily. "It is possible to discard a dream. It happens to some. The same Dream cannot be regained, however. A new one must be obtained." Pausing once more, she continued to answer his next inquiry. "The Long Nights are a rite of passage from childhood into adulthood. We go out into the remote wild on our own to experience nature and the gods more acutely. It is with the Long Nights that one discovers their Dream." Perhaps, if he truly was a Seer or a Dreamer, he would one day allow himself to let go of the past. She would definitely want to be there with him.
As he signified their nearness to the deer, the female turned her maw to sniff at the indicated grass. Then she lifted her gaze to the male once more, listening intently to his instructions. She didn’t want to mess up, especially when she herself was looking forward to sampling the deer meat. Nodding curtly, she smiled her understanding and turned to do as she was told. When he spoke again, she paused, looking over her shoulder with an understanding smile. "Perhaps the excitement comes in not knowing." Then she slipped silently through the dying brush.
The circle she made was wide, perhaps overly so. Yet, she felt that it was better to be careful than not. She could smell the deer, but she couldn’t see them. Silently, she picked her way through the foliage, careful to not make a sound. She knew that even if she were to make a sound, that it wouldn’t necessarily ruin it, for many animals that didn’t threaten the deer would be walking through the forest. But once more, she was exercising extra caution. When she approached the bubbling river, she paused at its bank, considering the distance. It wasn’t a large one. Backing up, she bounded several times before leaping over the cold water. She barely made it, but she cleared the water with the graceful arc of her body. Satisfied with this small feat, she continued on her way. It wasn’t long before she found the deer. There were three of them, and all of the deer were does. Cocking her head, she wondered briefly where the buck was before she returned to Slay.
"There are three does; two are younger and the third is an older one," the woad-marked female reported cheerfully. "I’m not very familiar with the organizational structures of deer, but isn’t there usually at least one buck?" She was curious, for she was unsure. But she hoped that it would not matter, and that the hunt would soon take place.
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"...Slaying the Dreamer," he said with a lop-sided smile. "When I ran away from home, I wanted to take a new name for a fresh start, but rather than just forget my past, I wanted to defeat it... To end the dreaming side of myself. By denying that, is that discarding a Dream? Have I... slain my own Dream?" Perhaps this conversation had created more questions than it had answered, but it had certainly made him think. He used to dream when he slept, of his ancestors, and for the past three seasons he had not dreamed at all. He merely fell asleep at odd intervals of the day, and could remember nothing when he awoke. He had been happy for the relief, although he was still just as drowsy during his waking hours. Had the change been a bad thing? If Cwmfen could help him, he would gladly spend more time with her, learning about these traditions...
Slay waited patiently, his mind wandering as Cwmfen expertly made her reconnaissance. Three does, a mother and two daughters from the sound of her description. "Bucks come and go, this time of year. I believe it's the end of their mating season, so our Dahlia stags will be off fighting each other - lucky for us. Now, to choose our target..." An older doe would be more experienced to the ways of wolves, but might not have the speed to escape them. The younger creatures had the reciprocal - they could probably outrun the pair of hunters, but would panic and freeze at the sight of canines. "Perhaps it would be better to take one of her daughters, since we won't be able to finish off a full carcass. If there's leftovers, I could call someone who shifts to dry the meat into jerky, preserve it for the winter months..."
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I hope you don’t mind if I start the hunt, ^=^;; And once this thread is over, I’ll start the next one, if you want ^=^
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Cwmfen smiled gently, a thing touched with the warm kiss of the golden sun. "A Dream cannot be killed, Slay. Only lost." She paused for a moment before continuing. "But by denying it, you would have pushed it away. The same dream cannot be regained and it will take on a different form—I think. You are beyond your Long Nights, but you are not beyond regaining the Dream. It can be found again, should you wish to pursue it." The silver toned melody paused once more, only this time, as if hesitant. The black femme held her breath for a moment before releasing it quietly, deciding that it would be better to speak. "When that time comes—If that time comes, Slay, let me know. I’ll do what I can to help you." A timid smile spread across her woad banded maw, the similarly banded ears flattening upon her crania as she let an awkward silence follow her spoken words. This male of her pack intrigued her. She didn’t know in what way, but she knew that if he required it, she would give him her aid.
As the diamond marked male voiced his thoughts and gave his commands, the woad-swirled female nodded. A small, imperceptible smile was on her maw. But this smile was different than the one she had given him. It was fiercer, wilder. And it lingered upon her lips as if ready to disappear. The wild of the wolf seemed to liven up from her as she prepared to hunt. With a silent nod, the black female rose and turned, leaping back into the trees to retrace her steps. This time, however, she would bring back the life quarry to the Hunter.
Woad banded toes pressed silently and swiftly into the soft dirt and decaying leaves. Her muscles trembled eagerly beneath her coat as they itched to chase down the deer. Upon reaching the river, she leapt over it once more, this time without pausing in her step. The scent of the deer was stronger now, and her mind seemed to switch modes. Her body was low to the ground as the white orbs became alert. Her sense of smell was heightened, as was her sight and touch. Carefully, she pushed through the foliage. Despite her excitement, when the deer were in view, the black body grew still, as calm as the unmoving water of a wasteland. Briefly, her eyes left the two targets to find where Slay was hidden. Through the trees and distance, she could barely see the black and white of his fur, but then, she knew what she was looking for. Satisfied, the white orbs chose one of the younger animals before she forced her body through to the open grounds.
She startled the deer, and at first, for a split second, they froze. But then they were off, splitting up as they ran in panic, expelling that maddening perfume of fear. The smallest of the females, the one she had chose, flitted off in a random tangent, and she lost it immediately. But with lightning speed, she turned and pursued the remaining young deer. The change in plan had caused her to fall behind, but she closed the distance. Cwmfen snapped her jaws audibly, teasing the air between them. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to kill this, and she wasn’t going to. It was a fear tactic, one that worked with many other animals. And besides, the speed of the prey was barely beyond her own, but enough to make that distance unreachable. The frightened creature attempted to stray from the intended path, but Cwmfen was quick and she would move to put it back on its course. The exhilaration of the chase was like nothing else, and though the distance between Slay and herself was greater than she had anticipated, she hardly noticed in her excitement. In her peripheral, she could see that her goal was near, and she gave a final snap at the ungulate’s heel. Then both the wolf and the deer were leaping right at Slay’s awaiting jaws.
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OoC: Oh, gladly! That would be nice! And sorry this took so many weeks, it's my fault... ;A;
Slay looked thoughtful for a moment, processing this new information. A Dream cannot be killed... only lost... Then he nodded in affirmation, smiling gently. "I suppose that makes sense... Thank you, Cwmfen. Already I've learned more from you than you have from me!" The arctic wolf grinned ruefully, knowing it to be true. His pale gaze lit up with fondness as she offered to assist him -- he was going to need the help! If knowing his Dream would give him the confidence and self-mastery that Cwmfen displayed, then he was willing to give it a shot. He had no idea how to "find himself", though, or any of what the Long Nights actually entailed... and since he had done his best to eradicate the spirituality from his life after fleeing from his superstitious tribe, it was going to take some work before he could sort things out for himself.
He let his thoughts fade as Cwmfen fluidly rose and slipped off into the trees, an inky black shadow dappled with blue lights. Her grace was still impressive to the arctic male, and he watched until he could no longer see her before settling into his ambush position, screened behind the leaves of a squat shrub. His heart began to race with anticipation, his blunt claws digging into the undergrowth as the adrenaline began to pump. Hunting was a thrill, arguably the most exciting experience a wolf could have. The tracking, following scents, staking out a location - that could take hours, even days. But when the prey was spooked and it was time to go for it - the thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of the kill was always well-worth it.
Action!
The deer scattered, crashing through the forest in abject terror. Slay flexed his haunches, readying himself for the lunge. Cwmfen swerved expertly, cutting the young doe from her family and worrying the animal straight towards him. She was a natural. The doe bleated a cry as she fled from the black wolf's snapping jaws, the whites of her eyes showing as her hooves flashed down, bounding closer... closer... closer.........
Slay dug his powerful hind legs into the ground, launching himself at their prey. Panicked, the deer tried to leap over him, but he bulled his shoulder into her chest, knocking them both tumbling to the ground. Her thrashing legs thumped him in the stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs, but he snarled and clubbed her narrow skull with his paw, stunning her momentarily. A moment was all he needed; with the thrill racing through his veins, Slay arced downwards and clamped his jaws about her slender neck, whipping from side to side to snap her spine.
Panting heavily, Slay untangled himself from the deer carcass. Their hunt had been successful. Both had evaded serious injury - Cwmfen was fine, and he had merely bruises to show for it. His nerves were still jangling from the action, as represented by the huge grin on his whiskery muzzle. "Here, you... want the first bite?" he offered gleefully, trying to catch his breath. "You deserve it!"
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
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Hehe, it’s okay~! Don’t worry about it~ And should we end this here? You can post again if you want, and then we can fade to black. OuO It might be a bit before I start the next one, if you don’t mind— but I’ll PM you when I get it up, ^=^
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Her body lept with a grace, and her paws found the earth as she landed lightly behind the dual coloured male. Swiftly, she turned to find him, hoping that she had not made some sort of mistake. But there was none, it seemed, for the doe had fallen easily into the jaws of the awaiting male. Leaping, Slay had caught the deer off guard, and he took it down with apparent ease. The woad-marked female watched with more than marginal satisfaction as she watched the male execute that which nature had intended. The life drained swiftly—if not instantly—from the hunted doe, and soon it was still, her soul rising to join the rest of its kind. Cwmfen thought she heard the crow—the one that carried the souls over the river of death. A light smile crossed her maw; she had heard him many times. She thought it might be soon when she would hear him come for her, for she could not see herself fading with old age. Someone would come to take her life, and she would be ready then.
The stilled animal lay beneath the diamond-marked male, and she smiled to him as he turned. He was more winded than she was, but he had had more of the work than she had, as he had dealt directly with the prey. It was a moment before she realized that the hunt was a success, and when she did realize this, her tail waved behind her. She felt a certain amount of accomplishment, for this had been the first time that she had hunted with another. In this experience, she had learned that the hunt was only a little different. It involved more self control, for as she had chased the deer, leading it to the waiting Slay, she was fighting with all her might the instinct that drove her to kill it herself. But if she had done so, the hunt would not have been successful, and she knew that. The control was key here, she thought. And perhaps communication. It would not have been successful without the instruction from the black and white male. The hunt was a novel experience, and yet it was all too familiar.
Cwmfen smiled. "I’d love to." Her voice was openly eager, and it was filled with a gratitude. With an unhurried stride, the female easily brought herself to the male’s side. She offered him another shy smile of thanks before she lowered her maw to the lifeless body. Her nose drifted momentarily over the deer’s stomach, scenting the warmth of life that had so recently been drawn out. Then, her maw pulling back in a silent snarl, the female’s strong white teeth punctured the skin, and she tore it aside as one would lift a blanket. The hot blood seemed to emit an intoxicating steam into the cool air. Then she was tearing into the rare meat, and its unique taste exploded in her mouth. She took several bites, growling with a primeval pleasure as she devoured this freshness for the first time in her life. Cwmfen hoped that she had not eaten too long, for she did not want to appear rude, and she pulled herself away from the doe, the blood on her maw tainting the blue woad. The white orbs found the other, offering him to join her. She did not want to eat alone.
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