Ravensblood Forest shoulders smooth as raven's claws
6 Posts
Ooc —
Offline
#1
@Ikkalrok — posted in wrong forest ooopth



He has been here before, but it has been years. The first instance of his remembering is vague (because the sea is the sea is the sea, no matter how far you travel), but it isn't important either way. He creeps along the shoreline until the taste of the salt in the air begins to curdle his spirits, and he heads inland. The scent is not as strong here, among the trees. He likes the shadows but finds them a touch too cold; they welcome him despite this, and soon enough the wandering lion finds a gap in the boughs where he can rest and warm up. The sun is hidden behind a flurry of clouds, but not for long — he descends quietly to his belly, spreading out across a small section of light, and basks there like a cat. It is pleasant for a while, but he knows he cannot relax for long.
sunday, bloody sunday
75 Posts
Ooc —
Offline
#2
Ikkalrok had every intention to return to the coast, but the mountains in the near-distance beckoned her wild spirit. She had not the insight to think she would not be alone in this, and that those of their ilk would have heard the very same call—she only thought of the vantage points the mountain might provide to see where it was that they would next head. At every opportunity there was, Ikkalrok and her fellows took the path that brought them to what felt much like the top of the world, though inevitably they would descend to travel through the lowlands. 

She was patient; it was easy to be when one knew the inevitable conclusion. 

Ikkalrok forged ahead of those under her command. Now and then would come their undulating cry that their brethren would know—the summoning of any nearby Anneriwok. Now they traveled mutely, however, through the Shadewood; it was an easy place to navigate, and there were many scents here that indicated that prey had passed through. Even the noseblind could sense it should they have eyes that could see; Ikkalrok observed tufts of hair from such critters, and the parting of shrubs brought on by a barrel-chested buck. Ikkalrok paused here,  one ear rotating backward as she sniffed at the leaves gingerly. From this she garnered much about the beast and knew it was not a thing that was near its end, lest it suffered from an unfortunate and unexpected fall. No wise wolf would seek to hunt them while it was in full health and in its prime. 

There was nothing else for her to do but to continue, and that she did. In her peripheral, she caught the silhouette of Savik; Anuniaq might loiter at their rear for a time until he was satisfied that there was no carrion to be shared between them. This she did not mind—she would accept any food found willingly. It would be a fatal error for any to scoff at a meal that would lead to the restoration of their energy, particularly when none needed to be exerted. They had hunted, successfully, but a night ago—food, however, was food, and simply by the look of her it was no question that she required plenty of it. 

Her nose hovers above the loamy grass, though, in the break of the trees, Ikkalrok spots the stranger during his rest; he was downwind and had not walked this particular path—it is only her eyes that determine he is there, and her ears twitch atop her crown. He appeared alone, and the gaze of Ikkalrok shifts first to the left side of him, then the right, to see if any other had bedded with him. When no signs were observed, she settled a measure; Ikkalrok had met many a loner that saw it fit to test her, and though she was a patient woman, such a virtue came second to her primary vice: wrath. 

The stranger appears travel-weary, but she knows better than to think this the case. One did not live this long among warriors without learning the way of cowards. Ikkalrok did not idle any longer—after shifting her weight, she moves into his line of sight (by now, he might have smelled her) and displays to him her disinterest with a stoic expression as she treks ahead. Though she does not look at him any longer, he is not out of her sight. Her senses keep her advised to his every action (the shifting of her ear an indicator of this), and as ever she is prepared to do what she must. 
6 Posts
Ooc —
Offline
#3



The lion is content to bask for some time, certainly longer than he should have been, and does not notice the encroachment of the dark stranger nor her comrades until it is too late. His eyes open briefly, sleepily, and even then he does not notice the shifting shadow — not until it is more than obvious that the trees are not shuddering, and the shadows are not in fact dancing due to the wind. His scarlet gaze picks up the ridge of her back first, then the spin of an ear. Already the stranger has seen him and disengaged; he wonders in haste if she is to be trusted, and pulls his chest away from the dirt in order to sit up as if at attention. The man scrutinizes this dark shape for a few long moments. When she does not speak nor brandish fang in his direction, Daumier assumes she means no harm. He calls to her in a level tone, salut-? in a voice a touch too soft from disuse.
sunday, bloody sunday
75 Posts
Ooc —
Offline
#4
Ikkalrok was not a creature capable of deception. She was a woman without guile, and her behavior belied her intent. Passing through, it said now, and as his voice sounded off Ikkalrok entertained it with a disinterested flick of her ear. She did not understand the word he spoke, and even should she have there would have been no different reaction earned by his gravelly voice. If he was seeking a friend or a companion, he would find neither in the hard woman of the North who had no time to spare on lonely strangers. Even while she moved away the Tartok woman heeded him; if he was a coward, he would find their brand of bravery now, when all he could see of her was her back (that would soon disappear into the cover of the trees).
6 Posts
Ooc —
Offline
#5



Those ears rove to and fro again, likely in response to his call. She does not speak, and moves on — but his curiosity is strong so he takes after her, keeping a good pace but an obvious gap between them. The lion does not know where she comes from. There is a confidence to her, a sense of calm, and he cannot help but wonder what she is looking for.
It is not the first wolf he has come across in his wandering but Daumier has not had the best luck; she is the first to allow his presence, if one could call it that. It is not difficult to keep up with her, but there is a clear difference in skill between the two of them — she, this wild and powerful thing, healthy and content in her existence. Himself, road weary and hungry often, but still capable.

She is silent, so he follows without a word.
sunday, bloody sunday
75 Posts
Ooc —
Offline
#6
She moves ahead for a while longer. Still, this man follows her. After miles of this, Ikkalrok stops and turns to look at him, her gaze expectant and hard as it held him there. Her lobes pricked forward, and she takes a solid step in his direction, a heavy, bison-like breath emitted from leathery nostrils. She mutely demands an answer, and there is little room to guess at what she was asking, without needing to utilize words at all: What do you want?