The hues of twilight drenched the snow-laden tops of the mountains in blues and purples, as if violets had suddenly sprung from the frigid conditions to layer the slopes and ridges with colour. A bird flew overhead and Larch watched with sharp hazel eyes, her head turning slowly to follow its path before swinging back around to groom out a tangled patch in her wavy fur. When she was satisfied she folded her paws one over the other and rested her head on them, a half smile pulling up one corner of her lips.
The Warrior was settling in relatively well, and that in itself was a little bit odd – she hadn't felt settled anywhere before, hadn't been able to settle for fear of some tragedy befalling whatever place she chose. This Vale, though, with the mountains reaching around it and into the sky, felt secure. The mountains protected the lush slice of paradise like sturdy and stoic guardians to the animals below. The pack's numbers were few but the Vale seemed to teem with life in any case, be it flora or fauna.
The tall, lithe female got to her feet smoothly, shaking out her plush coat of honey ticked with black. Her tail swung jauntily behind her as she paced towards one of the Vale's crystalline lakes, breathing in and tasting the scents of home – another strange concept for the tree year old – on her tongue. She paused at the lakeside, narrowed eyes staring at her own blue-toned reflection in assessment before the reflection was shattered into ripples as her muzzle met with the water's surface. Larch took her fill in an elegant bow, stretching and clawing lightly at the moist bank as she rose once more to a standing position. Keen green-brown eyes searched the vicinity, ready to pinpoint any sign of prey, threat or indeed simple company.
It was growing warmer now. One could feel it in the early rise as well as the afternoon glow. But it was by the colors of the morning, that the woman took notice. Upon the mountain there was no better view than the early spring light at dawn. The cascade of vibrant orange and muted violet as they rolled within the other in a harmonious dance of light. It was the beckoning dance for life to behold and anticipate the splendor that came with the year's new. It was beauty, its fullness yet unseen but there. Waiting on the cusp of the snowcapped peaks.
To prepare for this change, Xi'nuata assumed her welcoming role, that she might cross the paths of familiar and new faces and gage their anticipation for the warm days to come.
As Raheerah had taken his early leave for the morning, she chose instead to engage another warrior of the pack. They had met in passing- a nod of the muzzle then a quick retreat to finish the daily tasks before the night inevitably set. Rather than leave it be, she sought out the Vale's addition with care. In her maw hung the plump meat of a small hare still warm, which had become a ritual of sorts when purposefully seeking out those of the pack.
As her scent was still new, it was easy enough to follow to the springside; the very place, as it was, where the female had found a friend in Anemone. Lest she startle the female with her quiet approach, she 'woofed' softly around the meat then set it down by her paws.
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The woman let her attention on her surroundings lapse a little, her finely carved head tilting skyward. Soft, wispy clouds shaded with purple and lit from behind with amber hung high above in the exquisite mass of colours like some strange, bruised fruit. A gentle breeze tugged at the wavy strands of black-ticked gold at Larch's ruff, teasing them with invisible digits. The pool of springwater returned to its placid state as Larch's mind wandered up, up into the sky. She wasn't usually one for daydreaming, but she wasn't one for letting things go to waste, either, and this morning had to be taken in; absorbed, as if it could instil yet more life and colour in the warrior.
The breeze which lifted the wispy ends of her slightly tangled fur brought with it a scent which made Larch able to ignore even the riot of colour in the heavens: food, fresh and warm, the blood not entirely drained. Larch's head turned steadily, calmly, towards the source of the scent, and recognition ignited in her eyes. This tawny-furred femme was a fellow Warrior, Larch knew, but it didn't occur to her that someone might be bringing her a meal. It had been two long years of scavenging and scrounging for meat, using tooth and claw and wiles to procure a meal – far too long for the hazel-eyed fighter to remember the last time she had eaten without a chase, be it in pursuit of prey or others in pursuit of her.
Larch's sharp-boned head tilted to one side, wood-and-leaf eyes flicking over her shoulder from the hare to the one who carried it. After a long moment of focusing on the prospect of free food, Larch turned her body to face her packmate. “Nice catch you've got there.” It was a statement, but her gaze was questioning. She hadn't made many friendly introductions in the past couple of years – at least, not genuine ones – and her etiquette was rusty, but she inclined her head, bending into a stiff bow and peering up through her lashes. “I'm Larch.”
Prior to pack life, she had never received a compliment for her kills. As it was, such tasks had been for the males and more abled paws. Any accomplishments of the hunting variety had been those of personal value. However that was not to say that she did not find pleasure in having her efforts acknowledged and praised. She tipped her head in gratitude to complement the humble sweep of her tail. “I am glad you approve, Larch,” she replied honestly, openly. Her chords creaked with the remnants of an alleviated illness, lowering her raspy voice to a struggling whisper. Eventually she would need to speak with Dawa for a remedy.
“It is yours to have.” Her lips raised gently in the midst of clearing her throat. “I didn’t know if… or when you had eaten last, and thought it best to see to it myself.” Smoothly she stepped to the side to allow ease of access to the meat. Having little more to say, she let the gesture speak for itself.
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The other Warrior was gentler in her way of speaking, quiet and humble, although there were remnants of a croak there which made Larch think that perhaps she wasn't whispering through choice. The black-gold woman had always been louder than necessary, louder than anyone desired, and it was only her inner peace in the Vale which kept that shouting personality tamed into something more moderate.
Larch was well practised at quashing her own hopes, but the proffered meal had her all but salivating. Her hazel eyes were unable to stay off the hare for long. Perhaps it had been longer than she thought since she'd last eaten a full meal. She was a fair hunter when it came down to it, but her tendency to want to challenge herself and toy with her food sometimes meant that dinner got away. It only led to disappointment for Larch, but it was a difficult habit to break.
This morning would not end in disappointment, but perhaps in a full belly. Larch's ears quivered as she caught the softly spoken words. “Thank you, I appreciate the thought.” She gave another dip of her head, sure that this wasn't the proper thanks to give for a free meal but rusty on exactly how she could repay her. Larch wasn't rusty in movement, though – she crossed smoothly to the female with the bi-coloured eyes and settled with the hare between them. “I can't very well let you leave without offering to share, now, can I?” A smile tugged at her lips, an inviting light in her eyes.
“It’s alright,” the beige female smiled as her companion came nearer. Such gratitude was for when a task was fulfilled without it being asked for. This, however, was a task of duty to ensure the wellness of her packmates. Thanks were not necessary as long as benefit was found by her efforts. Though the simple word did bring a muted smile to her lips.
When asked to share, she was flattered but reluctant. By level of comfort alone, there was only one she ever shared a meal with. And while her company with Larch was well enough, she did not wish to assume too much before their relationship was better established. “Oh, thank you, but I have already eaten,” which was indeed true. It had become yet another ritual of sorts to have a small meal before her daily training bout. “It is my training day,” she humbly announced. “So I prepared earlier this morning. Please,” she gestured openly with a heavy paw waving just over the meat. “Eat your fill.”
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