wolves were gathering around them, wolves who wished to be cleansed by the fires of molech. but would they give up their children? lay down their lives for the all-seeing one? eshamun doubted this. the little copse she and her sister had claimed was marked on all sides with her scent now, and that of arunik'ra; she saw no reason to pretend that there was a better place for them. no -- this now, this was where molech wished them to be.
she edged along the border, sighing. it had been such a short time; the queen would call ar-khalba to her again in the evening, if only for the pleasure of his physical company, and a smile tugged at her muzzle as she waded into the shallows of the near-running stream to wash the dust from her paws.
The Hinterland had become Tuwawi's haven turning the famine, safe from both the mountains and coastal reaches. She had secured a seitch -- a den that was a size to small -- amongst the cedars, but a life alone was taxed with strife. Food became nearly impossible to track and the red matron's physique withered to paper thin. Man's collar hung loosly around her chicken neck, crimson mantle dulled by the sun, and yet the ornery she-wolf did not stop trying to live despite the adverse circumstances.
Another failed hunt left the matron empty handed, but when Tuwawi passed the Copse she noticed a seductive perfume wafting on the breeze. A pang of wretched jealousy twisted in her breast, though she found herself tracking the scent all the same. Soon, the forest opened up to a stream where a maiden stood in the water by the banks. Tuwawi made a small chuff noise as she approached the opposite shore, currious as to why the young, and suspiciously healthy looking, waif stood so flippantly out in the open.
eshamun would have sought relaxation in the waters, but the presence of another caught her attention, a woman hewn from loam and fire. there was an indecipherable expression in the stranger's eyes, one that pulled eshamun from the stream and into a biddable, yet guarded stance. she and arunik'ra would need the presence of women if they were to establish a tophet here -- she was not so foolish as to think they could do such alone.
"hello," the ekar-aji greeted quietly, not stepping toward the strange wolfess, but holding her ground if the other chose to approach.
Tuwawi approached the stream as the golden she-wolf stiffened, her mangeled snout prodding the air to better scent the strange vagabond. A border was close... were these lands being to be claimed? Either way, the good-looking physique of her company meant food was nearby and that was something the ember deeply coveted amongst other things.
"Hello," she rasped, tone somewhat pointed and curt. "You claim these lands?" The matron stopped at the water's edge, one dotted brow rising as she inquired.
the woman held a cold beauty beneath her scars, though eshamun's eyes were drawn to the odd circlet that decorated the stranger's neck. what curse did the other hold -- or perhaps it was not such. perhaps it was merely something that eshamun did not understand, and she accepted this wholeheartedly. "yes," the canaanite rejoined, a smile curving her lips.
"what brings you to this copse?" eshamun added, drawing near with a slow extending of her muzzle to take the other's scent, if she was allowed.
Tuwawi observed the ruddy nymph with a critical gaze as her silver eyes traced the vestal beauty. Her belly's uptuck was narrow and taught, body svelte and elegant -- a virgin maiden entering her prime. The ember's figure had become more wholesome with age. A certain paunch padded her figure: a token from motherhood.
"Your scent," the Sveijarn answered frankly, for it was pungant in the air. Capricious envy sent a sudden shiver down Tuwawi's spine. She could chase out this foreigner and claim the copse as her own. Find followers. Recreate the family she had lost -- for that was a misfortune the red woman had never truly recovered from.
Her tongue pressed against her incisors thoughtfully as the stranger approached to take scent. Tuwawi stood still and wiffed at the other's perfume even though it already overwhelmed the air. She coveted it for herself.
as the other's gaze traced her frame, so did eshamun drink in the visage of the older wolfess, lush with ripened curves only motherhood could bestow, her scarring only lending a fierce light to her confident bearing, and the scarlet of her coat overlaid a strong and battle-tried body.
envy gripped the canaanite -- perhaps a surprising hint of lust as well -- but she was distracted from her odd thoughts by the inquiring tones of the other. "yes," eshamun murmured in answer, feeling no shame as she nodded to the other's silent question. "i do not fear. my lover ... perhaps molech has already blessed us. i give myself willingly to the males of this land, for it is their seed i want, not them."
her brow quirked; she teased the other with a small smile. "i drew you?" eshamun inquired, marvelling -- perhaps the power of a first moon-cycle was that it called like a beacon to all, male and female alike.