Since technically Rye has yet to meet Wintersbane, I'm gonna keep things vague. When that thread does go up it will be before this one, so if that gets started before this one ends the vagueness may stop.
A long, sleek and nimble body bounced in the snow, its head diving directly into the cold and emerging
with a smaller, fatter but equally as nimble body in its mouth. With one final crunch the smaller mammal
was gone, it tail limp in the mouth of its attacker. For a weasel, the vole would make a filling meal and for
Rye, the weasel and the vole would make a wonderful snack. His body was not hidden amongst the snow
blanketing the ground but that did not deter the male from stalking the weasel, his body low to the ground
and his gait excruciatingly slow. Tawny eyes locked onto the small mammals every move, watching its
tiny ears flicker in every direction as it listened for predators like himself. Rye was nearing striking range,
his footsteps up until then were quiet like owl wings but a patch of thick, rough snow-ice ended any
chance for an easy meal. The weasel did not waste time looking to see what made the noise, its own
experiences driving it forward without a second thought. Rye sighed and turned back to the boarders and
continued his personally assigned duties for that day. In no time, his chores were at an end, border patrol
was complete along with refreshing and sharpening the territory's edge. It was time for a break before he
would attempt another hunt, be it good sized or small, it did not matter he was hungry for anything.
Rye took his time getting to the water, using his small journey to familiarize himself with his new home,
down to every crevasse and twig that peppered the ground. It wasn't long before he found himself at waters
edge, his tongue already lapping up what it could. His eyes closed as the cold water slide down his throat and
into his belly, a near addicting feeling Rye took his time enjoying it. After quenching his thirst Rye spotted
something, it appeared to be a wolf but something was different about them. At first the inner territorial side of
the male took over, demanding in his mind just who they were and what they were doing in his land. However,
he had trust in his packmates to ensure the security of their land, his conclusion came as swiftly as his assumption.
They must be someone he has yet to meet. Forcing his hackles down, Rye moved to meet the mysterious female.
He approached loudly as to not scare the female if she did not know he was around, furthering his attempt with a
throat clear. "Hello, it seems we've yet to meet. My name is Rye but people usually call me—" In his attempt
to appear somewhat suave he managed to back himself into a stupid corner, he had no nickname. "Rye.. Everyone
calls me Rye." Embarrassment engulfed him and he silently swore to stop being an idiot. 'Good one genius, next time just stick with a name'
"What's your name?" He quickly added.
Imaq glanced up, discreet tropical gaze moving to the man as her paw slowed in its path along the skin of the pelt's underside -- though it did not stop at first, giving the illusion that the demure she-wolf continued her work without noticing the newcomer's presence as she drank him in with snippets of glances. She pieced him together as a puzzle, stiffening as she observed the aggressive stance of alarm that overtook him for a second. Was this another Taikon, here to tell her she didn't belong?
She stilled as the taller man approached, his size still vastly larger than her own despite the fact that he was rangier than the silver-speckled chief of their small tribe. The northron kept her seafoam peridots trained carefully on the pelt between her paws, flexing and curling her feathered forepaws into the soft marten hide as the man drew near -- awaiting derisive words. Her shoulders drew up the tiniest bit as she hunkered over the small swath of fur as if her submission might protect her from his prejudice if he harbored any.
Instead awkward, albeit warm, words reach her pinned auds, and the buttercream shepherd glances upward hesitantly. She cocked her head the tiniest bit as she tried to understand, smiling a slow, tiny grin at the humor of the situation as his nervousness registers. The tundrian can't quite figure how this Rye could be intimidated by her of all people.
"Imaq," the cur answered, soft as the wind whistling over the glacier's icy surface.
Imaqs' small hint of submission did not go unnoticed by the male, a freckle of shame sprouted in the
males mind but he did his best to accommodate the female by stepping back and taking a seat after he
finished speaking. Rye was not sure what boundaries he stepped over, if any, but as overly sensitive as
he was the past few days he wasn't willing to ask.
Brown eyes moved from ivory fur to a walnut brown hide, gathering an abundance of questions as his eyes
traveled from said ivory to brown. Imaq looked odd, Rye had never come across anything like the female,
she was fascinating. Almost something to be studied but Rye knew better than to gawk like some hairbrained
vulture. His curious eyes averted from the female and down to the marten, picking up on what she was aiming
to do. Intrigued about the process would ask a few questions, his eyes returned to meet Imaqs' but before he
asked, "It's nice to meet you Imaq." He bowed his head slightly, partially as a joke but some part of him
was sincere about it. "I have seen what you are doing a long time ago but I don't remember what it is
called, or what the procedure is. Would you mind explaining?"
A nagging question kept tugging a his ear, demanding to be heard and demanding to be answered. 'What is she?' She did not look like a normal wolf, the telltale signs where there but mixed with something else. A creature Rye had never come across in his lifetime. Sooner or later it needed to be answered but for now, Ryes attention floated back to the topic. He felt a little bashful for not offering her a payment in the first place but regardless her proposition was met with a few strong nods, he couldn't deny her what she was certainly owed.
.
"Of course, you can have as much as you would like. If you want I can even hunt for you on request, try to track down specific animals, whatever you need really." Rye would not ask for anything in return, she provided a much needed skill for the pack and to him that was his payment. He wasn't the best hunter in the world but he could get the job done when it needed to be, might have to ask for help in order to take down big prey but in the end things would surely work out.
The cur blinked, seaglass eyes gone wide with surprise at the woodlander's generosity. Her gaze fell back to rose-gold paws, her tuliped ears fluttering bashfully as she shook her gilded diadem hastily in gentle refusal. "Nee, nee," the she-dog breathed a burst of songbird laughter, seafoam eyes crinkling with humor. "Imaq hunts. Takes from Siqiqniq's rise in morning to Taqqiq's at night," the shaman explained to Rye, pointing towards the sun with her muzzle for clarification.
"Rye might want big fur. Warm. For winter," she suggested. A smaller predator would suffice perhaps, the pelt of some vermin they were trying to rid the territory of perhaps. A fox or coyote. Maybe a bobcat if the man was daring. Or if he managed to recruit others to the task, like Imaq herself, the fur of some ungulate would work though these skins were often thinner than the hides of predators.