Raimo carried his rank with great pride, as he carried the scent of Kukutux with equal feeling. He did not care who might know of the space he had shared with her. He wanted more of her and wondered if their night was a singular event, or if he could return when darkness beckoned and be with her again, and again, until her lust became more.
His mind was busy with thoughts of Kukutux. As possessive as Raimo was of his position he was growing more invested in the wise-woman. He liked the fire he had sparked inside of her — the anger, the desire. He was lost within the story he had been gathering, having inserted himself so thoroughly.
Raimo knew he needed to distance himself to think clearly. His effort to find Adrastus and begin gathering his hunters could not end with that first failure. The shadow roamed in search of
@Lótë — she was the greatest candidate for his group, aside from
@Sialuk, who he imagined would not be keen to follow him on any hunt.
Especially if he carried the scent of her mother so heavily.
She would be found, as surely as any prey of the first hunter was likely to be snared. He would find her in the thickets near her dwelling, where she had finished tilling some earth in a few days past. Now the mouse worked to transplant a few budding seedlings of medicinal herbs that she had located in the lower reaches of the Spine, though she had taken care to give the latest group of refugees space to settle in -- wondering if their numbers would join the ranks of Moonglow.
When the pitch of Raimo's silhouette materialized before her, the fawn-pelted yearling glanced up with a wary flicker of her ears. Not quite expecting to see the shadowed shape of him so near her sleeping place. Not quite sure if she liked the sight of him there -- for she was still uncertain of the pantherine woodsman and he was a jarring figure compared to the ghostly icewolf she was more accustomed to seeing near her den.
Her tensions heightened seeing the confident bolster of his movements, smelling the heavy perfume of Kukutux on his pelt. "Raimo," she greeted regardlessly, silently wondering what he wanted.
I greet you. A fine day for scouting.
He says, tipping his chin in a little nod to her. He sees what she is working on but does not understand it, so does not comment. Instead Raimo plunges ahead with his primary focus, straight to business.
I wondered if I may speak with you. When last we spoke you mentioned your interest in tracking. As I have been titled as the first among the hunters, I would like to name you my second. Kukutux says the men and women are usually divided by their roles, but you show promise as a hunter.
It was a lot of words, more than he liked to use, and maybe confusing. He hoped it made sense. My hope is to prepare a hunting party for the future.
He had tried to speak with Adrastus similarly and it had not gone well. Raimo would rather work with Lote anyway, so the loss was not so great.
The dove's brow furrowed slightly, gaze falling to her seedlings as the subordinate fought the urge to lower herself beneath the searching weight of his mismatched gaze. Despite the ingrained urge to give in and say yes, she fought against it as the wrongness of it settled over her. "It is my understanding that there are two circles in the village...one of the women and one of the hunters."
"I am neither man nor hunter." True enough, she could hunt and did but it was not her trade. Nor did she feel comfortable upsetting the societal boundaries that Kukutux's traditions had defined for their tribe. It even warred against her own native clan's thinking. She had learned to hunt to survive, because it was necessary. She continued to do so because it was acceptable here -- their wisewoman's own daughter was a renowned huntress. "I would be willing to help with any pack hunts and assist you with your own hunting if you would like. But I do not think it would be appropriate for me to be your second."
It surprised Raimo to hear Lote speak so carefully around him. He believed they were of a similar make-up; that their people were not terribly different, and closer to one-another than she was to Kukutux or Sialuk and their culture. The longer he stood there listening the more he understood. She refused him — like Adrastus.
He drew a slow, steady breath in.
Did nobody trust in him, here? What had he done to cause such disloyalty, such skepticism? Raimo did not think it was so strange to build himself a hunting party that included women - Sialuk came to mind as chief huntress among the collective, and she did not overstep any boundaries by being a woman and being capable of hunting - so to hear Lote speak against him, Raimo took it deeply personally.
Alright.
He concedes.
There was nothing else to talk about. He felt himself closing off against Lote on some level, delegating her (regrettably) to the same mental camp as he had Adrastus: unwanted, potentially threatening to his own position. Something closer to an enemy than a friend.
If you change your mind, come and find me.
He offers as an option — unwilling to close things off with her so quickly. Perhaps because she is young and can be taught to be better, whereas Adrastus was something altogether different.
He had no reason to linger, and began to move away from her, to leave her unless there was a reason to linger.
The herd-watcher kept soft jade upon his back as the shadow melted back into the woodworks around them, her eyes lingering upon the place where he had stood long after he had left. Something stirred beneath her breastbone, restlessly pacing like a trapped animal. Her brow furrowed, left wondering again after the man's unbalanced behavior. Something cold had cemented between them, a distance she felt but could not yet understand. The rabbit had hoped to be courteous and respectful in her rejection but the frigid temperature that had crackled over the raven each time her submissive disposition rankled him was bone chilling. The yearling couldn't understand why her neutral stance and refusal to get involved in Raimo's conflict irked him so -- only that the way his eyes pierced her was startlingly familiar, inspiring a sensation like ice creeping up her nape.
She no longer felt like gardening but the botanist did not wish for the herbs to go to waste -- not to mention it felt like defeat to allow Raimo the power in frightening her away from her den -- so she bent back over her work. Even so, her green gaze occasionally flickered to the treeline, imagining dark silhouettes moving amongst the pines.