Wolf RPG

With @Ariadne confined to the glacier's foot, the raven busied herself with exploring the surrounding area. Familiarisation took time, yet she wished to forge paths and wayposts before the snow set in fully and navigation would become more challenging.

She had not seen her corvid friend in some time, that was until a rowdy squawk from overhead drew a breathless laugh from the glacier-woman. "How fares your travels, spirit?" To any onlookers, Tulugak may have seemed a madwoman, but her meltwater eyes read the rustle of his feathers and the tap tap tap of his beak with practiced understanding. 

Tossing a strip of dried deer meat high into the air, she watched with a giggle as he caught it deftly in his claws and carried it to a nearby perch to eat, taking the time to rest and plan her route through the forest towards the mountain in the near distance.

The panther had been told plenty of stories about these wilds by his parents and extended family — but he couldn't say for sure if he was standing somewhere his ancestors had stood at any given time. He thought he recognized Silvertip Mountain, and the hot springs marked the cliffs upon which his mother had grown up. But what about here? This forest?

He supposed it didn't really matter. It could be left up to his imagination — and it could be saved for another time, when he was not exploring it first with his own paws and his own eyes.

And his own ears, which perked at the sound of another voice nearby. The panther moved toward the sound and came up on a pale wolf — apparently all by her lonesome.

"Do you speak to the trees?" he called out to her, announcing his presence before he began to draw nearer. His tail wheeled in jaunty greeting — he thought he smelled other moonwolves on her pelt.

A voice drew her focus from scouting to figure of a man approaching swiftly. A new face - not one she had seen around the village yet - but then again Tulugak had a tendency to keep to herself more often than not. 

"Not quite," she smiled softly, putting her task to one side and rising to greet the newcomer with a wave of her own tail snowy tail. "I speak to the spirits - well - spirit." As if on cue, the bird gave an indignant squawk. "They are all around us if you choose to look close enough." Even the trees possessed anirniq, the breath of all things living. Curious, she wondered what he would do with this information.

The woman did not fluster; Dutch might have been disappointed if her answer had not intrigued him. He looked to the bird, and then to the trees around them before his gaze zipped back to the woman. Tulugak, he decided, as Ariadne had called her ravenwoman.

"What does the spirit say?" he asked in earnest wonder. Did she really understand the bird? Would he be teased? The panther was eager to learn whatever Tulugak might tell him, even or especially if it was that she was full of mischief.

He approached her fully, then, not sensing any wariness at his presence. Yes, he could smell Moonsong upon her. His tail swept again against his hocks.

As he drew closer, she too recognised the scent of moonwolves upon his pelt, faint as they were, relaxing further and giggling quietly at his apparent fascination. It was not unusual for Tulugak to meet those unaccustomed to the ways of the north. In fact, it rather excited her to indulge him what her people believed. Though, she would have a little fun first.

"He says you smell worse than a reindeer's rump," a suddenly serious look on her face. In truth, she was not shaman nor an expert in spiritual communication, yet there were certain vocalisations or movements the snowcloud had begun to recognise as signals for the birds mood. Meltwater eyes fixed on the man, inquisitively guaging his reaction.

Mischief it was! The panther's countenance was equally serious as he absorbed this answer. Finally, he said, "He is filled with much wisdom."

Dutch turned to the bird and, with a humble dip of his head, he sat before it.

"Brother spirit, please tell me my fortune — I will make many offerings of carrion in return," he called up to the bird. His head turned briefly back to Tulugak, and he made a heartfelt request: "Spirit-speaker, will you translate again?"

Then his eyes were back on the bird. He made an admirable show of respect and fascination sitting there with his gaze fixed so intently on the darkwing creature.

Tulugak didn't quite know what she expected, but it certainly brought great joy to see the man match her energy. Whether the raven spirit could understand or not did not shake the amusement of the comical scene before her.

Tail stirring behind her, he snowcloud played the role of spirit-speaker and made a show of watching intently as the darkbird ruffled it's feathers, feigning translation as requested. "Your soul is bright and will attract many things - love, hate, rabbits the size of ice bears," she grinned, persona cracking slightly. "When the long nights come, stay true to yourself and you will find success in many hunts." This, at least, she believed was true.

"Here, for his hard work," she slipped him a piece of dried deer for him to thank the spirit.

The panther warmed further to the woman when the fortune she told was almost favorable, as he had been expecting more irreverent jokes at his expense. That would have pleased him too, but instead, he felt flattered by the kindness in this admittedly ridiculous future. He maintained his air of fawning intrigue until her composure broke — and then he held his own long enough to feign offense:

"Do you laugh at my fortune, spirit speaker?" he accused. Next he addressed the bird, his tone severe: "Your maidservant mocks me."

He broke character a little to accept the piece of jerky from Tulugak, his bright eyes crinkling briefly in thanks. He turned and offered it to the bird with genuine wonderment, having never gotten the chance to actually interact with one before. Her spirit must be gentle to have befriended such a flighty creature.

"I thank you for your guidance, wise spirit," he said when his mouth was free, reclaiming his character. "But you, knave, must answer for your disrespect. I challenge you to a duel of honor!"

Perhaps he was just a little too "into" playing pretend.

"You may choose our battlefield. Is it to be wits? Skill? — Sticks?"

His eyes alighted on a thin, whippy bough that hung just withing grabbing distance, but he did not lunge for it just yet.

At the man's accusation, Tulugak's facade broke completely and she burst into laughter. "First he insults your cleanliness, and then he says you will be eaten by giant rabbits," she paused, breathless, "how am I not to laugh at that?" It was truly an awfully humerous fortune!

Once her giggles died down, she watched contently as the bird snatched the meat and settled on a higher perch to pick at the meal, feathers fluffed against the cold. 

He broke the silence and the snowcloud followed suit, a very serious and brave look suddenly upon her face. "Do you have any idea who you are up against?" It was reminiscent of childhood, this game of pretend. And while she puffed out her chest, something reignited inside her. Something that had once burned brightly as she and her sisters romped through the snow now long forgotten with age. 

"I, Tulugak, the greatest of all hunters in Moonsong, challenge you to a duel of... sticks!"

The panther's expression remained thunderous despite the delighted sparkle in his tangy eyes. They faced down, each challenging the other's bluster with the assurance that no one's feelings would really be hurt. The dramatics appealed to him on a soul-deep level — he was happiest when engaging in tall tales and flights of fancy, whether it was telling them to a crowd of wide-eyed children or acting them out as if he were still a child himself.

At that last word — sticks — his nostrils flared, and he swung around to snap the swishy branch from its tree in one quick, jerky motion.

"En garde!" he growled, his voice warped slightly by the need to keep his teeth clenched. He bounded forward, whipping the stick at her ankles before darting off with a breathless, slightly muffled cackle. He did not go far before he swung around to face her again, already looking for another opening.

When Dutch lunged for the trees, so too did Tulugak, searching swiftly for a worthy blade. She snapped off an equally whippy stick, though considerably shorter than her opponent's, in hopes of sacrificing reach for accuracy.

She spun round as the man's thunderous challenge pierced the air, stick at the ready as meltwater eyes scrutinised his dancing approach. But his movements were fast and hard to read - his weapon even more unpredictable - and so Tulugak could only manage a clumsy hop to the side as his foil made contact with her shins.

"You're going to regret that!" she bellowed, tail whipping in excitement, though it sounded significantly less threatening and more muffled around wood. As Dutch made for another joust, this time for her head, she ducked and dove for his exposed neck, stick outstretched and making use of her smaller frame as she kept a closer eye on his movements this time.

The panther's laughter came out choked and breathless as they chased each other about with their sticks, sometimes freezing to engage in a brief stare-down. Dark tail wheeling, he made every effort to smack her with the thin, brushy end of his stick.

"It's over, Tulugak," he called during a brief reprieve where they stood apart, Dutch having been chased halfway up a hill. "I have the high ground!

But he could hardly defeat her with a stick. He was prepared instead to "go down fighting" in order to preserve the drama of their fight. Otherwise, they might forever remain at an impasse, or else find a way to bleed each other to death via ten-thousand swishy stick scratches.

Her favour for accuracy did little to put her at an advantage and it was only by matter of agility that she managed to dodge the worst of his assaults. What did make contact, she returned with a cackle and a jab of her own until she stood panting at the foot of the rise.

The stick was tattered and bent by now, as if it had seen ten-thousand stick wars. Thanking it for its service, she tossed it aside, snorting at Dutch's declaration. The nerve of him to think he has won already! "You underestimate my power!" she bellowed up at her enemy. It was risky, however, now without a weapon, there was only one thing she could think to do.

With a flying leap, she charged up the hill in hopes of tackling him to the ground with her bare paws to put an end to their duel once and for all. 

The panther's eyes widened comically alongside his grin. He met Tulugak's leap with a hunter's shout — and was gladly bowled over. They went tumbling down the next slope, the panther's teeth seeking purchase with force just short of bruising.

Mostly.

As they rolled to a stop, he scrabbled his paws helplessly in the air, and then stretched one toward the winter sun.

"HONOOOOORR!" he wailed, and the he clutched at his heart for a moment before going limp.

https://media.tenor.com/wMokrapZ964AAAPo...ingdom.mp4

They were a ball of limbs and fur falling over and over one another, Tulugak feigning growls and lazy snaps of her jaws in between raucous giggles. The touch of his teeth grazing her shoulder was electric. With a final burst of energy (and with help from a little of Dutch's dramatics), she pinned his wriggling body to the cold ground in a victory pose. 

"A valiant effort, Dutch of the White Spine," she grinned devilishly, wanting to be his deathbed vision. "But now you must die." Jaws dived to gently lock his throat, remaining there as he screamed bloody honour and releasing only when she felt him go limp.

Breathless from the excursion, she flopped on her back beside him and gazed sideways at his 'dead' body. Never before had she felt so... light - as if she could float like a feather through the winter-blue sky.

Even in death, the panther wore a grin of fierce joy. The game had filled him with similar levity, although it was not, perhaps, as much of a change for him as it might be for Tulugak. He came back to life to lay a warm, admiring look on his conqueror — not so much for her battle prowess as for her willingness to engage in his frivolous play.

"You are a formidable opponent," he lauded her, "Perhaps next time we will fight on the same team."

His eyes sparkled with mirth as he imagined ganging up on someone else. Valiant, perhaps!

She preened at his compliment. "It is down to practice," she hummed, calmed now in the aftermath of their play. "A wolf is not so different from a caribou or an ox." Though their anatomies were not the same, their spirits all possessed a similar shape. Once you knew how to navigate one, it was not so difficult to kill another.

"Our next victim will stand no chance," she agreed happily, lips parting in a wide yawn. Despite his antics, she imagined there was a lot to learn from Dutch.