As a wandering wolf, she had few rituals to speak of beyond those that kept her alive. Rise in the morning, hunt when convenient, explore what she may to find another den before the night. But as a wolf of the Vale, rituals became a common occurrence however strange they tended to be. Her offerings to her brethren were perhaps the most notable, yet her wandering in the night escaped the attention of most.

It had begun at first when she felt the confines of the den were too warm and her body craved the soft caress of the cool night air. Then each time she succumbed to the innocent venture, the amount of time she spent wandering increased first by minutes then hours. And in truth, she did not believe her denmate had noticed. His mind as of late had been fixed on the safety and security of the Vale, that she did not believe her shadow paid attention to her behavior, let alone any other changes that had occurred with her. The sentiment left her bothered somewhat, concerned as to why she did not hold his eye as she believed she had before. Their silence had dwindled from a pleasure to a burden, and her ventures soon became an escape.

With her ritual came the habitual marking of her trail. Bits of her fur from winter clung to bush and brittle twig, so heavy with her scent that her nostrils became attuned to it more than the woodland itself. She did not know why she did this, only that each time she paused it was with the hope of being noticed. But that too began to fade as the nightly strolls turned to hours from the den. Efforts gone by the time the sun rose for the coming day.

And this night as she emerged, she perceived no different than the other. Minding her companion, she slipped from the cool wall to feel the air though her fur upon heated skin. She was quiet, as always, as she took the first steps to again practice her ritual…

In the night, she had gone but a few steps before a voice rumbled from the depths of the darkness. Strange, for though she heard it many a time through the day, there was a tone hardly received in these nights as of late. She could hear his fatigue, the wear of the day before, and yet he pulled himself from slumber to take notice. The fine hairs along her back rose in startled array, then smoothed when she found no trace of aggression in his deep, grumbled voice. There had been no intention to wake him, truly, yet a significant part of her was glad for it. If only because in her retreat he had took notice, even if it had taken some time for this to occur.

“Then winter’s grasp must be strong,” coyly she replied, raspy chords playing softly as she turned her gaze toward him. She tipped her muzzle back to spy the lying form in the darkness. The single molten orb aglow to mark that place of his eye amidst the shades of shadow and night. Unlike the tired beast, his autumn charge was very much awake, infused by the fragrance of her own scent and the tantalizing aroma of the coming spring buds. Even in the late hour. “You sleep so soundly,” turning from her escape crept toward him with muzzle low tail sweeping, the black flesh of her muzzle just within reach of his own; a hair’s breadth but not yet touching. “You have not noticed it for feel of the warmth on your face in the morning,” she whispered, fending off the hint of sadness in her voice. “Nor do you mind it when you trace the borders in the day.” Her ears drew back as she halted before him, then lowered down to her belly with forelegs outstretched to encompass either side of his head.

“Have you noticed anything more… than the cold of… what I thought was ours?”

She had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have his attention on her. Thoughts of how she missed its intimacy filled her mind, until she became aware of how much she had longed for it in their quiet days. The eye fixed solely upon her and not drifting to the borders of the Vale. His thoughts on her and none other if only for this moment in time.

Smiling gently to his reply she inched her paw forward carefully to rub at the base of his ear. Her lids grew somewhat heavy as if suddenly burdened by the spell of sleep, but the spark of her eyes showed she was very much awake. The hammering of her heart against the earth would tell of it as well. “And you rarely speak at all… at least to me.” By no means could she fault him for this, as his loyalty and duty to the pack was commendable. None could ask for a better guard to their haven than the beast that kept it whole. He was the embodiment of the mountain, towering, cruel to the face of the fearing, yet secure in its foundations. Never out of sight long to make those within his range feel unsafe. Dangerous to cross without caution, yet a splendor to marvel in all his complexities.

“But…” she breathed softly as her muzzle lowered to rest beside its coal other. “If I am quiet now… will you speak to me, please? Will you share with me your thoughts… so your den will not be cold?” Never had she asked for anything as cryptic as this, yet she could not find words by any other means. She did not want to leave his side, not ever. But she could not deny her perceptions of their relationship; how she felt herself drifting with each silent night and day she went further unseen in the manner she desired. She wanted much more, the look she had been given on the mountain. The spark that had charged between herself and Njal. The elation in heart she felt the day the warriors gave chase in the pines.

The truth was valued for reasons such as this; for knowing each time he spared words with her they were of his mind, and she came to believe them as if truth was granted a tangible form. Hesitation in belief came when doubt was present, but there was none as she received his words as gospel, memorizing, replaying, even amidst the grumble of each word and syllable. For the longest, ever since her conversation with Anemone, she had feared what impression the demon might have had of her. Would she lose his favor over time? Would he find her presence a nuisance after a while? His silence never offered an answer to any of this leaving her to wade in the encompassing seas of doubt. But in hearing now his impressions, she felt such a weight lift from her breast. So much she breathed deeply as if surfacing from the seas to breathe the free air the first time.

She was beyond a proper word, having never received this likeness beyond the desires conceived by her thoughts. But where words were lacking, the expressions of the soul eager took their place, conducting the female as only the heart could. Rapidly beating as it sang of its glee.

Her whine was soft, neither in pain nor displeasure, but unyielding glee as her muzzle descended on the dark mask. Her tongue unfurled lavished the whole of the scarred visage, leaving no surface unkissed, no scar without a healing blessing. No cheek without a nuzzle as she sang quietly of true, unbridled happiness. May she be called a fool for allowing the simplest of words to bring her such joy, but it was in this that her passion was shown, her trust in the male, and her favor of him.

“Never would I dislike you,” she confessed, inching forward across her belly to bury her nose within the dark folds of his scruff. There too she caressed the fur with a kindly tongue, then let her eyes slipped as she deeply inhaled his comforting scent. “Never could I part from you. Without knowing your thoughts… I had feared you would no longer favor my presence. I feared you would no longer take notice of me…”

Truly the Vale was a paradise upon the earth, for it was here that she found such happiness and peace. Had she not crossed paths with the beast in the night by the lake, undoubtedly she would have spent her time wallowing until time withered her into semblance of her dame. A bitter, cruel female that thrived on the pessimism of believing there was no hope or care in the world. She would have become like her, or drifted away in the wilds. Never to have known the happiness embraced now.

Her tail swayed to the excitedly rhythm of her heart, playing the song of her mirth as she whines chorused quietly. Indeed, he was a creature of few emotions, but she believed his words more so than his expressions. For no creature of darkness would utter such things lightly. “I have found a peace in you that I have never known before,” again she whispered, kissing both shoulder and exposure of his throat. “I had carried a doubt… but I see now it was foolish. Your silence was no cause for fear… I understand this now, and I am glad for it.”

Her want to depart from the den had faded leaving her with only the desire to be closer to her shadow. Still, her body felt the warmth under her pelt brought on by the ending winter, but it was ignored in favor of returning to the side of her cherished beast. Her movement was swift, a sudden rise from the cold earth to return to the interior of the den and rest along the side of her shadow, beige shoulder to obsidian fur. Crooning sweetly she rolled to her side to she faced him, extending her muzzle to seek the warmth of his neck in the hopes she might caress the dark fur once more.

Where words became moot, expression took their place. The calm of the den returning as both found individual peace that melded harmoniously together. No experience in life would have prepared her for this moment, and for this, she was glad for the surprise that came. A bud had been planted and with care it was nurtured. It was the presence of her shadow, his encouragement, his peace, that led to its growth until it blossomed and consumed her heart whole. She knew nothing of his past, the crimes, the dangers, his pain or his anger-only as he was when she met him. And while most would see a danger to themselves, a true demon not worth the adoration of an innocent, she believed no other was more worth it that he. Her adored, revered shadow and all his complications.

“…my shadow,” she claimed in but a whisper of breath into his nape. Nosing deeper she parted the dark fur with each calmed breath, then inhaled his scent in the raw found upon his skin. It was like no others, and she enjoyed it for this. Each breath savored as if upon her withdrawal she would never know of it again. And though she cherished it, loved it, she was bold in her assertion of another. Her tongue peeked through, timid in its progression, then slid along the oiled fur to flesh leaving upon him a scent that was hers. And hopefully accepted.