maybe the muck is worth it, if she can catch a fish. even so, tasha still detests getting her feet dirty.

blood is a fine fragrance, but mud is not. she wears the crimson proud, but dirt only serves to highlight the brown hues in her pelt, and it smells, too. not the rich, iron-tang of blood; it is earthy, like worms after rain. she despises it.

still, she sits on the banks and waits for a fish. when a prime specimen finally comes, she shoves her head under the water and comes up with her jaws empty.

so perhaps the muck isn't worth it, if her luck is poor today. but her stomach is empty; she cannot afford to go back to her chosen rendezvous point without prey. so she crouches and waits, emerald gaze skimming the surface of the water, trying to remain still for as long as she can.

oh lovely, this mud-splattered shitshow has an audience. trying to compose herself, she blinks slowly at the pale woman, emerald gaze glowing despite the muck. you have come at a bad time, she jokes, her voice rueful. you should come back when i have something to show for my efforts. she shakes the droplets from her ruff and begins to pace toward the other, nostrils flaring.

ah, this one has friends. she is more intrigued than unnerved at the prospect, and flashes a smile her way--just an innocent girl in the mud. you look in fine health, tasha remarks, dipping her muzzle toward the woman's burly figure. it will serve you well, when the winter comes. who are you?

it is difficult to perform for an audience, she says, grinning. well. . .at least some tasks are. the woman's name almost makes her laugh out loud, and she stops herself in time, though her ears push far forward at the sound of it. treason. her parents must have hated her--or loved treason. either way, what a peculiar moniker! perhaps one day she would tell tasha the story, if they became well enough acquainted.

my name is tashkent-luk, the princess responds, dipping her head in a graceful bow. just 'tashkent' will do. i come from khorasan, originally--now, i wander. it wasn't far from the truth, save that her wandering consisted of scheming as well as sight-seeing. the scenic route had its perks. nothing like sampling the real estate before you bought.

where is lost creek hollow from here?

tasha shakes her head, inclining it in the rough direction of khorasan. i come from the east, bagadur, she replies, looking rueful. i do not know at all about the river. perhaps it does. hopefully, for the fishes' sake, not to mention ours, she adds with a smirk, a quiet burst of laughter.

she takes an idle inhale, letting it go slowly through pursed lips. i have much to learn about this land, tashkent says, wonder in her tone. have you been here long, treason? you and your family? she gestures with an arc of her nose at the landscape. this i am familiar with, but the mountains, the forests. . .those are different from everything i have ever known.

ooh, the snow. tashkent loves the snow. so crisp, so pale. the way the sun bounces off a fresh layer. . .simply sublime. the warrioress's warning goes right over her head as she begins to daydream of snow, only brought back to reality when the second two queries come.

she laughs, a deep, gurgling sound. i need no pack, treason, tasha croons, grinning. family is everything to me. they are mine, and i am theirs. that is the only pack i need. she tilts her head, ears swiveling forward. but i do need friends, bagadur. will you be my friend? she asks sweetly, blinking once or twice as she stares at the burly woman.

not much of a conversationalist, but that isn't what tashkent wants her for, anyway.

tashkent's eyes widen, her lips rounding in a silent 'o.' my, you are persistent, the girl giggles, smiling broadly. a woman of my own heart. i mean it when i say that i am looking for friendship, treason. there is an infinitesimal stress on the name that she doubts the warrioress will miss. but if you do not trust me enough for that, i shall have to settle for your acquaintance, instead.

she casts a glance toward the horizon, growing bored with this circular conversation. i must make my way back to my family, now, tasha says, looking rueful. i wish you and your pack good health. lost creek hollow. i will pay a visit, sometime.

should the woman deign to stop her, she will stop, but until that moment of truth, she begins to sashay away, swinging her tail to and fro, giving treason one more peek back over her shoulder. goodbye, bagadur, she calls softly.