Moonstone Quarry tell me, little wolf

@Cicerø + tag for ref but free to join!

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— it is not easy, is it? to travel to a new land once accustomed to one hardly before. raedwulf surely has his complaints, but each goes unvoiced. he is understanding of why, of the reasons.
he will live in the now. loyal to the chieftain, the jarl, of the claim he has sworn himself to. and, he is kept in place for more than just that. he enjoys the company of the girl @Rhaena, and more than hers, the company of the healer-man, cicero.
raedwulf chuckles softly at the thought of him now, as he deposits the carcass of a jackrabbit within the cache he had dug out near the center of the territory.

cameo! <3

The shadow girl sees him. Out of the corner of her eye, just as she rounds the slope near the cache. The soft thud of the jackrabbit meeting earth is a sound easily missed, but not by her. Not with her ears straining more than she'd admit: Raedwulf.
Rhaena doesn’t pause; but her gait shifts. The moment slows. Just enough for the silence to speak louder than words ever could. A hmph escapes her, sharp and guarded, a poor veil for the flinch behind her eyes. She doesn’t meet his gaze. Doesn’t dare to, not when she knows she is the wound still scabbing beneath his ribs. The weight of her mistake lingers, tucked in the tightness of her jaw, the downcast flick of her ears.
She had strayed, left him wondering, maybe even fearing. And though her path had brought her back, she’d not yet found the voice to say I’m sorry.
So the shadow girl walks past him like he’s a stranger she aches to touch. Let him think she’s still upset; it's easier than unraveling the guilt inside her bones.

The move was tough for the hjartvörður. Travelling long, perilous distances was difficult, but it was necessary. He'd been slower than the rest—making several trips to and fro with a mouthful of herbs. He'd scavenged a fawn's carcass to flay the hide to make a loose, makeshift pouch. It sag heavily at against one shoulder as he struggled to traverse over jagged rock and rubble. Lips drawn taught, brows furrowed. Perhaps he was being selfish when he wished Solharr had chosen terrain less...volatile. A complaint he'd keep to himself, as there wasn't an obstacle he would allow to conquer. 

Neverwinter forest was a thing of the past now. Haunted with the ghost of white sylph, it's trees still whispering with her voice should one listen close enough. Observant as ever, the grief that their hárkonungr walked with had slowly began to ebb. Perhaps it had to do with the multitude of young woman often flocking the sun-man. Something he'd observed with hush amusement, something left unsaid. It the man wished to find comfort in another woman, Cicero wouldn't be one to judge. It made sense, after all.

His trip back into the quarry had led him toward Raedwulf. The norseman that'd crept into the healer's thoughts and made a home there. There was a warmth, whenever their eyes would meet. Words left unsaid, feelings that even a man as brilliant as Cicero could not make sense of. Or rather, he didn't want to...

He was not alone. Not completely. Where Cicero lingers in the shadow of rugged pine, he watches a young woman stride past. Angry, upset. Her chin turned upward in attempt to mask her it, but it practically oozed off her. And then she is gone, and Cicero is striding forward to greet Raewulf with a bow of his head.

"You've upset her," he hummed. Tired eyes casted to watch the woman fade away, one of his brows raised. It wasn't his business, and yet he couldn't help himself. "Lovers quarrel?" And...was that a hint jealousy in his voice?

the healer speaks with his usual bite, but there is something else beneath it today. raedwulf’s ears twitch. the word lover does not land clean; not with his tongue. but he catches the question in tone, in eyes.

he does not answer at first. he steps closer. his shoulder brushes cicero’s as he passes by to nudge the cache closed again. then—

nā.
heo is mæden. ġeong.

a teasing glint in brown eyes. rhaena was of no interest to raedwulf—not in that way. too young, and not shaped like the slender healer man he felt compelled for.