Noctisardor Bypass sacred

A day passes. The meat from her hunt with Uktark is ate or hidden away in a cache, the bones buried or displayed. The hide however, is Dione's project.

It has been cleaned, dried overnight away from snow and made neat with careful tears and bites. She lays with her work at her feet now, face filled with pride. She will keep it for her own den as Uktark suggests, though she hopes that by the next season it will not belong to her alone. Her line demands growth.

However, to have the hide displayed in her den she realizes that she first needs to find one. Dione stands, tossing the hide over her back. That will need to be the project for today.

Looking over the surrounding territory, she begins to walk inland.

morwenna approached with the still authority of someone long accustomed to being watched.

the black caribou hide marked the other woman plainly—work well done, labor earned. grey fangs was settling into itself. morwenna allowed herself to see that, to respect it.

she stopped at a reasonable distance and inclined her head, the gesture unmistakably queenly without being overbearing.

you wear the hunt well, she said, voice calm, cool as winter glass.

the fangs have chosen you kindly.

her pale gaze lifted, still assessing the white woman. she was impressed with what she's seen.

i am morwenna, she continued.

my husband and i have settled here, beneath uktark. blackfell is his second. as far as she's aware, between their brotherly bond.

A stranger approaches, instinct flags Dione's tail. It's good that they come with compliments.

I am Dione. A friend of Uktark. She supposes it to be a fair title, for now.

Her pace does not slow, but she is not avoidant either. Another woman, one who already has a mate, is not ideal, but it also means she isn't entirely competition. Besides, a friend might be something worth considering.

How long have the Grey Fangs been here? Or rather, for how long had they avoided detection? Dione had been in the Taiga since Darukaal left, watching new wolves come and go, so it wasn't a stretch to think she could have missed them.

morwenna matched her pace, not crowding, not retreating—walking beside her as one sovereign woman to another.

weeks, she answered calmly, as if the number had been weighed and chosen with care.

quiet ones. the bypass does not ask to be seen, and we have had no need to announce ourselves.

her gaze swept the land ahead, the snowbound valley folded into itself like a kept secret.

for me, there is no reason to leave its shelter, she continued, voice even, queenly without sharpness. a reprieve from the cruelty on the outside.

then her eyes returned to dione—measured, thoughtful.

friends of uktark are welcome ones, morwenna said. are you wed?

while she was not battling saatsine any longer; she could help other battles. the era of the marriage market.

Not long, then. It gave Dione relief from the idea that she had come late.

Morwenna's sentiment was not one shared. Dione was born from wanderers, and in her heart she would always be one when the circumstances were right. Shelter was for feeding mothers and unweaned pups.

Not yet. I'd like to be before the season's end. She felt no need to hide this intention; it was only natural. The strong continued their lines until they no longer could, and a fresh pack needed pups. It's been a lonely year.

When she arrived to the Teekons, prospects were limited. Litters were already being had, women were choosing their men.

morwenna listened intently.

this, i may help you with.

her gaze shifted briefly—toward the higher ground where the men often gathered, where teeth and pride settled questions long before words did.

the males here contest for breeding rites, she said evenly. strength is measured publicly. choice follows after.

a pause, thoughtful—not unkind.

the sangilak has not yet taken a mate. uktark’s title carried weight when she spoke it, deliberate and considered.

she knew of the moondancer. but not heard much from her. or the status of their relationship.

he values endurance. restraint. a woman who does not beg for notice.

her eyes returned to dione, assessing without judgment.

if you wish to be chosen before the season turns, you will not be without opportunity.

Dione considers this new knowledge with reserved silence.

A woman who does not beg for notice. Dione frowned, considering these words. Did that mean she was meant to sit idly by and wait? The thought itself irked her; she was a titaness, confident in her step and her word. It was not in her nature to wait when she could easily take what she wanted.

I'm interested. She had surely proven her strength, that she had the endurance to last and provide as a mother for any pack; whether it was Uktark's or anothers. My season will come in the mid winter, it always does. Like clockwork every year. Will he have chosen by then?

She needed to know her situation before she settled. If there was no chance of finding what she wanted here, another would provide it for her.

morwenna did not pretend certainty where there was none.

i do not know, she said calmly. he does what he pleases.

her gaze lifted to the frost-heavy horizon, where winter would soon tighten its grip.

once the cold deepens and the women begin to heat, the battles will come. her voice carried no romance for it—only fact. claims are proven then, not spoken.

she looked back to dione, eyes narrowing slightly in appraisal.

hunting will serve you well. it already does. a beat. but strength alone is rarely enough.

her head tilted, thoughtful.

what else do you bring?

Dione did not hide the frustration the shone through in her furrowed brow. She was not content with waiting,

and she certainly did not need to prove herself to this woman.

He knows my history, he knows what I bring. She was a proven mother, her bloodline was strong, and she was a collector of fine trophies. She had protected her own territory before, only leaving after the death of a weak mate.

She followed tradition, base instincts. wedding customs, talk of wives and men, she didn't care for it. Blood could be shed over pairings, Dione knew that well, but she also knew that there would always be another. After all, her next mate would be her third.

But no matter what, you didn't waste time.

morwenna nodded once.

not dismissal—recognition.

she did not press. did not ask her to spill what had been earned with blood and years. good, she thought. a woman who kept her trades close tended to survive the season.

then he will judge with his eyes, not my words, morwenna said evenly. "that is his way."

her gaze held dione’s a moment longer—measured, unthreatened.

the frost will decide the rest. when heat comes, no one waits. not men, not women.

a pause, deliberate.

the fangs must grow, no matter the custom, however. as long as the man you pick is strong, there needn't be nothing else.

This time, Dione agrees. She doesn't voice it, but it's clear through a single nod.

Thank you Morwenna. I'll consider what you have said. She means it; Morwenna has provided something necessary. For now, I'll call you a friend too. Maybe 'friend' wasn't the right word, but nonetheless Dione didn't mind her.

A wave of her tail was Dione's goodbye, the titaness slipping away into another part of the bypass to continue her search.