Northstar Vale lion's den

maybe somebody from mereo? :eyes: all welcome though!

four days.

three moons and four suns.

it was on this fourth day that bartholomew dared to see the sun. the vale around him a stark contrast from the places he had cut through. his willowy form grew lean, a new addition of muscles he had not once had. a hunger that teetered him into a near fevered state.

He had provided once again.

bartholomew had begun his punishment and God had witnessed it, a salvation in the abyss of stone.

hastily, in the morning light, he drank his fill of water from the creek that cut through the land.

The wounds she had suffered from her fight had slowed her escape. She lost track of the boy immediately and could not remember where it was that she’d met the few men who had been kind to her. Annoying, but kind. 

She’d done her best to clean the wounds on her face, but there was nothing to be done with her ears which had both been torn clear off. The blood had congealed, and had begun to scab. Such an ugly disfiguration to have.

It was too early yet for her to tell if her attempt to conceive had been successful or not. It had taken nearly all of her available cycle for her to even find someone willing and naive enough to take her. She snorted ruefully. Then again- maybe he would be the one to find. And guilt him into taking care of her now.

She travelled in search of cool, clean waters so that she might wash her face again. The creek drew her attention, as did the figure she saw drinking from it. She squinted at him warily, from a number of yard down, on the opposite bank. Then, she lowered her head to drink, keeping watchful with the corner of her eye.

a disgruntled, disfigured thing appeared in his peripheral. far enough away that he did not stir with immediate discomfort. however he remained alert now.

it would be wrong to ignore her, wouldn't it be? he was not supposed to turn away those in need.

his usual greeting did not fall from his lips.

do you need...assistance?

he remained downstream from her, golden eyes fixed upon her worn face.

She lifted to stare accusationally at him when he dared to imply that she was not thriving. She only caught part of what he’d said, as the healing in her ears did muffle his words a bit, but she gathered that he’d offered help. 

She snorted and looked him up and down. An odd coat, with curls as though he’d spent too long in the water, and ears that looked weak and droopy. ”Mebbe fex yer oon ears ‘fore ye start offerin’ te fix mine,” she criticized. His eyes looked kind, his offer genuine. She paused. ”Awful hungry tho. Hadn’ eaten in too long,” She griped, and peered at him hopefully.

been doing a lot of group threads XD so this can be a cameo until you want to bring her into it. Feel free to tag me if/when you want to notice her being a creeper

Tierra wasn't sure why she was so captivated by a guy who looked like someone took a wolf and pulled aspects of his body in completely wrong ways. His ears were weirdly long and flopped over in a way that looked painful. His muzzle was round, his tail was awkwardly thin, and his coat was crazy curly. But something about it was.... really kinda hot.

She peeked out from the brush a ways off while he spoke to some woman. She couldn't hear exactly what they were saying when they spoke low, but certain words came through. She might have been jealous if whoever this was wasn't such a train wreck. She definitely sympathized and could barely look at her with the way her ears were gone like that, but she was also pretty happy this guy had picked one of the most unfortunate looking wolves she'd ever seen to be talking to right now. Absolute score.

She didn't want to interrupt them mostly because she didn't want to be forced to interact with this disfigured woman. She wanted to catch him alone and she'd lurk behind, staying hidden as best she could, until she could manage that.

his features morphed, an ugly look on a once kind face.

his spirit truly had been broken, hadn't it? snapped off on the back of a woman he hardly knew. did God too look down on him with such venom as this woman? was she a messenger of his ill doings?

i have lost my hunter, he told her bluntly with a sharpness that soon softened.

a sigh, heavy and uncomfortable as his features sagged some more.

(and oh Heavens, if he only knew of their onlooker.)

but...if you are not above the blessing of old meals, i may have seen something downstream further.

His hunter? What did he mean by that? That was no explanation for the way he looked. She lifted her head and gave him a cruel glare, her jaws parting to hurl another insult at him but she paused when she saw his features soften. 

And he made mention of food. Old food, which potentially meant scavenging, but when she looked him up and down again, she figured herself still potentially capable of simply snagging a bit of whatever food he would lead her to, and then leaving him behind.

”I’m pregnant an’ I’m starvin’” She said defensively. Maybe, then, he might take even more pity on her when he knew she carried pups.

her defense wore at the thin edges of his patience, his faith driven kindness.

she was pregnant.

she was starving.

a plethora of oh-so-unkind things lingered in the back of his throat. instead he merely stared at her, golden gaze hawkish in the thinness of his features.

then where is your husband?

his stomach sunk with stones.

when had he become so sour?

Her eyes flashed and she recoiled at the personal question. What was he trying to insinuate with that? She reminded herself to be pliable, though. She’d only get pity if she was a pitiful creature, and her natural inclination toward hostility wasn’t the most direct route. 

”R-U-N-N-O-F-T.” She declared, punctuating her response with a wounded snort. ”Nae fet fer fadderhood ‘parrently. Up an’ left as soon as our ‘marital bliss’ er wha was over.” She allowed her voice to catch- sure, she knew how to show injured pride. She pointed her gaze away, as though sharing eye contact might draw tears to her lilac eyes. She shrugged one shoulder, and stilled the quiver that set into her lip. ”Been just fendin’ fer meself. An’ my babes,” She added.

unfortunate,

this said with a thin grimace. her accent harsh on his own functioning ears.

you should find yourself another before they are born.

it would be the last piece of wisdom he had for her, patience too thin to entertain (or help) her any further. pregnant women in these lands seemed content to banish themselves and their babes to some brimstone and hellfire life.

he would play no part in it.