Neverwinter Forest It's fare thee well

for @Pangur

Luhtar padded into the moonlit clearing of The Glen, his heavy frame leaving faint impressions in the snow as he walked. The air felt thick with the scent of pine and the subtle sweetness of moonflowers, their white blooms bright even under the touch of winter's approaching chill.

His eyes scanned the glen, searching for any familiar figure. His shoulders rolled with a quiet, practiced motion, a low hum of restlessness threading through his thoughts.

His gaze caught sight of Pangur, and a brief flicker of recognition sparked in him. He had never spoken with the she-wolf, but talk was ample within any group. He'd slowly begun to put faces to names.

He lifted his head and gave a short, sharp boof—a low, playful bark to get her attention.

“Pangur,” he greeted with a swish of his tail. “You spar? Could use company."

She still healed from the mark of claw upon her foreleg, though she was tough, always tough. She could put weight back on it, and was eager to do so, reinjury be damned. 

No no, Pangur was lucky. She'd be fine and even if she wouldn't, she would in the end. She kept that carved rune wound into the ruff of golden fur, sap held it close; the totem of her luck, the spirit of Móðir, always close.

She was surprised to hear that one had learned her name in the short while she'd been with them, a testament to the hospitality of Forneskja. Hárkonungr had said she must earn her place here, of which she intended to do. To not learn from the others here would have been a waste of the time, so healing be damned, Pangur was quick to rise to her feet and meet the challenge with a glee unmatched. Ja! I would love to join you. I will come to spar!

Not a fighter, she did not want to be a fighter, nor ever felt that the call for violence was one meant for her ears.

But the gods were closer here, this much she had determined in her nightly walks, in the times she'd spent in prayer beneath their heart tree. 

It was a place worth defending, for that, even Pangur would pick up the metaphorical sword.

Luhtar watched as Pangur rose to her feet. The energy in her was palpable, a spark of enthusiasm that made him nod in quiet approval.

"Good," he said, a slow grin curling at the corners of his mouth.

He moved a few paces back, giving her space. His body was low and ready, tail swaying behind him as he sized her up. Luhtar was a creature of the earth—broad, solid, and grounded—but he knew not to underestimate the opponent. It was something he would never do.

He squared his shoulders, waiting for her move. There was no malice in his stance, only a clear intent—test the strength, but also the spirit of the pack. To fight for something worth defending, even if it wasn’t violence they craved.

"Come on, Pangur," he urged, his tone steady. "We see what you got."

Ah! I have not got very much, Pangur is no trained fighter, see, but I will give you all I have. The golden girl laughed at her own inadequacy, but felt no discouragement.

All are inadequate to start, she felt no shame, only drive to rectify. She matched his stance, watched as he squared himself to her—mountain of a man, her opponent! Victory seemed a far cry... Not that she wouldn't still try, she could be slippery. 

She would walk around him, to see if she could spy a gap in his defense before launching herself without regard. Legs, maybe, ears, even. After what had felt like all too long of simply staring at him through wide, hazel eyes, Pangur would finally make her move, aiming lower, trying to leap and slide along the ground to snap at his legs in a drive-by, quick moving, coordinated, a natural!—oh no, she tripped, there she goes. 

Pff She spat, face full of dirt, Pangur peeled herself from the ground, her quick leap had a little more power than she'd meant for it to have, fancy maneuverers were probably best saved for later, but she couldn't help her desire to show off at least a little...

Luhtar watched her movements, his heavy frame still and poised.

He noticed her circling him, calculating, looking for an opening. He didn't make the mistake of following her too closely; his broad shoulders squared and his legs planted firmly in the earth.

And then, in a flash, she was on him—sliding beneath his reach, attempting to nip at his legs. Luhtar was quick enough to side-step her initial move, the sound of her paws skittering across the frozen earth registering in his ears.

But before he could fully react, she was tumbling, face full of dirt. His mouth twitched at the sight, trying not to let the smile crack through his controlled expression.

"That one way to test ground," he chuckled out in a breath of air.

Pangur scrambled to her paws, and Luhtar, not one to kick a wolf when they were down, gave her a moment to gather herself. His tail flicked behind him, not in mockery but in encouragement.

"Do not worry," he added, giving her a teasing glance. "We trip sometime."

Once Pangur had readied herself again, Luhtar moved—slow but powerful, his large form sweeping toward her in a calculated shift. His paws dug into the earth as he closed in, forcing her to adjust quickly if she was going to stay on her feet.

You can decide if she hits! natural disadvantage ofc

Not to worry, I try again. She'd grin, mischief on the tip of her tongue, painted vividly in eyes of spring meadow. Speed was her forte, but ah- maybe not so much on slippery ground. The fall had reminded her of the ache in her limb, but it was forced from her mind quick. Anything worth doing was bound to be hard, bound to hurt, at times. This was the joy of life. 

He advanced and Pangur would pick herself up in kind, this time, she did not put distance between them, not much anyways, she still wanted to be able to react, to dodge, but being close up meant he too would have less time; and she'd have less momentum to slip on. To gain, one must give a little. Sacrifices, here and there, the gods loved them no matter how small.

Giddy, she enjoyed this, she'd throw herself at him again, much more physical this time; let her test her size against his own, see what would come of it. 

Probably a face full of more dirt, and yet, undeterred she was. This time, she tried to grab hold of his scruff, drag him down, release, and find somewhere to bite again; this was the plan, at least. She would not bite hard, not at all, just enough to secure her success.

likewise!!

Pangur didn’t falter. She was quick, her paws moving almost fluidly despite the uneven ground. Luhtar’s eyes narrowed, watching her as she sought to grab his scruff. He sidestepped just enough to dodge her first strike, but not enough to avoid her entirely.

She did, indeed, get a hold on him—her teeth grazing the back of his neck as she tugged with unexpected strength. His head jerked back, the force causing his balance to shift, but before he could regain his footing, she was already attempting to latch onto him again.

"Ack!" He choked out, shooting a glare over his shoulder.

Luhtar growled low, his muscles coiling as he tried to move quickly. His large paws shifted, and with a grunt, he surged forward with his full weight behind him, hoping to force her off-balance and send her sprawling into the snow.

She had lunged with such vindication, it was no wonder her jaws would find something. She was so overcome with the delight of success that she yanked a little harder than she'd meant to, oh but she was having fun! 

Her eyes met his glare, and her grip slacked enough for him to move free, perhaps it was just the way the light hit his glare, but it sent a shiver down her goldburned spine. Ack! So sorry! too much? she asked without pause in their dance, continuing to try avoiding his advances. For one so inexperienced, she was not half-bad at keeping herself from getting grabbed in the first place, slippery as an eel.

But Pangur was no eel, not truly, and when Luhtar reared to returned the favour, she was sent rolling into the snow; kind of it to cushion the fall, and far less offensive in the mouth than dirt. This time, she took a moment to get up, too busy giggling like a maniac.

Luhtar’s grin widened as he shook snow from his coat, his voice rough. “No... no. Not too much. Grip is good. But—” he barked a short laugh, his teeth flashing. “Not pull so hard! You pull... my head gone. Not good!”

He shifted his stance, his large paws digging into the snow, the motion slow and deliberate as he studied her. Her giggling made his ears flick forward, curiosity and amusement clear in his rough expression.

“You slippery,” he said, nodding as if to himself. “Like... uh... fish! Yes? Hard to catch. Good. But...” He lowered his frame, tail flicking behind him as his yellow eyes gleamed with playful intent. “Fish not slip forever. You think you run again? Or... you ready? Fight more?”

Without waiting long for a response, he lunged forward, his bulk shifting like a landslide, aiming to sweep her off balance. His movements were deliberate but not too fast, leaving just enough room for her to dart away if she was quick enough.

“Come!” he called, laughter in his voice. “Show me more, little fish!”

She listened from her mound of snow through upside-down ears as she laid on her back, catching a moment of breath in between. When she'd eventually flip herself back over, she would shake the snow from her fur with little courtesy for where it landed, and look back at the Pangur-sized indent left in her wake.

I will try not to take your head. She laughed, and readied herself once more, echoing his statement in agreement. Fight more— and in the moment it took her to respond, he was already barrelling towards her; his sweeping attack would be a success, sending her reeling forward with little direction and even less balance, she let out a startled yelp, but Pangur recovered quicker this time, before she could be pinned, the fish-girl used her momentum to slide beneath him to nip at his heels, and tried to spring out of the way with her hind legs. 

It was like a game of chase moreso than a fight with her as an adversary. Sneaky cheapshots were certainly not the most effective of tactics, especially on one of his stature, but Pangur could outlast, tire and exhaust. She hunted him like she hunted deer. 

A real fight would not be so fun. But this was fun today, and true battle was a thought for another day, not to pollute this one.

She would lunge again, attempting to launch herself on top of him, grab hold of his neck again, and this time, not yank so much. Death from above, if she didn't get caught halfway, that is.

Luhtar braced himself, watching Pangur recover with surprising speed. The way she darted under him and nipped at his heels earned a low, rumbling growl—not of anger, but of amusement. She was slippery, that much was true, and her playful antics kept him on his toes.

“You sneaky,” he grunted, shifting his weight to turn after her. “But fox no beat bear.”

He kept his focus sharp, his heavy frame moving with practiced precision despite his bulk. Pangur’s lightness and energy made her unpredictable, but Luhtar had spent years reading the movements of prey, and she was no exception. When she lunged for him again, aiming high this time, he was ready.

With a quick pivot, his broad shoulder swung into her path. Before she could gain full purchase, his large paw came up to catch her mid-air. It wasn’t a strike—more of a controlled block, his sheer weight and size halting her momentum.

Pangur met with ground once more, little harder this time, but nothing unmanageable, though she was bound to be sore all over by the end of it. Perhaps a concussion for good measure.

No, fox could not beat bear. Her momentum was stolen in an instant. Blegh She'd groan as she recovered the wind that had been knocked out. Another pause in their spar, she was defeated. 

Fighting, hunting, there was some overlap but not enough. Still, there was so much to learn. It was invigorating. Then what does the fox do? she asked curiously, tilting her head, wide ears posied to listen. She rolled back onto her feet. Her forelimb aching, she would spare it a glance to be sure she had not ruined Seiðkona's hard work.

“Fox?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly as he considered her question. “Fox doesn’t fight bear. Fox... outthink bear.” He shifted his weight back, giving her space to rise as his tail flicked once behind him. “Fox knows when to run. When to wait. Picks right moment.”

His gaze dropped to her forelimb as she inspected it, his sharp eyes narrowing briefly. “You hurt it?” he asked, a note of concern in his tone. He didn’t wait for an answer before adding, “You should rest if it’s bad. Seiðkona won’t be happy if you break yourself more.”

Despite the gruffness in his words, there was an undertone of genuine care. He stepped back, settling into a more relaxed stance as he watched her.

“But... if you not done yet, fox needs new plan. Bear no fall to same trick twice.”

Fox outhinks. Bear doesn't fall for same trick twice. That was a challenge and Pangur lit up. What to do, what to do...

Not done! She exclaimed, eyes narrowed in challenge, as she sprung to her feet. Energy boundless. I will apologize to her, t'en. She'd let out a snicker and press her weight back down. Pain was nothing but proof she was living... and another entry in the disaster that was her medical history. Reckless Pangur.

She squared herself, golden tail swaying behind her, delight manifested. This time, she would look at all of him, see if she could find a crack in his defense, anything at all. She tried to plan where next to bring her teeth. Above had not worked. Below might've. It was here she laid her intent. Bounding forward, she would throw her entire self at him, try to disorient, and then slide under to grab at his neck, maybe even try to push him backwards, make him meet the ground as she had.

She made her move.

Luhtar underestimated the sheer force of Pangur’s determination. As she darted beneath him, her momentum and agility worked in perfect tandem, finding the exact opening she’d been seeking. Her teeth grazed the thick fur at his throat, and with a fierce push from her hind legs, she shifted his weight just enough to unbalance him.

For a moment, his broad frame wavered, his paws scrabbling against the snowy ground as he tried to correct himself. But Pangur was relentless. With one final, well-placed shove, she succeeded in toppling him backward.

He let out a sharp grunt as his side hit the snow, the cold biting through his thick fur. For a moment, he just lay there, blinking up at the night sky, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Then, a low chuckle rumbled from deep within him, growing into a full, gruff laugh.

“Hah! Little fox!” he barked, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “You did it. You got bear.”

She burst into laughs as he toppled over, and grinned wide as he declared her win. This is fun— Who knew she could be such a half-decent wrestler! Maybe she'd missed her calling of shieldmaiden...

Not quite. It was still fun, her brain ate away at everything taught, everything given was a gift, not to be wasted. Though.. her leg was probably at its limit.  Seiðkona... don't be angry... Pangur sent a quiet prayer into the wind. She would bribe her with a rabbit, perhaps.

You spar like this often? I will join you! She'd lean down, intent on offering him a shoulder back up.

Luhtar rumbled a low chuckle from where he lay in the snow, his tail giving a faint thump against the ground as he watched Pangur’s infectious laughter. Her grin was wide, her energy boundless, and he couldn’t help but feel amused by how much she’d thrown herself into the spar.

“Fun maybe for you. Bear’s pride is in the snow now.” He  said. He flashed her a crooked grin, clearly not too bothered by the loss.

When she leaned down to offer her shoulder, Luhtar huffed softly, more in surprise than anything else. He shifted his weight, easing himself up with her help, careful not to lean too heavily on her smaller frame. Once he was on his feet, he gave a quick shake, sending a flurry of snow flying from his thick fur.

“Don't spar enough. Should do more. Better than sitting around.” His gaze shifted to her, yellow eyes glinting with approval. “You’re not bad, little fox. Got spirit.”

She was caught in the crossfire of his full body shake—left with a mound of snow on her head and stuck to the front of her. She would crane her head down, let it slide off back onto the snowy ground. 

It is fun for you too—do not lie. She leered inwards, a tease on her tongue, she would traipse around to his other side, if only because she was a beast of movement, excessive and spurred on by a spirit most vivacious—Yes! spirit! Of course I have spirit, the gods love me, how could I not? Pangur grinned, pale chest puffed in pride, perhaps she had snaked away some of his left in the snow. She did not disagree with his sentiment of sparring more, if anything, she had shown her eagerness at the prospect of more in the future. It felt good to work muscles so sick of bedrest. 

Sitting around has it's benefits too. For one... healing... She lowered her tone and spared a nervous glance at the den of Seiðkona before one back down at her leg, still layered in herbs minced to a fine, sticky paste, some of which was scattered about the snow in little green pieces... Oops... Maybe this would stay secret, just a little.

Luhtar watched the clumps of snow slide off her fur, ears flicking at her pointed tease. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest—deep, amused. “Fine, fine,” he conceded, wagging his tail in a slow sweep through the frost.

“I enjoy. But you enjoy more, seem like.” His tone was dry, a hint of humor dancing behind those yellowed eyes.

As Pangur circled him, he turned to keep her in his line of sight, not tense, but watchful, intrigued by her restless energy. She claimed the gods’ love, and he didn’t doubt it. With spirit like hers, it was easy to imagine the old powers smiling down. “The gods pick favorites,” he said with a smile. “They choose well you.”

His gaze drifted to the herbs sticking awkwardly to her foreleg as she shot a wary glance toward Seiðkona’s den. A faint grin tugged at his muzzle.

He leaned in slightly, speaking lower, conspiratorial. “Ah, healing,” he echoed, feigning solemnity, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. “Important, yes?”

I do not fight, not much—I did not realize the fun of it. She giggled as her breath slowed to normal, snatched back from the exertion that had stolen it. The gods picked favourites, oh it was true! How lucky Pangur had been! She felt their eyes on her just as she felt the wind that blew through her coat, ever-present; she wondered if she made them proud.

She must've! She was still lucky! 

Ah- unfortunately so. She lifted her leg to survey the damage, see just how much of her wrappings had been unravelled. A sheepish grin covered her face, hazel eyes sparked with mischief. This is ah- counter productive to it, I have the feeling.

Luhtar let a low, rumbling chuckle escape him, stepping closer to inspect the ragged wrappings around Pangur’s injured leg. His broad muzzle hovered near the fraying bandages, careful not to disturb them further. “Huh. Not too bad,” he murmured softly, voice edged with relief. “Callyope… maybe she not so angry.” He tried for reassurance, though a faint smirk betrayed his uncertainty.

He looked up then, catching sight of Pangur’s vibrant gaze and the flicker of mischief dancing there. For a heartbeat, he lingered, noticing the way her fur caught the sun. The corners of his mouth turned upward in the smallest of smiles before he cleared his throat gruffly, abruptly shifting his focus back to her leg. His tail gave a hesitant wag, betraying the warmth he couldn’t quite hide.

“You… fight good,” he noted, a low hum of approval in his tone. “I, uh—” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “We do again sometime. When your leg better,” he added, voice a shade quieter. “Just… come find me. I’ll spar anytime.”

Pangur stuck out her paw for him to survey, his breath skimming the slathering of herbs stuck to her. She took his reassurance with a nod and a grin. If only one could heal a wound through sheer will alone... Ah well, the longer it took her to heal, the longer they would be stuck with her, and her with them. The idea became more tempting with every moment that passed; something genuine lingered beneath her gaze, the moment shared was cherished, held deeply, for Pangur cherished all things.

I will fight better the next time. She flicked an ear, challenge on the tip of her tongue, she just couldn't help herself. Trickster's blood, it spurred her on. ...When my leg is better, of course. Then I will take you up again. She said with a light laugh before rising to go apologize to her hosts.

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