Herbalists' Cache caribou crash

@Suliya

it is a cold, miserable morning. even blackfell finds himself bitten from the cold, having hauled the goat’s hide he’d kept from his hunt with suliya up over shoulders and backside.

in the early morning chill, he roams the territory in search of the same woman. the idea of a spar on his mind—something to drive the chill from his limbs, to keep his blood from freezing in his fucking veins. and a distraction, something to cool the heat that conquered him.

it is easy enough to discern her scent from others and track her through the frostbitten snow.

when he finds suliya, blackbird does not announce himself—instead, he shoves the hide from his shoulders, letting it slump to the ground, and squares himself before her with a sharp lift of his chin—and a snarky flash of teeth.

fight me.

her ears flick at the sound of his approach, her head tilting when the hide hits the snow with a dull thump. she’d known blackfell was near before she even saw him—he carried himself like a storm rolling in, impossible to ignore. but this? this summons, this smug flash of teeth and demand?

her brow raises, unimpressed. you’re serious? the words are dry, unimpressed, drawn slow across her tongue like she’s certain he’s lost his mind. fight you? as if there aren’t better things to do than humor a lanzadoii with too much pride and not enough sense.

her gaze narrows, considering him in full. and oh, how unfair it is. how is that fair? she scoffs, a huff of breath curling from her nose, sharp and white in the cold. you’re bigger. meaner. got more to prove. a shrug rolls off her shoulders. you looking to win or bleed?

her reaction draws a soft laughter from the man, though it is quickly replaced by the stern set of his brow, darkening his red eyes once more. stomping, now, his feet the muted thud of stomping. he assesses her. he hears in his mind what sun eater had said—what he had offered.

i am. the words roll off his tongue, bitten with power, with agitation. in the way his muscles twitch beneath a hide of onyx and silver, it is clear he needs an outlet. he wants for her to be that outlet. and he thinks the best way to prove himself a prospective mate to her is with a show of strength. she knows already he is an apt hunter. now, should they not fight? why, do i scare you? a tease upon his tongue.

the tongue that flicks across his teeth, dragging slowly along his dark and scarred snout. you cannot know how the fight will go. he prospects to her, chin jutting outwards as he comes closer, rolling meaty shoulders, squaring his dance before her. both presenting himself and anticipating a fight.

come, feel my strength.

her head tilts, pale as snow and just as cold, as if his words are little more than the wind biting at her ears. scare me? there's the faintest smirk, slow and sharp, curling one side of her blackened lips. as if the very thought is amusing. as if blackfell could ever hold that kind of power over her.

you don't scare me, she drawls, voice low and smooth, like the lull before a blizzard. but i won't be gentle with you, either.

and she isn't. she moves without warning, all raw precision—darting forward, shoulders low, weight balanced and centered. her teeth flash for his scruff, testing, not to tear but to grip and shove. the force of her impact ripples through her, pressing against the bulk of his chest as she drives him back, trying to tip his weight, make him stumble.

she breaks away just as quickly, circling, breath visible in short, sharp puffs. her tail flicks, challenging. amused. daring.

show me, then, suliya taunts, ear flicking as if in boredom. show me what strength you think i should feel.

this is exactly what he had expected, a surprise attack; she would take the element of surprise, to try and catch the man offguard. and it had partially worked, only because he'd underestimated how fast she would be. a huntress, her build was lithe and packed with compact musculature.

she hits him hard. blackfell writhes, twisting halfway, snapping with his own teeth to her neck to sling her from him. but she is gone and away before he can, much to his chagrin, a booming bout of laughter deep in the man's barrel chest. she taunts, and he snaps his teeth in her direction, red eyes glittering with knowing amusement.

do not run. he says, and is upon her with a great leap. his body thundering over the hardened snow, crunching audibly, and slams shoulders against her. to try and send her sprawling backwards, against the ground if he is lucky, teeth coming to graze just short of the fur that protects her throat. a tease, a taunt. to say:

i could.

coming to shadow and tower over her as muscles bunch to pounce again, raising teeth like a silver sword, meant to come down on her. rearing like a great stag—dramatic flourish and perhaps purposely leaving him open for attack in the abdomen, should she come for him. he wished to tangle in the snow.

suliya watches him from the corner of her eye, breath curling like smoke as she flicks snow from her whiskers. a rumble builds in her chest, low and daring, as he charges her—too predictable, blackfell.

she twists, nimble and sharp, letting his shoulder collide with her flank, but she absorbs the blow like stone. the ground gives a bit beneath her, but she’s not sprawling, no. instead, she rolls with it, using his own momentum to pivot, jaws flashing as she snaps—just shy of his exposed ribs. a warning, a laugh.

you leave your belly open, stag. her voice is velvet over steel, breathless from the rush, teeth bared in a grin. what a mistake.

she darts beneath him before he can rear, ducking close enough that her shoulder brushes his stomach, and with a savage grace, she kicks back her hindleg, aiming to send his haunches tilting sideways into the snow.

do not command me, she throws over her shoulder, breath hot and wild as she bounds away in a blur of pale fur, taunting him to chase. catch me, if you can.

the woman didn't take his bait, much to blackfell's disappointment. he gnashes his teeth and growls in response, a sound that puffs visible breath from agape jaws.
turning, he goes after the woman. she is swift, propelling herself in long strides over the snow—blackfell watches with perhaps greedy eyes, admiring the sight for himself. i will! he yells over the sound of their shared commotion.
strong legs surge. the muscle lining a hidebound body trembling, shaking with such great adrenaline as he stampedes after suliya, tongue lolling free of his mouth. a manly excitement blossoming in his gut, his heart beating wildly within his chest.
it is by stray mistake that he catch her; the slightest stumble, and he pushes off from the ground in a great leap, outstretched forelegs snatching the woman by the hips and pulling her down into the snow alongside him. teeth immediately searching for her throat.

suliya snarls, a sound more animal than woman, raw and guttural as she crashes into the snow beneath him. the force sends a shudder through her ribs, the cold biting against her back, but she does not falter—not for long. she twists, wild and unrelenting, hind legs coiling like a spring before she explodes upward, seeking purchase against blackfell’s chest, his throat, anything to unseat him.

her teeth snap dangerously close to his muzzle, a warning, a challenge. the man is heavy, his weight pressing her into the frozen ground, but suliya is not easily conquered. she fights with the ferocity of her blood, the hunger of a woman who has something to prove, and she does not yield.

you think you catch me so easy? she spits, voice thick with defiance, breath curling like smoke in the frigid air. her fangs flash as she twists again, aiming to snake her jaws toward his shoulder, to dig in, to punish him for his arrogance.

this was no simple game. this was war, and she would not lose.

blackfell’s breath rushes hot and wild, a savage grin splitting his muzzle. he feels suliya twist beneath him—muscle taut, furious. her defiance ignites a fire in his veins, urging him to fight harder. better.
he snarls as she kicks upward, claws scraping harshly against his chest, seeking purchase. teeth flash, dangerously close to his face, promising pain. blackfell twists sharply, countering her move. her fangs find his shoulder, puncturing skin. a sharp hiss escapes him, pain mingled with exhilaration.
blood wells hot beneath her teeth.
he leans into the pain, driving his weight against her, seeking dominance. a rough, approving growl rumbles in his chest, voice edged with raw excitement.
teeth snap, aiming again for her scruff. wanting to hold, to pin, to force submission—but the woman is fierce, stubborn, and blackfell wouldn’t have it any other way.