Mudminnow River if i didn't know better

birdsong greeted the first breath of dawnlight as it rippled over a thick layer of fresh snow. a blissful, windless moment, fractured now by the disturbed rustle of a star-lulled nephele. wrapped in the insulated blanket of winter's breath, she awoke slow and lazy, curling into herself more to seize some last moments of warmth before facing the daylight.

she eventually unraveled herself, snow shifting to settle beside her as she shook free what yet clung to her pelt. a few first steps beat an aching reminder of the sore shoulder she'd acquired some days before. poor footing during a hunt. it'd heal, though not without first tormenting her.

she pressed onward still, craning her neck to relieve some tension while scouting for a source of water. she'd avoided a mire half a day ago, though didn't feel like doubling back to lap at it's grimed waters. if her bearings were right, then bearclaw wasn't far off from here.

a churn in her stomach unveiled neglected emotions, bringing her pace to a glaring halt. she took a breath, rolled the sore shoulder, and then carried on again.

The valley was quiet. An unexpected turn, but not neccessarily one that Amadeus was unhappy about. His father had always told him that isolation was what kept minds clean - it gave him hope that his work would not be wasted here.

A woman stands ahead. Aging but not yet broken by time, and with a pelt so pale he could have lost her in the snow were it not for her stony lower back. She's the first figure he's seen in a day or so, and that alone sparks his curiosity.

Amadeus howls out to her, his tail flagging in a friendly wave. There's nowhere to be, nowhere to go, so why not attempt to meet this winter ghost?

uktark broke the ice at the river’s edge with a measured step, lowering his head to drink. the cold bit his tongue, sharp and clean. as he lifted again, water slipping from his muzzle, he caught the pale shape beyond the bank—
for a heartbeat, he thought it was his moondancer.
his body stilled on instinct alone. breath caught. eyes narrowed.
no.
the scent was wrong. lighter. older, but not by much.
his gaze tracked farther up the valley then, finding the smaller male beyond her, the sound of his call carrying thin across the snow. friendly. careless. smaller than uktark by far.
he did not answer.
did not move.
he remained half-shadowed by the river reeds, water darkening the fur at his chin, watching both figures in silence. measuring distance. reading posture. letting the current carry his scent or hide it, as it pleased him.
winter watched with him.

winter's breath stung against her cheeks as her fur became wind-kissed and tangled, snowdrift blurring the edge of her vision in a hazy fog until the gust settled and a song drifted over the shimmering white.

her ears swiveled to meet the sound, though her paws remained grounded, buried beneath a thin layer of flurries.

the silhouette of a man stood not far off, though if there were any discerning features about him she couldn't make them out in the silvered haze. his tone sounded friendly, though the lingering aroma of an additional spectator stirred about a distrust in her gut.

she did not flee. not yet.

she veered her attention just far enough to catch a glimpse of the other distant onlooker. this one larger in size — a brute.

she readied herself to bolt if necessary, though found herself foolishly curious of what might come if she stayed.

He finds himself aware of another, if only for the eyes on his back.

Amadeus turns his head to spot them. To him, they resemble Ambra at the peak of her pregnancy; lumbering and lacking grace, but this is a man his father would have liked; large, strong, silent so far. That alone prevents him from immediately disliking the stranger.

He looks back to the woman. Her posture holds no familiarity for either of them, and that keeps him from running, but he doesn't yet move. The dynamic has changed too much.

After meeting with Searchlight however, he's eager. He needs to know if either of them carry her scent.

he stepped deeper into the water instead, cold biting up his legs as he lowered his forepaws and scrubbed them against the stones. dark ribbons of elk blood loosened and bled away into the current. he drank again, slow, unhurried, tail flagged upright behind him—confidence made visible, not announced.
his eyes lifted at last, passing from the pale woman to the smaller male and back again. he did not crowd them. did not retreat. simply... was.
a low huff left his chest—neutral. present.
no threat offered. presently.
he finished washing, water dripping from his fur, and remained where he stood, broad and grounded in the stream, letting them read what they would from his silence.

for some quiet moments there is just the three of them. no movement. no sound. the strangers by all appearances hold no affinity for the other, which helped ease some of the distrust brewing in the pit of her.

it is the second, larger of the two men that draws in her attention, if only because she'd come to realized he stood amongst a stream.

her ears swiveled toward him, her steps calculated as she moved in the direction of the flowing waterway, sure-footed in giving the brute a large berth.

snowy toes slipped within the singing waters as she positioned herself to keep an eye on both of the men — her attention twisting from one to the other. she lowered herself to drink from the crimson washed brook, but like a gazelle drinking from crocodile infested waters, she remained poised to flee.