Emberwood [m] Lynchpin

A trip to the coast had him follow his nose along the shore, picking up little offerings left behind when the tide went out, but when it began to come back in, he'd wandered North along the coast enough that when he turned to rove inland, he didn't realize he'd begun to cut his way through a different pass, North of a very different set of mountains. He knew he'd crossed a river at one point, but he'd thought that it had been along the coastline, not this far into the grasslands, which had begun to come to life as the snow had melted. There were still mountains on either side of him, which was nothing out of the ordinary. But when he did take a moment to look up to see if Moonspear looked any different from this angle- he realized that he wasn't looking at Moonspear at all. Lone Star Mountain was a part of the mountain range to the North of the Great Bear Wilderness- and he'd forgotten that while travelling along the beach, he'd need to turn back and head South before working his way inland. 

But he wouldn't panic. He could find his way home, of course, though he wasn't sure he liked the look of this new line of mountains. It looked like it would be a lot of work to climb his way through him- so he might as well find somewhere to settle for the night, and began looking for a secure place to hole up for the night in a forest in the foothills. While roving through the grasslands, he'd happened upon a fawn that couldn't have been more than a couple hours old, tucked down in the yellowed grasses that hadn't even had the chance to grow up pat the creature's ears. A very premature birth- and whether its mother was off feeding or she had left it behind to bleat softly because it was too small wasn't obvious. But the wolf was a predator, with a merciful enough soul that he wouldn't let it suffer. 

He carried the tiny thing with him to the woods, found a soft spot in a bed of fallen leaves from the previous Autumn, and began to enjoy his small meal while he watched the sun motes dance on the golden streaks of late daylight that pierced through the trunks of the trees.

what ultimately drew praimfaya to switch her path through the emberwood; the late daylight casting a hazy golden halo upon the thick branches of the trees that have begun to bud with the promise of new life, she did not know. instinct? the scent of blood? the masculine musk of the stranger? all of them possible and none perhaps more stronger than the itch beneath her skin; the flush of her skin hidden by her silvery sugarsweet moonbeam fur. she had felt the change beginning over a week ago when she'd struck out from rivenwood at mahler's request and traced paths: new and old as if the commander were on a scouting mission.

perhaps she thinks with a small coy twist of her lips: she is.

she moves forward, towards the strengthening scents without fear; though she is not sure what to expect. in this, she is untrained. clumsy like a cub learning to fight all over again. the cloying scent that emits from every fibre of her being isn't new to her per se — she'd been around plenty of females and knew it by distinction — but she hadn't been aware how it would affect her in turn.

it is not long before he comes into view and her frostbound gaze studies him. from first glimpse he is robust; sturdy looking. littered with scars that in her mind marks him as a gona. unabashed, the commander lets out a soft chuff to garner his attention; if she did not already have it.

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At first, he realized that he wasn't alone when he caught the scent of another wolf, and it didn't bother him. These lands were clearly not claimed, so he thought perhaps another wanderer had come in this direction. He sniffed again, and could identify the scent as female but was shocked when he found himself bristling and drawn to his feet. Something deep inside him growled as it awakened, and drove him to move forward as soon as he caught sight of the female, silver and pale as the moon, with a gaze that reminded him of the colour of sun-blanched bone. 

He shook out his pelt, as though to use its thickness to amplify his stature and padded toward her, willingly beguiled by her invitation. He couldn't stop himself from inhaling her scent- it was like breathing in the most beautiful and alluring scent he'd ever experienced, and made him drunk on its elixir. He uttered a low, rumbling growl as he approached though his tail waved from side to side behind him. If nothing else, the sound was affectionate, if not a tad possessive. He wasn't sure entirely why he was so interested in her, but she had a sort of magnetism that had awakened something incredibly primal within him- and for once, he forgot his usual mannerisms, and simply became the wild creature he'd been intended to be. 

He reached out, hoping they could touch whiskers and swap scents with one another, so they might come to know the other as being healthy, and so that he might convince her to willingly allow him closer.

praimfaya's chin lifts with that stalwart pride that never seemed to leave her; even as her body speaks a different language than she'd known it to. she knows it during fights: attuned to every muscles, to the rush of adrenaline, to the excitement that makes her crave it and finds this to be similar but ...vastly different. she watches him rise from his meal — a small fawn's body that is not enough to hold her attention as he drifts nearer.

closer, she wills him with her mind.

the noise he makes; a sound she considers as affectionate with a hint of possessive that makes her want to bear her teeth. she belongs to none ...but that wasn't true, she thinks. she belongs to her people, to rivenwood. and to her children, if they came about.

she has always belonged to others; such was the burden of the commander.

still; he beckons him closer with a soft rumble of her own. tail swaying; praimfaya does not shy away from him as he reaches out. brazen, she follows in the movement he's created, pressing her nose to his cheek. she does not recognize the scent ( at least, i don't think firefly glen was around last time pri'd visited moonspear ) and finds that she doesn't care. she is not curious; at least not right here and now in the heated moment she feels like a palpable cage of energy 'round them.

With an assuredness that wasn't typical of him, he moved forward, opening his lips slightly as he investigated her scents for the first time, noting that she smelled of other wolves, but ones he did not recognize. His mind normally would have had questions to ask- about her pack, where it was, what they were called...But all of this seemed unimportant. There was something much more urgent and he knew instinctively that she had not drawn him closer to talk about their packs and their lives. He was so lost in the moment that he'd forgotten all about his prior hesitations about being intimate. Part of him understood what all of this meant- and knew that he wanted it. 

The things which usually governed his thoughts were pushed far from notice. He wasn't worrying about what would become of his pack, or stressing about whether or not he would move to the Caldera. He wasn't trying to figure out how he felt about Fennec, or worrying about where she and Alyx were. He didn't stop to consider Vallkyrie, and the fact that she was staying with him and the Fireflies, as he had asked. His entire life, it seemed, was scooped up and stored somewhere in another room. All that he had on his mind now was this woman who enthralled him so. 

He could feel a shock of static jolt down along his spine as she smoothed her muzzle against his cheek, and he moved forward so that his chest was against hers, and so he could comb his teeth through the feathery fur behind one of her ears.

praimfaya's heart beat flutters beneath her breast; not like a war drum but like the excited, rapid thrum of a hummingbird's wings. though she draws connections to how her skin is alight and her mood is buoyed — giddy almost — to how she feels in battle there is enough newness to this feeling in the presence of a stranger who sets her skin afire and an ache to settle in her stomach with his proximity, with the touch of his chest against her's and the comb of his teeth through the fur behind her ear.

his build and scars alone tell her that he is strong; worthy of siring the next line of commander hopefuls.

the fire and hunger within her continues to grow and she shifts then; slightly, after offering an inviting nip to his jaw so that her shoulder is against his chest, her tail shifting to the side where she holds it. the need to regain some control of the situation ( which as long spiraled out of her control since the moment she was lured towards him by the scents ) drives her to let out a low whine:

an invitation, a plea, a trembling command.

While this level of intimacy was completely new to him, his instinct drove him to comply with her hints and pleas- something primal demanded that he set himself free of his usual amount of overthinking. This wasn't a test, it was a dance. One he'd never experienced before and yet his body knew what to do. She was a capable leader, and he would move as she moved, responding to each invitation with dutiful compliance. His teeth grazed against her skin, and within his chest a crooning note of ardor, a song he had composed just for her. 

She would not need to beg him; he was compliant to her will and wishes, and even as deft as her invitation was, he was beckoned and responded without hesitation to align his shoulder with her hip. He caressed the fur of her shoulders with gentle, combing motions of his teeth, preening her gently, until he felt assured that her affection was not only flirtatious, but consensual. He would take the lead, and take her into his embrace so that they could begin the waltz that they would share together.

not knowing what to expect but understanding enough about the mechanics of it, praimfaya gives herself over to instinct. the dance, she finds as she is pulled into his embrace is intimate and carnal. unusual, the commander thinks after it is finished, but not terrible. not unlike, she thinks, the high of battle. 

calmed with the settling of her heart rate, praimfaya is pleased to feel that the slow smoldering fire beneath her skin has been quenched. she draws in a deep breath and feels content and ...grateful. she nibbles at her shoulder, smoothing her tongue over a sudden itch that took her there before she studies him again. she is uncertain what is to happen now, though mahler's words come back to her.

this should be where they part ways. it feels a bit impersonal to the commander but, also, she sought partners with no strings attached. mochof. the worheda croons her gratitude in trigedasleng; hoping if she presented herself as a soujona — a mysterious wanderer — that perhaps it might be easier ( of course it does not occur to her that it might have the direct opposite affect ). she shies nearer for a moment to press a parting touch of her nose to his cheek.

and if she is not stopped, not called back by the scar riddled ( handsome, in her eyes ) stranger than she would continue on.

To say that their intimate embrace had awakened something within him, that he had been suppressing for his entire life, was an understatement. Despite how exhausted he was afterwards, and how giddy, his mind was a whirl as it grazed on what it was to experience ecstasy. He cleaned himself, afterwards, as she did for herself, though he cast a somewhat shy, boyish grin every time he thought about what they'd just done, and he was fully and completely ready to follow her to the ends of the earth after their encounter when she said something odd- something that sounded somewhat like much of, which confused him. 

"Wha- er, pardon?" He asked, reminding himself that the latter was a much more polite way of posing that question, and considering what they'd just done together, he really ought to treat her like she was the queen of the world. She drew near to touch her nose to his cheek, and he offered a low, happy growl. He wanted to pull her close, to keep her with him, to find a spot of sunshine where they could just spend the entire day, and do more of what they'd just done simply because they could. Still under her spell, when she made to begin walking he followed after her like an obedient sheepdog, meandering at her hocks dutifully.

 "I, uh," He said, and he cleared his throat. This made him a man, now, he thought- so he ought to start speaking like one. "We never even got introduced," He said, with a slightly bashful laugh. Imagine that- everything they'd done, and they didn't even know each other's names! They had so much yet to learn about each other- but he anticipated every bit of it being as glorious as the first few moments they'd spent together. "I'm Bronco Blackthorn."

it means 'thank you', praimfaya offers over her shoulder at his confusion to the trigedasleng word. she hadn't expected him to know it; that'd been part of the ploy ...but perhaps her attempts to act coy and mysterious has worked too well. he begins to follow her and she feels a tiny war brew in her chest. should she chase him off? mahler's strict instructions were to find (a) partner(s) that would not show up at rivenwood's borders. but also, he'd done her a favor, had he not? if things went the way she hoped it would he would be successful in siring the next generation of potential commanders; adding the strength of his family line to her own.

she supposes so long as she does not begin to make the trip back to rivenwood ( which she had not intended to until the fire beneath her skin is quenched for good ) then entertaining him couldn't hurt. he introduces himself as bronco blackthorn; and though praimfaya certainly had it within her to be utterly heartless the guilt that begins to eat at her as she considers shutting him down tells her that this was not one of those times.

i am praimfaya. she offers her own name in return.

How was he supposed to talk to her now? She seemed so calm and cool after having done something Bronco had always figured was a complete and total lifechanger, and it helped to keep him from having an existential crisis, though it still left him struggling to find the right words to say. He'd never learned pillowtalk, and had never really had to have much in terms of bedside manner- so he fumbled with his feelings and it showed. Part of him wanted to ask her if they could do it again- and the other part of him wanted to get to know her so she knew how much it meant that they'd just given themselves to each other. But neither seemed like an appropriate way to talk to her, only having just learned her name. 

"That's pretty," He murmured appreciatively. "And so are you, y'know, like...You're really pretty. But wolves prolly tell you that all the time, right?" He said with a somewhat cowardly laugh. Of course wolves told her that all the time, He thought. "D'you, uh, do you live around here? Or are you just kinda on your own? 'Cause like...I was wondering maybe if you were hungry- I got a bit of food left here," He said, gesturing to the rather puny meal that had already been chewed on. How much, he wondered, would that say about his hunting skills? "Or I could catch you something fresh to eat?" He offered.

he is sweet, praimfaya thinks as he peppers her with compliments — calling her pretty. it's not something she hears often; and she's always been ok with that. she was more interested in looking like the warrior and commander she was than being beautiful; still she appreciates it, letting the compliment flutter in her chest like a caged butterfly. not really, praimfaya admits with a small shrug of her scarred shoulders. thankfully though being pretty was never a requirement for becoming heda. she adds with a soft trill of laughter.

you are sweet, she tells him; thinking that it is almost a direct juxtaposition to his appearance. from looks alone, he looks like a rock solid warrior — which was the initial draw she felt. being a warrior and finding fellow warriors is a language all it's own, she feels. as he questions whether she lives around the area, praimfaya hesitates for a moment as mahler's words come back to her. i co-lead a pack in the area. praimfaya admits, keeping her information vague. if he really wanted to know though, she knows she would not keep the information from him.

she understands mahler's reasoning but it didn't seem fair, either: if she did end up pregnant and he wanted to know his children ...who was she to keep that from him? rivenwood. east of here. she adds after a moment.

her frostbound gaze goes to the remains of fawn and supposes it would not hurt to linger here with him for a while. i can eat a little, i'm not real hungry. she accepts graciously. some of the fawn will be fine, you don't have to hunt special for me. thank you, though. praimfaya says as she backtracks, making her way towards the fawn where she takes a small strip of meat to eat.

There was something confident about her that he liked. She was modest, or so it seemed- and ignorant of others having their eyes on her. He thought her the handsomest wolf in the world presently, of course, and figured that perhaps others had noticed- but simply hadn't told her. Maybe they'd been intimidated- though he didn't find her too intimidating toward him, but when she spoke the word heda it was with pride. Her laughter made his soul soften and warm like honey. "Is that a leader?" He asked. He suspected it might be, just in a different language. 

But she'd answer his question a moment later- so he'd nod. Something inside him clenched, thinking that perhaps he'd just done something to either forge, or destroy potential ties between the Glen wolves and whatever the pack was called that Praimfaya was from...But she didn't seem to be holding any grudges toward him yet. He opened his lips t ask where- and she spoke the name of a pack he'd never heard before. "Oh," He said thoughtfully. He had to remind himself that he was in a completely different valley now, having wandered too far along the ocean's shore before turning inland at the mountains. So it was no wonder he'd never heard of Rivenwood; it didn't seem like it was in the neighbourhood of the three or four packs that were all allied with his own. 

"Oh, please- help yourself!" He said, as she went for the fawn. She's basically just blown his mind, so giving her a meal in gratitude was the least he could do. He wanted to let her eat in peace but...He wasn't good at controlling himself. "C'n I...Ask you somethin'?"

it is, praimfaya responds readily. heda means 'commander' in my people's tongue... though the wolves of rivenwood call it graf and it is a role i share with another. still, she respects mahler greatly; looks up to him as a mentor, as she once looked to dacio. though mahler could never replace dacio to her, he fills the role of mentor in a different way; still as equally as important. still, they are my kru; my family. and that thought fills her with some warmth; that somehow and in such a short time they had wormed their way into that role in her life. to call herself rivtrikru when she had went by ripakru — clanless, she had meant to call herself — for so long means she has laid down roots. for good, this time.

she is mid-chew when he nervously — or so it sounds to her — asked if he could ask her something. wasn't that a question? praimfaya teases him with a soft laugh once she swallowed the bit of meat. of course you can. she tells him seriously before taking another small strip; unsure how much she was allowed to take of his kill.

So she had another language which she spoke, which he thought had some semblance to the one he knew. Heda, as she spoke, sounded as though it could have been somewhat like header, which made enough sense. To be at the head of something, was to lead it- and while he had no idea if the language intentionally had any resemblance to the one he spoke, it was actually kind of interesting for him to notice the possible similarities. He heard kru as sounding like crew, though accented just enough for him to think that it wasn't the exact same word.

His expression paled slightly when she said that she shared her rank with another- and he immediately wondered if he'd overstepped a boundary. While she seemed perfectly comfortable with what they had just done, it did worry him to think that perhaps she had a partner- and that she considered them to be her family. He gulped. All of a sudden, he had more questions- but luckily, she gave him permission, making a small joke of the idea in the process. Still somewhat stiffened from the sudden realization, he could only manage a small, dry laugh that faltered. 

"Uhm, well," He said, becoming aware of the tension which had settled in between his shoulders. "When you say you share a rank with someone, uh, is...Do..Like...Do you have a, uh, someone, like a mate?" He asked, his ears flicking back, expressing a bit of discomfort with that notion. Basically, he was asking if she had a particular someone who might seek him out after, and kick his butt for what he'd just done with her.

it is a viable question, and as praimfaya considers it, perhaps something that should've been asked before; though in all fairness there had been no thought because ...there hadn't needed to be any. in any case, if she had a mate she wouldn't be out here venturing around in the wilderness while in the situation that she was in. still, it's kind of cute that he was worried. at least, praimfaya thought it was cute. no, praimfaya assures him after getting ( perhaps cruel ) delight out of his nervousness. i have no mate. we are just co-leaders. to her, this makes perfect sense because there was only ever one commander at a time in her culture. it was not a rank that was or even could be shared.

she doesn't mention that she doesn't even have anyone special — figuring her lack of a love life was rather apparent.

she spends a few more hours in his presence, enjoying his company and answering any further questions he may have before taking her leave.

edited a conclusion for archival.