Bearclaw Valley [mature: guts & gore] multitudinem miserationum tuarum

set early january, before the raid. for any recent joiners: @Stryx @Treva @Chacal

As she lacked natural talent, her hunt took patience and much error. Still, in the end, the strange forces were with she.

The fox was limp and cold as the dog dragged it along the path and into the valley. It was male, which matched the season, but a female would've been preferred. Nonetheless, she would not judge what was granted to her by kindness of those above her. 

Once within the Valley, she came to the woods, within which was her den. At the treeline she stopped, letting the creature drop into the pristine snow.

It was reddened within seconds, as the chow tore and broke apart the lithe body.

Once the fox was opened as to have its organs on display - the ribcage disposed of - Bernadette dug her nose in, the insides making a squelch.

She approached a near maple tree. Her black nose she pressed into the bark, the dragged it to the side, wiping the blood away. It left a dark line on the rough surface. She, nodded satisfied with the medium. 

To complete the apotropaic sigil, many more such lines would be required.

treva was at a loss for what she was witnessing.

it was somehow tiny and big all at once. a fucking...orb of dark fur. did bears have cubs already? she thought they slept through winter or some shit. maybe this kid didn't get the memo.

and it was doing some gnarly stuff too. slathered some blood on a tree from a fox. once again, treva was at a loss. why not eat the thing? maybe this was a cub, too stupid to know you should eat your meals instead of playing with them.

psst, she hissed out lowly, perched up on a stone. which was perhaps for the best if this was a bear she was messing with.

are you a...bear?

then realized she had no clue if bears would understand her.

Her soft, triangular ears turned towards the noise. Her head, framed by a mane of brown-black fur, lifted away from its admiring of the work to face a newcomer.

A wolf. Yes, one of their own. Bernadette had noticed a trend among Ursus, which she herself and this one too were not exempt from. Blacks and browns dominated the coats of the believers - the bear's mark upon them, she was certain.

"I am no bear, Skeptic." The dog said, her voice deep and masculine, and as she trudged over to the carcass kept talking. "But I believe we were all touched by it. Perhaps, such is the fate of us, bear-bound since the minute of birth." She paused over the corpse. "Or, perhaps, the womb." 

She stuck her nose into the meat again.

oh, the bear-not-bear spoke.

deep and masculine in a way that sent a little bit of a tingle down treva's spine. she might have had the hots for the bear-looking beast but that was currently swinging on a pendulum as they stepped into discussions of birth and wombs. not really romantic.

i'd say you got the biggest blessing of all then. teeth exposed in a sharp grin.

are you worshiping the bear now?

"Mm." The dog's head rose from the guts and gore, snout slick and shiny. "It could be so. In shade of fur and thickness of coat, at least..." She padded over to the tree she had begun her work on.

A sharp line was made, then another. Now, the shape resembled an upturned triangle.

"No, no. I have..." Exhale. "...Yet to make an offering to the ursine spirit. This," With her chin she gestured at the sigil in progress. "Is base magic. Apotropaic."

Again she returned to the carcass. The work needed be done before sunlight waned, and so much of it awaited her deeper in the forest.

huh.

yeah...treva didn't...really understand. she didn't get the whole whodovoodoo going on about here, even if some of it had surely fallen on her ears.

okay. she started with as she kept her eyes on the bear thing. can i watch you?

wiggled her brows with a grin.