The Bracken Woods [m] ivory ice

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the caribou waited for springthaw amid a forest of mingled trees and many thorns.

it was here he called a halt for himself and @Red Leaf. the lands of the lanzadoii had fallen away long ago and now they had come to this cut of ragged, ugly forest.

but in this place, the caribou breathed and moved, and cen's nostrils flared to catch their familiar scent. his people took all they needed from these milling bodies. and he was no less than they.

without warning he cuffed red leaf, hoping to send her down into the snow. "stupid woman. if you had been faster to cross the cousin, we would not have been late! make camp!" cen ordered, turning his hard eyes upon the tiny clearing into which they had come. "i saw ptarmigan nesting just outside the treeline. i will be back."

but before he left, cen thrust his face close to her, leering; "remember what will happen if i come back and you are not here."

with that, he gave her another small shove and stalked off among the shadows, assured that red leaf would remain while he hunted. he owned an amulet of her body. her fear had been tangible. cen, son of shamans, held all control.

red leaf had lost her husband.
it was not that he had gone away physically, for he was very much still there; always, always there; it was the fact that something in him had changed. she felt as though she couldn't blame him. she had seen it too, she had her share of sleepless nights and early mornings and days where she could hardly keep down broth. she had loved him too, as if he had come from her womb!
and she had begged, begged for this; pleaded on her knees in a way her own village had raised her to never do. but she now began to wonder if giving her life for ghaden's may have been the better choice.
she is cold, tired, so tired; her eyes feel as if they may explode inside her skull, and the taste of caribou scent on her tongue brings her a sobering wash of relief; but it is only momentary. a sharp sting spears her as she feels her body tumble into the snow before she can even register it.
stupid woman. useless woman. he doesn't mean it. he is grieving. i'm sorry, she croaks, dragging a forepaw up over her face. i know, i know, i will-- i will set everything up. i promise.
her lip quivers dangerously as cen moves away. she waits until she can no longer hear his footfalls before she stands up to dust herself off, and she waits to cry until the pelts are laid out atop the packed ice and she is alone with the howl of the wind.

he used to love her.

within the forest the caribou waited and cen stalked among them. he could tell from a cursory sniff of dungheap the general age, sex, health, and direction of any herd member. the caribou had belonged to the caribou hunters long before he had been born.

cen was fully in his element. he had tired of bird meat and so abandoned that hunt almost immediately, favoring the paths which led into the darker bracken. here in these woodlands, old caribou came to die, to give themselves to the earth so that new calves might be born beside the sea.

and it was for one of these downed bodies that cen searched, thinking of how he had felt so warm within his heart the first day he had seen red leaf among her sharadoii people, how he had known their tongue as a trader but how he had truly become one of them for a time, calling her beautiful in lanzadoii, allowing the loveliness of her response to him to carry away his grief over gheli's death and then ghaden's own.

but that had been the end of his love. when he found a downed elder, cen dispatched the beast with a guttural thanks to its spirit, then carried as much meat back to the first camp as he could, dumping it in the snow for red leaf to prepare while he went back for more, saying nothing to his wife.

while cen was gone, red leaf did what she knew best: the caribou skins were laid and stretched, and treated with oil she carried from the glacier. bones and large stones held them to the ground, and tucked beneath the headrest was a collection of dried herbs meant for good luck. aaka had done this for her the night before she was to be wed.
sometimes red leaf wondered if it truly worked at all.
when her husband returns, the girl's eyes twinkle with hope that perhaps now he would be in a better mood. he drops fresh meat at her feet, still warm, and she is careful to keep it away from the pelts lest the downy fur be stained crimson. she supposes now she must butcher it; some will be their dinner, while the rest will be dried.
cen says nothing to her, but as his back turns to leave again, red leaf mutters a trembling i love you.

had someone asked cen outright if he believed red leaf had killed ghaden, he would deny it.

but those hours of torment after the death of his son had blackened his mind. it did not matter that the young wife he had married from the sharadoii had come to love the boy as her own on their crossing. it did not matter that she too had grieved. that she had pleaded for her life had been enough for the lanzadoii.

but not enough for cen. he wanted to know for himself if she had done it.

her words went unanswered save for a lingering look when he had come back, and wiped blood from himself, going out a third time to retrieve the carcass and the pelt he had skinned in three long pieces. "we will stay. two days," he told her in lanzadoii, biting into the prepared meat. "dry meat. dry pelts. i will clean the teeth." and then all they could carry would be her burden through the next day. cen might even make her travel two to make up for the time they would lose drying meat.

she loved him. 

when cen had finished eating, he settled against the skins and reached for her, perfunctory and distant though without roughness as desire for his pretty wife rose. she was indeed a prize, and he had suffered twice to have her. for this, red leaf would never be marked upon flawless face by his anger. you did not bruise a rosehip before you had a chance to taste it. "do you know why the sharadoii gave you to me, red leaf?" cen asked, tracing her jawline. "it is because you are not real. you are a shadow. they gave you to the shaman of the lanzadoii so that we might all find out what you are." 

he was not a shaman. red leaf did not need to know this.

two days. a two day break from the hell that surely awaited her the further away they got from home. red leaf swallows hoarsely and nods. he hasn't commented on her hard work, and she tries to pretend that it doesn't feel like a dull knife is lodged between her ribs.
she waits for him to finish before she blesses her own meal, thanking the caribou for her life before she begins to peck at what remains. her stomach hurts, but she needs to eat, and she knows this.
his gaze is famished, and for a moment it reminds her of how things felt only a moon ago. has it been a moon yet? has it been longer? my parents gave me to you because you are a good man, her breath rattles in her throat; her accent is jumbled, incomplete. they know me. you know me.
didn't he?

cen grunted, his lips twisting, but said nothing, only pulled her against the beat of his heart and held her there possessively for a moment. 

a good man. 

he had stopped being that. in fact, only red leaf had ever accused him of it. 

the curl of her own fur and blood sat just beneath his chin, pinned with a sliver of wolf's ivory that he swore he had gotten in trade from a seal hunter, who had in turn gotten it from one of the muradoii. and why would red leaf not believe him? he knew she believed in the amulet. he did not hide it from her, and flaunted it even now.

but the time for words was past for cen; her red eyes brought fire to his own and his silent command was that she please her husband.

***

if she slept or was awake still beside him in the skins, cen did not know. he took the first watch, moving away from her warmth and womanness to stand guard in the cold, listening to the wind and the sound of the caribou moving unseen in the surrounding undergrowth, all around their camp.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: VERY VERY BIG TW for implied dubcon, onlookers please read at own risk

this was not like how it had been between them before.
in moons past, he had been tender, in his own way; there was a flame between them, hot red and yellow flickers that soothed an ache somewhere inside of red leaf. she often thought of the night they were wed and remembered it with fondness.
this was different. unnervingly so. the thought of bedding him had not even crossed her mind in weeks, but she is not about to question him now. as he crawls atop her, all she can do is keep her gaze fixated on the amulet tucked between the fibers of his pelt. she is quiet, still, boring; she waits for his undoing, and if he were to ask about her, she would lie.
when he rolls away, red leaf tucks her elbows up close to her chest and squeezes her eyes shut so that she does not have to look at herself. she wanted to be held. she wanted to be reminded of an affection that was now poignantly absent.
if it felt good, why did it hurt?
did it even matter?
the cold sticks to the skin beneath her fur, and her mouth is painfully dry. she wonders if maybe there was a sign from the spirits she had missed — or maybe if cen is right about her, and that is why she cannot hear them now.