Sunset Valley Not Out of the Woods Yet

She had been running for what had felt like hours. Her legs were aching, and her lungs felt empty and dry. Adrenaline and fear feed her drive to keep going, despite not knowing how far away her assailant was behind her. Knowing that if he ever caught up to her, her life would be short lived.

Fumbling through the woods, branches and foliage constantly scratched her sides and face. None leaving a mark as noticeable as the sizable streak of blood staining her white neck and chest. Her crown of emerald blue phlox began deteriorating and unavoidable wet sludge left her feet and ankles cold and numb.

The forest began to fade and in the clearing, a valley with plentiful hills came into sight. She had no time to admire her view as she continued to run, her legs filled with fatigue and struggling to hold her up. At the top of a steep slope she once again lost her footing, but this time the slick ground sent her sliding down the bank on her side, before colliding with a rock half her size. Her front left leg was impounded between the rock and her rib cage, causing her to shriek in pain. Quickly she pulled out her leg and rested it to the side, somewhat thankful that the cold was numbing some of the searing pain.

Laying there it was the first time in awhile she had had to catch her breath, and even though she had stopped moving the sensation of running still lingered in her limbs. Resting on the ground, water pooled around her. A slow breeze accompanied by sporadic snow grazed her coat. Upon the hill she had fallen down lay her tattered crown. Only lit by the luminescent light of the moon as the sun would not rise for a few hours.

He was lonesome. As full rights that he was beholden, it came to no surprise the man found himself surrounded by stale company. Stale, wilted, all too predictable. The cage thirsted to traipse across a new sky, to seduce and keep within him a new face, an avian of memorable plumage and taste. He had grown weary of tripping up the feet and hearts of the women within their little domain-

the sea craved a new soul to drown.

The Ray had all but given the mulling a through as he swam through the mezzanine of trees and snow capped foliage before a shriek had come to sharply court his ears. Glittered gold wars swiveled their track to find and locate the sound before it had swiftly vanished-
it was clearly wolf, but what had caused such a badly tuned cry?

Altering his sail, the wolf changed course and upped his speed until he came across both the sound and panting sight of a damsel. A wounded and tired one, a dirty wretch who’d clearly needed help in reform and solace in such a distasteful world. She seemed to glow in the resting light of the moon.

”Hello,” his baritones roved gentle across the space betwixt them on this hill. Was she friendly? Or was she as feral as she seemed to appear?

The sound of her breathing was all that filled her head. A sliver of relief came over her, expecting that if she had stopped running she would lose all feeling in her body as a pair of jaws would surely have clamped down on her throat granting her a final breath. Instead, she lay there motionless.

Only the sound of a voice broke her trance. Surely it was the wolf of the faction that had intercepted them in the woods ready to complete the task he had set out to do. The words he spoke meant little to her as she paid no attention to them. She attempted to lift her body and flee but she did little more than raise herself an inch from the ground before the pressure on her injured left leg sent her back to the floor, this time facing her supposed assailant.

Still exhausted her voice was strained and soft as she pleaded for her life  "Please... show mercy... I have done nothing to... to deserve your wrath." she said with her eyes closed, convinced that no matter what she should say the outcome would be the same.

And just that quickly, she had piled his attention all over her. Deep ceruleans surged over her frail form with such a gentle sweep it was akin of a concerned father to a weeping daughter. But in his heart, the cords of his mind played a completely different song.

“Fear not, miss, I bring you no wrath of mine, nor harm of any kind.”

Her supressed voice was clear to awake no predators nor following enemies. But he would hasten to sweep her away physically so that he may work on keeping her mentally later.  The cold settled around them as he neared within her circumference of warmth she had collected, adding his own to her self-oven. “I know where shelter lies, should you seek it. Are you capable?” 

A shepherd to the lost sheep, a wolf under that handsome woolen cloak. His voice boasted a violin’s harmony, a soliloquy of his trustworthiness when in fact, he truly was not. But until she was meant to, he would never allow her to know such things. 

It was not her her place in his world to know who he truly was, just yet.

Assured by this stranger of his lack of intent, she cautiously opened her eyes. With her pearl blue gaze, she saw a fair colored sir, with faded gold cradling his face and cascading down his back. Her gaze met his and she was faced with a quandary.

Though his words were tame they were also civilized, prompting her to recall those she knew from home. Both friend and foe were of the upper class and knew how to sweeten their talk. Although if they were an ally of the blood would he not address her as your highness or your majesty. Further, if he was of the faction what would be his motive to keeping her alive long enough to hear him, and much less offer her false refuge. Perhaps she would be used as an enticement to beguile a surrender out of her brother, or her siblings out from their cloaked location. She would not be so easily tricked if that were the case.

Yet how would she establish proof of his involvement with the faction as opposed to a true bystandard of this new region she found herself in. "And if I did not seek it" she asked having had a bit more time to collect her breath, "... what would be your next motion?" Her tone inquisitive. Surely if he had intended her malice he would strongly compel her to reconsider, as his plans would be contingent on her arrival.

She tested him, words softly asking the pied piper why he played his song, what lie behind those calm notes and seducing dulcets. He did not like being tested in the slightest, but should she crave the truth, he’d deliver her the salvation she sought. “Then I would leave you to rot upon this open field, and mourn your decadent face alone.”

He had nothing else to offer her than his words, and those would be her lifeline should she take to them. Otherwise the cold would swallow her whole and spit out her body in another season. She would be found, eventually.

“Otherwise, I would keep you warm and fed, and ensure you need not labor anymore for yourself.” To some, this knightly proposal was the life, an easy one where only those dreamed to live such lavishness. But to Dawson, this was regular duty to women in general, so long as they settled in the roles they were meant to. 

His tune quickly changed as he declared that if she were to decline his offer she would be left for dead. Despite this harsh truth, mingled in his words was a sentiment that suggested he favored her. A member of the faction would sooner kill her on the spot then leave her to die, knowing that if they did not do it themselves or watch her shrivel away, there would be no clear evidence of the completion in their task. Therefore he did not know her identity and was an inhabitant of these lands.

Originally his proposition was merely shelter, but the ante had been raised to include warmth, food, and an easy laborless life. He had made it clear that he admired her appearance, but these were highly valued aspects that one wouldn't simply give away to a pretty face. Surely he would want something in return, and she assumed it wouldn't be cheap. 

Still, she was injured and weak and would likely not be able to fend for herself over the upcoming days. She would have to consider. "An arrangement like you are suggesting would cost me... what? It is unlikely you would offer this out of the kindness of your heart." She asked. Signing off onto a deal without knowing its terms was foolish, whether dealing in politics or otherwise. Now knowledgeable of his willingness to unaffectedly leave her behind she did not see him as charitable as she thought he might have been.

She was a wise woman for her dainty sculpture, someone who knew well enough, despite her frivilous words, that things in life were not meant to be free. Especially the things in life that dealt with your living situation. While things were already set in motion in his head, he could not settle upon them yet- he still had no inkling as to what demeanor she held, other than one who asked questions of her better gender entirely way too much. However, since she had not been trained by any of the many women within Rosings, she would be free to be lost in her ignorance, as of this moment.
'It is unlikely you would offer this out of the kindness of your heart.' The swift sifting wit of his tongue coupled with his tempered patience, as a reply soon followed from kissable lips. "On the contrary love, it is my kindness which keeps me here, asking for you to take up my offer. Should I have indulged in sadism, I would have taken my time taking advantage of you, and then ensuring you had nothing left to offer before I silenced you for good." She wouldn't have been the first who refused his offer. And the more often he found himself lonely and lustful for company, the more often his imbitterment would seek his mind and ail him into having even more wittled patience. Yet she had come across him in his earlier stage, thus was saved-

for now. 

"It would cost you nothing, for now. Only time would tell should you need to pay any type of dues, if at all. And more often than not, such dues are moreso blessings than curses when on the behalf of the women." The possum had no inkling that she spoke to a famed bloodline herself, the prized Odolf. He and is brothers, and even his sister, were the most worthy of blood to repoduce. Their family line was impressive, spanning well over generations he hadn't even considered. Only the most equal in worth of women were selected to be their wives, and were held to high standards to mother their children. But she knew nothing of this, this ignorant woman. 

Oh how he could not wait to simply whisk her free from her poor and fulfillmentless life, and show her a path to being a righteous woman.

Taking a step closer to her, his voice lowered, a promise in his tone of sea surf and oceanic desire. "Come with me, and heal. Regain yourself, and you will find out your answers, then."

Despite her inquiry of what the expenditure of this settlement would be on her, he insisted that it was a handout. More than that, he conveyed a sentiment that he was respectable simply because of his aversion to sadism. Back home being better than a savage wasn't the baseline for decency. She wondered what the natives of this region would be like if that were the situation. Perhaps care and shelter were not the only things essential, but protection additionally.

Secretly she had been taken here for refuge from the faction, but if everything had gone accordingly she would have been accompanied by one of the royal knights. This was not so. Though she knew little regarding this male, it was certain she knew him better than any other of this new land. The dues she would have to pay remained an unsolved riddle to her, and though he ensured them to be inconsiderable, she remained skeptical. But what was there to do. A companion to aid her was required, at best till her injury subsided.

Nodding her head down towards him in agreement she spoke "I accept your gracious offer. My apologies for my weakened and unkempt state. I shan't be a burden for long." Afterward, she lifted her head and made a motion to stand. Given time to rest, her limbs were more stable, though nonetheless remaining marginally fatigued. With tepid difficulty she rose to her feet, leaning her right side against the stone for equivalence, as her left leg hung above the ground. If standing caused such strife, surely walking would be a travesty she rationalized. She despised needing so much from a stranger. "My stride may perchance be pitiful resulting from my injury. Might you be accommodating?" she asked abjectly, not mocking herself in the process, but stating a truth outright.

Once risen her legs shook, more exasperated than anticipated. The breeze now able to flow across her dampened fur sent shivers round her. Streams of moisture smudging dirt down into her coat and further smearing the blood on her breast. She wants not to look at it, in addition to it being blood, she was disheveled causing great unsettlement. "Perhaps a visit to water for me to be cleansed should be considered." she insisted.

It seemed the woman had finally come to her senses, especially on how she should address him. Naturally it made his own decaying mind much less volatile, and her apology won him over. A canted crown of gold-swept ivory indicated the issue sat fine with him. Assuming he needed to vocalize his intent, “I accept your apology- though with your realization, you are no longer a burden.” Her question prompted the serpent to swivel his body around, angling the muscular frame downwards at a slope, as to assist her in hoisting herself up. He did so without hesitation, and without protest. She was a light figure though, and did not require much effort. He stayed beside her, his aroma of seaborne pearls and deep ocean intermingling with her stench of blood and mud. As though she had read his mind, she politely indicated her need for cleansing.

”Yes, of course. Right this was.” Though only a step ahead of her, he kept near enough for her to grab hold of him should she need it. Though he loathed dirty women, she clearly was uncomfortable being such, and that was something he already grew to appreciate- women who knew hygiene. So he would happily show her the river that lie before them about a meter’s gist.

“Beware the temperature. I’d rather you not fall victim to it.” 
Especially now that I’ve chosen to admire you, a bit. 

He accepted her apologie and contradicted her claim of being burdensome. It seemed the only thing that was his need for patience with her decision. With little hesitation, he was at her side supporting her weight. Rarely injured this was a peculiar situation for Cordelia. Those serving her were often knights or members of the court, not pedestrians. A level of vulnerability was always present, but a strong regal exterior was seen by others. Until now. Though it made her uneasy, perhaps it is for the best, her identity more undetectable.

In the beginning of their jaunt pace was inconsistent. Unaccustomed to a limp she fumbled intermittently. Soon her stride aligned with his, her more able to depend on his strength. Despite the undesirable circumstance, there were worse Cordelia could think of. Her companion may not be sinless but his fondness for her brought her a level of easy in her wellbeing under his watch.

Congruent with her request they arrived at a river bank. She heeded his words but her desire to be clean surpassed that of thermoregulation. Luckily for Cordelia the light snow had passed and the upcoming sun rises would bring cloudy skies and warmer temperatures. "Praise you."  she said sweetly expressing her gratitude before relying on her own accord to settle into the water.

Coldwater sent a shiver through her cord but relieved her swollen ankle. In water, weightlessness caused her injury no additional pain and she was free to wash. Dunking her head and full body under before ruffling her pelt, mud, dirt, and debris was carried away with the lazy current. A ritual she was most accustom to permitted her to stay under longer than an ordinary wolf. Giving her time to discontent her neck and chest and eradicate the stain of blood.

Satisfied she stepped onto the bank, swaying her pelt free of water, careful to not vex her companion with residual water. After the first, she repeated, this time for the purposes of having her fur fall in correct form. Now cleansed her pelt showed authentic white, with slivers of silver shimmer. Free of dirt, freckles on her face were seen as intentional. Her natural scent of sweet sugar maple no longer depressed in blood.

"Shall we progress onward? Or do you wish to indulge in a bath aswell?" she thought to ask. Without prompt, she expended her left leg, discretely gesturing for him to arrive at her side if they were to proceed.

The Odolf moved further off the bank after her gratitude swam for his heart. He’d rather not in the way once she returned. He was a crutch for her, not a towel. 
He watched the woman limp into the lowly waves, and a slim brow rose as it near transformed her a few moments afterwards. She washed as a bird would, a swift dip in for immersion, only to re-emerge and ruffle her feather-like fur. It was swift, rough, yet delicate her process, as she seemed to almost forget her wounds. 
It only brought him more interest to watch as she came out, her stark pelt a slappy contrast to the brusque thing she was before. Almost as though she had washed free a hag, and surfaced a youth. Then she went back in! He watched as she carefully roved through the bastardly waters, layering her fur in such a suave way that even he began to feel self-conscious of his dapper looks. But a fair man deserved a fair lady.

Once free of the waters, the nymph still dripped. But rather than seeming soaked, it was near fitting on her coat. Styled in such a meticulous manner, he was near worried to touch her, for fear his gold would somehow smudge with her platinum streaked ivory. Returning to her side however, his pompous snide returned, that snake coiling within his mind as he regarded the beauty beside him.
she was simply gorgeous. 

“I will wait for you to settle in before I take to bathing. The sooner we get you fed and housed, the sooner things will look up.” Not only for herself, but for him, as well. Forget Emerson, Addison, even Oryx. As he gazed across the dotted lunar face of the fae, Dawson was not smitten, but fiendishly and irrevocably craving this little bird. He wanted her, as her pale gaze was met with his sealine ceruleans, as Daviya, and Lilah fell beneath his standards with this woman’s proper charm. It was something he did not need to instill in her as hardy as he thought. She had come to see a man such as he was a blessing, not a curse. 

He had found his little bird.

Beside her, he offered his already fluffed form in intent to bring her some warmth, while secretly imprinting his cologne upon her. She would be his- should his brothers date attempt to take her-

“From where do you hail? I’ve yet to see such natural manners in a woman,” he cut a azure look to the woman, curious. Hungry. “It is fitting, and a pleasure to be amongst.” For the most, he was a remarkably honest man. Until he didn’t need nor want to be.

He arrived at her side without pause and she settled onto his side. Though the airs climate would not cause her to become ill, it was still undesirable. Upon coming in contact with her steed she resisted the urge to nestle into his pelt and partake in his warmth. It would be improper, despite its survival benefits. This man's chivalry was not enough to earn Cordelia's trust, not within such a short period of time. What contact they did share would suffice in assisting Cordelia's thermoregulation, and with the scent of blood no longer lingering in her nostrils, they were free to intake the salty fragrance of the sea embedded within her companion's fur. It reminded her of the sea residing not too far from her pack, a fascination her and her father both shared.

After proclaiming his prioritization of her housing and nourishment over his own cleanliness, they were moving. Had he been grimy she would have insisted. Knowing that his lack of hygiene would smear onto her. Fortunately, he was orderly, not nearly as was Cordelia, but she rarely expected others to be on par with her grade of sanitation and refinement.

Her gut fell when he asked of her homestead. She hadn't had time to fabricate her origins. Lack of knowledge prevented her from classifying a cardinal direction. To the south, east, and west she was oblivious. Claiming root from there could lead to inspection if he were knowledgeable. North was authentic, but precisely the reason she could not give it. But it seemed that the nature of his question was mainly to discover where she acquired her manners. "My local has little to do with my etiquette. Anyone willing to learn and be taught has the ability to convert demure." she stated. It was true she supposed, but her civility was strongly due to her upbringing. Her desire to steer the conversation clouded her from noticing the compliment that lay within his question.

In an effort to deflect she asked.  "This place you are leading us. Is it distant?" she also wondered how much more she would be promenading, still being rather weak.

She had neared, and through the veil of drying wet, generous wafts of a heavy perfume was thrust at him. The memory of marking a trail with his traveling brothers, claws scraping flesh of a particularly scarred tree. The revel of it’s thick blood of clear caramel staining his paws, how it stuck to seemingly everything on that cooling late summer eve. The tri-pronged tips of a  penta-headed leaf, hordes of it littering the ground underneath.
How much of a nuisance the mess was to get off.

Within the creaking joints of the cage’s door, he felt himself limit to the woman. The sea serpent knew secrecy, and almost had an innate ability to decipher when someone, most namely women or his brothers, was keeping something from him. Not only did she completely make it obvious as she swerved past the compliment as he knew women loved them, but it was also showing blindingly as she tried to detour them heavily with a rebuttal. A frown did not pull his lips down, no. The Ray would not be scorned by such an ugly​ tactic. He would allow her her secrets; because eventually, he would gather whatever he wanted from her. But should she hold her tongue, as would he.
And she would know he knew.

“Quite true,” he began. “But my family and I are not of these woods, and it shows through our own customs. The ones of these woods do not take the time to teach women, or even men, anything near what we possess. Civility through educated verbiage and regal standings- it is lost upon the barbarians, here.” That was namely why he desired to stay away from the majority of the members of Teekon; they were uncouth and slang-uttering heathens. He had overheard entirely way too much from his travels to even wish to touch a conversation with anyone such as that. “Hence my inquiry.” Perhaps she would feel less guarded should he waste his time explaining himself to her. 

Her question was met with a slight shaken head, lavish layers of gold-dipped ivory swaying gently with it. “I would not believe so, no.”

They continued their walk, his shoulder every now and then just gracing the slimmer ward’s. He was thoughtful on her, running through a list of ways to present her to his brothers, to find the right woman to intergrate  her in with. Perhaps Oryx, to give her some opportunity to learn the men were nothing to be so secretive against. For optimal protection, it was the males who needed to know everything; the women had their gossips, however as long as it was not related to the male’s duty, it was off of their radars.

It only reminded him of Lilah, how her need for attention drove her gossip to become actual drama- is anything it was draining his brother, pushing the man away from her when she desired the opposite. Some women were simply unable to handle such peace.

The enigma of her origins was not questioned, but Cordelia could sense her companion did not believe her answer was forthright. She would need to think through her tale on the journey, in the event others were to wringer. 

He went on to half-heartedly agree before disclosing part of his upbringing to her. Not of this land, his values were unalike those in Teekon. Brought up with etiquette, educated verbiage, and royal standing he sounded akin to Cordelia. Though his fascination with gender was rather enhanced. His mention of royal standing intrigued her. Those believing in the power of blood, even if they were not her own, rarely opposed the thought of other lines. Obviously, there were rivalries between them then and again, but mainly over political squabbles not legitimacy.

At the mention of his inquiry, she was now prepared with an answer "My rearing wasn't nearly as lush. I simply orbited it. My mother serviced a noble family to the North. Such a station required a level of decency that she shared with me. I believe her hope was for me to surpass her in station subsequently." this she spoke assuredly. As truth intertwined with distortion gave strength to her words, she committed them to memory for her new selfhood.

He motioned that their treck would not be far and she was brought back to thinking of his own possible royal blood. What family was he affiliated with? It then struck her that she did not know this mans signature. "Are you of regal bearing then Sir...?" she trailed off for him to fill in the blank.

---

It had begun. Unknowingly he decided to craft his own game of ‘Who could lie the most?’ not even considering that she might have partaken in the running with him in her statement.

The Ray listened to it, thinking it might have been him alotting much more info than he would typically have given a woman.  She thought his rearing lush- it made a smile crisply smother his lips as he gave a cheeky look to the fae. “A male’s upbringing is never lush. The rigor of not only learning your place against the others, of being mindful of a code to uphold the customs, to keep the women safe- none of it is easy. Then to be kept in place until your time comes..” he shook his maned crown once as though it was more of a burden than a blessing. 

His startling ceruleans came to glance at the colder azures of the woman. A look crossed it- something close to him trying to decide whether it was beneficial or not to just hand over something as powerful as a name, a title. 
When in all reality, he couldn’t care less, unless something of a travesty came to crash on him. 
In which case he wouldn’t want her to even know he existed.

“Dawson. Son of the Odolf legacy.”

---

Countering her concept of a regal life he presented an alternative. She didn't think it incorrect. Despite what others may see, nobility wasn't simple. The politics, expectations, responsibilities and more unforeseen matters. From birth, her role was known. A means for diplomacy through marriage. With such expectations, she was taught etiquette, civics, and the importance of image. 

Growing up close to her older brother she knew he would rule a nation. His responsibilities surpassed her own. For much of her life, she thought it a blessing to inherit such an empire. Dawson and Cordelia's families were undoubtedly disparate, but what he spoke reminded her of Arthur. His blessings surpassed her's but so did his burdens. A consideration she often dismissed from her mind.

A shake of her companions head brought her out of her own. "My apologies. I never judged it in such a way." she said, not wanting to dismiss the encumberment he might have felt. 

The name Odolf held little significance for Cordelia. A name such as that would not have been uttered in her home. But its association with a legacy allowed her to ascertain its appraisal.  "An honor to make your acquaintance Dawson. I am Corra, a handle with far less splendor."   she said smiling faintly. The name was not known to her. It was one her brother often addresses her as in seclusion. One she would readily claim and respond to.

“There is no need for apology- you were ignorant of it. Tis not your fault to blame.” He was sour against all upbringings that weren’t of his own familial value- however there were so many others that intrigued him. Her own might have brought to light his naivity of her own livelihood. “As it is not mine own for my ignorance to your own upbringing.” Punctual.  

They had crossed enough miles as this conversation had taken place, and eagerness to get her home fought vehemently against selfishness to keep her to himself. “The pleasure is mine, Corra.” A smirk listlessly met a flecked ear to turn languidly away. “Your name needs no splendor; you  captivate naturally.” Most women often did, their perfumes and swaying hips, their batting eyes and lusty talks. But he was beyond such hot and heated wenches. He wanted a woman, the ideal mistress to be beside him. 

Soon they would have to bed down- the sun seemed sleepier as the day went.