Emberwood oxytocin

She was sobbing against a bare trunk;

And then something else kicked in.

Blueberry launched herself at the tree, teeth clacking, muscles straining against the immovable bulk of the oak.

On and on, she flung her body forward.

Channeling her anger against her parents, against Vesper, against it all.

She drew away each time more bloodied;

Blending against the snow;

Little dots of crimson

The rage flowed.

The hellhound is in the area, slinking about and making plans with his brother about this and that. Mainly about their main mission, but apparently they’ve gained a few side quests along the way. The most recent, their canyon — their childhood home has been stolen from them. But life can only go one thing at a time, the siblings have much to deal with and there is only two of them.

In times like this he enjoyed being with his brother, but just like anyone else, he craves being alone just as much. So that’s what he seeks to do by walking some miles from their camping spot along the mountains flat base. 

He moves languidly, merely taking in nature and wracking his mind with thoughts that will do nothing but worry him. Heavy paws carry him forward confidently, a massive head even with bulking shoulders, he moves. His mind is elsewhere though, lost in a pit of thoughts and senseless words. 

That is until he’s hearing a sob echo through the forest. 

He would still completely, swiveling spotted ears to gauge the direction. He wonders who weeps — would they be real? Or maybe they’d be another figment of his imagination. 

After a few more seconds, he pinpoints the way and moves straight towards the unhappy stranger. Only to finally spot a small white wolf near a tree, grief written all over her face, she tears into the tree a few seconds later. The young hellhound watches from a distance with muted interest. His drab, emotionless, bloodied eyes watch her dig teeth into the bark without so much as a blink. Though they’re relaxed, he’s gone fairly numb to many emotions except his undying hatred.

The scent of blood reached his nose then and he watches the crimson drip from her maw. His eyes follows it, not conveying any emotion before he finally decides to step forth from his cover. Moving up to her the same way he was walking earlier, with his head lowered to his shoulders and his steps unrushed and lazy. His aura drips deadly confidence and his eyes, though lax, are constantly feral looking.

He would stop to look at her a comfortable distance away before speaking,

“What did the tree do?” He asks in that rumbling tone of his. The question would come out more like a statement though, and despite his words his tone holds no jest. Even though it is a joke to him, his humor is dry and menacing at best.

"What did the tree do?"

She opened her eyes to find a massive creature staring back at her. Not much older than she—she could tell by the trace bits of puppy fat that still clung stubbornly to his bones—but much larger. She was reminded of the mocking dark man in the evergreens, and scowled, her shoulders stiffening as she straightened.

Fuck off, Blueberry said, voice dull. What did the tree do. He was either an idiot or a wisecrack, and she had time for neither.

The girl took a deep breath, and the scents that ebbed from him were neither familiar nor comforting. He smelled, she thought, of the sea, if only faintly.

Who are you, anyway? she demanded. This isn't neutral ground, you know.

He’s instantly greeted with a venomous fuck off, which he definitely deserves he’d say. Still, if it does anything it doesn’t make the dark prince fuck off so to speak. Rather he’d watch her with his usual emotionless gaze, only now it reflects a touch of amusement. 

Still, she takes a deep breath — one of frustration he assumes — he is apparently unwanted here. Which isn’t surprising either. Her next words only surprise him a pinch though.

Who are you, anyway? She demanded. This isn't neutral ground, you know.

Oh. So that’s what those other scents were. A small bunch of wolves are trying to make this place their home it seems. Has he wandered into their dwelling? One could easily mistake it for a small gathering, but apparently not. Perhaps he should tread carefully then.

So he’d lean against a nearby tree, scratching his side with the bark. He’d release a low hum of acknowledgment. “Malacath.” He’d answer her first question in that deep, rasping voice of his. 

He’d tilt his head to her then. “Mm, the scents here are few. Seems I’ve mistaken it for a gathering spot.” He’d offer for his excuse, though he would be telling the truth, perhaps she is not feeling particularly forgiving. Going by her earlier abuse of said tree. 

Which he hasn’t forgotten. 

“What ails you so for you to take your anger out on a tree?” He hums out drably, tone just as emotionless as his face. “Perhaps something living and breathing would satisfy your fury more. No?” He says it with a soft raise of his brows, practically offering himself for her to take her anger out on.

She drew away from the tree, head swinging in disapproval. No, Malacath, this is a pack, and you're trespassing, she spat, eyes beginning to blaze.

“Perhaps something living and breathing would satisfy your fury more. No?”

Oh, would that she could—

She couldn't take on a mountain. Not alone. Could she?

Blueberry bared her teeth at him, crouching low. Seriously. Get the fuck out of here. She was sick of his nonchalance and his stupid jokes. He didn't belong here. She had half a mind to call for Bronco.

But she wanted to prove herself.

Feisty and oh so angry. He thinks evenly. If she persists though, he must take her word for it. Apparently this is her home and he would find himself getting just as pissed if someone walked into his. Yet, despite his offer, she doesn’t take it. How unfortunate. He remembers what happened he offered a friendly spar last time he met a woman…

He killed her. Or so he suspects. Or so he hopes.

This one would be just as easy if not easier. But with the threat of other close by, he shouldn’t take the risk.

So he stares at her blandly. Brows returning to their neutral place he shrugs. “If you wish.” He hums dryly, adding a touch of sarcasm to his tone, but it would be hardly noticeable. 

With that he’d begin making his way out, but not without adding his own taunt to it. “Go back to attacking your tree then, don’t let me stop you. I’ll be leaving.”

He’d almost hope to goad her into a fight, but still, if her friends linger he wouldn’t make it too far.

Now he was definitely condescending.

Get the fuck out, she said firmly, leveling a harsh stare upon his bulk. Without thinking twice, she began to stalk toward his bulk, eyes narrowed. Seriously, I am not in the mood to be fucked with.

Her paws dribbled blood behind her. Her eyes burned.

Her fangs showed.

She might be afraid of him, but she didn't care about that fear. Fuck him. It didn't matter.

He was already walking away when she spots at him more and it brings amusement and a condescending lightness to his eyes. He finds her temper hilarious. Like a little puppy that tries to tug on your ears and makes those cute little growling noises. 

Seriously, I am not in the mood to be fucked with. She growls venomously.

“Clearly.” Alduin says back as he continues walking, moving out of her territory. I’m absolutely shaking. Is what he wants to say then, but he ultimately decides not to antagonize her more.

But otherwise would ignore anything else she has to say until he’s out. After, he’d head straight for he and Tulok’s current campsite. He did gain one thing from this interaction: the location of a new pack. Which he would tell @Tulok of when he gets there.

It didn't matter what he was thinking—of her, of the situation, of himself. All Blueberry knew was that she had successfully repelled a trespasser. . .and without shedding a single drop of blood.

Well, besides her own. But she had done that.

The girl stood, self-satisfied, watching the hulking man stalk away. She'd watch him until he disappeared altogether into the brush, and then would follow at a distance, making sure he stayed gone.

Then, she'd go crow about her victory to whomever would listen.

She felt useful.

She felt much better.