Phoenix Maplewood true like ice, true like fire

backdated to a couple of days after her heat ends! tag for reference, but open!

The past week or so had been a whirlwind of the most pleasant sort of chaos Sunday Morning had ever experienced. As she had lain at Mountain Stone's side, rising with the moon and the sun  and simply lived, she knew nothing but joy. It had all been dizzying, though not in a way that she ever lost her footing. They had made a camp, the two of them, near the felled carrion... and had gone on uninterrupted for a stretch of time that Sunday Morning had lost count of. Many sunrises, several sunsets.

When the fire had at last been put out, she slumbered against the great mass of her man. When she awoke, he was not there; but this did not cause her any alarm. Perhaps he hunted for fresher fare, or perhaps he required a drink... the latter of which she, too, then needed. Rising to all fours and shaking out her furs, Sunday slid forward in a stretch and loosed a yawn. Her jaws clicked loudly shut at its finish, and she went to drink. 

Sunday Morning did not see Mountain Stone there, but still thought nothing of it. Not that day.

Only the next did she imagine something might have happened to him. When she awoke, Sunday Morning saw him again not there. His scent was still strong here, and she knew she had not imagined the events of but days ago. The ways of the wilderness were cold and cruel; perhaps he had died. In her heart, she could not believe that a man that had won her had been beaten so soon after their meeting. Would life have given her a man of weak stock?

It was possible. Brothers and sisters of hers had died during the hunt, and if he had gone alone... if he had thought to win her one final time with only a young mans ego as his companion...

Sunday paced in place for a moment, before she called out to @Augur I am here! as she had, the first time they had met. Where are you?

augur had gone home to see the children he might have sired, and to see red woman.

he had also been to follow buffalo hunter, though he had lost her scent in the taiga.

he smelled of many wolves and milk and chewed meat when he came to answer new snow then. he smelled of wild things and milkweed grasses and the marrow of heavy bison bones he had cracked.

he smelled of pack.

and it remained to be seen how new snow might take this or how red woman might receive what she might consider betrayal.

he growled as he came down upon her, and pushed his massive frame against her own, seeking to lave the top of her muzzle with his wide tongue.

Sunday Morning did not wait for too long a time. 

Her head turned as she heard the sound of the grasses stirring and the underbrush groaning, then snapping. Her ears pricked alertly on her head, but the wind brought answers with it. Her tail swayed behind her, and then there was Mountain Stone. Sunday Morning looked to him, clearly glad to see him as revealed by the many sways of her tail and then, her quick approach. He did not have meat in his mouth, but he carried with him stories on his furs.

This myriad of scents was vaguely familiar to her. He wore many of them on their first meet, though not all. Sunday Morning considered the newer scents, snuffling quietly as she separated one from the other, discovering.

His greeting to her, though, confirmed her own standing with him, she felt. His growl was met with an eager, high-pitched whine. Mountain Stone's spirit was a kindred one. He had answered her call for this reason, and yet another one still. As she leaned into his greeting, she too moved to lave the side of his own muzzle where she could reach, moving to press her chest against his own in that familiar way. Not to rekindle the flame they had fanned together in the way of lust, but to deepen that bond through doting and familiar touch. 

In her minds eye, she saw her father chasing away many men—and her mother minding her elder sisters that remained. Her brothers had departed. Some brought back another with them. So many outcomes. All for the better of her pack, in the end. 

She moved to reach to nip the fur of his shoulder fondly, before circling him loosely to meet him at his side, shoulder to shoulder. Sunday Morning let out a low, curious note; would he take her to where it was he had been?

he stood patiently as new snow filed away the messages and missives he had brought toted in his fur. he himself rumbled lowly, swiping her own pelt from time to time with his tongue once more.

she did not growl or pull away from him. augur took this as acceptance of who he was. he held standing in the rise. if tall man did not return, the clawan meant to be hunter-master.

but none of this mattered without red woman's acceptance.

new snow circled around. she stood at his side. augur turned to face the rise. his sharp yellow eyes blinked for a moment; he faced into the wind. bringing her to the border would be unacceptable. she must prove herself, he felt. not for him, but for red woman and blood eyes.

he too would make a decision.

augur turned and nipped her ear. if blood eyes saw she was fit, then he would ask red woman to come.

but there was no guarantee. he crooned a roughened note. did new snow understand?

Sunday Morning stretched beneath his touches, revealing to him her trust in him. When he grew still, Sunday grew quiet and watchful. Though her gaze followed his own, it did not linger upon the rise without knowing it. He was thinking, and Sunday Morning would not yet question her man, Mountain Stone. His attention was back to her, and Sunday rumbled. When his fangs were away from her ear, she moved to nip his chin in turn, eyes pleasant and bright. She listened, then, and shifted her weight.

In answer, she let out a sharp bark of affirmation.

Life was a test, and she had survived this long in passing them. But survival was never a guarantee. That much she understood. Sunday Morning was a capable wolf, though not too proud to know her place. Although Mountain Stone was her man, she would prove to the pack she was worthy of him. But not simply him. Now, she knew there were more wolves he ran with; a family, like her own brothers and sisters. Strangers had come to join them, becoming family too.

Yes. She must reveal that she was worthy of them all. Recently fed, and fresh, Sunday Morning nosed his shoulder then, looking rather eager. All so strange, how the stretch of a few days could change ones life this way. How the span of these same but different days must have changed her mothers life, years and years ago.

she wanted to go.

augur brushed his shoulder against her own. then they would go, and before they reached the rise, he would ask blood eyes to come.

his tongue lolled with the delight of having her beside him. from time to time he would turn to caress her ears with a warm breath. there was no thought in augur of what might come. he existed in the present, and in their present, instinct suggested new snow might carry his young.

he thought of sweet leaf and buffalo hunter and red woman. he had not seen the first since that time, nor the second since the bisin hunt. but his alpha female had delivered good strong children. his own might not be welcomed, especially now that her nephews were also growing in the rise. augur wanted to keep new snow close all the same.

a barren patch of silver earth marked the land between the forest and the taiga where the rise began. he stopped here, hunting for tracks. there was always time to hunt.

They began to move, and Sunday kept in step with him. In her mind, she saw the way her mother and father moved. Never before had Sunday thought of having such a thing for herself, up until she had it. But she would change nothing. Life had led her here. Within herself, innately, she understood that perhaps she might do as her mother before her had done and bring more life.

But Sunday was aware of the scent of milk upon Mountain Stone. And Sunday remembered that while new women had been welcome, their new blood was not. Not always.

Whatever came, Sunday would live on with it. As his warm breath came over her ear, Sunday Morning felt at ease. She had him, and he had her, whatever that end. She too existed in the present, and did not fear for or consider the future further than she already had. There was no use in it, and she was happy, now, for the way things were then.

Sunday leaned into him, lifting her chin to press her nose against the base of his. Each passing touch was a gentle mark to the man who had claimed her, and who she in turn intended to claim. She thought it a thing that was decided by them both, the day he had first come, and they moved together so well then and now that she felt all the more assured.

She was quick to clue in to his movement, and her eyes appraised him before she lifted her nose to the wind. Sunday stood alert, nostrils quivering as her tail swept behind her. Her bright gaze turned to Mountain Stone, and she licked her chops as she drew forward. The wind told her that some miles out was the herd of the same horned beast they had scavenged. Better to track their movement than to take them down alone...

Another passing breeze told her of a nearby hare, a running river, and of other small prey that they could give chase to.

He, like her, was a hunter; this day, she was content to follow him in whatever he decided was worthy for them to pursue.

time passed. it did not end. it had no beginning. augur listened to the urgings of his body. he was led purely by the absence of sentiment.

but this did not keep him from being affectionate for its own sake, or taking new snow's hunting signal into account. he did not want to tangle with another bison. buffalo hunter's own bulk had meant the two of them had been better matched against one of the mighty beasts.

new snow had no such weight, and augur felt protective over her. so he led them away from the heavy track and toward the racing water with its scent-trails made by smaller fare.

he waded into the river and drank until his chin was dripping. the hunter returned to new snow after that, rumbling and wetting her fur almost playfully.

he gave his focus to their quest after that, broad muzzle hunting through the foliage for the little round droppings and broken stems which marked a hare's passage.

Sunday Morning picked her way after him to the river, placing her forelegs into the running water where the waters moved slower, interrupted by boulders and fallen trees, one of whose roots still remained deep in the earth, unready to relinquish their grip.

She gazed at the boulders and considered. Sunday Morning both drank and opened her mouth to let the water run through to cleanse her palette, cooling off and cleaning up (some) in one go. She was out of the waters before Mountain Stone, and shook out her furs thrice to free herself of the water that clung to her. She was about to head toward something else she had smelled, but in her peripheral came Mountain Stone. No, Mountain Boulder. He was no stone.

Again she leaned into him, huffing lowly as the dripping man wet what hadn't been touched by riverwater. She did not mind. Sunday stood and shook out her furs again for good measure, about to emit a noise of her own in turn.

But she quieted quickly. For even over the din of the river, she could hear the grasses shift where she stood closest to. An ear atop her head rotated, a radar, her steps muted as she slowly and softly stepped in its direction. No doubt the hare had heard them, close as they were... but they had the good fortune that it had not yet bolted. Yet. A quiet sniff, as she wondered if it was ill, though there were no signs of such the winds could foretell.

she scented the air. augur was becoming aware of her own abilities. that she was female was enough to make him silently defer the hunt. the irony of his size and submission was lost on the clawan.

he moved beside her as a protector. his broad paws cushioned his steps in the mud beside the river as he stalked toward where he thought their quarry might be.

new snow was smaller than him. he expected she would also be faster. augur swung his greyscale ears forward. hunting would prove also to blood eyes that she could contribute in the rise.

the animal was moving. his ears caught the sound of an uneven gait. augur's tail switched and he considered new snow, waiting for her signal to close in. after all, he would only rake and destroy their hunting ground with his running. she must go first.

Rolled for success!

She did not watch Mountain Boulder. She watched the grasses, though also listened. Mountain Boulder moved, quiet himself for all of his size... but she watched as the hare erupted, and bolted away. Sunday had hoped to be closer, knowing the swiftness of the hare. Now it would be more of a game, and a test of endurance. Food in The Far North had always been hard to come by; hare was prey she was used to. But she had always worked together with her family.

Now, to learn to work together with her man.

This too was an ancient language, inherent in their kind; Sunday bolted after it, spry and swift. It had the head start, but Sunday would be quick to gain on it. Sunday kept in a straight line, though began to move left as she started to close in—a cue for Mountain Boulder to drift right, should the hare abruptly change its direction. She in one path, he another, but still the hare had another route to go that Sunday prepared for. It may not be a quick hunt, but it was one that already made her blood sing. She drove on, determined to succeed.

love that clip <3

his predilection for instinct above all sent augur away from her. he went right and the animal ran between them. there was a game in it, something for diversion and amusement. it was good to move with new snow, to see the fine lines of her body and know she was a provider in her own right.

dimly the need for a mate churned in augur. he had felt it once before with buffalo hunter. that one had been matched to his size and strength. but she had gone away.

new snow was wolf. it was a simple thing.

but if red woman called on augur again, he would heed. it was not the way of a mate. yet it was his. his sunny eyes watched the she-wolf course, and he pursued, keeping the hare from darting swiftly sideways.

saaaameee!!

Sunday's eyes turned to him, to check on him. In time their hunts together would become seamless, but for now she was learning his own ways. Her tail waved again at the sight of him, as she could see where she spotted him his instinct was sharp.

As he bore right, and the hare moved between them, Sunday was swift to throw her weight in its direction and catch herself. Again she would need to pick up speed, but this was easy. It would be between them again soon enough... and soon enough came quickly! 

It was within her reach. Sunday Morning struck, quick and deliberate. An answering shriek rent the air, her teeth puncturing its hind-leg, and Sunday Morning knew Mountain Boulder would put an end to it as she dug into her heels. To release it would be to permit its escape; she left room for Mountain Boulder to quickly deliver the killing blow, all this in a stretch of milliseconds.

gonna start the new thread, we can continue this one as long as u like! <3

his broad muzzle flashed with alacrity.

the animal did not have time to scream again.

he stood panting and disheveled and feral, tail revolving behind his hips. the blood of the rabbit was cooling upon the ground. augur dipped his tongue to lick at the puddle and then pressed reddened lips to new snow's cheek, dripping scarlet upon her fur.

it was a sort of lasting kiss, a mark, a sight.

augur rumbled for her to eat. in some hours of travel it would be time to call blood eyes.

sounds perfect to me!

He was swift, as she had suspected he would be. Sunday Morning felt pride. For him, and for the way they had worked well together. This she had also suspected, but it was better to know it. Sunday Morning released the leg now, licking her chops as her plume matched the movements of his own. His head was still low, and as he rose he brought with it their kills blood. Sunday Morning rumbled happily as again he bestowed his affection upon her, doing nothing to remove the mark he left.

She returned the gesture in kind, though her own mark was a little less bloody. Remnants, traces, of the blood that had come when she had released the leg were there.

Sunday understood him well. Their language was a shared one. But she would not let him go without, and as she grabbed its hind she reared its head in an invitation for him to eat, too, if he wished. What was her own would ever be his, now. Then, she moved to lick away the furs before digging in.

when augur had been darkclaw, his brother had chased him from their natal pack for his fraternizing. they had chosen him for his great height and his gentle nature. but it was not his right to breed. 

now he stood with a she-wolf who might carry his children, who deferred to him in affection and hunted with the telepathic nature of their species by his side. augur growled gently as she placed her own red stamp on his cheek. his yellow eyes were approving as she began to eat.

he did not accept her offering. not yet. the hunter settled to his broad haunches and watched the horizon for any wolfish figures. he tested the air. he would eat what was left.

An ear twitched as she ate. He stood guard alongside her, and she trusted in his surveillance. There was no gesture that revealed he saw anything troublesome. Sunday Morning was at ease. For many months, during her journey here, she had almost forgotten the feel of peace. Each meal was quick and rushed. She knew well how to kill coyotes, but against three she would forfeit her meals in favor of her health. Sunday Morning had not slept soundly in all of that time, up until she had come across Mountain Boulder.

She was refreshed, and even now she did not starve. They had feasted upon their own find but days ago, and so when Sunday Morning felt satisfied she nosed the remainder of the hare toward him, an almost insistent snort filling the air. She did not yet sit, and now she too looked around them. Her tongue lolled in a quiet pant as she cooled off, ears swiveling again as she took in the sounds around them.

she was restless and eager to be off. augur could taste her impatience.

when new snow ordered him to eat he did, smearing blood upon the ground, cracking bone so the echo of it could be heard across the taiga. the rabbit was little more than tattered flesh when he finished. he nosed the pelt against the earth and then looked up at her with a lick of his jaws.

he was ready.

augur set off at an easy lope, fitting her to his side as they went. eventually he would stop and there he would call for blood eyes. but in this moment he only enjoyed her company and the ease of it.

this can be a fade, if you want!

The sound of him eating filled the air. She was glad to stand watch for him, as he had done and would do for her. She did not look to him as he ate, though an ear remained upon him in case he had anything to communicate. Only once he finished did she look back to him, tail slowly swaying behind her. 

When he moved, so too did she, settling comfortably at his side. Sunday Morning felt good about the course of things, and found herself glad once again that it was he who answered her call.