Herbalists' Cache all places the same

Hi there please write with me someone anyone thank you

Valiant's internal compass was as accurate as ever, but his memories of this land were old and fading. He wanted to find the willows where he'd been born, but each stand of trees looked both familiar and strange to him. He worried he would not know it when he came to it. Perhaps he had wandered through already.

It shouldn't matter, really. They were such a small part of him compared to the other places he'd laid his head. Perhaps he just hoped to find more lost loved once among the trees. Perhaps he hoped to pass his mother's trail, or his siblings' or his father's. Perhaps it was simply nostalgia that ached like an empty stomach when it went unfed.

Valiant paused to push his nose into a carpet of mint, and it felt good to breathe in at least one familiar scent. After a moment of thought, he dropped first his shoulder and then his haunch onto the ground and began to roll around in it, legs wheeling in the air as he twisted and thrashed.

<3

Solveig felt optimistic; passing through the Taiga brought her fresh sweeping breezes of cool air, and notes of herbs as they grew and flourished. She noticed Rosemary, and saw dill growing in a Feb she had passed- but the most aromatic of all was the mint, which seemed accentuated on the air. It was a clean scent, and she was drawn toward it as the essence was essentially squeezed out of the plants.

In the distance, she could see what had caused the sudden flush of mint scent on the breeze- a pale wolf, whose lightly sooty pelt now likely had all sorts of mint leaves in it, was rolling around on the ground. Her mood was bright still; she could tell that her season was coming to an end, but still she felt impulsive and frisky. 

Here, before her, was another opportunity. 

She uttered a soft chuckle, entertained at the sight of someone as masculine as him to be caught mint-bathing. Mirth shone in her eyes which would be averted coyly should he overhear her and glance in her direction.

hoooow did you know I was hoping to attract you <3

Laughter — not something the isbjørn had been expecting to hear. In truth, he'd felt quite alone in the little hollow. Had felt quite alone for some time by then. Perhaps it shouldn't have been, but tipping his head back to see a stranger hanging like a bat from the earth was something of a revelation.

He rolled to his belly so that she was standing right-side up and swept his tail across the bed he'd made of crushed mint.

"Somethin' funny, ma'am?" he asked in a voice full of faux challenge. He did not mind being caught in such a frivolous activity, but he played into the narrative all the same.

For a moment, anyway. In the next, he was stalking toward her low on his belly, his body language hunting but his eyes bright with curiosity and mirth. He could smell her over the strong scent of mint as he grew closer. There was little that could draw him in more quickly than the sweet smell of spring in a woman's blood. It was a scent he'd like to bathe in just as surely as the mint.

Yeeeeee I’m glad <3 I pounced it as soon as I could!

 

He rolled over, showing off the steep curve of his silver-caped shoulders. His question earned a coy side-eye, though she side-stepped on light ankles when he rose and leered toward her. 

She knew the mark of humour in his voice, and recognized with a pant of nostalgia the step of a wolf set to spar with a good companion. It was a move that seemed quite brazen, from a stranger- but she appreciated his boldness as a display of confidence. 

She’d simply have faith she could hold him at bay if necessary, but moved with him, luring him into a circle so they might oppose one another, silver and tan. 

”Yes,” She answered, revealing her teeth in a daring grin. ”You still have a bit of it behind your left ear.”

The coquettish dance lured the isbjørn like a moth to a flame, and indeed, she glowed like embers in the afternoon light. The warm cream of her coat set against spring-green foliage was a pretty vision, and the flash of her white teeth a welcome thrill.

"That so," he said, swiveling said ear but failing to knock loose the fragrant herb. He did not particularly want to, but had he been so inclined, a single shake would have made quick work of it. Instead he laid flat on his belly and tipped his head to the side in invitation. "Will you help me get it off, then?" he asked her, his tone just the wrong side of innocent.

While his tone might be overlooked, his forepaws were splayed and ready to propel him and his hind legs were coiled to spring. He had no desire to hurt or overpower the woman, but he wasn't quite done rolling around on the ground. He thought a pretty, sweetly perfumed companion was the perfect addition.

Their eyes jousted, their movements parried; hunter and hunted, orbiting one another until he sank to the ground, and beckoned her with a tone that was inviting, despite the crouch she recognized in the muscles of his limbs. 

”I would not make it so-“ she began, before she turned her back on him, and flicked her head back so she could cast a glance down her own spine toward him. ”Easy.” She turned again, to face him, stance lowered, tail lashing.

”Try to keep it from me.” She said, taking one halting step forward- giving him at least a chance to register the challenge.

The isbjørn tracked her movements with searing, rose-gold eyes. He thought she might go and leave him for a moment, and Valiant meant to follow! But he was arrested by the backward glance she sent him and froze there like a trap half-sprung while she whirled back toward him.

"Come and get it," he replied, unbothered by the sport being made of him. He'd intended to roughhouse without any excuse, so he was just as happy to do so now that she'd given him one. Even so, the isbjørn only spun away from her and failed to make any attempt at fleeing. When she came nearer, he surged forward in turn, keeping his head turned so that the leaf was out of her reach but hoping to bowl her over all the same.

It was to no real end; Valiant did not take her season or sensuality as permission or encouragement, but her puckish behavior had certainly invited play.

"My leaf is your prize," he pointed out, continuing to turn circles and shoulder-check as needed to try and keep the leaf away. His tongue lolled in a bright, mischievous grin. "But what am I playing for?"

Solveig liked to spar with low stakes. Of course, she would spar happily with someone who would fight until first blood was drawn, but fighting in a way that was more a seduction was appealing as well.

She moved with him, noticing that even when he allowed her close, he kept his head out of reach, or turned the other side toward her. He asked for his prize- and she saw that as her advantage.

She turned, and sank into a stretch, peering over her shoulder as she spoke. ”a better prize then a sprig of mint,” She said with a chuckle. She stood up, hoping he might’ve let his guard down- and leapt to try and snatch the mint from behind his ear again.

Unfortunately for his nameless companion, Valiant was not easily distracted from any sort of competition. He had never been a sore loser, but his focus tended to narrow when he had a goal set before him. This was not to say that he was not seduced; it was just that his desire urged him to impress her with his competitive streak before he would allow himself to claim any prize.

And that meant keeping his own out of her mouth.

He'd moved toward her as she stretched, easily drawn in closer even if he wasn't about to let his guard down. It had looked like an implicit invitation to embrace her, and so Valiant intended to! Even though he knew it was really still a ploy for the leaf.

The wrestling match went on a little longer; the isbjørn walked a fine line in his aggression, always stopping just short of full attempts at subduing the beguiling woman. The truth was that he would play her game until she drew tired of it — or he'd intended to up until the leaf was suddenly in her mouth. Perhaps it was that he'd grown too cocky or perhaps it was that he liked to see a proud, gloating look in a woman's eye. Whatever the case, a dramatic gasp escaped him: How dare.

"You're a real troublemaker, aren't you?" he asked her, attempting still to play into a more serious narrative even as a delighted, wolfish grin split his maw. He lowered his voice to a faux growl to say, "You give that back, woman."

He thought that it was his turn to pursue.

Solveig enjoyed a challenge, but what she appreciated as well was flirting with a fine line between seduction and sparring. She had an unfair advantage, perhaps, though he seemed to do quite well- with all the opportunities and invites she strung along for him to seize, he did not. All she needed was for him to lower his head, or allow for her to get a limb over his tall shoulders.

Smiles were shared between the both of them, and she felt the pleasing press of strength whenever he managed to outmaneuver her. Gentle nips were little more than a joust- proof that a more painful hit could have been placed, had they been in a real fight.

But this was much more a dance- a dance for warriors, who leapt and dove, swerved and braced for impact. And when he lunged low, she seized the chance and snagged the sprig of mint from behind his ear, dancing a few feet away with the prize dangling from her teeth. 

She tucked it into the fur just behind one shoulder blade and turned to regard him with a saucy smile. ”I don’t know what you mean by that,” She said, with feigned innocence. His demand came with a tone she did not enjoy, and she lifted her chin slightly.

”This woman is a shield maiden of Hljodrfell,” She informed him. She eased the tension by giving him a light smile. ”And is considering you as a potential addition to our pack; we look for those who are honourable, valiant in nature, even in loss- not sore losers,” she said, with a raised brow and a toothy grin.