Hushed Willows This is how you remind me of what I really am

For @Wayfarer, making a few assumptions, let me know if anything should be changed <3 other tags for ref!

Paranoia edged her thoughts of late; daily she struggled against her own mind, against the whispering thoughts that suggested that perhaps @Boone did not love her after all, or perhaps the strangers they'd taken in meant to harm them, or the witch would return, or —

It was a matter of redirection. Reframing. The last of the herbs she might gather had died to the frost, and so Reverie focused her efforts on hunting, and on @Blossom, who had been plagued by a sorrow so thick it hurt Reverie's own heart to see it. She'd never been a very good hunter; the violence of it frightened her, the blood sickened her. She hated to know that she'd brought death to another creature.

But it was easier with a partner. She sought out Wayfarer with this in mind, the woman whose friendship had become an easy constant since she'd agreed to stay. Reverie knew that Wayfarer still traveled, but that didn't bother her; she'd once been the same with Kvarsheim, a scout who passed the borders as it struck her fancy, and she didn't think Boone would mind it either. As long as Reverie herself didn't leave. She pushed that troubled thought away and searched the trees for her friend.

Wayfarer felt frost underfoot as she picked her way through the willows, and found herself thinking on the Winter to come. Soon fresh snowfall woukd blanket the lands, making life difficult - especially for a fledgling pack like Hearthwood. She still wasn't sure what to make of it. It was a fondness for Reverie that spurred her decision to stay, though there was a strong possibility she'd choose to disperse whenever Spring returned.

Whenever her gilded companion was sure to swell with new life.

An unfamiliar weight sunk to the pit of her belly at the thought, the mental image. Wayfarer wished she could scratch it from her mind's eye, and just as she prepared to distract herself with a jog she caught a glimpse of her friend between the trees up ahead. She barked to attract Reverie's attention, and pressed on toward her.

It seemed that she and Wayfarer had both been thinking of one another. Reverie lit with joy at the sight of her, tail waving merrily as she went to greet her with a brush of her nose to the woman's shoulder. The wind picked up just then, and she shivered slightly.

It's so cold lately, Reverie commented lightly, thinking she was very lucky to have a giant husband to crawl beneath at night. I was thinking of hunting, maybe - I wanted to ask you to come with me. If you're not too busy? Her eyes flitted over Wayfarer for any sign of hesitation, and she was struck again by the blatant prettiness of her. By comparison Reverie felt — ragged, scattered with the scars of all the times she'd nearly died in the last year, not quite as fresh-faced and glowing as she'd been before so much heartbreak. Was that longing in her jealousy, or something else? She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about it. So she didn't.

I like the cold, Wayfarer chirped, her counter lightened by laughter. There was discomfort to be expected in Wintertime, she'd experienced, though she allowed herself a moment to recall with fondness how she and her brother would curl up with one another on those bitter nights as cubs. Things were better with a warm body to lean on, but she'd survived the previous snowy season without one. This one would not be so lonely with the Hearthwood wolves, though she rather wished she had a companion to press herself to.

Someone like Reverie.

The fire-pelted rogue bit back the thought before it could develop, and distracted herself by reaching to mouth playfully at her golden pack-mate's ears. Her own lifted at the suggestion of a hunt, and her commitment was clear in smile that graced her maw. Sure, she agreed, got a target in mind?

She blushed and giggled softly when Wayfarer mouthed at her ears, caught off guard by how much she enjoyed it. But in the next moment Reverie stifled herself and tried to stay casual. I found some goat tracks over that way, She gestured toward the western reaches of the territory where hills met the mountains. And blood.

Reverie beckoned for her friend to follow and took the lead, continuing, I grew up in a - a very hot place. Hot and dry, most of the time, She explained softly, glancing at Wayfarer briefly as she spoke. I don't know if I'll ever get used to the cold! But I do love snow. My favorite kind is when it's fresh, and you can kick it into a pile and jump into it. Her voice turned fond as she remembered that first winter in Kvarsheim, how delighted she'd been at each new discovery.

Goat, she said, which spurred Wayfarer's excited anticipation for a meal of such delight. The russet rogue flicked her tongue over an upper canine, already relishing the thought of sinking her fangs into prey more sizeable than the meager critters she'd had to pick at during her wandering life. It would be good to have a hunting partner - someone she could trust to share the bounty.

She followed willingly, veering in close to her companion's flank where the temptation to plant a sharp nip was almost too much. Wayfarer inhaled deep and steeled herself, feeling Reverie was sure to be receptive of her attempt at playful teasing, but Boone's face materialised in her mind's eye and she decided to keep her mouth to herself.

We are opposites, then, her amber eyes glittered to compliment the curve of her smile; Reverie already knew she'd been born and raised on the glacier to the East, you and I. And I like fresh snow, too - some of the best dens I ever built were made from snow.

Opposites. Reverie smiled faintly at that. She could hardly imagine a den made from snow! It seemed like it would be far too cold to sleep in.

A den made of snow? How do you do that? She wondered aloud. And the day passed that way, simple and sweet, with Wayfarer giving her explanation before they were inevitably drawn into their hunt. Reverie still wasn't quite a fan of hunting — but Wayfarer's presence made it a little easier. They would share the spoils in the aftermath, and cache the rest, and Reverie would spend the evening thinking about how lucky she was to have such a lovely friend in Hearthwood already.