Chimera Fields All the fear and the fire
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Ooc — River
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#26
She made a huff of her own as he seemed set on managing the carcass by himself. He set off on the path that would take them whence they came. Somber paws moved at lengthened strides to carry her out in front of Cole. Her skull was tilted back slightly in a faux display of haughtiness, tail lifted to be level with her spine. 

Dæmigerður berserkur.
Bearclaw Valley
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honey-drawled shooter
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#27
Cole’s gaze narrowed slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips as he caught her little display—head held high, tail up, just begging for a reaction. The words she muttered, low and sly, went right over his head, but the tone? He knew that well enough.

What was that, sweet thing? he drawled, matching her haughtiness with a low chuckle.

With the weight of the carcass steady on his back, he kept an easy pace behind her, amused by the little dance she’d put on. Whatever she’d said was probably playful, just another jab to keep things interesting, and he couldn’t help but enjoy it.
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Ooc — River
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#28
Sweet thing?

Her left ear swiveled around, and then her head shifted slightly to the left to regard the brute out of the corner of her pale eye.

I'm not sweet, she said, deftly dodging the question.

And then her gaze returned to the direction they were heading in.
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honey-drawled shooter
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#29
Cole let out a quiet chuckle, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he followed her gaze, adjusting the weight of the carcass on his shoulders.

Sure y’are, he murmured with a trace of amusement. Didn’t kill me when we met, did ya? That’s plenty sweet for someone like you. He shook his head slightly, the hint of a smirk lingering. But don’t think I’ve forgotten—you still owe me that dance.
art © elmwick, commissioned by me.
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Ooc — River
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#30
Her ears flicked back, still irked by "sweet". He kept using it like a stick he was poking her with.

I can still change my mind. She found the act of killing unimaginative. It was better to leave one begging for death.

In regards to the dance, she simply replied: I doubt you could handle me.
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honey-drawled shooter
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#31
Cole's grin spread slow and easy, a glint of challenge in his eye.

Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve faced a lil' danger, he drawled, tilting his head to catch her sidelong glare. Reckon I can handle plenty more than you think. He'd choose to emphasize more.

He gave a light shrug, shifting the weight of their kill on his back as he strolled beside her. But hey, if you're lookin' to keep me guessin'... I don’t mind a good chase.
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Ooc — River
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#32
Her eye slid toward him as he came up on her left. Cole continued to tease and boast.

Pointedly, she glanced away from him. Once more, gaze settled in the direction they were headed. The field's tall, yellow grass brush against pelts and the carcass perched on the brute's back.

Arnarkla's response was silence.
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honey-drawled shooter
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#33
Cole noticed the change in Arnarkla’s demeanor as she pointedly glanced away from him. The silence that enveloped them felt heavy, wrapping around him like the thick fog of morning. He had meant to tease, to keep the mood light, but now he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d pushed too far.

With a slight shift of his shoulders, he concentrated on the path ahead, the gentle sway of the tall yellow grass brushing against their pelts. The carcass on his back felt a bit heavier in the silence, each step a reminder of the disconnect that had suddenly emerged between them.

He kept his gaze forward, allowing the quiet to stretch until they arrived back at camp, where the bustle of their pack awaited them.

end here;)?
art © elmwick, commissioned by me.