Flycatcher Downs but you lie

Intended for @Rala

Sun rising in the early morning sky, the titaness strides through the snow with the strength of a thousand women. The air is cold, but through her thick shield of fur Dyone barely notices.

Head lifting high, she pauses for only a moment to take in the surrounding scents. She is downwind, good for hunting.

Paws flexing, she stretches out her back as she ponders. A good hunt would certainly give her a boost, but is it worth the risk to try anything large enough for her taste? She is on her own now, after all.

She frowns, ears turning to the sound of crunching snow.

this day, she went south of the valley. what was intended to be a patrol had grown to be a hunt, as her stomach grew angrier and angrier with the lack of food. wintertime had the teekons in an iron grip, unrelenting, though today was oddly beautiful ; the cool orange of a rising sun, akin to the gaze in which she scanned the lands with.

pale figure could not hide for long. many of her lineage stood white amongst the snow, and so it grew easier to spot a wolf, white just as she was. snow crunched underfoot as she surrendered any potential grace in favour of moving quickly, tail swaying high above her rump ; a display of dominance. spring would be coming around soon. the valley had to be well protected, and though they had guards, nanuralaaq enjoyed the work.

you approach bearclaw valley, came her voice, projected across the downs. downwind, too, whispered the instincts of a huntress. perhaps they had both gathered here for the same purpose. snowwoman stepped closer, surveying. looking upwards to do so, as she was much bigger than the polar-cub who assessed. she stopped in her tracks, then, gaze unwavering, almost defiant in the way a girl may be, though muscled like a woman made for the hunt of the thunderous beasts. an interrogation, now.

for what reason are you so close?

The crunch and the following voice comes from what is only a little thing. Dyone cannot help but be amused. You speak as though you are accusing me of something. She does not hesitate to approach the other; there is something about towering over another wolf that never ceases to bring her satisfaction. I am not within a territory that has a claim staked on it. She muses at her words.

It is the height of the year, I have no intention of being bothered by a breach of borders. Spoken as though the crossing of another's borders would be an inconvenience to her, rather than the pack. She lifts her nose again now, tail lifting to mimic the smallers. There is no deference in her stance. Deer walk nearby.

Not as good as an elk, but they were a meal larger than a rabbit. More than enough to feed herself, too.

woman was too confident for her own good. nose wrinkled for a moment as she drew closer, teeth threatening to flash a pearly white, tail flicked behind her, too. you are close, she pointed out. she had no intention of being bothered? the gall. deer walk nearby, she said, so the snowwoman pushed past and lifted her nose to the air.

you are right, she murmured, as if reluctantly so. perhaps she could frame this in a way that the stranger would agree to, so she turned back to the taller woman and said: we hunt together, if you like, as if it were to be her blessing to hunt alongside this bold woman. we feed, and you do not traverse further north, that was her deal.

should it seem agreeable enough to her? nanuralaaq hoped so, as did her stomach.

She hummed, as though considering the smaller ones request. We will feed, and then I will go where I please. Your pack does not interest me now, no borders will be crossed. It was what she had decided their agreement would be.

Will you tell me your name, little wolf? Her voice was kinder now, friendly almost. If they were to hunt together, both women would need to keep their attitudes in check - this one had a good face too, it made things easier.

If she had the option to hunt with a companion, she would. Dyone was unsure how long it would be until she found a pack in which she was willing to stay, or if she would at all. These opportunities could be rare.

no borders will be crossed, and so she huffed, then, in agreement, and gave a flick of her tail as she begun to follow the scent. a beckoning call, for the little lady would lead the way, she had decided. nanuralaaq, she said, for she would not bestow a stranger with the luxury of her communal title. cub of polar bear, it means.

you follow me to deer, she instructed. paws that now grew silent carried her through the snow as she went, occasionally glancing over her shoulder as to ensure that the stranger was nearby. stranger, she thought, and so she said: and your name?

She followed with a lick of her lips, eyes of a siren watching the girls every step. If this Nanuralaaq wished for her to walk behind, she would. It was preferred over having her own back to a stranger.

Dyone. She responds. I suppose that I do not know it's meaning, only that it is after the wife of a god. That was where all of her sister's name's had come from, including her own. She was after a titan goddess and prophet, one who had birthed a goddess of beauty for the king.

Her parents choices were odd, but she appreciated them nontheless. They were good names that reflected their beholder in one way or another.

you are named after a god-wife? she murmured, her brows drawing together in a micro expression of disbelief. a faint dislike for the woman festered within her chest, but one must remain polite in the midst of a hunt, or else they would doom their fate to a hungry night. good to meet you, dyone, said majorly out of etiquette.

scent on wind grew stronger. dark nostrils flared for a moment, taking in the smells, pale head turning so she may search the air, dawn-hued gaze squinting so she may look for any signs of the deer that traverse through the downs. dark hairs are noticeable upon the snow, and nanuralaaq draws herself closer towards them, neck bending down so she may drink in the smell. two droplets of pale scarlet linger by the hairs ; there is a chance that this ungulate may be injured. a flick of her tail waves over dyone, the other huntress.

look here, snowwoman instructed. it is close - and it is injured, which made it a whole lot easier for them! there was no sympathy that coursed through her veins, no remorse in the hunt, for she knew how it felt to go hungry, and she would not allow herself nor her packmates to experience such a thing again. she stood, now.

follow - but, keep an eye out.