Snowforest Taiga nibinaboug jiske

aw with my new girl! <3

the rising sun was a song that ma'kwis could not ignore. the warmth is spread over the taiga, its morning glory a sight that reminded her of home. there might have been an ache in her chest and in her heart—but this was her way. her path. and she must not turn from it, for it would be forsaking her people. 

the golden and orange hues of the sun's fire matches the colors she bore. a child of tepaskwa, a child born of the sun. kuva moved with the light-footed grace of a huntress, a warrior. gliding across the plains with vigor, keen eyes searching. 

a herd of wāpāts grazing off in the distance. a bugle from the bull, a song that called to her. an invitation for a hunt. she would stalk closer with precision and prowess, body lowered closer to the soft ground, the dry brush her advantage.

the wind shifts. carries the scent of the herd, the sharp musk of the bull. the huntsman is called by it and finds himself instinctively drifting closer, licking at old blood that still stained his maw.
later, he would need to wash.
ulfric stands downwind now, silent and still. the earth is soft beneath his paws, the dry brush bending without a sound as he watches her—a huntress, golden in the morning light, moving with the ease of one born to it.
there is a slight twitch of his mouth, perhaps into a smile; it fades just as quickly. he presses on, moving past trees quietly, almost as if he were one of them.
he would join her hunt, if she'd allow him.

keen ears turn toward the distant crunch of footsteps in the snow. sharp eyes following, leering at the brute of a man that joins her on the plains. his pelt and build remind her of a makwa., but she is still wary. watching. judging his movements, the way he glides along the base of the treeline. 

heading toward the herd. she bristles, lips curling in distaste—he dare interrupt her hunt? irritation ignites in her veins, alongside a certain competitiveness. the kind that drove her forwards quicker, swifter, as she would not allow him to trample around like a brute and scare the wāpāts.

small paws carry her atop the snow like a ray of sunlight. focused on the herd that now comes into view, grazing just downwind. occasionally turning her gaze toward the trees to watch his approach. 

perhaps he could prove his strength. the bull was healthy and strong; he must be before his cow's season came and with it competitors. and so she allows his presence during her hunt for now; but she will not tolerate failure. 

once she is within range, she breaks into a sprint. carving through the plains with fury, swerving with fluidity between fleeing cows, her sights set on the bull that leads the stampede.

she notices him, and it is not with the grace of a friendly woman that she greets him. he sees the flash in her eyes and ulfric must clamp teeth together to keep from chuckling. the faintest of noises now would alert the herd.
wolf eyes turn inward to the herd and he moves quickly, paws stepping lightly to prevent. making quick to appraise the herd; seeing the flightiness in their limbs, the insularity of which they moved. they knew that wolf's teeth lurked nearby—ulfric's eyes harden.
he does not charge in like a beast.
the huntsman narrows himself, angling around the side. blocking escape routes from the bull in the center, who now hangs his head lowly, snorting noises of threat. ulfric strikes now, cutting towards the herd; cows beginning to flee, the bull left to defend.

the chase is short-lived—thunderous hooves shake the earth beneath her paws as the cows flight responses drive them away, towards the trees. seeking cover. and the bull stands left to fight. nostrils flared, hoof scraping against the earth. 

a challenge that the ma'kwis cannot ignore. in her soul beats a war-drum of her people, in her mind there is the chant of their songs. driving her forward without fear, but with certainty. the bull will fall. 

makwa man does not disappoint yet. it was he who isolated the bull, left its hind vulnerable as he charged head-on. kuva takes the window of opportunity with vengeance; leaping off the ground to hurl herself onto the bull's back. 

jaws part to clamp down upon the back of the bull's thick neck. teeth piercing flesh with a rumble of her feral growls, metallic ichor flooding down her throat. this would be a kill that would make her people proud. claws dig into thick hide, securing herself as the bull panics and thrashes.

the bull jerks, violent, furious—flings her off like she weighs nothing. she hits the ground, hard, a burst of snow and dirt. hooves rise, dark against the sky, aimed to crush her beneath them.
fuck!
ulfric moves before thought, before reason.
a snarl rips from his throat as he slams into the bull’s side, shoulder driving hard into flesh. not enough to take it down, but enough to throw it off. the hooves meant to shatter bone crash down just inches from where she lies, kicking up ice, shaking the earth.
his teeth find flesh before the bull can retaliate, redirecting him from the woman.

kuva hits the ground with a grunt, lips curling and teeth snapping in irate. eyes wide as the bull reared upward, blocking the sun—back lit and formidable. she's rolling away from the path of where it planned to stomp just as the makwa man barreled into it's side. 

he hits true, he hits hard. but she does not have the time to admire the strength in which he hunts with. where he latches onto the bull's leg, she dives back into the fray. spittle freeing from her jaws before her teeth find their mark on the bull's throat. 

hackles bristled with energy pent, wild growls muffled into the fur of the bull's neck. she bites down hard, squeezing at the animals throat. if makwa man was a proficient hunter, he would make his move now, and she would assess.

he lets go. in an instant, he is shifting, moving—tearing away from the bull’s leg and surging forward. his shoulder crashes into its flank again, but this time, it is not to unbalance—it is to bring it down.
his teeth snap, finding the tender place just below kuva’s hold. he does not hesitate. he crushes down, feeling the pulse weaken, feeling the bull’s strength drain, shake, fall.
its great weight collapses beneath them, sending up a burst of snow and dirt. his breath is heavy, chest rising, falling, his fur slick with blood that is not his own.
silence, then, for several long pauses, but then he gulps down a hot, vicious breath: mad woman, what is your name? looking upon her in astonishment.

together, they bring the mighty bull to its knees. crashing into the earth, spraying the pair with snow. wheezing and thrashing before it ultimately goes still. and even then, for a few moments, kuva does not let go. she squeezes, crushes. only when she feels the pulse beneath her teeth still, she lets go. 

she whispers a quick prayer, so that the fierce spirit of the felled bull find its way to the sun. to continue its stampede in the afterlife. blood stains her golden maw, in which she laps at it only once before the man speaks.

kuva does not respond at first. she slinks closer, eyeing him. wary, but curious. almost approving. he was strong, broad—he would have made a fine makwa'tek. she's nosing at his side, his shoulder—uncaring of his personal space. tail swaying with her approval. 

"kuvageegai," she stated, short and pointed. rounding back to his front, she meets his gaze with intensity. "you tell makwa-man name." her common tongue fractured, thick with her distinct accent.

he doesn’t speak again right away. his breath still comes heavy, the cold air burning in his lungs. blood slicks his muzzle, his chest. the bull’s spirit, he hopes, runs swift into the next life.
she moves in close, bold, nosing at his side, his shoulder. he watches, unmoving, though a brow lifts at the closeness. her scent is thick with earth, sweat, blood, and victory.
ulfric, he answers, steady. voice rough. still catching his breath. ulfric of skarvheim.
a pause, as his gaze narrows slightly. you fight like something untamed. what are you?

"ulfric fight like makwa'tek." her voice is approving, a raspy hum as she continues to catch her breath. then, after a pause, "strong hunter." he'd passed her test, and therefore he was permitted to stay. to feast on their kill. she would not chase him away.

untamed. the compliment is met with a fleeting, bloody smile. a lash of her tail. untamed is how she wished to be; unruly, unchained. the decider of her own fate, the trailblazer of her own path. "come," she more-so demands than she invites, as she motions to the kill. 

typically, she would not share her meals, less it was with her twin. but he had proven his strength, and so she would omit. "you bite first. you eat first." as was the way. 
 she sat, tail flicking with a flare of impatience. the hunger that clawed at her sides would have to wait.

makwa’tek. strong hunter. he does not know the meaning in full, but the tone is clear. he has earned something. her respect, perhaps. her trust, just enough to remain.
her tail lashes. a flick of fire behind her, that bloody grin cutting across her face like a mark of pride. she says come, and it is not a suggestion.
he follows.
he steps to the carcass, lowering his head, lips curling back as his teeth tear through hide and fat, breaching to the meat below. the warmth of it floods his tongue, thick and heavy. he bites deep, chews slow.