Nova Peak I

Attn: @ayovi @skorpa

Moon Runner roamed and followed scarce prey across the Taiga, yet she had always intended to return to Nova Peak. After all, the scents of many wolves began to inundate the region. Competition would become fierce in springtime and the young female knew life as a dispersal would become more and more difficult.

She had found precious camaraderie in Cloud Dancer and Grim Tooth… plus the familiar role of caretaker tugged at her spirit.

Tufts of white hair fell like snowfall from the dead rabbit - stiff with rigor – in Moon Runner’s jaws. She loped Westward, past the Rise. Once upon the fringes of the mountain territory, Moon Runner sang and announced her return.

In her most somber provocations, the huntress did not believe Nemage would return to the mountain. Her den stands empty, adorned only in the small charms and sprigs of dried cornflower which Ayovi had allocated to sweeten her spirit-beings. She imagines the winsome woman had gone off to find a mate, and on the seclusion of their peak did the ivory pray for her found happiness.
The voice that blooms up from valley is so tranquil that the huntress believes she’s imagined it, and stills herself to listen again. A second call nearly undoes her. In the last two weeks she’s had more affection in her heart than in the entire previous year of travel. She is a bundle of feverish excitement and vibrating calls as plunging strides guide her down towards the known singer.
Her approach slows, though only just— tail at a jovial beat and tongue flicking kisses out over lips. Tentatively, she pushes a nose to Nemage's cheek, scenting the travels upon her fur. She waits for reciprocation before enfolding her in a firmer embrace.
“Sister,” she whispers into downy nape, “welcome home.”

Their reunion is joyous. Moon Runner’s posture curved submissively in Cloud Dancer’s presence. Between her hocks, silver tail wagged too and fro. Her ears – tipped backward. Like two trout in a pond, they mingle together in flowing, circular movements. Happy sounds eek from Moon Runner’s throat. Then, when the initial excitement died down, she is able to receive Cloud Dancer more stoically and present her with the hearty kill she had found.

She licked at Cloud Dancer's chin.

Wealda, Wealda, Wealda, the spirit sings.

I am happy to be home.

At the height of Nemage’s new submission the huntress is left with a loss of how to conduct herself. No, the tender nudges try to say, for they would always be equals upon the mountain. Regardless, she takes the snowhare from her, a soft smile curving dark lips.
“Thank you,” Ayovi turns and smooths a companionable nuzzle into the frosted guardhairs, encouraging sister to follow up into the rise. As they step together, side-by-side, she noses her shoulder affectionately, taking comfort in solid familiarity. 
“Did you find a man?” The huntress’ eyes spark in blue wonder. Had Nemage learned of those same pleasures that Skorpa kindled within her? Would they raise young ones together on the mountain?

There was a hole in Moon Runner’s heart the shape of Sister (@Saturdays Sunrise)… none would fit it perfectly, but Cloud Dancer came close. Perhaps it was the familiar pale pelt or their similar age that bestowed the gift of kinship… but no, it was deeper than that. Cloud Dancer’s spirit was magnetic to Moon Runner’s. As if they were two notes in the same song.

When Cloud Dancer nosed her coat, Moon Runner’s back legs kicked out in a big stretch, as if to present the opportunity to check her pelt up and down. Plenty of nature’s scents were there – but no other’s. And furthermore, Moon Runner’s own aroma was cold and not yet spiced with the season.

She loped after Cloud Dancer.

Would she seek out a mate? The memory of Blood Spot claiming dominance over Proud Mother during her estrus was vivid. Moon Runner only knew a linear hierarchy. The wellbeing of the leading pair’s children came first. What instinct would reign supreme? To procreate or to abide by pack law?

The smell of Grim Tooth furled from Cloud Dancer’s pelage in great wafts.

Quiet is a nebulous state given the star mountain’s recent affairs. The huntress steeps herself in it, grateful for a wordless moment with nothing but the woman’s warm presence. She gives it in turn, a soft smile growing as they walk.
Something in Ayovi seems to shift, fueled by centuries of an instinctual fervor she is only beginning to understand. The way those gold eyes caress her face, the way her tail lowers and waves— it is a testament to some deeper kinship. Ayovi runs her chin along the girl’s back, pausing for only a moment before spurring them quicker up the mountain.
Perhaps Nemage can scent the Ashēeran woman’s changes; the passion that has fueled she and Skorpa into awaiting parenthood; or otherwise a furious excitement that lay dormant inside Ayovi.
Once, snowwoman had brought them to a densite. Now Ayovi traces her same route, lingering respectfully outside the cavern’s mouth while gesturing sister onward.
This could be home, if she liked. A permanent one.

Moon Runner quickly followed as her lope turned into a swift canter up the mountain’s rocky terrain.

If Cloud Dancer and Grim Tooth had taken one another as mates, then the seeds of the next generation will have been sewn. They would need a watcher. A guardian. A caretaker.

She was led to the communal den where Grim Tooth had rested. Where Rolling Thunder, Blood Spot, and Chipmunk had once lived.

She slipped through its mouth and curled up as if to say home.

Nature is such a vivid thing here. The birds and clouds and sprawling lodgepoles, and Nemage, equally vivid among them, a snowclad being with the sun in her eyes when it would not shine in the sky. Ayovi watches, wondering if she too can sense the salient spirits here; that beyond surviving there is work to be done upon the mountain.
She steps forward, balling herself beside the woman to further investigate the places she’d been, tongue reaching to gently stroke at the travelworn face.
The mountain felt a little bit more like home.