Swiftcurrent Creek Reflektor

For @Njal <3

Hard work yielded excellent results when Tuwawi put her mind to it. The days had passed slowly with her head in the dirt, but the new den was beginning to take shape. Already it was a warm, dry place surrounded by a strong wall of roots, which had honestly been rather troublesome at the start, however vital to keeping water out. Much work still needed to be done, but her body ached and her nails had gone blunt, yet a small bit of pride glowed in her face, and so the Kappa sought out her mate to evaluate her progress.

She had become so engrossed in her work that Tuwawi had practically forgotten to get in touch with him. Njal was undoubtedly on patrol, or maybe he had been patching things over with Fox. Her nose lifted into the air -- his scent was dull here. Perhaps he was on the Western border. Tuwawi craned her dirty crown back and howled into the evening sky, sing-song voice lighthearted.

His new duties occupied his time, which was unfortunate. The man was indeed far from his wife's side, but his mind was with her - thinking solely of her safety as he followed the edge of the territory, seeking out new scents and old. Had she not been around, he would have been a more dutiful warden; as it was, Njal in his entirety was preoccupied. The sound of her voice cresting the horizon spurred him to move. He sought out the source - which happened to be on the opposite side of the territory, in the east - and marched.

A part of him was eager to work; it always was, really. Njal was a workhorse and he would perform until he was dead-tired on most days. Proudheart's presence granted him a new vigour. He spent less time fishing and more time attending to the borders and the natural routes throughout the territory, as per Fox's orders, yet always longed to be with her. When his silhouette finally reached the area that he thought her summons had come from, he began his search. The man hunted for the flashing red coat, for the earthy perfume that she wore.

When he finally found her, she was still hidden away. Enrobed in the scent of fresh earth and squirrelled away within the den she had finished alone. Guilt rose up within his chest when he realized how inattentive he had been to her these past few days. So eager to prove his devotion to the pack and earn his rank back - what a husband he was. "Proudheart," He rumbled pleasantly, as he dipped his nose in to the dark.

When no voice returned her call, Tuwawi waited. Her lids fluttered wearily as she curled up inside the virgin den, fair chin pressed into the newly broken ground. Only now did it occur that the home might not be big enough for the both of them. Tuwawi was accustomed to only accommodating one in temporary bramble patches, and thus she was far from being the ideal architect. However, there was a certain charm in the walls that she had crafted, smooth and strong under a scrupulous eye.

Sleep had not yet claimed the tired woman when Njal arrived. At first, only his alpine scent indicated his approach, but it was enough to breath new life into his industrious spouse. Tuwawi's face lit up at the first glimpse of his motley granite hair and she gazed, glowing with vim (albeit very dirty). "Proudheart," his low, familiar voice said in an easy tone as his broad muzzle burrowed into the den. Kindred's pseudonyms were still honored in confidence, perhaps to relish the memories they shared. "Palestrike," Tuwawi echoed as she stirred, reaching out with frayed whiskers to tickle his nose, followed by an affectionate lick to his dark lip line.

She emerged as small clumps of dirt rolled off her back like water. Only a small shake was needed to send clouds of dust pillowing from her pelt. The den... would need some breaking in. Her brow creased apologetically, a lopsided smile on her face. "Hope you don't mind that I got started. This spot just felt right." Tuwawi did not share her mate's guilt, but was empowered by her independence... although a little sheepish considering she might have jumped the gun. "What do you think?" she asked as she bottled her impatience, eager for Njal's feedback.

A soft touch was administered to her cheek when the woman flicked her tongue across his face; he inhaled softly, basking in the warmth and familiarity that her collected scent stirred within him. In the dark of the den Njal could make out the sharp corners of her face, the sheen of her eyes, but very little else. The entryway was large enough for her - but he blocked out much of the light. Should he move? Maybe. But he wasn't going to. Being close to her was far more important than a few beams of dying light.

"Hope you don't mind that I got started," She murmured with a sheepish tone, as if to ask forgiveness when she hadn't done anything wrong. The guardian smiled softly, and a rumble started in his chest; it reverberated off of the walls in an eerie manner, which prompted Njal to quiet down again. "It is good." He responded when his wife so eagerly prompted him. The den was big enough for her and that was fine - he always had a habit of sleeping on the surface anyway. It was that way in Kindred as well. Njal just didn't like being cooped up inside the earth - that was where the spirits were meant to sleep.

He reached out and pressed his face in to her cheek. Carefully shifting so that the bridge of his nose nestled in to the crook of her jaw, while he settled his body in to a prone position at the mouth of the den. It was wide enough for his shoulders if he wiggled a little. "I am sorry I did not aid you."

Tuwawi couldn't help but let loose a small, wry chuff when his bearish figure so obviously couldn't squeeze into the space she had crafted. More excavation would be underway by dawn to expand, so they might enjoy it together. His electric touch was was proof enough to strengthen Tuwawi's conviction, even if she was unaware of his fondness for sleeping where the sky could see him.

"It is good," Njal replied simply with his lavish accent - it was all that was needed to make her beam. However, her excitement was hushed by a wave of silence. Tuwawi's stomach tightened and her nape visibly bristled as she dipped into a trance spurred by heavy emotions in the air. It was a particular quiet... one she only experienced with her husband; marked by moments of paramount serenity, tenderness, deep connection, and a shared knowing look. Njal's slow breaths eased the nerves, and lulled her into a state of deep content.

He apologized as he shuffled closer, but the words were nearly lost to his wife who was tuned into the languid tempo of his breathing. The chill of his weather touched face felt like fire on her skin as they shifted, jaws besides one another as if they were basking. Tuwawi turned over onto her side as a small sliver of daylight snuck from behind Njal's shoulder, shining into one pale silver eye and betraying the wanton gaze set upon him.

The silence that met his guilty plea was something of an oddity. It was reassuring while being unnerving - serene, yet harrowing. It was hard for him to shake the feeling that he had done something wrong. Tuwawi did not seem to mind that he was not there; she was strong on her own. Capable. Her efforts had brought them together after a long time apart, and now they were here - in a home she had built, one that the man would protect with every fibre of his being. It also bothered him that he could not get closer. Njal was not a particularly affectionate individual. He caught the look in her eye, however, and grew restless. The sun caught upon her face and illuminated the rust of her cheeks, accentuated the curve of her narrow face, and Njal's body grew warm despite the winter chill around him.

He breathed a heavy sigh, drinking her in. Warming himself by his beloved fire. It was enough that she was here with him - that she had found him, and his new family had accepted her in. It hadn't been a pleasant situation with Fox, but Njal believed in his family; he would see to it that Proudheart be seen for the glorious creature that she was. Eagerly (hungrily one could say) Njal reached in to the den for her; he was close, but not close enough. Held back by the narrow opening that was big enough for the slender woman he would forever follow. With a flick of his tongue he administered a quick touch upon the wet of her nose, but could not go further.

Njal's broke Tuwawi's spell when the wet warmth of his tongue grazed her coal nose. She blinked, realizing that a daydream had easily transported her to a place not so far off, and reached out a paw to bat at his maw in a coy and playful way. It was hard to believe that she had finally found a home with him here in Swiftcurrent... it wasn't like Windrunner Plains, but she would grow fond of this land in time. A rich spring would ease her feelings, and provide now opportunities.

Tenacity was an attribute often rewarded, and it was no different for the scarlet three year old who, after the passing for many days, finally saw the fruits of their struggle. She grew restless and flipped back onto her belly before shimmying next to Njal, force ably squeezing her way out of the den if he did not move. Dirt rolled off her fur as she stepped over him, his whither nearly brushing the fur on her stomach, as she feigned dominance. The roleplaying was short lived when Tuwawi rolled onto her back, goofy expression on her mug, with jaws open in a sassy way. Her supine figure laid next to him easily, relaxed paws curled up onto her chest's creamy bib. "I will make the den bigger," she told him, a smear of dirt still smudged along her side.

Her paws reched out to him again, egging any plyful antics from her mate. "Fox seems... nice," Tuwawi said with a dusting of sarcasm. The situation had been tense, and her first memory of the alpha was a mouthful of teeth aimed right at the face. For a moment she wondered why Njal had not stepped up to take the position. He was a capable wolf, and it was not a reach to envision him leading a pack. Her scarlet tail batted the ground, waiting to see how Njal would respond.

She moved suddenly. Or maybe not, maybe he had just been as transfixed as the woman who stared blankly upon him. There was warmth in her eyes before she began to react, however, the flurry of movement and the squishing of her body against his as she fled the den, had him preoccupied. For a moment the woman stood over him - raised up upon her slender legs and looking down at the pale man. He traced her features with his eyes, quiet and accepting of whatever she was up to (but no doubt curious) and then she flopped down. Her back slid against the soil and she wedged herself against him. The reach of her paws was met with a playful nip of his teeth; he pretended to try and grab at her toes, to want to catch them and chew upon them, but each swipe was met with air and each grasp of his muzzle was the same.

"Fox seems.. Nice." Proudheart suddenly remarked, and Njal paused in his playing. Their initial meeting had been rocky and it had been his fault; but he would seek out Fox and apologize. It would be better for everyone if he accepted his zeal as a fault (at least where Proudheart was concerned). Njal quietly nodded a moment later, sending a few more playful nips and nuzzles towards Proudheart's toes and forearms before resting his head upon her closest tuft of fur. "I never imagined.. That she would take the role."

It was mutinous perhaps, to say it aloud. But he felt safe with Proudheart. It was a sentiment that many of the pack probably shared; Fox was young, after all. She was a fighter but not as strong a fighter as himself. Njal quietly breathed in Proudheart's scent as he lay there, his eyes blurry as they watched his wife's breathing. As if reading her mind, he said what they both had been thinking: "I could have challenged her. But I did not. And that is the way of it." Njal had never considered himself to be a leader, or anywhere close to leader material. Up until Swiftcurrent he had been a wanderer in search of a way back to his beloved mountain - or, when his priorities changed, back to Proudheart herself. He did not think to rule.

Another thought did rise within him, and at first Njal was unsure if he should speak it. His head lifted suddenly, and he looked away from Proudheart to peer in to the den - this home that the woman had built, that they could easily populate. When he regarded her again, he had mustered up the courage to speak. "Did you want..." Alas, the words still caught. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How big should the den be..?" How shy he was, and so suddenly! Was the thought of children so strange, so taboo now? They were together. Yet Njal still found himself nervous of their future. Afraid of it.

Wall of text ahoy!

Her husband was an honest man. Never were his words frivolous or verbose, so when he spoke Tuwawi knew to listen carefully and take his message to heart. He answered her unspoken questions, for his wife's statement had only alluded to it — and that was that. She did not bother to touch on the subject further, having a greater understanding their place in Swiftcurrent. Njal had no intention to usurp leadership amidst the strong personalities of the pack, or even act against the young alpha in any way. Tuwawi had a hunch this would be the case. It would be more beneficial to utilize this Swiftcurrent as a vessel, rather than try to bend the pack to their whims. She paused a moment to mull on this point. Hopefully, in time, they could become a strong right hand to Fox, and build the pack up as opposed to burning it down. Njal was good in every way, and Tuwawi wished for her subversive self to be more like him.

She hummed and nodded, not afraid to look into his molten eyes in a stamp of agreed opinion. Now that it had been settled, Tuwawi knew she would have to prove herself amongst the ranks, as did Fox in her new leadership role. Respect always begot respect, and her relationship with the yearling could be mended with time and diligence. Skills from Kindred and Tartok still traveled with her, as a warrior, navigator, and hunter... but these would have to be resharpened and honed. Tuwawi was strong with an able body, and with Njal at her side they could help support Swiftcurrent in ways others could not.

Red lobes swiveled in response to Tuwawi's thoughts, until she picked up on the nervous energy vibrating from her silver half. He looked into the darkness of their home with a wishful and devoted gaze, before turning to her. "Did you want..." his words became too ensnared to continue, "How big should the den be..?" Tuwawi blinked at him a few times before she truly understood what he had asked. Her ears pricked as her fur stood on end, finding his emotion highly contagious. She shuffled close to him, sitting sphinx like pressed against his side, a big smile painted sloppily across her narrow muzzle. The expression couldn't be helped, but it was soon tempered and softened.

It would be a lie to say Tuwawi hadn't thought about starting a family with Njal.... Many times over, in fact. However, she had never uttered this sentiment to her husband. In Kindred their relationship had been too new to advance it in that way; and their timing in Tartok, with Siku's feral crew, was off. The Issumatar had possessed sole breeding rights, and if any others had acted upon their natural desires they would have been exiled, or worse. The bear like matriarch had no shame in committing infanticide in an effort to protect her own bloodline. Even then, when Tuwawi's cycle had drawn close, the pack had dissipated. Perhaps Swiftcurrent would offer them this blessing. Children often brought unrivaled joy to a pack... like Sterntooth and Skydancer's litter had. The memory of her previous leader's small red and silver bundles made her smile, and it spurred Tuwawi to reflect on the type of person — mother — she wanted to become.

Yet, intimacy was something of a foreign creature to the red crested woman. Tuwawi thought she would have felt mature by now, but instead she felt inexperienced and young. It was both exciting and intimidating, and caused nervous butterflies to flutter wildly in her stomach. Her ruddy ears pinned themselves back as her chin dipped, a little bashful, but eager to talk about it with her spouse. "I think... the den should be big enough for you. For me," she paused here, the smile returning to her cougar marked face, "and for a few others." (Did this woman ever bother to speak directly?). Tuwawi attempted to muster up more courage to act candid with her husband. "It has been on my mind. To give us children," her voice flattened to a low whisper, as if they were talking in secret, "Palestrike. You are my Aokkatti. My blood." Tartok and Kindred's namesakes felt appropriate, here.

Tuwawi paused, glancing at Njal to better judge his reaction. His face was so handsome, so well chiseled... especially in the evening light. It caused her to lapse and speculate if she only craved closeness with him. A foggy memory of a passionate moment surfaced, but it was old, and quick to fade. Soon again, her cycle would arrive... but it would be soon, and she worried if the tumultuous Swiftcurrent would be in order by then. And what of Fox? Usually it was under the Alpha's discretion to let their underlings procreate or not. The bridge of Tuwawi's nose rubbed the underside of Njal's jaw as she continued, "What do you wish for?"

The man watched her in a state of quiet, only realizing that he was holding his breath when she shifted; her ears fell back and he breathed out. Her eyes turned upon him and he inhaled, slow, deliberate. Proudheart ruminated over what he said, and she seemed to grow nervous as well. Perhaps he had asked the wrong question - perhaps she did not understand? His mouth opened a crack, and Njal dragged his tongue swiftly over his nose in a nervous gesture. They had not been together in a long time. It was entirely possible that she did not feel the desire for a family the way he did; and so he was afraid. Even while the woman spoke and mentioned others, at first Njal did not hear it. He was lost in thought and apprehension.

Fox was still annoyed with him, and he did not know how long it would last. Could he bring himself back in to her good graces? Would she accept that the two of them - Njal and Tuwawi - were mates and that they desired what any couple desired? Regardless of what they wanted, the two of them would need to prove themselves thoroughly before any inclination of a bigger family could grace their minds; still, Njal thought of it. He wanted it, and hoped that Proudheart wanted it just as much. He was snapped out of his thoughts by her affirmation. "It has been on my mind. To give us children," And again, Njal breathed. A sharp breath exited him and eased in to a sigh. "Palestrike. You are my Aokkatti. My blood." Yes. They were bonded in many ways. Everything in life brought them together again and again, but they had never been granted more. Is that what she wanted too?

Njal's features became almost frigid. They did not express much. He was too afraid to really tell her what he wanted, in case it wasn't right. If there was even a small chance that it could not happen, he would not entertain the thought - but he did want it. A family. A great bloodline would rise up from the two of them, he was confident of this, and this alone. "Proudheart-" He murmured her name, the only true name he knew her by, but she was quick to draw close. To press her face in to his chin and ask, "What do you wish for?" And he melted in to a sheepish smile.

"I want... You. I want happiness for us both." He slowly spoke, enunciating carefully so that he could avoid mistakenly speaking. Now was not the time for his English to falter or his boorish accent to overtake things. "We are family with, or without, any children." That sounded wrong. Defeatist. He paused to think again and restated, "Our children would make Swiftcurrent strong." His smile grew larger at this thought, and Njal carefully shifted his head away from Proudheart so that he could press his nose against her cheek; flick his tongue across her fur. His deep voice rumbled against her skin when next he spoke.

"I want our family to be strong and good. Children with your fire, children of mountains and glaciers." A low chuckle suddenly came to his lips, for the thought of their red children racing across the snow made him so gleeful; he could not hold that back for long. "Imagine that, Proudheart. Our sons racing across the plains like sveijarn-- burning stars." It was a brilliant thought that imbibed Njal with a new vigour. An enthusiasm that ignited within his chest and burned under his own skin.

Tuwawi couldn't know the hesitation stewing in her husband's mind, only the quiet contemplation as he laid with stilted breath while she spoke. Perhaps the depths of her thoughts weren't as far reaching as Njal's — he always remained as the much wiser half of their partnership. A drop of worry rippled in her conscious when his expression became numb, but he soon recovered at her touch, when a genial smile creased his worried features. Tuwawi reflected this grin, and listened to his words rapt with attention.

At first, he seemed to steer away from the notion of offspring, and for a moment Tuwawi doubted if she had been correct in deducting what he had asked earlier. If this was the case, a hefty dose of embarrassment would ensue... However, the Russian was quick to rephrase his sentences, mindful of his words. "Our children would make Swiftcurrent strong," he told her as he planted a kiss on her curved cheeckbone. "I want our family to be strong and good. Children with your fire, children of mountains and glaciers." Tuwawi could barely contain herself as her imagination ran wild. Already the dream was real — so close within their grasp... fertile as a star-field. Now, they were on the same page. Desiring what each other wanted. "Imagine that, Proudheart. Our sons racing across the plains like sveijarn-- burning stars." "—and daughters," she added, not forgetting the thought of baby girls with their father's quicksilver hair.

A word he uttered caught a sparkle in her eye. "Sveijarn?" she parroted. The word sounded familiar and foreign at the same time... lost to Tuwawi — buried beneath years of other memories. Momentarily, she became engrossed with it, "Is that a word from your homeland? Sounds so... hmm... I remember it. Sveijarn," she said again, toying with the word on her lips. "Burning stars," she laughed, finding it both inspiring and somewhat iconic. One couldn't catch a falling star. "Suits us well... don't you think?"

"—and daughters," Proudheart was quick to quip, to which he chuffed and nodded. A brief interlude of silence then came from him, as she was overtaken by the urge to speak, and he was eager to listen. It was rare now that Njal used his native tongue. It was an odd language in this place. Ill-suited to the plains of their previous home, and to the Seahawk Valley. Perhaps it fit in the wilds? The muddied mix of Russian inflections with Norse roots, and butchered Icelandic. His family was a mix of winter beasts that had long ago replaced their skin with the iron of the mountain, and the blood in their veins with the slick ice-water of the fjords. To think that Proudheart would latch upon that foreign side of himself was thrilling; she showed a connection to the phrase he uttered, and Njal's heart swelled.

When quiet laughter pealed from his wife, Njal found his smile growing larger. The feeling in his heart near to bursting, now flooding him with adoration. He would live with that laughter forever; they were destined to be together, always. "Suits us well... don't you think?" She commented and he nodded again, although the bow of his head became a nuzzle as he drew close. With a warm breath upon her neck he muttered, "Then we shall take it as our own." They were suited for it; she the fire, and he the mountain. They would burn together. "Tuwawi Svejiarn has a ring to it." A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, deepening his words for a moment. "Njal Sveijarn -- Do you like it?" He playfully nudged her with his nose, a shock of cold between their heated bodies.

Tuwawi's ancestry was foggy at best. Muddled childhood memories barely sustained images of her blood family and relatives, and she hadn't thought of them in quite a while. It caused her to wonder what to have a strong family felt like... a mother... and a father both present. Their breed was prone to early separation from the original familial unit, but that knowledge didn't prevent some small strife within her mind. Tuwawi's mother had been the sole guardian for half a year, until she left their den and didn't return. Her legacy lived on in two daughters, one fire-touched, and one the downy shades of a dewy morning. Their faces had become blurred in time, lost to the three year old, and Tuwawi doubted she would recognize them if they met again. It wasn't even certain they were alive... and even then, what pack had they belonged to? What did her father look like? Were they good people?

Sterntooth had acted as a substitute parent throughout Tuwawi's youth, raising her with Kindred's noble morals and druidistic worship of the sun and earth. It had been enough to sway the young girl to live a life in the light. The alpha had knighted her with the name Proudheart, which she took up with great dignity, shedding the old moniker of Fauve Maike like a molting snake. And again, her name changed per Siku's decision during her initiation into Tartok. However, never had the cogs clicked together as they did when Njal uttered Tuwawi Svejiarn and Njal Sveijarn.

Its meaning was profound — in more ways than one. They were not destined to take a surname from an ancestor, but rather create their own. A wave of exhilaration washed over Njal's molten wife as her smile grew twice in size. "I love it," she stated with all the conviction in the world. "Tuwawi Sveijarn... Njal Sveijan," she repeated as if to practice her pronunciation. For once, Njal's northern language came easily to her. Silver eyes traced the outline of her husband's face as his nose pressed into the nook of her cheek. "No name could be better." Already the names of their children began to swirl in Tuwawi's mind as her excitement heightened.

Barely able to contain herself, Tuwawi jumped to her feet in a brisk motion, gaze locked on their small burrow. Her body was caught between a mix of emotions ranging from passionate and maternal to busy and engaged, but they all shared the same trembling energy. Tuwawi leaned over to nibble at her husband granite crown and tug at an ear when she became too antsy to stand still. "There is a lot of work to be done," she said, but it was unclear if she was referring to the den or to their position in the pack, "but I know it will happen."

She was pleased, and that in turn, pleased him. Njal basked in the winter sun alongside his wife and was finally content with life. They would assume these new names, form their own family, and be the root of the new tree that would grow from them; a legacy would be left behind, one that Njal could be proud of. Something his parents never would have thought for him. No doubt, they would be proud too - although, at the thought of them, Njal grew a little quiet. It had not occurred to the man that their children would never know their grandparents. The wolves of the ice and snow that lived so far north (and actually, on another continent altogether, which he wasn't aware). But for now, Njal focused upon Tuwawi. She tugged at his ear and he responded by reaching to nibble at her cheek, his brief touching leading down her neck and in to the crook of her shoulder.

Indeed, there was work to be done. But not yet.

"Let us rest here for a while longer," He cooed, in his usual rolling rumble of a voice. He was too content to work. After a nap, perhaps. Or more play. But he was only jesting - and leaned upon her nimble body with his own thick-set one, coyly crushing her as he rolled over. Like a lethargic old lion, Njal stretched his front limbs out and gave a great (and silent) roar; yawning wide, as if Tuwawi wasn't there at all. "I could sleep here all day - I have a glorious pillow!"

Fade soon or keep going? :D

Unlike her husband, Tuwawi anxiously sat brimming with energy like hungry kindling catching aflame. She was ready to act — ready to fill the caches, meet the rest of the pack, and finish the den. Anything to align the stars in their favor and make herself shine bright among Swiftcurrent's hierarchy. The ember was a busy woman, and her mind drifted momentarily as she pondered what bedding would be best inside the den (goose down? Fur? Sweet grass?). Only her husband's affectionate touch brought her back, and it made her mumble something inaudible, tempted by his intimate caress.

But suddenly Njal's weight shifted, and Tuwawi folded beneath him as if she was nothing but a blade of dried straw. Squished by her husband's sizable shoulder and skull, she feigned a struggle without going much of anywhere. "You lazy beast!" she harassed fondly, lightly kicking her hind paws against his side as she played the victim willingly, "You weigh as much as a bear!" Her squirming became more erratic until she had slipped out from under him, letting his head fall to the earthy floor with a thud. Without a moment to waste Tuwawi turned upon her mate, pouncing onto him much like a fox hunted in the snow. She straddled him with her small body and playfully chewed at the ruff of hair bordering his face. "Aha! Who is the pillow now?" she threatened between nibbles, attempting to smother him into submission.

His plush body squished as she prodded him with her hind legs, but did little else. The weight of the full grown man pressed against Tuwawi and smothered her, although her squirming - and eventual escape - led to her own domination. The woman slid over him and perched there, grappling at his scruff with a playful exuberance. Njal let out an uncharacteristic whimper of weakness and went limp, flattening against the ground below and lay prone beneath his wife. As a final act of silliness he let out a droning snore; a false sound, for he was clearly awake and quite lively. While the man's eyes closed his tail batted to and fro and swept the den floor. He was joking, but in the next moment, the man was truly dozing - and then he was suddenly sound asleep, with Tuwawi draped over him.

Yep! [end?]