Deepwood Weald to wield old partisans in hands as old

There was too much activity on the coast. The scents were enticing and overwhelming, but unable to force herself to seek their company, Sif had walked on.

She was desperate, now, to find a cave or hollow or crooked root to hole up in, so that she would not have to feel the breeze on her back and know that she was vulnerable. She was tired of looking over her shoulder so often after having someone to watch her back for so long. She just wanted to sleep and dream, and pretend that her Lord's body was still curled around her own.

Here in the deep, dark woods, she found a tiny semblance of peace. The earth was cold, but when she'd dug herself a little bed and filled it with leaflitter and mulch, she found that it warmed quickly around her, and that the bedding hugged the curve of her spine in a way that she had sorely missed. Even so, sleep would not find her, and so she simply laid away in the dark, blinking up at the leaf-shuttered night sky.

The wind had changed and he'd known upon smelling the first hints of autumn that he was being called elsewhere, and so he had departed the ancestral home of his people and delved in to the unknown. It wasn't hard for him to be alone in those first few days. Ailithir knew he was never truly alone; but all the same, it felt strange not to have the accompaniment of his kin. To hear their voices on the wind, or their laughter, or to witness their achievements - their failings. As different as he felt upon leaving Toraigh, Ailithir could not ignore the libration that followed with it too - a sense of purpose almost, as if he had been called forth by some force unseen, and it felt only good.

That said, he did not allow himself to become pompous in his thinking nor prideful in his mannerisms; he kept to the old ways, as his forefathers taught. He gave offerings to every river that he found. He asked permission from the forest before he crossed its boundaries or took from its bounty. And when he saw the sun cresting the edge of the world, Ailithir made peace with it, spilled blood for it, and would go to sleep with an exposed offering nearby - a rabbit carcass, a few dead mice, something small that could have made the difference for himself but would, in the end, appease the sidhe all the more.

It was wise to keep the court in good spirits, after all. Not to bring good tidings upon himself (for that was both presumptuous and foolhardy thinking), but rather, to prevent ill-tidings. So far, everything that had been shown to Ailithir had been correct: the meals would be gone come daybreak, not even a speck of blood to be found upon the soil. His path remained clear. So it was easy for him to navigate the seemingly endless weald as he came upon it.

A part of him was enamored by the intricate structures of the trees. Some stood firmly where they'd planted, not a single piece out of place. Others seemed to wind back upon themselves - perhaps pulled by wind in their awakening - and still others were so netted to their neighbours it was hard to tell one tree from another. Ailithir crept along carefully but it was clear by his constant pauses that he was curious. The creature was more curious of the forest itself than anything that dwelled within it, oddly enough. He hadn't eaten in many days - savoring the taste of blood from his rituals, but nothing more - and yet he did not seek to feed, but to investigate each avenue that opened to him within the wood.

It was obvious that he would mistake the musky smell of a wolf for something else, then. A fox perhaps - a badger, wolverine, ermine - because he did not expect to find anything he truly desired within the forest. The wolf bypassed Sif's hiding spot on more than one occasion, but his path wound back and forth through the trees - as if something was leading him, luring him, playing with him - and yet he did not think to seek her out. The wolf paused in his survey once more, this time almost directly next to Sif, and was panting loudly, watching the shadows shift with the wind, and remained oblivious.

She was spineless - spineless and confused. A tiny growl ticked in her throat each time the male passed her by, but she was too frightened to stand and confront him. The girl simply laid in her hollow, bristling and brewing in her fear, only to settle down when the stranger headed off once more. Was he looking for her? Did he not know where she was? Would he able able to get to her between the roots of the trees, or would she be safe from his larger form?

Finally, he came to stand right beside where she laid, and Sif could take it no longer. Her dark form burst forth from the roots, teeth bared and tail lashing.

"Ekkert meida!" she huffed, standing tail and feinting toward the stranger. "Eg mun meida." Even if he did not understand her, as happened with most wolves in this area, the male would surely understand her threatening tone and fear-aggression stance.

this post is a messsss

What came next for Ailithir was something he had not anticipated, but had wanted greatly. It should have bothered him that such a creature was lurking just out of reach - but it did not. Rather, he reacted to her sudden appearance with the bristling of his silver nape, a quick-footed dance that showcased a level of nimble skill he did not realize he'd acquired, and the sudden drop of his tail. Not quite tucked against his belly, but low enough (and with enough bristling) to indicate he really had no idea she had been there. 

He dove from beside her, caught his paws against the soil, and scrambled to reverse. Ailithir pirouetted but kept himself hunched low with his ears back, his teeth exposed in an grin that was more apologetic than anything. Oops, sorry, he could've been saying. The one thing he couldn't bring himself to do (no matter how strongly his instincts demanded it) was look away from her; then again, she was making noises he didn't understand, and that alone had revived his interest.

Was this a sidhe? Had she come from a secret place? And why -- to scold him? Already he was growing bold. Ailithir had been alone for months on end, and hadn't known how badly he missed pack until this wolf was before him -- woman or girl, he couldn't really tell right now, and it didn't matter. He circled closer again, losing whatever fear had sparked through him in that brief moment, stiff-legged but curious, ears erect and tail trying to lift and wag at the tip - friendly, he was trying to convey, even sheathing those teeth. Friendly --

Her instincts tell her to fight even as her intellect recognizes those signs that Fen had taught her - white flags on the battle field of life. Fight! said the marrow of her bones, but he was saying friend in that language she had only just begun to learn before Fen had passed. Still, she saw it, and allowed her aggression to subside once more.

Without the veil of her anger, fear-submission quickly became the dominant emotion her body broadcasted. She gazed furtively at the strange male, shifting uncomfortable, whinging. What did he want with her?

"Friend," she repeated, the words chalky and porus on her unpracticed tongue. "Do you friend?"

She spoke more sounds that he did not understand, but her posture and shift in demeanor spoke volumes; this, he understood. This, he mirrored. Her submission gave him an opening to be more dominant and so, boldly, he breached the space between them and began to investigate her in earnest. The wolf probed with his nose through her scruff, along her flank, to her nethers and around as he paced. Each inch of her gave new information, which he greedily drank in.

She was young. Younger than himself, but not a child - or he did not think of her as such a thing. The scent of the wood was fresh upon her body - meaning, at least to Ailithir, that she was not in fact native to this woodland, but a passerby like himself. It did lean a bit of creedence to his other theory - that she was sidhe - but the wolf had no way of asking.

In assuming she held some mystical power, Ailithir gave her some control over what would happen next. He withdrew. Rather than crowd her and make her uncomfortable (which actually wasn't much of a thought within his mind), Ailithir gave her some space to breathe, to investigate in her own right, should she choose. His tail wagged behind his body contentedly, all the while an odd expression slipped across his gunmetal features - curious, dismissive, but also eager and possessive, as if he'd already made his mind up about something.

Sif, not versed in this language, seemed to have inadvertently invited something she was not wholly comfortable with. When the male tried to draw closer, she warned him off with a flash of fangs and a low, uncertain growl. Still, he came closer, prodding and whuffing into her fur. With each new touch, Sif jerked and snarled, knocking her jaw into him without the courage to actually bite.

She felt violated and out of control when he was finished - a feeling she was well familiar with, but still deeply despised. With all her fur standing on-end, she backed away from the stranger as soon as she was given leave to; the urge to turn tail and run was strong, but she was not yet sure whether or not she'd be pursued.

"Dónalegur," she said sulkily, trying to maintain an air of indignation while her body tried to curl in on itself.

The protest of her teeth through his fur should have dismayed him, but if anything it told the wild creature that there was only permission to continue. Those blows did not land. There was no pain, no blood, no true dissonance between them - only some lackluster posturing which he absorbed with a glance. She smelled as she looked: young, virile, and nearly ripe for the season. He was not well versed in beings of her type; her youth was beguiling. All he knew was instinct - and instinct told him to stay close, to wait and see if what he wanted would present itself.

That did not mean he should crowd her, however. The girl murmured a sound which held a sad tone. To this he chuffed softly, perhaps trying to imitate the strange shapes her mouth made. Ailithir gave her what she wanted, finally, but did not go far from her - keeping the girl in his periphery, and his body at the ready in case a game of chase was in order. Something in the way he looked at her was soft in spite of the way he moved, and though he made some effort to let her breathe and relax, he was obviously not going anywhere.

Sif stared at the ground between the two of them, ears tucked back against her head. The more time passed without any word out of the strange male, the worse Sif felt about the encounter. Why didn't he say anything? Why was he being so rude? Were all the wolves around here dumb brutes like this one?

A few furtive glances took in the uncultured beast. The expression on his face made anger boil in her gut, and his easy dismissal of her personal space and agency left a sour taste in her mouth. Something about his stance told her that she would not easily escape him, but Sif found his presence entirely too repugnant not to try.

Without another word, Sif turned and fled, her sleek, brown body darting easily through the trees and tangles. Hopefully, her grace and smaller form would carry her far away from the silent male and his devilry.

Although she wished to flee - and tried wholeheartedly - he had done this dance before. It was unlike him to read her behavior so wrongly though, being a student of the natural ways. Ailithir thought he knew what she wanted. He thought that her inability to truly dissuade him or draw blood had been a test, or a game. And when she tried to flee, he fell in to step behind her - as if expecting it. 

She was graceful; she flowed through the forest like a wind while he followed doggedly behind. When she turned, he moved with anticipatory gestures and did not miss a step. When an obstacle came, she molded with the shadows and seemed to sculpt herself around it, or over it, or somehow under; and all Ailithir could do was estimate his own response, and follow. But he did not lose her in the wood. She, this Titania, leading him through a wonderful maze that in the back of his mind, thoroughly charmed him.

The beast did not relent; he pursued her through the weald as if she were a doe, and he a stag in rut - or worse, a wolf, for that was the truth. He knew the tricks of her kind, and kept himself upon her heel until she hopefully tired of the chase. 

The girl did not tire easily - especially not when her flight was fueled by desperation. But she knew she could not keep up this game forever and niether could she guess when her pursuer might tire. She did know that it would be dangerous to let her energy flag with the man so hot on her heels, and so, when she found a narrow path through the trees, she darted toward it and then - quick as a flash - changed directions so that she was running toward the evil foe.

An angry snarl on her lips, the girl dove for her assailant's face, intending to score deep wherever her fangs might land. But she had no time to check the damage she'd done - in the next moment, she was streaking past him, hoping that her surprise attack would give her the window of time she needed to put distance between the two of them again.

Fade here? :) This was lots of fun!

Perhaps he grew slack in his pursuit for just a fraction of a second - but that was all it took. She grabbed for the opportunity and turned the tables upon him. When suddenly her teeth flashed before his eyes, Ailithir did the natural thing and bared his own to meet them; there was a clash of fang-on-fang and his ears slicked back upon his silver head. The wolf did not want to hurt her - yet she did not yeild to the natural law as he did, and in that moment of indecision she was gone. Although he heard her steps through the wood clearly, Ailithir had no method of pursuit; he dove after her through the vegetation and came upon an obstacle, then hastened in his chase, and came upon another.

The wolf would spend a little time pacing and searching for her scent - either to commit to memory for a future hunt or merely in trying to continue the current one - but he would not be successful, and eventually be forced to move on. There were others he could pursue; perhaps his Titania would take another form, or several? The pressure of the season had driven him this far and Ailithir, intent on finding the girl again or a replacement, would not allow himself to fail.

Thanks for the thread! We should have these two meet up again sometime!

Her heart was pounding in her chest and her legs were almost numb by the time she finally felt safe enough to slow her pace. It'd been some time since she'd been in such a chase, or felt the breath of danger down her spine. Granted, this altercation had been more gentle than others, but it had still frightened her.

When she came to a stream, she crossed over it several times, and then travelled down its path for several miles to disguise her scent. Sif went away from the encounter with her cheek bleeding and sore gums, but with all her limbs and organs intact.

Still a good day, she decided.