Duskfire Glacier [m] one human, one Made,

@Rye edit: dated for 05/17/2021

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Selkie really should've recognized the signs sooner, should've been paying closer attention to the small changes signaling that she wasn't as safe from the breeding season as she thought. Yet, spring was nearly spent and summer would be upon the Glacier soon -- melting more water for the lake's depths and the ranks similarly flooding with pups. It had taken so long to get here that the medicine woman foolishly allowed herself to believe that her heat may just not come at all this year -- that maybe she was truly cursed and it would never come again.

She'd been on edge ever since she woke that morning, fluttering about the small niche she'd claimed for her own. The spotted she-dog's attempts to settle down and soothe her frayed nerves had proven fruitless. She'd not exactly felt up to company, preferring to hide away in her den -- setting aside the assortment of  trinkets that she was choosing gifts from for Tzila and Lane when that task failed to distract her. 

The realization came to her as she tersely fluffed the pile of furs that had accumulated from her many hunts, not quite angry but moving jerkily with agitation -- freckled brow rumpled in consternation as she aimlessly tidied her living space. It came when the first cramp coiled low in her abdomen, faltering the buttermilk cur in her tracks with its intensity as her cracked gaze winced shut. When it opened again, it was wide with vague alarm -- the shaman piecing together why she had been so energetic and overwhelmed with the urgent need to prepare for the future litters to come for the past week or so.

Her body had decided of its own accord that hers was to be included in that number.

For a few moments, Imaq stood in stunned silence -- uncertain as to what she should do.

Wintersbane seemed rather nonchalant regarding whether or not his subordinates bred and Imaq suspected that some of the Glacier's unborn children might be his progeny. Perhaps this meant she would be given the option to whelp, but only if the fever-kissed chief sired her young.

The thought of having children again, and being faced with the possibility so suddenly, was  both frightening and thrilling, sending a small lurch through her heart. Even so, the isabella shepherd wasn't sure how to feel about the thought of having them with Wintersbane. Her Alpha was a kind man, if a bit reserved and solemn but that was to be expected of a widower she supposed. Perhaps that was why the dove was reluctant to seek the blue bunting out, because it felt like a slight to the man's ghost of a wife.

That left Rye, a thought that sent sparks skittering electrically along her bloodstream -- an instinctive voice whispering at her to seek him out as warmth blossomed on her cheeks. She lingered a moment more, uncertain of what she should do before realizing she should probably leave the Caverns -- for her smell was sure to bother the men and theirs might only influence her decision.

The healer set out at a brisk trot as she left the den and the caves behind entirely, still debating whether she should seek either of the Glacier's he-wolves. Her light steps slowing only when she caught sight of a pair of pawprints leading into the pines and maples -- splotchy nose twitching as she caught the woodlander's scent. The wolfdog remained fixed, rooted to where she had frozen, longing but not quite daring.  

Something lingered in the air throughout the day, a light scent the summoned him to venture from his den. Rye ignored it in the beginning, chalking it up to boredom, taking the time to preen the last bits of blood infused hairs from his bicolored fur but as the smell remained, ill contentment slowly bubbled beneath his skin. His mind wanted answers but an elusive need to know zipped throughout his body, a secret craving not even the male himself could pin down. After grabbing a painkiller leaf with his teeth from his makeshift medicine cubby beside the den, Rye set out to settle whatever needed to be settled. He chewed the herbal painkiller as his nose lead him aimlessly forward, no real precise direction in mind, only aimless walking. The aroma teased him as it grew in strength, a sliver of hormonal aggression slipped through his lips in the form of a throaty growl. No longer was his wants optional to discover, it developed into a drive to seek it out. The familiarity dragged him back to the night with Tzila, revitalizing the deep fierce desire to produce offspring Rye held after their night. A black nose lifted into the air, greedily and hungrily pulling in as much air as the lungs below could hold. She was close, Iana or Imaq, it truly did not matter. The physical switch had begun long ago, a secret mission given by natures sly calls. His scent developed into a harsher, more pungent smell but it went unnoticed to the nose blind man. Dominance begun wrapping its web around Rye, he was getting impatient from the lack of knowledge and sight. He wasn't going to let Wintersbane rob him of his chance again. The hotahs brown eyes searched his immediate surroundings for the similarly colored females, the brown and green backdrop made for an easy scan. It yielded what Rye hoped for, Imaq, the ivory draped woman standing frozen in the range before him.
No time wasted. The distance was short but felt excruciatingly long to him. He was bold with his approach, (if allowed) snaking his muzzle along the side of Imaqs neck. Her savor inebriating, enchanting. The besotted male turned to gaze at the intoxicating woman, his eyes glossy with infatuation. "Need some company?" He purred, honeyed words but ones that still held intense passion.             

As if conjured by her thoughts, the earthen he-wolf materialized -- a flicker that drew from the treeline, his intentions clear down to the very footfalls of his eager gait. Anticipation whirled with dizzying intensity in the pits of her being, the golden merle rasping a speckled tongue along her chops as Rye neared -- fighting the urge to let her paws tap against the ground in nervous excitement.

The shepherd stilled as he came alongside her, breath hitching in her lungs as she waited to see what he would do. Tupilak's air shuddered from her ribcage, muscles quivering, as the healer caressed the length of her throat -- gaze falling shut momentarily. When her cracked gaze of seawater found him again it was as hazy and drunk as his, the medicine woman made bold for once as she drew forward on whispering steps to return the golden-eyed male's affections. 

Imaq drew her own blunt muzzle over his chest, avoiding tugging at his healing wounds, and further up to nuzzle at the place where his pale neck met his shoulder. "Jah," she breathed against him, nibbling at him once, teasingly, before she pulled away.

The dove's tropical gaze gleamed as she pranced back a step, glancing towards the shelter of the aspen woods. She bowed, almost playfully, twisting a little from her lowered vantage point so as to paw at the air in Rye's direction -- an invitation to pursue even if she hadn't quite run off. An instinctive beckoning, a silent siren-song call to follow.

It might've seemed odd to onlookers, the wool-soft she-dog behaving submissively towards the bachelor. But there was no Gamma and Zeta, no Imaq and Rye -- just male and female, she-dog and he-wolf -- just a dance of the wilderness that was older than the very Glacier they stood upon.

A whirlwind of emotions caressed him fervently, anticipation bit at the ends of his fur, and anxiety told him to slow down but perplexation locked him close to the cream-colored female. She seemingly reveled in his physical affection, his heart raced readily in a frenzied excitement as her body gave him permission to continue. Her quivers enticed the male to be dauntless with his next move, meticulous soft kisses placed where he could plant them as Imaq drew her muzzle across his chest, avoiding his wound. Her affection sent ripples throughout him, sharp, multitudinous waves of rapture ricocheted in his body. Imaqs voice pulled him lightly from his rapture, her mother tongue was almost completely lost to Rye but it didn't take much thought to know, and feel, that she agreed to his company. Though he knew she did well by then. As Imaq parted, it left his chest yearning for her return, desperately wanting the attentive friction back. The urge to chase the contact was strong, its long digits wreathed their way around the males self control and patience, testing them greatly.  
Only when the female motioned to aspen shelter did his urges slink into irrelevance. Rye broke the silence with a reposeful hum of agreement, his legs moved him quickly, only a few paces towards her desired location but he stopped himself. His head glanced to her, his posture lax and inviting. Rye hinted at his wishes with the wave of his head towards his body, golden eyes imploring her to follow suit. The bicolored male wanted her at his side as they walked, desires of the heart for something more than meaningless actions. Still, he would follow her every lead, no matter what it could lead into. 

The Hotah's meaning was almost lost on her, for though she was well accustomed to body language -- she couldn't quite recall any instance where she had been asked to be equal. It tugged and warmed at her heart, that he might think of her as such even in the midst of such an encounter. 

The cream confection was only too happy to return to him, falling into place neatly aside him as if she had always belonged there. Hesitance and faltering gone, the boundaries of politeness and societal restraints had been cast aside -- her touch familiar as it found him, as if they were well-acquainted lovers, as if she had done this before.

It was hard to keep her paws moving, to continue on her path towards the too-distant treeline -- her gaze wanting to return to the Hotah just as her muzzle kept flitting back to him as they walked, peppering him with occasional affection and the same playful nips, fighting to keep from bounding into the woods like a pup at play.

The missing piece came back to him excitedly, he was whole once again and wouldn't let her venture from him. Imaqs kisses and tiny bites electrified his skin, his heart raring to work faster. Rye couldn't keep from returning the affection, somewhere between the kisses and nips, the hotah found space to place a few passionate affections onto the ivory womans neck. He didn't want to interrupt the attentiveness from his companion but he had to see where they were headed, so he peeled his eyes from Imaq and guided the pair closer to the chosen destination. Rye would let the she-dog pick the pace they walked but the slower, the better was his thoughts. However, there was a sense of urgency building and it was closing in to its hilt. Everything was all so dizzying, the rousing affection, the whirlwind of emotion and the near newness to natures dance. Intoxicating with every step and invigorating after each carefully placed affection, Rye wanted nothing but to savor their time together.  

They've only barely reached the seclusion of the pines when she inevitably stumbles as they press into one another like they're starved of touch -- and maybe they are because she feels hungry in a whole new way as he kisses along her throat -- and nearly falls against him. The shepherd laughs, the sound breathless and free in a way that can't possibly be her, her patched crown of muted gold tipping back, almost drunk.

Even with her heat flooding her bloodstream and altering her state of mind, something in his actions must have sparked within her. Despite the haze of need that overshadows everything in its fog, the she-dog finds her heart stuttering in trepidation at the vulnerability she's placing herself in. Murmuring of hidden desires, forbidden things in this place between them when they share neither the familiarity nor the intimacy they have been playing at -- the treacherous organ yearning for something more than just carnality, even just for now. Even if it is just a game or an act, if it won't mean anything when it's all said and done. 

She remains where she is for several heartbeats, Rye's or her own she's not sure, staring up at him as her chuckles die with a thousand emotions in her gaze of turbulent seawater. The cerulean orbs trail over his features, like she can absorb everything about this moment and keep it. 

Should she ask? Should she just do it herself? What was the protocol here? 

"Kiss me," the dove rasped at last, though the words were more plea than command, sapphires flitting up to his molten optics before darting away  again -- settling shyly upon his lips. 

Fade on your post?

Her laugh fell on his ears like a feather, a light tickle but still soft and pleasant. Hawk-eyes widened just an inch, in awe, he was taken aback by the delicacy that she was. Rye could no longer say with confidence it was merely a dance of lust, no longer did his actions echo heat driven need. It developed into respect, dare he think admiration but perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. For the moment, he listened to her body. The way she looked at him, there was some hesitance within her pearls but the hotah was patient, he would wait for as long as she needed. Imaq didn't keep him waiting long, her request was met with a heartfelt smile. One that showed he was more than happy to give her a kiss. 
"Always." He whispered, his lips already gently pressed against hers. The distance wasn't much to close but once their lips melded together, sparks lit up his core like a wheat fire. His breathing hitched slightly but he melted into the kiss eventually, forgetting why he were there in the first place. None of it mattered anymore, only her requests and needs did. 

"Always." It would haunt her dreams in the weeks to come, a promise she wasn't sure either of them could keep. In her waking moments, when the abject loneliness of it all tore at her with the fierceness of losing her world all over again, the she-dog would pull that one velveteen word from the corner of her mind where she kept such precious things and allow it to wrap around her like a security blanket. Like nothing could hurt her with Rye's whisper against her skin.

If he melted, then she was disintegrating with him -- her joints finally losing the battle, her knees buckling beneath the weight of the need that had overtaken her senses. The Hotah was attentive but the dove could find no more words to form requests. 

She had none but the unspoken pleas she pressed against his skin with every caress of her muzzle and coaxing motion of her body as they folded together seamlessly: love me.