Honeyed Pasture kitchen fork

Though violet laps up the late orange in the skies, life still stirred within the golden field.

A herd of caribou, full from midday grazing, but not granted a secure night's rest. A wolf's presence keeps them ever alert, his gaze spotted from the edge of the treeline. 

And though the smell caused an empty belly to rumble, his gaze is far gone elsewhere. Lost in thought.

The grasses around her tugged gently at her neck fur as she passed, body held low, her eyes peering at the herd. She’d tracked them this far, nose in the air for most of it, but she did not know if she could take them alone.

Vairë cursed beneath her breath, a barely there whisper. She eyed the herd, trying to pick out weakness from their ranks, but found her eye straying. There was another scent here, wolfscent, and she eyed the distance with the same caution as the herd. Would she be interrupting a hunt? Would the stranger be interested in joining in, for a price? She could pay in pieces of the meat they would hunt, she was sure.

Moondoe turned her head, slithering through the grasses in the direction of the scent, split between watching for the wolf she could scent, and watching the herd.

EEK <3

The dinner bell calls for many a beast, and soon Lómion is not the only set of teeth the prey should be worried about.

Movement in the distance drew his attention from empty thoughts. From the corner of his eye he watched her slink through the grass, all the while assessing the situation without haste.

Then came an eventual click; his mind stirred as did his body. The man moved to wrap around the herd. His sudden consiousness caused a wave of disturbance, sending them into an unsteady trot towards the other wolf.

Tonight he shall eat.

The other wolf seemed to catch a hint, if the way the caribou jolted into motion was any indication. They came trotting towards her, without ever thinking of what was in front of them. Just trying to get away from the grey shape she could just barely make out.

They did not consider the grasses, and not for the first time, Vairë considered herself lucky for being the color she was. She watched the herd, eventually identifying the weakest link. Older, from the grays, with a prominent limp that kept her behind the rest of the caribou.

Moondoe readied herself, and lunged between one caribou and the next, driving the wounded individual from the rest with sharp snaps of her teeth as the others peeled off into the darkness.

The herd was corralled towards an inevitable demise, and they were none the wiser. Lómion's tongue swiped eargly over his lip the deeper they walked into the grass.

Then out came the huntress. The herd erupted into full blown panic, her teeth sent them this way and that.

Of all the frightened beasts, the man had eyes for their weakest link. Weaker still when seperated from the rest. With a rapidly beating heart he dove into action. 

His hunger was now fervent, and it attributed to an initial sloppy display. His teeth wisked past the doe's flank. And in a brief moment of clarity he was thankful it had chose to run rather than punish his reckless decision.

The shadow gave chase with a growl that ripped through his throat.

She flew across the earth, her legs beating a rhythm after the caribou. The doe lashed with leg at the other hunter, and she caught glimpse of him for only a moment. Her mind remembered what her eyes did not, and she saw the man as a boy.

…Lómion?

There would be time for reunion after the hunt. Vairë lunged after the doe with great teeth, striking a blow to one haunch before falling back. Hassling the creature seemed to be the way to go.

He was joined in the pursuit. One blow to the haunch was followed by another. Containment was held now. He watched the doe desperatly buck with cerain caution, pivoting away slightly with each kick.

Soon she shall tire, and they'd have their moment.

For now, the shadow wove in and out, getting in bites whenever he could. Keeping the prey running.

It happens.

The doe fumbled, bloodloss and fear making a mockery of her usual grace, a hock caught by an errant root. Her chest met the ground, and she does not recover quickly. She cannot get the injured leg to cooperate with her.

It is enough for Vairë.

Like a river, moondoe carved through the space between them. Jackknifing into place beside the doe’s head, she snapped for a hold on its neck, keeping one eye on the shadow shape of the man she thought may be her brother.

Try as she might, the doe could not outrun her fate forever. The wind is fleeting, and soon she falls into the jaws of her pursuers. Lómion keeps to the sidelines as as his hunting partner delivers a final blow, with the last of his adrenaline dying in slowed sidesteps and a fanning tail.

And as the last of the does energy leaves her, the drumming of his heart turns to a hum. Wild eyes return to its resting state, and finally he could truly analyze who had come to give aid.

And what he sees is familiarity.

You... Hestiancy is lain in his voice as his mind searches memory. ... you are very skilled. Thank you.

Moondoe dragged her tongue across her muzzle, licking up the blood splattered there. The doe was gone, and she sent her thanks to its spirit. She would feed them well tonight.

Vairë focused when her hunt partner spoke, releasing a curious hum as she tilted her ears towards him. She lifted her eyes from the doe, turning to the dark shape.

My thanks to you as well. Was this not her brother? The Lómion that had once been so intrigued by her fox pelt? Maybe she was mistaken, the memory turned to ashes in the wind.

She pressed on anyway.

You may have as much as you like of it. The rest will be returning with me to my home.

I won't need much, he assured. Lómion had always been a bit peckish with his meals, to his detriment on occasion, that of which came frequently these days.

Curosity drove him to questioning then. If I may ask, he began with hestitance, where do you live?

Up there. She used the toes of a single paw to point against the sky, at the tip of the mountain in the distance.

I am Vairë Nuiruk, Moondoe of Moonglow. Her eyes sought his, intense, branding.

And who are you?

His eyes were guided to the mountain range that held many a memory. Nostalgia fueled curiosity drove him to many assumptions, one of which was confirmed shortly after the thought took form.

Vairë, Lómion repeated with a whisper beneath his breath. It's been too long, sister.