Dawnlark Plains [m] it’s only $free.99!

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She couldn’t get enough of @Redd, which perhaps explained why she roved northwest today with a dead goose hanging from her jaw. Druid made it as far as the plains—eyes fixed on the mount that must be the rise—before she paused for a break. The bird was heavy, though it wasn’t just that. Even though it was stone cold dead and thus couldn’t emit its trademark honk, Druid swore she could still taste purple on it. It was making her a little bit sick to her stomach.

Druid took some deep breaths and licked her lips. She hadn’t felt nauseous since before the pups were born. The feeling reminded her of that horrible phase of her life and she stiffened suddenly, retching into the grass. It was a terrible cycle, the heaving making the whole problem worse, resulting in more heaving.

It took a while to break out of it, at which point, Druid was a little exhausted. She backed away from the goose, unwilling to touch it again. Yet she didn’t want it to go to waste, nor did she want to miss an opportunity to see her… Crush, Druid decided to call a duck a duck. She didn’t know how or why but she had it bad for the Wealda.

After a brief deliberation, Druid decided to raise her muzzle, her voice breaking through the late afternoon stillness of the plain. Would Redd hear her? Could she come? Would anyone else overhear and try to interfere? Druid supposed she didn’t mind that possibility, though she sucked in a breath as she found herself wondering if Redd’s mate might have returned in the meantime.

Redd had returned to the rise knowing that things had changed.  She was still Wealda, and would remain this way for now, but she had accepted that this was an act she upheld.  She pretended at Wealda until another sought the role.  When that moment came she would give it freely so long as the one challenging did so for the good of the pack.  She would not fight for a thing she did not truly own.

She was quietly diligent on the borders and worried about the health of the pack.  So far Moon Runner's condition had not spread, but she waited anxiously for the younger woman's recovery and the assurance that things would be well.  There was little to do aside from hunting and fretting.

Druid's call was a surprise and a welcome excuse.  It had not been long, and she knew better than to wander so far so soon.  This call came from nearby, however, and there was no reason not to hear what needed said.  Even if she had not wanted to for her own reasons.

Redd approached at a loping run, slowing when she got near and greeting Druid with her ears erect and her tail waving.  After their previous meeting she did not worry about keeping her distance and immediately pressed her muzzle lightly to her shoulder and side, taking in the scent of the places she had been and the state of things for her.  The clean scents of the wilds, but the sour touch of sickness too.  She let out a small whine of concern as soon as she recognized it, ignoring the goose for the moment.  Did she need a Haelend as well?

What if they both came? Druid drew in a breath, shaking her head at herself. For Redd’s sake, she hoped he had come back, though she would be lying if such a possibility didn’t break her heart a little. That was silly of her, though Druid was rather enjoying this unexpected connection. It could very possibly lead to real heartbreak—even if Redd’s mate did not return, she clearly had a taste for men—but this didn’t deter the fervency of her feelings.

Her heart actually leaped in her chest when she saw a familiar reddish brown figure galloping toward her. Druid saw the waving banner of Redd’s tail and immediately grinned, her own body language lowering. I gladly bow to the queen, she mused as the distance between them came to a close. She silently thrilled at Redd’s every touch, though the whine was met with a questioning look before it dawned on her.

Oh, yeah, sorry about that, Druid said, wrinkling her nose at the sour smell Redd must’ve caught. I’m alright. I think… She paused, wondering how to explain her peculiarity in terms that might make any sense to somebody else. I think I might be allergic to geese. But that’s fine because it’s for you.

Her own tail lifted a little now, though not quite as high as the Wealda’s. The tip of it wiggled. Hopefully Redd did not share her affliction (either the fictional version or the actual one) and would enjoy the taste of goose flesh. The downy feathers could be used to line a den too, an observation Druid had made on the way here, and not without some small measure of guilt. But her kids didn’t live in a den anymore.

I hear the liver’s the best part.

Redd was glad to see her but her worries weren’t eased entirely.  There is sickness in the rise.  Our Trëow suffers.  She frowned as she studied Druid’s expression, looking for familiar signs.  The same weakness was not there, but Redd still felt her own stomach tighten.  She did not want to see others suffer this way, perhaps especially this one before her.  Be careful.  She did not know how Moon Runner became sick.

Then she looked at the goose, tilting her head curiously.  She placed a paw upon it, but did not draw it closer yet.  Your pack?  She did not understand the gift and was puzzled why the bird would not feed her own.  She had brought nothing and expected nothing; she had come only to share in the same easy company they’d shared.

She wished to understand.

Redd’s response had roughly the same effect on Druid as a bucket of ice cold water. She let out a sympathetic noise at the report about the subordinate’s illness. She found herself fiercely wishing Etienne hadn’t gone away, so she could ask him to come help. But then the Wealda’s questioning of her gift reminded Druid that the rise was not her responsibility, nor Rivenwood’s.

She had no explanation, other than her fondness for Redd. Druid swallowed. She couldn’t just say that… or could she? She shifted her weight, her skin feeling too warm, too tight. Druid fully anticipated rejection, though perhaps it was for the best if Redd set her straight. She was a leader and a mother, regardless if those roles didn’t particularly fit her, and Rivenwood should be her priority. Maybe she ought to nip things in the bud and put a stop to this silliness.

I brought it for you, she said quietly, because… Druid sighed out a breath, rolling her shoulders a little uneasily. She was determined to just confess, so she forced out, I’m very drawn to you, Redd. I don’t know why and I’ve never felt like this before. But I couldn’t not come see you again and bring you a token of my… she trailed off with the last word going unsaid.

Redd listened patiently, the only movement she displayed a slow flicking of her tail as she considered the things Druid said and tried to make sense of them.  None of these things were negative, and all of them made sense.  Redd felt drawn here too, and if Druid felt that same comfort in her company, then this made the red wolf glad.

She still got the sense that this meant more.  Courting and choosing Gavrel had been simple.  Wealda had wanted him for the promise of the future he could bring her, strong and caring, and the things she had seen in him that echoed her mother’s choice.  Redd had wanted him because he cared.

Druid cared, but offered none of the future a mate would bring.  Redd did not know if courting was her intention, but this was what a token meant to her.  Instinctually a mate provided, and as she was neither pack nor indebted, it was the only explanation.  

There was a way to know.  She allowed her eyes to meet Druid’s two-toned gaze for a moment, but the challenge she offered wasn’t for rank.  The ripple that traveled down her spine was not dissimilar from what she had felt the day she’d claimed Gavrel, and she drew closer with a low rumble, her chin raised.  She wished to see if, and how, Druid submitted.  She was not pack - she did not need to.  There was no violence in Redd’s approach.  Only silent invitation.

Wealda had no reason for this joining.  Redd did not know why, but she was drawn to discover, and she let this instinct take the fore.

She could feel her heart thumping hard, her whole body quivering in rhythm with its rapid beat. More and more parts of her body began feeling too tight, including her throat—where the word “affection” remained stuck—and her chest. Her stomach was the exception. It felt like it was free-floating inside her, flipping and rolling. It was a wonder Druid didn’t get sick again.

Redd didn’t say anything, which wasn’t particularly surprising. Druid’s nerves continued jangling as she locked eyes with her and shifted closer. Druid did the same without thinking, pulled perhaps by that inner magnet that tugged them into perfect sync. Her ears pricked at the rumbling sound coming from the Wealda’s mouth, her gaze attentive on her face until her chin tipped into the air.

Ritual displays weren’t commonplace for Druid, though it felt natural to avert her eyes. Though they dropped, her own snout tipped upward to touch her nose to Redd’s chin. She didn’t quite understand what she was doing or why, though she was happy to defer to the Wealda, if that’s what Redd wanted from her.

She hadn’t run away from Druid’s confession. She’d moved closer. This gave the gray woman the courage to poke out her tongue, leaving a little peck on Redd’s chin. Her snout then skimmed a few inches sideways to leave another on her jaw, lingering where Redd could surely feel the shaky breaths puffing from her mouth.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: this is gettin spicy, we should prob slap a title on it :D

She crooned a low note of pleasure as Druid’s muzzle skimmed her jaw, and an inexplicably protective urge welled within her.  It was a different kind of possessiveness than what she had experienced before.  The sensation settled fiercely in her chest and drove her to abruptly close whatever distance remained.

Redd pressed her chest to Druid’s shoulder and her head to the curve of the other woman’s neck.  She allowed her muzzle to roam here as she instinctually began to try and coax Druid beneath her.

She was lost to her own desire, but it she had the space of mind to think, many things would have become clear.  She had always felt a kinship with Ulfhedinn and wondered why a Wealda could not look like this.  He was a provider, a guardian, and a steady presence.  Everything that she had ever yearned to be, and all things that a mate and father must have.

The noise Redd made encouraged Druid. She nuzzled her way toward the corner of the other woman’s mouth, still not entirely sure just what she was doing. She just wanted to touch the Wealda, who seemed happy to indulge her exploratory nudges and presses.

Druid growled happily when Redd’s chest pressed against her shoulder, though the noise tapered off into questioning silence when she tried to maneuver on top of her. Only one wolf had ever mounted her. She’d unthinkingly allowed it, seduced by her own heat. She was more clearheaded now and, besides, she wasn’t sure she understood what the Wealda intended to do.

“I don’t want anyone mounting me, ever…” she could her her younger self’s voice ringing in the back of her head as she attempted to sidestep. She hated to pull away from Redd, yet her confusion eclipsed her desire for closeness. Then there was the unpleasant roll in her stomach.

Wait.

She maneuvered herself to face the red woman, drawing in a breath. Druid pressed a lick to Redd’s chin, to reassure her that her touch was still very much wanted. And it wasn’t that she minded Redd trying to dominate her. But for all the ferocity of her attraction to the Wealda, it was entirely chaste.

Redd didn’t know what she intended to do either.  There was only a need to meld as near as she could and a heady, near-overwhelming sense that pinning her would bring things closer.  Closer to what she did not know.  This could have been familiar, but it was not Wealda who commanded within.  This was something apart from dominance.

Druid did not bend with her.  Instead she felt as the other woman froze and then withdrew.  Redd swallowed the whine that nearly escaped, though she had no ability to hide the confusion in her expression.

She did not know why Druid pulled away.  She did not know why this felt like a loss.  She did not know why the whine, thick with longing, was still lodged in her throat.  Or why suddenly, here, she was in entirely uncharted territory.

When Druid reached out to touch her, this time she shied away.  Her gaze dropped apologetically, and she put space between them as she tried to calm the turmoil and her racing pulse.  She needed a moment to control whatever force was suddenly snarling within her.

Redd looked as bewildered as she felt, recoiling now from her touch. Druid’s lips parted, the rejection hitting her like a barb. She made an abortive, instinctive movement to close the gap again but halted herself, her dark feet planting. Her stomach clenched. She made absolutely no effort to stifle the supplicating whine that eked out of her.

I want, Druid blurted, grappling to reassure not only Redd but herself. I want to touch you, Redd. And I want you to touch me, she insisted, voice emphatic but low. Her brows scrunched as she tried to get the Wealda to meet her gaze. Just… not like that. You are not a man. The words hung for a moment before she continued, And I think that’s exactly what’s so magnificent about you.

She did not know what was meant by these statements.  You are not a man.  This was the truth.  So why did she state it as if Redd did not know?

She had done only as instinct had driven her, but something in this had apparently been wrong.  Redd’s confusion was not lessened and, conversely, only deepened further the more she turned this over in her thoughts.

Her ears folded back and she made no motion to approach again.  If something had been wrong before, then surely it would be wrong again.  Druid had only given her statements of fact and from these she could not find a path.  The easy comfort of before was gone, and for the first time, the silence held an awkward weight as it settled over her.  She did not know what to do.

Redd said nothing and, for the first time, this bothered Druid. The look of confusion on her face—such a gorgeous face—remained as the silence stretched between them. Druid thought about trying to reach out again, though she was still smarting from the first recoil. She didn’t dare, much as she ached for it.

Part of her wanted to flee from the awkward tension building between them, though that really wasn’t her style. Instead, Druid sank slowly to her haunches, still waiting to see if the Wealda would speak. She’d spoken quite frankly. Did Redd truly have nothing to say to that?

Finally, Druid couldn’t bear it and anymore and broke the silence to ask quietly, What do you want, Redd?

She sort of feared the answer, though Druid decided anything was better than this silent withdrawal. She braced herself.

Druid said nothing.  The silence stretched.  Eventually she spoke, but it was no more clarifying.

Redd had already answered this in both words and in actions.  Yet what she wanted was wrong.  Confusion flickered into something else, something shaped more like hurt.  She did not want to feel wrong when, for the first time in so long, she had known so firmly what she was.

Sorry.  She did not apologize for what she had done, only that she had nothing else.  She did not want this silence, this confusion, or to change the things she was.  The apology was also in the last look she shared, but then she turned and stepped away, no hesitation in this choice.

She did not blame Druid, but the goose was left where it had been dropped.  She could not accept this token if it meant she needed to be something else.  And if Druid had not wanted the Redd she had been given today, then she did not want Redd after all.

Don’t be sorry, Druid sought to reassure, just talk to me, pl—

But Redd was already leaving. It was so shocking, Druid cut off mid-sentence as her mouth fell open. She stared after her for several seconds.

Wait, she said a second time today, springing to all fours.

Her heart in her throat, she loped after Redd. She didn’t try to catch up with her, per se, just keep pace with her lest she lose sight of her. Druid had a feeling that once the Wealda left her sight, she would never see her again—and that unbearable thought wiped away all others.

Redd! she shouted desperately, waiting to see if she would stop.

If she wouldn’t, feel free to archive here!

Why did she follow?

For the second time, confusion stopped Redd, and she slowed before turning to face her.  How did she put this into adequate words?  How could she better explain than the truth that was already plainly there?

Redd struggled with this, not because she didn’t want to explain but because she didn’t know how.  The frustration of this finally drew a low whine from her.

What did she want? You.  The answer was disconnected from the previous question in a way that any normal wolf would find hard to follow.  Fortunately she found more to say.  The want was wrong for you.  It was right for me.

She would not deny her nature.  When her blood raced and carried her, she felt powerful, and that power brought with it the need to claim their pleasure first.  It was not wrong for Druid to ask her to stop.  Redd felt no anger in this hurt, only regret that she was not understood.

I want trust.  She finished finally.  This still was too simple, but it came closer to the truth.

Redd stopped and turned around to face Druid, who froze in her tracks. She breathed heavily, ears pinning at the, “You.” It sounded like the beginning of an accusation, though that wasn’t quite what left the Wealda’s lips. She finally broke her silence, saying something that Druid didn’t quite follow before uttering something quite a bit clearer.

I trust you, Druid said without thinking. It was true, despite having just met days before. It wasn’t about that at all, I swear to you, Redd. I just… don’t like being mounted, she said, painfully frank in a bid to be understood. But I would love it if you kissed me. Held me close. Made me yours.

Though Druid didn’t particularly crave anything more sensual, perhaps there were ways they could find intimacy with one another. Druid didn’t know what that might entail but she wouldn’t mind exploring, if that’s what Redd wanted to do. Surely climbing on top of her wasn’t the only way to express that sort of desire?

Druid still did not understand that what she asked for was not who Redd was.  There were many things she did not know, but those few times she knew something completely, she could not bury it within.

I follow what I feel.  I need to.  I can’t be something else.

Redd could not imagine a more miserable way to live than wanting something so fiercely and constantly chaining herself back.  She would doubt every step they took, and already they did not feel like one.  Perhaps they were kindred spirits in other ways but they could not be joined like this.

Although Redd was talking to her now, Druid couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. She desperately wanted to understand, though she felt a sudden and fierce flicker of annoyance. Why was the Wealda being so cryptic? Why couldn’t she just speak plainly?

I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Druid replied. How did we go from ‘I don’t like this position’ to ‘I’m asking you to deny who you are’? she wanted to know, frustration and incredulity now creeping into her tone.

Was climbing on top of her really that important to the Wealda? If Druid didn’t want that, did it really mean they were incompatible? She had a hard time grasping this possibility. It was absurd! Yet dread built inside her as it dawned on her that that was exactly what Redd was trying to say.

Redd had been mistaken in thinking them kin.  Druid did not recognize her or truly see her at all.  Redd could see this in the frustration that she showed and the way she insisted denying instinct was somehow different than denying herself.  

Redd was a creature of instinct.  She lived in the world that she felt and navigated it by pulse.  Words meant too little to her and too much to Druid for understanding.  They would never fit within one place.

I’m not what you want.  She said this with absolute certainty, and any regret she might have felt was now gone.  She was right to leave, and perhaps instead Druid would find another who she did see completely.  Surely she would eventually understand.

This time, when she left, Redd would not turn back.

Druid wanted to refute Redd’s claim with every cell in her body. How could she make that call? Just like that? Over a single incident? It was utterly absurd! In fact, she was struck dumb, mouth slightly ajar as Redd turned again and left.

This time, Druid did not pursue her. She stood there, reeling, eyes trailing after the Wealda’s figure. When it disappeared from sight, she let out a whine and took a step in her direction. But she went no further.

Druid stood there quite a long time, feeling all the feelings. Before she finally turned back toward Rivenwood, she raised her muzzle to the sky and let out a call of longing, a song of seeking. Just like the one Redd had sung the day they’d first met.

And just like that day, Druid knew there would be no answer.