Bearclaw Valley Where’s the fire? What’s the hurry about?

A loud bang in the night pulled Ameline from her sleep with a start. The sound of heavy rain muted the rolling rumble of thunder that followed the strike. She watched it from her den for a few moments, inhaling the scent of wet grass, before the dozed off again. 

When she went to the sentry stone the next morning, she caught the scent of smoke on the air. A light haze on the horizon was the only real indication, but she was given reason to suspect that a lightning strike had ignited a fire somewhere. 

Warily, she perched upon the stone, and watched.

that stranger had really chewed his face up. ancelin had enlisted ameline's help to keep the lacerations along his left jawline and cheekbone clean, but they hurt. the bleeding had stopped, but the pattern left by teeth would definitely scar into a naked area.
what he needed to avoid was fever. once they got back, he'd bathed and had water, and kept himself hydrated.
the next morning it hurt to talk, to open his eye on that side, to eat. he followed ameline at length, leaning against the stone as he too tested the air in silence.

Hopping in with permission <3

Grackle nosed her way through both towering trees, and delicate blooms, all senses firing as she tried to follow what she hoped knew was the trail of a soon-to-be lunch. But the rain, that stupid, dumb, cursed rain had made everything a muddied mess, turning the once clear trails into a web of confusion and lies. The ground, slick with mud, betrayed her usual confident stride, and she found herself slipping more often than she cared to admit.

As she tried to regain her footing, her paw sank into a deceptively deep puddle, the cold, filthy water splashing up and soaking her dark coat. A low growl rumbled from her throat as she shook off the muck, sending droplets flying in every direction, but it did little to rid her of the swampy stench clinging to her fur.

Perfect, she muttered under her breath, sarcasm thick as molasses. Her annoyance had bubbled to the surface, now simmering just below her calm exterior. Determined not to be bested by a little mud, Grackle began picking her way through the terrain with newfound caution, seeking out the driest patches. She moved like a wraith, her obsidian form an out-of-place shadow slipping silently among the dripping trees.

Her path of cleanliness led her to an odd place, a strange mix of large rocks and towering conifers. Grackle paused, ears swiveling like radars, nose twitching as she inhaled deeply, trying to catch any whiff of her elusive meal. The stillness of the moment sharpened her focus, and there it was—a scent, faint but unmistakable. Wolves.

Her heart sank. The scent was growing stronger, drawing her along the very path she needed to take if she wanted to keep her paws dry. Of all the rotten luck. She didn’t have time for a scuffle, not when her stomach was gnawing at her insides and her patience had long since worn thin.

But retreating wasn’t in her nature. Not when she was so close. Grackle’s jade eyes narrowed to slits, her lips curling defiantly as she pressed on, each step more deliberate than the last. If there was going to be a confrontation, she’d face it head-on, with teeth bared and claws ready. But if there was a chance to slip past unnoticed, well, she wasn’t above a little stealth to get what she wanted.

Ameline felt less concern for their well-being with the wounds that had been dealt. Torn once already, she figured that her shoulder would heal the same as it had before- the foolish thought of one who was still young, and could enjoy their body’s ability to heal for some time yet. She saw only handsomeness in her husband’s features, though she did take care to help him keep the wounds clean. 

She was about to speak about the smoke when she caught sight of something dark in the distance, moving through the meadow toward their home. Not in a straight line- it moved this way and that from time to time as if avoiding poor footing- but aimed nevertheless toward the valley’s entrance. 

She uttered a soft tsk! to her mate and gestured with her chin in the direction of the approaching wolf. The smoke confused her sense of smell and the wind direction betrayed her. 

She crouched on the boulder and continued to watch- curious to see if it was Annorak who had come back for a third time, and prepared to fend him off if she was correct.

smoke stung his nose and chased ancelin with a brief anxiety, one dispelled by ameline's chuff.
pushing away from the sentinel stone, he squared his variegated shoulders and stood with upraised plume and railroad-spiked hackles, posturing as knight while his queen watched from over his head.
a shadow approached.
the bearclaws were ready to drink more blood.
his teeth glinted in the tinged light, ready to catch the eye of any interloper who sought the valley's single entrance, and then ancelin was racing forward, seeking awareness of this wolf beneath the flicker of firesmoke in the atmosphere.

She had been spotted, and so she stood in wait, tail flagged and pelt bristling. I only mean to get around to the other side of the valley, she repeated the line over and over in her head, practicing should this stranger take the time to question her.

Should he not, however, she would be ready, muscles tense and gaze tracking the approacher's every step, calculating the best move should he arrive with gnashing teeth.

She pounced from the stone without hesitation when her mate charged forward, bridging the gap between the Bearclaws and the stranger. The sleek black wolf stopped in her tracks, and stiffened, holding her ground in a manner that spoke of courage when faced with the approach of two territorial wolves. Ameline's pace slowed, so that she could accentuate her step with the stiffness of dominance that would demand a show of deference. 

The wolf was clearly not Annorak, and for that she was both relieved and disappointed. It would have been easier to charge toward the wolf known for abandoning his pack and deserving of punishment; this one...Ameline could find no excuse to attack blindly, not when they wanted sorely for allies and new packmates. 

The woman was stately, though her tattered ears and scarred face were indicative that she'd faced conflict before. She was otherwise well-kept, though it smelled as though she'd travelled through the marsh recently. 

"You're headed for Bearclaw Valley," She called out, as she came to a halt several bodylengths still from the stranger. "That land ith claimed."

ameline spoke. ancelin arrested his headlong run with a snort, a growl.
but he paced to one side now, stilling to stand as a splotched shadow in the presence of his mate.
she would question. he stood in preparation to be her man-at-arms if this slithering otter of a wolf tried to approach into the meadowland nearest their valley.
why did everyone keep trying them? damned if he knew.

Grackle dug her paws into the mud, ready to meet the charge head-on, muscles coiling and ready to snap. But just as she prepared for the collision, the man veered off, issuing a low, warning growl that rippled through the air. She raised a brow, a mix of judgment and mild amusement crossing her features. He did not look to be in the best shape, and it occurred to the dark woman how easy it might be to dispatch him when another had already begun the job.

But the other one—now she was a different story. Less impulsive, at least in first appearance, and her eyes carried a sharpness the brute lacked. It was toward her that Grackle shifted her attention, eyes narrowing, hackles lowering just a fraction. Just passing through, she drawled, her voice a low, smooth rumble, dark and glossy as her obsidian coat. The land on this side is waterlogged, nearly impassable unless you're looking for a swim, she continued, her voice a touch sarcastic as frustration at the elements leaked through. This seemed the best route around it, Grackle added, taking a deliberate step back. Not out of fear, of course—just a small gesture of acknowledgment. The woman had been courteous enough to offer a warning instead of teeth, after all.

Grackle inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring as she sifted through the jumble of scents. Wet earth, rain-soaked leaves, the musk of distant prey, and... there it was, faint but there—markers here and there, a claim that seemed to be held together by sheer will alone. Flimsy, at best.

Your scent’s weak, she observed bluntly, her tone devoid of insult but laden with a cold sort of pragmatism, an ear twitching in emphasis. She didn’t mean it as a slight, just stating a fact.

Grackle’s gaze lingered, assessing, waiting to see how the woman would respond. Would she bare her teeth and snarl, or acquiesce?

The velveteen tone of the woman’s voice made Ameline prickle with jealousy. Combined with her enviable looks, she felt a primitive urge to chase the woman off simply because she was attractive. While Ameline felt secure in her relationship with Ancelin, she nevertheless wanted not only to be the highest ranked woman in the pack, but the most beautiful, and most powerful as well. The realm’s delight, so to speak.

She wouldn’t pass through the valley, that much was for sure. ”Our valley ith thunken into the ground. No way through without comin’ out the thame way you went in.” She informed the woman. That alone should be enough to deter her. 

She tried not to take the woman’s comment personally. She attempted an easy shrug, but the gesture was a bit rushed.  ”Well unfortunately, pith ain’t waterproof. Rained all night latht night; that’th why we’re out an’ about today.”

"and not so weak we didn't see you coming a mile away," ancelin added with a cut of his tail in the smoky air. ameline had her attention as was the way of a feral queen. her knight was here to enforce, and a warning meant much.
the melonii eyes gleamed, but he was silent now, aligned with his mate in knowing that even if their valley had two entrances, it would not be used as a thoroughfare for wayward wraiths.

That's a shame, Grackle clicked her tongue, gaze darting from the pair to the lowering wall that made up the valley's barrier, briefly considering her chances of making it up the side. Seems then I’ll have to find myself another way through.

Your scent isn't so weak that you didn't see me coming from a mile away? Her tone was flat, dripping with a kind of deadpan curiosity that almost—almost—masked the sarcasm. I don’t get what scent has to do with sight, but hey, what do I know? She finished the sentence with a shrug, the unspoken dumbass hung heavy in the air, clear as day despite the absence of the word itself.

She gave a short nod as she listened. If rain’s a constant issue, you’d do better with scratch-based markers, she mused, eyeing the closest tree at the path’s entrance. She took a step back, head tilted as she inspected the oak, her claws flexing instinctively at the thought. A few good claw marks here, along this line, she continued, gesturing to the trunks, make ‘em deep enough, and they’ll hold up against a downpour. Big, bold—something even a half-blind fool couldn’t miss.

Just, and here she made a series of sharp popping noises with her mouth, each one punctuated by a pointed jab of her paw toward a different tree, and you're golden. A slight, crooked smile curled at the corner of her mouth, amused by her own joke.

"Around," Ameline reiterated. There was no going through the Valley, certainly not without their permission. 

The scarred woman seemed itching to cause conflict. Ameline's ears flicked back in light annoyance as she questioned Ancelin's meaning. She glanced to her husband, as if to say do you find her as dense as I do? though her patience was wearing thin. She tolerated the woman now, only because she felt it necessary to do so. In her mind, she had two options. 

A. Could she live with someone like this? 
B. Or would she rather attack her, to get a little bit of fighting practice in? 

She found she didn't lean hard enough in one direction or the other, but continued to weigh the options as she snarky female gave them an unnecessary lecture on how to mark trees. Ameline allowed her to do her demonstration while the Regina watched, with a hawkish stare. 

"You mean like that one, ovuh there," She said, gesturing to another tree- but the tree was far enough off that any markings on its trunk would have been impossible to see. She simply hoped it might draw the woman's eye for long enough that she could take advantage of the distraction and launch herself toward the woman whose lengthy explanation had been just enough to tip Ameline toward option B.

she was bold and rude, offering unsolicited advice in a scathing cascade. ancelin only grinned when her hot eyes shone his way; let her believe him a brainless himbo. she would certainly find he was not nice and held a hunter's calculation; the last rein on ancelin was slipped when ameline lunged.
he slid to one side, side-step, and bit neatly for the woman's inkjet hide a handsbreadth after his queen raged through the air onto the loquacious loser.
dander up and blood hot, he was prepared to dance again.
and again, and again.

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Sorry for the delay </3

Grackle had meant through the muck. Had she actually said that out loud? No, of course not. But in her head, it was clear as day, so naturally, she assumed everyone else would know too. So when the pretty golden lady, who Grackle was starting to think she quite liked, mentioned going around, the snake woman could only nod in agreement. Good point. I don’t want to get my paws any dirtier. Her voice dripped with exaggerated disdain. She had already trudged through enough filth to make a pig envious.

Grackle, blissfully unaware of proper social customs, had genuinely meant no offense. In her mind, she’d actually been pretty helpful. So when she glanced back and caught a flicker of… squint... was that annoyance in the woman’s eyes? Oh no. Ohhh no. Not again. She could practically hear the ominous music swell in the background of her life, warning her of yet another failed attempt at winning friends and influencing people. Her tail twitched in discomfort.

Grackle had seen enough people ready to kick her ass to know somewhere she had fucked up. Maybe she’d said something wrong? Maybe she should apologize? The idea was foreign, but not entirely unwelcome.

Grackle opened her mouth to try and salvage the situation, fully intending to spit out something resembling an apology when—

I didn't see one or I wouldn't have gotten close, she stated, large ears flicking back as she glanced warily in the direction the woman had gestured. A glance was all it took.

She barely had a second to register the flash of teeth before they were on her. Both of them. The golden woman moved first, but the hulking brute of a himbo followed close behind. Well, shit. Grackle’s mind raced, but her body acted on instinct. Two against one, but she was big, and the idiot was injured. There was hope yet.

Her lips curled into a vicious snarl, and her bared teeth snapped forward, aiming straight for the man’s torn-up face. If she could get her jaws around him— just how well could he fight with blood in his eyes? She lunged, muscles coiling like a loaded spring, hoping to even the odds with a single bite.

The distraction worked- and with a tilt of her head, the woman with violet eyes left herself open for an attack just long enough for the two Bearclaws to come within striking range. Tall as she was, though, she was quick to pivot and ready herself for the attack. 

In an instant, the woman snapped, not at Ameline, but Ancelin. As if in slow motion, Ameline caught a glimpse of the hooked fangs reaching for her mate’s face, and she felt her fury reach a boiling point. 

She pivoted, and aimed to slam her weight against the woman’s dark shoulder, hoping to knock her off balance  so her strike might be futile. She lifted one forelimb to try and rake at Grackle’s side- hoping if she could get a grip, she might be able to wrestle her opponent into the mud.

no worries at all! <3

god, this was fun!
fun up until the part the stranger's teeth closed around ancelin's cheek and tore six scars into it. he almost squealed, his eyes watering with anguished rage. ameline had done enough to knock the woman sideways, however; her fangs wouldn't hold, tearing instead into runnels of peeled tissue.
a hot sound seethed from ancelin; he thrust himself forward, back into range of the crow's jaws if only to shove her bodily toward his mate, backward, backstepping; he slashed at her eyes, her mouth, ears, chest, mingling their blood into some heated parody of a square dance.