Chimera Fields All the fear and the fire

The first light of dawn had just begun to stretch across the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow through the trees and over the damp ground. Cole padded quietly up to where @Arnarkla lay curled, her form rising and falling in a gentle rhythm as she slept. He lowered his head, giving her a soft nudge with his nose.

Arnarkla, he murmured, his voice low and easy, just enough to stir her. He watched her eyes flutter as she shifted under his touch, and a faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Crack o’ dawn’s here, he murmured, voice low enough not to startle her fully awake. He waited, letting her adjust, then asked with a faint smile, You hungry?

He stepped back, letting her shake off the drowsiness at her own pace.

The left ear twitched. The soft nudge prompted a drowsy hm? One eye opened to get her bearings, and then the other.

I would be too comfortable if I weren't, she mumbled as she unfurled from her curled position, voice huskier from having just been stirred. A fore paw rubbed sleep from her eye before slowly pushing herself up. One hind leg stretched out behind her before the other was stretched.

Cole gave her a faint, knowing grin, already brimming with energy. He’d been up for hours, tracing the morning’s breeze, scouting trails, feeling the thrill of the hunt on the horizon. With a low chuckle, he murmured, Not much for the crack of dawn, huh?

Turning, he kept his pace measured, just enough to let her catch up. Stay close if you’re hungry, he said, his voice warm but edged with challenge.

She gave her coat a small shake.

Well, she began, I do like watching the sunrise. Waking up for it wasn't always as easy as when she was younger.

In a blink of an eye, Cole was on the move. She merely watched him for a moment until he spoke again, and she moved to follow. A soft huff was made at his challenge. The mountain wolf lengthened her strides to curtail some of the distance that had grown between them.

Cole shot her a sidelong glance, a playful grin tugging at his lips. As they walked, he darted in, aiming to nip at her fur, his playful spirit shining through.

But then the scent hit him—earthy, familiar. He halted, instincts sharpening. His demeanor shifted, seriousness settling over him like a cloak. Slow it down, he murmured, gesturing subtly with his muzzle. There's a doe nearby.

He moved quietly, keeping close to her side, ensuring they remained ready as they crept forward together.

The chaste nip had her ears flipping back and head casually tipping away with a hint of amusement on her face, as if she were accustomed to such antics. It was intriguing to see this side in such a brutish male.

The scent reached her nose, as well, stealing her attention away. Her tongue darted out to wet her nose and strengthen the smell, and then lapped at her jowls in anticipation of a fresh meal.

Arnarkla mirrored him, slowing her pace and minding where her paws were placed, the direction of the wind's flow. The huntress opted to let Cole take the lead as the hunt had been his idea. She wanted to see what sort of approach he would make and what support he would need from her.

Cole crouched low, eyes locked on the doe’s grazing form. I’ll hit her hard, jump in from the front, he whispered, voice low and steady. You chase her back this way, toward me. We’ll corner her.

He flicked his gaze toward her, a hint of a smirk on his muzzle. Stay sharp. And with another breath, B'careful. With that, he took a breath, preparing for the strike, muscles coiled with anticipation.

Her ear cupped toward his strategy. A simple, focused nod was made in response. Silent, the huntress slunk off between the underground, keeping the doe on her left as she skirted around in a wide ark toward her position.

Moonlit eyes waited for the brute to strike before she would dart, her body poised.

Cole launched himself from the underbrush, his powerful legs propelling him forward in a blur of motion. He aimed straight for the doe, his weight crashing into her side as he connected. The startled doe stumbled, letting out a bleat that shattered the morning calm.

With a calm focus, he quickly scanned the area, ensuring he heeded Arnarkla's direction. He maneuvered himself to guide the doe toward her, keeping her escape route in mind. Their eyes met for just a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. He adjusted his position, steering the doe away from any chance of fleeing, forcing her toward the path he knew she’d have to take.

As the doe struggled, Cole maintained his close proximity, ready to direct her where he wanted her to go. Each movement was deliberate and measured, allowing Arnarkla to join in at the right moment. He remained steady, trusting in their plan and the strength of their partnership.

Cole bolted out from the underbrush and had the ungulate stumbling under his weight. The cry out made both ears twitched. She would not dart forward until the brute gained control over their query's direction. 

The huntress shot forward, fingers of shrubs brushed across her shadowed face. Her sudden presence shook the beast. Arnarkla took advantage of the momentary hesitation to go for the doe's neck, pearly whites snapping on flesh. 

Abruptly, the deer jerked itself away. Canines left gouges on either side of its throat and the aroma of blood filled the air. Arnarkla didn't try to keep that hold, wary of her head being shaken and forcing her into a spell. She found it better to chip away at beasts. The huntress would take to shepherding, giving Cole a window of his own to deliver a blow.

Cole paused for a breath, catching sight of Arnarkla’s precision as she darted in, her timing flawless and swift. For a brief second, he was taken off guard by her skill—a flash of admiration settled in his gaze. But he quickly caught himself, refocusing as she pulled back, guiding the frantic, wounded doe right into his line.

With blood scenting the air and the doe faltering, Cole seized his opening. He moved forward in a steady rush, surging back onto the creature, bringing his weight down as he delivered the final blows with relentless efficiency. With sharp teeth gougingt he thick hyde of her neck, she didn't stand a chance against his brutish nature. There was something alive there, primal, that countered his playful nature he showed to the mahogany woman. Terrifying, maybe. The doe’s fight ebbed quickly under his force.

As the hunt concluded, he gave Arnarkla a nod, acknowledging the practiced ease with which she’d worked beside him, a quiet respect lingering in his stance.

Teeth snapped the air in eager threats at the doe when it dared to attempt overpowering her, mistaking the smaller wolf for the lesser evil. Arnarkla still tasted its blood on her tongue, stoking the fire growing within her rib cage. 

A frenzy swept over her hunting partner. On the ungulate's opposite side, she sensed it more than she witnessed it. It seemed to flood the fields, spreading from Cole like a shadow and seeping into her like a noxious fume that lit up the haunting eyes. 

He ravaged the prey's neck and its pace was stunted. The fight was leaving it but the huntress had paused. A second was spent watching the brute at work before she joined in the fray. Jaws snapped and teeth tore at its flank, making more wounds so its life would drain faster. 

By the hunt's conclusion, Arnarkla had taken a step back. Her mandible went slack and her tongue flopped out to pant quickly, regaining her breath from the exertion. A string of saliva fell, ruddy from the crimson in her mouth. Her tongue lapped at her jowls as she collected herself, gave her pelt a shake.

Cole stepped back from the fallen doe, his chest heaving and fur soaked in the prey’s blood. A rough satisfaction simmered through him, tempered only by the sight of Arnarkla on the other side of their kill. Her coat, darkened with streaks of blood, gave her an almost feral elegance in the early light, something wild yet striking, her breath coming fast as she collected herself.

He let his gaze linger a moment longer, catching himself before he tore his eyes away, grounding himself in the solid scent of their victory. The hunt’s heat still coursed through him, but he felt a rare and unexpected appreciation as he looked back over their work, and—just barely—a hint of something else, a silent acknowledgment of her skill.

With a low rumble of satisfaction, he gave his head a quick shake, droplets reigning from his jaw. His mouth parted to let out a pant, feeling the adrenaline pump through his blood. 

Fine work, he murmured, voice low, a touch of admiration slipping through.

The rumble drew her gaze back to the brute. 

"Fine work."

A nod, a hum, and then: Indeed. The bout of exhaustion had her mind working in steps. 

And then her gaze fell upon their kill. Frost from the night evaporated into a faint fog under the burning gaze of the waking sun. There was no reason to wait any longer before helping themselves to a warm, fresh meal. 

Her eyelids lowered, seemingly closed, as she mouthed the two words of her prayer. She took a step forward. Her teeth sought the wounds she had made to dig her way to the treasure of the chest.

Cole’s gaze drifted to her, noting the faintest movement of her lips as if speaking to something unseen. Words whispered under her breath, a quiet reverence that hung between them and the fresh kill. For a second, he was struck by the mystery in her expression—the way she lingered before the meal, as though she was summoning something sacred with those two whispered words. He didn’t press, though a curious wonder flickered through his mind, one that he kept guarded, choosing instead to nod in acknowledgment.

With a slow step, Cole joined her, a silent companion to her ritual. Whatever her words meant, they seemed to bring her some form of peace, a part of her own hunt. And he, half-lost in thought, couldn’t help but respect that quiet ritual, watching her begin before he followed.

Cole paused, his gaze steady on Arnarkla as she murmured her quiet words. Curiosity tugged at him, yet he chose his question carefully.

What’s that you’re sayin’? he asked, voice low, almost reverent as if not to disturb the moment. A prayer, maybe?

He waited, his tone more thoughtful than probing, a subtle respect for whatever meaning her words might hold. Seems somethin’ worth sayin’ again, if it’s good enough for you.

The wounds were worsened, opened more when Cole made his inquiry. An ear had turned toward him before her head raised to regard him. 

Fyrir Mána. The words rolled smoother off her tongue than any common word she had spoken. 

She shrugged a shoulder when he asked if it was a prayer. 

Sometimes it is. It's more... þula—I don't know the common word for it. Her gaze shifted away in thought. It's more a habit than anything, now. A thing to say when the feeling moves me.

Her hears splayed a little as she regarded Cole again. 

I don't think I explained it well.

Cole returned her gaze with a small nod, the foreign words lingering in his mind. Þula. He repeated it silently to himself, the unfamiliar sound strange but oddly fitting. Her explanation was hazy, yet something about it struck a chord—he knew the feeling of words spoken more from habit, a rhythm of the heart rather than the mind.

Habits...prayers...mantras— he muttered thoughtfully, almost to himself, testing the word as if it might fit her meaning. He glanced back at her, unsure if it matched what she meant but willing to let her correct him. Mean a lot in the same.

He offered a slight, reassuring nod as if to say she’d explained enough; he understood, or at least as much as he needed to.

You explained it well enough, he assured her, his voice steady and warm. Words can be tricky, especially the ones that carry weight. You don’t have to worry about making it perfect. He offered a slight, reassuring nod, as if to say he understood, or at least as much as he needed to.

He understood her words enough, it seemed. Her tail made a light sway at her hocks. Mention of the tricky nature of words had her hum in affirmation. 

Action conveys more to me.

She lowered her head, snapping and pulling more at the carcass. 

Speaking of, she spoke between the working of her teeth, you proved yourself to be quite the berserkur.

The brute was slyly regarded in the corner of her eye.

Cole shrugged slightly, tearing into the tender flesh of the doe. Ain’t nothin’ special, he murmured between bites, the warmth of the meal spreading through him. Just doin’ what needs doin’, I guess.

He glanced over at Arnarkla, catching the flicker of her gaze as he savored the rich taste. Thanks for bein’ there, though, he added quietly, unsure of how to articulate the appreciation blooming within him. Couldn’t have done it without you.

He resumed his meal, the subtle camaraderie settling in the space between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shared success.

She glanced at the gratitude that was given like she had been caught off guard. A nod was made in return. 

Of course.

Arnarkla followed suit in digging into the carcass. By the time she ate her fill, the remains were gored. Blood clung to the fur of her forelegs, chest, and face. 

She stepped a couple paces away from what was left of the corpse. The somber she-wolf settled onto her belly, hind legs stretched out to one side, and began to groom off the fluid that made the hairs of her hide stiffen into clumps.

Cole ate in quiet satisfaction, savoring the warmth and strength each bite brought. His gaze flicked to Arnarkla as she stepped back, and he gave a small nod to her, acknowledging the shared victory in their hunt.

Once he’d had his fill, he rose slowly, licking the blood from his muzzle. He gave a brief glance to the remains, then murmured, Good meat left. Might be enough to bring back for Ameline and Ancelin’s pups.

He tried to suck the blood from his toes, clean his gums, but he could still feel the palpating sensation of blood filling his nose. He had been ready to stand, to be the one to drag the carcass back with them.

Arnarkla's head turned to Cole when he spoke. The carcass was regarded by her moonlit gaze once more, and then a nod made. Her grooming was interrupted as she rose to stand with him. 

Which end do you want? she asked, head tilting a bit more to the right. She would drag by the other.

Cole gave a casual shrug, finishing up cleaning the blood that streaked his forelegs. He took a step back from the carcass, giving it a quick look up and down. I’ll take the whole thing, he offered, more matter-of-fact than boastful. He’d lugged heavier loads before. Bein' a gentleman, an' all.

Lowering himself, he nudged his shoulder under the carcass, shifting until its weight settled across his back. With a grunt, he straightened, finding his balance. He looked to Arnarkla, a faint smirk in his gaze. Lead the way?

The umbral wolf's chin tucked a little, watching him from under lashes as he put it upon himself to shoulder the entire load, quite literally. He got himself under the remains, and then rose to it draped over his broad shoulders. Something enigmatic flashed across her haunting gaze. 

I can help, you know.

She was beginning to wonder if he doubted her capabilities.

Cole huffed, a flicker of amusement crossing his gaze as he caught that look of hers, sharp and questioning. He knew her type well enough by now—there wasn’t a thing about her that hinted at weakness, not on the hunt and certainly not in her presence.

Not a doubt in my mind, darlin', he murmured, his voice low and steady. But some habits die hard. Just in my nature to take care’a things.

With a nod to her, he adjusted the weight of the carcass on his shoulders and started forward, keeping pace light so she could walk alongside him.