Overture Downs winds of east

The scent was faint but unmistakable—rich, earthy, tinged with the musk of wild caribou. Morwenna's silvered eyes scanned the horizon, her ears swiveling to catch even the softest rustle of the vast wilderness around her. Each step forward was calculated, her body low to the ground, moving in harmony with the terrain. She had been tasked with watching the Saatsine chieftain, @Sun Eater.

This was not the first time she had taken on such a role. Diplomacy, she had come to realize, was as much about patience and perception as it was about words. And the Saatsine were nothing if not deeply entwined with the rhythm of the caribou's migrations. To find Sun Eater, she needed to follow their lifeblood.

Pausing to test the air, Morwenna caught the scent again, stronger now. The tracks she had been following—hooves pressed into the soft soil, scattering leaves and underbrush—were fresh.

As she continued along the trail, the trees began to thin slightly, opening into a sparse clearing. She slowed, her senses sharpening. If she were lucky, Sun Eater would be near. And if not… well, she would keep tracking. The winds carried more than just the scent of the caribou—they carried possibility. And perhaps, they carried him.

beautiful was the valley where the saatsine had come to rest for a time.

each morning sun eater woke in a new place; each night he at last lay himself down on a different sentinel's point. his wolves killed and ate, and pelts numbered swiftly beneath the tree where they draped.

this meadow moved in gentle rolling, wide boughs brushing the caribou man as he wended between them.

always inexorable, the caribou paths he padded now, and it was in the wake of his herds that he found the silverstar.

tail flagged to announce him, but otherwise sun eater was only defined by his own natural confidence, letting shadows fall across him in barred light as he traveled adjacent to the swiftcurrent wolf.

The rhythm of heavy steps drew her ears first, the distinctive sound of a presence she had come to recognize. Morwenna turned, her silver gaze landing on the approaching form of Sun Eater. His movements were deliberate, the flag of his tail held confidently above him as if he carried the weight of the valley on his shoulders with ease.

Her own tail began a gentle sway, a small sign of her happiness to see the chieftain once more. She dipped her head in respectful greeting, her voice steady yet warm. Chieftain, she addressed him, her silver furs catching the sunlight filtering through the trees. How fare the hunts?

Her gaze lingered on him, observing the way the wilderness seemed to bend around him, as if acknowledging his presence. It was a rare thing, she thought, to see a wolf so attuned to the life and death of the land.

"saatsine eat fresh meat each day," sun eater grunted, his remaining eye offering an contemplative trace to her more expressive features. "you come for me, morwenna?" he asked, almost forming the words in lanzadoii.

while his features did not shift from closed thoughtfulness, sun eater knew it was his responsibility to hold in suspicion her uttered intent to return.

a fierce wind rose then, gusting through the trees, lifting his dark hackles into a line of silhouetted knifework.

Morwenna tilted her head slightly at his words, a quiet hum escaping her as she considered them. Yes, she replied simply, her silver eyes steady upon his single one. I came to see you and ask if you’d hunt with me.

Her tail gave a soft flick, brushing the air as if to punctuate her request. The wind that stirred between them tugged at her fur, carrying with it the scents of the valley. She didn’t flinch, holding her ground beneath the chieftain’s contemplative gaze.

Has your clan been fed today? she asked, her voice lighter, though her intent remained clear. I thought—perhaps—you’d show me how the Saatsine do it.

perhaps it was only masculine vanity which sent his teeth glinting in a fine smirk. "they eat. right now, they hunt." he did not need to fell every caribou to return to see more chunks of flayed red flesh and its networks of quivering fat, nor to see a new skin draped firmly by his industrious sister.

"i hunt with you."

their gazes met for a brief moment before sun eater turned away, back to the paths carved in snow that had begun to pile along the base of several trees.

His words reached her ears, his voice low and edged with confidence, as sharp as the glint in his eyes. That smirk—whether it was pride some twisted plan, she couldn’t say—etched itself briefly into her mind. It suited him.

Morwenna's paws fell quietly into the indents Sun Eater left behind in the snow, her steps deliberate as she followed him closely. She watched his broad shoulders move with purpose, the command of a chieftain evident in every stride.

She wondered if he saw the purpose in her, the need to contribute, to prove herself. She would not falter, not now, not under his watch.

Her thoughts wandered to the pups—Violet, Buckthorn, Suzu's brood—all those young, vibrant lives. Because of him, because of this hunt, they would eat. Their bellies would be warm, their strength renewed. The image of their laughter, their satisfied fullness, tugged at her aching heart, and a flicker of gratitude bloomed amidst the cold that encased her.

And then, she faltered if only slightly. Falling a few steps behind, for a heartbeat as her thoughts shifted, unbidden, to the shadow of her father—a towering figure of stern discipline and unreachable expectations. She had spent her youth chasing the faint glimmer of his approval, her every achievement met with either cold indifference or a curt nod that spoke of obligations met, never affection earned. She hated him for it, and yet, deep in the recesses of her heart, she craved that same steady presence—a male figure helmed in undeniable masculinity, someone whose approval could mend the fractures she bore.

 Sun Eater, with his resolute stride and the certainty in his words, reminded her of all she had once sought. Perhaps, if he deemed her worthy, she might quiet that restless longing, if only for a while.

experiencing morwenna's eyes upon his back was a specific pleasure. she was suited to following, careful in her approach and watchful of him, but she did not sign fear.

more apparent then that she had come out of interest. he meant to know whether it was solely her own — he wanted to picture if she stepped behind her own leader with such assurance in her gait.

when had she come to dwell beside the creek? why was she not there now? much to glean; no mate, no children. only herself, only they now and their wheeling shadows against the snowy ground.

when her step seemed to subside, sun eater turned a glance upon the swiftcurrent woman in dogged appraisal. he knew not the memories which plagued her; the caribou man chuffed to recapture morwenna's attention, gesturing toward a cluster of young bulls.

"another dies. he try take older man cows. not go well for little bull," sun eater laughed. his pleasure was not for the death itself, only the irony: that in pursuit of life had this downed animal found none.

Morwenna startled faintly at the sound of Sun Eater's chuff, his low sound drawing her sharply from her spiraling thoughts. She blinked, the haze of memory dispersing as she found herself beside him, her silver eyes tracing the powerful lines of his frame, the deep warmth of his presence anchoring her. She followed his gaze, her attention settling on the glistening young bull that stood boldly before an older, seasoned rival.

The scene was almost too poetic, its layers unfolding in her mind. Was this a metaphor? She dared not entertain the thought too deeply. Her gaze flickered briefly to Sun Eater, observing the faint humor in his posture, before returning to the bulls. They circled one another with a rhythm that spoke of both experience and inexperience.

The cows, she murmured, her voice low, as if afraid to break the fragile tension of the moment, will they reject him?

Her words were both a question and an observation, her curiosity piqued. She studied the younger bull again, the sheen of youth unmistakable against the scars of the cows nearby. This was not her world, but Sun Eater's, and in his presence, it felt rich with meaning she sought to understand.

"no. if he win," sun eater stated, his own eye upon the jostling display. loud clacking resounded for their ears, evidence of the bulls' matched strength.

at least for now.

carefully he stepped around them, moving ever closer as the rutting focus consumed their minds in entirety.

first blood was drawn by the younger male, a fact which surprised sun eater but did not displease him. the older combatant was larger, with more heft to him. but with either death came fresh blood for the saatsine.

old bull bellowed as he was gored; a river of scarlet spurted from his shoulder, cut artery weakening him in gouts even as he bellowed defiantly.

as if only just seeing the wolves, young bull rumbled low in his chest, ceasing at once the last and fatal charge he meant to thunder down upon his opponent.

dominant calling gathered the harem. not a cow spared a glance for the wounded male as they ringed their new leader in desperate panic, running behind him in long leaps.

caribou hunter met the eyes of doomed creature and sun eater lunged into a hard run.

Morwenna’s heart thrummed like a war drum in her chest, the raw simplicity of the scene carving itself into her mind. Her ear flickered at Sun Eater’s words, his tone steady and without question, as primal as the display unfolding before them. This was no delicate weaving of treaties or measured negotiations—this was the pure, unyielding truth of the wild.

The clatter of antlers rang out, echoing through the crisp air, the sound of bone on bone resounding like ancient thunder. Morwenna’s gaze shifted between the two combatants, the younger male’s speed meeting the older’s weight in a struggle for dominance and survival.

When first blood spilled, she inhaled sharply, the scent of iron wafting toward her, mingling with the frost-laden air. A slow exhale escaped her, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath aligning with the tension of the scene. She could not look away. The younger bull’s triumph loomed ever closer, his bloodied antlers turning the tide against his elder adversary.

Sun Eater moved, and Morwenna followed, her steps as light as whispers on the wind. The two wolves maneuvered closer to the chaos, the rutting focus of the caribou leaving them blind to their hunters.

When the old bull’s bellow shattered the air, the river of crimson from his wound flowing freely, Morwenna’s hollowed gaze flicked toward Sun Eater. His sharp eye glinted with intent, but her focus returned quickly to the younger bull, who now stood triumphant. The harem flocked to him, their fear driving them in frantic leaps as they fled the scene.

It was the older bull, wounded and alone, who turned to meet her eyes. His defiance faltered for but a moment before Sun Eater’s charge came like a storm breaking upon the plains. Morwenna did not hesitate. Her paws struck the ground, powerful limbs propelling her into a run, shadowing her companion as they descended upon their prey.

The rhythm of life and death pulsed through her, primal and unyielding. And as the hunt began, she let it consume her.

that grave wound would fetch the bull low before the hour was out. their quarry knew its death, keeping just ahead of the pursuing wolves. sun eater did not press his speed, slowing to eat bites of the bloodstained snow.

cold metal and its flavor taunted his belly.

he kept after their bull, letting the creature's bulk move in and out of the thinning trees; his gait ate away the ground with knowing trot, and he jerked his chin from time to time in the direction of widening crimson splashes.

death came on limbs winnowed to honed strength. he was pleased to be in the companionship so quiet and apt; it streamlined the act of hunting not to shout words during its middle.

they passed between oaken branches woven into those of evergreen, and beyond that was their meat, fallen to his knees in a small clearing. even as the hunters moved into view, haunted old bull shouted a ringing sound of iron challenge.

he would die well and his spirit would flow to join the ancestral powers which guided the caribou on their great march. sun eater took a long breath to ready himself.

Morwenna's paws slowed as they entered the clearing, the sharp scent of blood saturating the air. The old bull, worn and trembling with fatigue, stood defiant on unsteady legs. His deep, resonant challenge echoed through the trees, reverberating against her chest.

She glanced at Sun Eater, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. She had not doubted the necessity of their hunt, nor the inevitability of its end, but now, faced with the bull’s raw defiance, she faltered. What did he want her to do? To join the final charge? To flank the beast while he delivered the killing blow?

Her breath puffed in silver clouds as she watched the great Chieftain's measured stance. Sun Eater, poised and composed, seemed unshaken by the spectacle. Yet, Morwenna's ears pressed against her skull. She could feel the weight of the moment, the age-old battle between predator and prey.

The bull scraped the earth with a battered hoof, shaking his antlers as if to remind them of his might. It wasn’t fear she felt, not entirely—it was reverence, a sense of her place within the cycle of life and death.

old bull courted their death, and sun eater lunged to mete out its first bite.

whiplash muscles tore hard into the side of the brawny neck, ripping the animal sideways. sun eater released his hold a second before razored antlers sliced sidelong to grab him;

darting left, he led the bull after him. its pain-crazed bellows shattered the air with thunderous force, tines slamming into the hard earth and raking clods to life in a strained arc.

here was the danger, anguished prey facing energetic predator; here overconfidence had killed many a caribou boy.

but sun eater was no youth on his first hunt; he tucked space between he and the bull as he circled, circled, his straight spine to morwenna.

Morwenna could only watch, spellbound, as Sun Eater engaged the bull with a mastery that bordered on artistry. His every movement was calculated yet fluid, a balance of instinct and precision honed over countless hunts. The caribou's bellow reverberated in her chest, a sound both primal and haunting, but it was Sun Eater’s dance with death that truly captivated her.

Each lunge, each sidestep, was a testament to his experience. The way he moved with the bull—never too close, never too far—was a rhythm all its own, like the beat of an ancient drum. Morwenna’s breath caught as he narrowly avoided the deadly arc of antlers, his muscles coiling and releasing with perfect timing. It was a performance, and the forest was his stage.

She felt her own body tense in response, her paws shifting slightly as if she, too, might join the chase. But this was his moment. Her role, for now, was to observe, to learn. Her star-kissed eyes flickered between Sun Eater’s deft maneuvers and the bull’s desperate attempts to defend itself. There was brutality in the exchange, yes, but also a strange beauty in its inevitability.

When his back turned to her, circling, circling, Morwenna felt a shiver run down her spine. She understood now—this was not just survival. It was respect for the life taken, the rhythm of the hunt, and the bond between predator and prey. Without realizing it, she whispered softly into the air, her voice barely audible over the chaos: You honor them.