Felltree Marsh A coat of red

@Sobeille

The crunch of Sivaak’s heavy paws through the snow announced her presence long before the scent did. She emerged from the frost-rimmed trees, her thick, scarred pelt damp with sweat and blood. Between her jaws hung the limp, broken body of a raccoon, its dull eyes staring blankly into nothing. It was small, hardly a challenge, but it had crossed her path and that was enough.

Sivaak moved with the strength of a big cat, her crimson gaze locking onto Sobeille as soon as she came into view. Without ceremony, she stalked forward and dropped the carcass at Sobeille’s paws, the wet thud of it breaking the silence between them.

“Eat,” Sivaak barked, her gravelly voice cutting through the cold like a blade. She didn’t wait for acknowledgment, didn’t linger to see if Sobeille would obey. Her focus shifted, her broad shoulders already turning as she began to retreat back the way she came, her tail flicking once in an unspoken dismissal.

But before she could disappear or Sobeille could bid her stop, she glanced back, just long enough to growl one final word: “Now.”

her captor was gone for some time. sobeille picked at the gap where her canine had been.

she could run, but something told her her body was better suited to the sea than to miles of long hunting. besides, the caribou hunter was larger, stronger, and arguably far more experienced. it was better, she thought, to simply do as she said.

besides, a morbid part of sobeille wondered of sivaak's people.

eat, the killer commanded. sobeille did not need to be told twice. she seized the raccoon between her paws and sniffed it once -- wondering if herbal tonics weren't beyond the capability of her captor -- but it smelled only of fresh kill, and so she ate it without compunction.

her gaze trailed after the woman as she made to disappear again; where was it she went?

The stillness she left behind was fleeting; minutes later, the crunch of snow signaled her return. Emerging from the thicket, she carried another kill—this time a hare, its thin, lifeless body limp in her bloodied jaws.

She strode forward with purpose, the hare swinging with each step, and without ceremony, dropped to the ground near Sobeille. Sivaak settled herself, stretching out with an air of indifference. The hare lay between her forepaws as she leaned down, tearing into it with brutal efficiency. Her crimson gaze stayed fixed on the meal, not sparing even a flicker of attention toward her captive.

When Sivaak finished, she pushed herself to her paws with a heavy exhale, shaking loose fragments of blood and fur from her muzzle. She glanced briefly toward the distant horizon, as if gauging their next move, and then began walking. Her steps were firm and deliberate, carving a path further inland through the snow and frost-laden earth.

A single glance backward was all she offered before continuing onward, her tail flicking behind her—a wordless command for Sobeille to follow. Shortly thereafter, the woman spoke. "Why strange girl does not run?" Her voice gurgled, as if she still had chunks of flesh caught in her throat. Truthfully, Sivaak had expected more pushback. Then, Sivaak would have the joy of hunting her down.

Did she not value freedom?

the raccoon between her paws was studied. who had it been, before the killer’s jaws wrapped around it? what life had it lead, who did it leave behind?

her mind turned over to her family. would they worry? would someone come looking for her — dogfish or astera or her own maman perhaps? shadess? her gut flipped with a strange excitement to think of others setting aside the momentum of their lives for her; what course would their new life take?

would they find her?

and what would happen to the caribou-killer if they did?

sivaak was back. sobeille watched as she ignored her, ate, and then rose. she asked her why she did not run.

sobeille’s legs were shorter. it was simply a matter of practicality.

between straps of meat, sobeille spoke. only prey run. then she flipped the carcass over, thinking of fear and how fear was the mind-killer. sobeille had feared before and it was like a black hand reaching into her thoughts to snuffle out all the cohesion within her. ’ow much farther?

Sivaak moved forward without waiting, her frame cutting through the cold air like a prow through water. Her ears swiveled once but did not turn back, her focus locked ahead.

The frost crunched beneath her paws, her gait slow, carving a path further inland.

"Prey not talk like that," she growled bluntly in response. The faintest smirk tugged at her lips, though, fleeting, sharp.

Her gaze drifted to the horizon, searching for nothing in particular yet always hunting. "Depend," she said after a moment. "No Muradoii at coast. So, we search. Lanzadoii come to coast soon. Toward us. They go long march." She mumbles, speaking through the icy fog.

"Sivaak hate Sharadoii. If we find Sharadoii, we kill. Take spoils. That is way."

The crimson in her eyes gleamed as she pressed onward, her breath curling like smoke in the bitter air. Her tail flicked, a silent signal to keep pace.

Sivaak didn’t slow, nor did she care if her company struggled. The weak didn’t matter—only those who endured.

Her shoulders rolled with every stride, the thick muscle there thrumming with power. “When find them, or find us, you prove,” she added, her tone almost dismissive, though the gleam in her eye spoke of expectation. “Caribou hunter keep no dead weight.”

sobeille scarcely pulled another strap of back flesh from the raccoon before the huntress stormed off. she grabbed the remains of her carcass and lugged forward, trotting after sivaak.

already the huntress out great distance between them. doii this, doii that — sobeille listened but found she could not conceptualize the difference between any of them.

she paused to put the raccoon down, and already sivaak’s form nearly faded from view. ’ow i tell a sharadoii from de other doiis? what be de difference? she called after sivaak’s disappearing back, grabbing the raccoon with a scowl as she scampered after her once more.

Sivaak’s ears swiveled at the question, though she didn’t stop. Her pace remained steady, the crunch of her paws against frost the only sound for a moment before she finally answered.

“Sharadoii weak,” she growled, glancing briefly over her shoulder, her crimson eyes glinting with disdain. “They hide in valley. Pray to charms. Soft pelts. Soft wolves. No fight unless cornered.”

Her gaze snapped back to the horizon, and she pushed forward, her shoulders rolling with each purposeful stride. “Lanzadoii stronger. March with caribou. Never stop. Always moving. But they soft, too. Run when they should fight. Only Muradoii fight with teeth.”

She huffed, her breath curling into the icy fog. “When you see them, you know. Sharadoii die quick. Lanzadoii scatter like wind. Muradoii? You see red in their eyes like Sivaak.”

sivaak set such pace! sobeille’s legs worked overtime to match the rangy stride of the huntress.

sharadoii were weak, explained the killer as gravel and frost crunched underfoot. sobeille listened, and then fell to silence as she ruminated on red eyes and cornered wolves. the premise was almost eerily close to genocide — something that did not stir any emotion at all in the young girl.

finally, she spoke — having to drop the carcass again to do so. i be knowin’ a weak wolf when i see one. she seized the carcass again and scampered forth a few paces.

once more the limp form dropped to the ground. dey insulted my friend. seizing soft flesh between her teeth, sobeille once more trotted a few steps before continuing. this time, she did not drop the ragged creature but instead spoke through grit teeth. i snuck into camp while dey were sleepin’. tried to kill dem both, but a man save dem.

gleaming pride glittered in her hardened gaze. i took dat bitch’s eye.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: sivaak needs mental help and is a murderer?

The crunch of frost beneath her paws drowned out the sound of Sobeille struggling to keep up. She snorted at the boast, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly as she cast a glance over her shoulder.

“You take eye,” Sivaak rumbled, her voice flat and rough. “But you leave alive.”

Her gaze shifted back to the path ahead. “Weak wolf with no eye is still wolf. Better dead. Better forgotten.”

The faintest sneer pulled at her lips, though whether it was approval or scorn was unclear. “Maybe next time, strange girl, you finish. Sivaak teach you kill.” There was no praise, no acknowledgment beyond her words—but Sivaak had heard, and that alone was more than most would receive.

"Sivaak tell you story of own." She grunted behind a cage of stained teeth.

Her steps slowed, as though she were savoring the memory. “Sivaak led raid. Night was quiet. No wind, no sound. We came like shadows. They did not see Muradoii until it was too late.”

Her voice was hungry and calloused, as though recounting the hunt of a caribou, not wolves. “Their soothsayer begged. Said they would give us pelts, meat, whatever we wanted. Sivaak told them we wanted nothing but blood.”

Her tail flicked, her gaze narrowing as she pressed forward. “We take their women to edge of the black sea. They screamed, but the sea is louder. Waves swallowed them. Sharadoii thought they prayed to spirits. Muradoii know the sea is god.”

the killer had a point. sobeille's jaw hung open and she briefly interjected: 'e was twice my size an' i was outnumbere-- but she fell short, huffing.

sivaak slowed just enough that the pace could almost be called comfortable. sobeille drew alongside the rippling shoulders of the huntress, listening with one ear turned.

no sound, all shadows -- women herded to the black sea and fed to a god hungrier than any wolf's greed. sobeille found a strange pleasure in this, for she knew it to be just offering tithes to the seawater.

and de men? sobeille asked, eye trained resolutely ahead.

Sivaak’s crimson eyes glinted with a savage humor as she answered, her voice carrying a sharp edge. “Men? We took balls,” she growled, the words dripping with crude satisfaction. Her lips curled in a sneer, revealing bloodstained teeth. “Sharadoii men no use alive. No use dead. But their fear?” She huffed, a bitter, guttural sound. “Their fear feeds Muradoii.”

She slowed for a moment, her gaze turning to Sobeille. “We make sure they never make more Sharadoii. Leave them to bleed. Their screams weaker than women. Sea don’t want them.”

Her tail lashed once before she pressed forward, the faintest flicker of amusement still lingering on her scarred muzzle. “Sea likes women better. Women special. Men just good for noise and trophies.”