Neverwinter Forest Neptune

For @Luhtar, slightly forward dated, other tag for ref!

The assassin kept undeniably specific hours: she slept only scarcely, only during the brightest hours of the day, while her activity peaked with the night. At dawn and dusk she spent her time prowling, tracking; nothing went on in her corner of the forest without her knowledge. A limited range, but Seastorm intended to expand it each day that she healed.

So far her leg was unchanged. She hadn't expected anything else. More than that, though, something else was slowing her down, distracting her from her larger goals. @Catamaran. More specifically his constant demands for attention — but Seastorm had come to accept this as the terms of their deal, and was slowly turning amenable to it. She still growled and fussed, agitated by the waste of her own time, but largely obliged the bounty hunter when it seemed he was feeling touchy.

All in all it was a sad existence, but less tragic than what she'd lived before. The sting of her pride was still felt. Underneath the stars the assassin slipped away from Catamaran to find a tree to gnaw a little in spite of Solharr's warning. She was more careful now, at least. She didn't leave many marks.

The night was silent, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves and the soft thud of Luhtar’s paws as he trudged through the undergrowth. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night, his thoughts too restless to allow him any peace. His body ached for rest, but his mind had other plans. With a frustrated grumble, he was rising from his little bed of moss, trudging away.

He sought solace in the night. The whistle of the wind, the sway of trees, the cool breeze as it swallowed him whole. Even then, it wasn't enough to lull him to sleep. His endless pacing ultimately turned into a patrol. If he was going to be awake, he might as well make himself useful. He moved with little care for the noise he made, his paws crunching through leaves and snapping twigs as he went. The sound wasn’t exactly subtle, but Luhtar didn’t mind—if anything, it suited his mood.

If he didn't get to sleep, no one got to sleep.

Luhtar’s heart jumped when he saw the wolf-shaped shadow beneath the starlight. He stopped abruptly, his fur bristling, but he quickly forced himself to straighten. Stamping down the spark of surprise, he huffed loudly and stalked closer, his paws heavy against the forest floor.

It was just the yearling girl.

What are you doing? He spoke roughly, voice thick with gravel. Hoarse from the eepiness that crept up the edges of his conscious. Why chew tree? Stop. You disrespect tree.

You disrespect tree.

Seastorm truly believed he was joking, at first. She wasn't impressed. Nonetheless she quickly stepped away from the tree and tried, for a moment, to look innocent — but all that went out the window when she realized he wasn't actually fucking with her.

Why talk weird? She snapped back, ears flattening to her skull. I'll chew you. In spite of her threat, the girl made no move to follow through. She only stood there bristling and defiant.

Luhtar blinked at her, momentarily thrown off by her sudden shift from faux innocence to outright defiance. His ears twitched as her words registered, and for a moment, he simply stared, his expression blank before it twisted into a scowl.

“Talk fine,” he retorted, though his thick accent and clunky Common betrayed the lie. His tail flicked, his frustration shifting from his restless night to this absurd conversation. “You chew tree. I tell truth. You disrespect tree.”

Her threat didn’t seem to faze him, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he couldn’t decide whether to snarl or smirk. He planted his paws firmly and leaned forward slightly, his yellow eyes narrowing. “You chew me?” he echoed, the words coming slow and deliberate. “No. You not brave enough.”

Not brave enough! Seastorm could find no argument to his other points, but at those words her blue eyes narrowed. Rather than speak she bounced over cheerily on three legs to prove her point.

She didn't wait for him to react. The strange man would receive the same showy lot of nothing with which she'd attacked Catamaran: no force to it, no true intention of harm. Seastorm was gentler with him than she'd been with the tree — but she was, in fact, brave enough to chew him.

Luhtar barely had time to register her movement before she was on him. His ears shot upright, and a startled grunt escaped him as Seastorm bounced forward with surprising agility, despite her three-legged gait. His initial instinct to step back was quickly replaced by a deep scowl as her teeth found his fur—not with force, but enough to make her point.

His thick coat cushioned her playful nip, but his pride took the hit directly. He stiffened, his yellow eyes narrowing as he looked down at her with exaggerated indignation. “You chew ME?” he growled, though there was no real heat to his words. His tail flicked sharply behind him, betraying his conflicted reaction—a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement.

With no more words spoken, he had leaned his wide head down to nip the yearling by the scruff. His teeth feigned weakness, unwilling to lay a rough paw on the girl—especially since she appeared to already be injured, something he hadn't noticed before now. He throttled her then, onto her back, soon standing over her in all his pudgy, towering glory. A sharp, pointed glare was fixed on the teen.

"Think again."

The wolves of this forest were some of the tallest she'd ever seen; Seastorm felt dwarfed by them, and thus didn't fault herself much when she was easily subdued. She was careful, too, to keep her injured leg tucked closer to her chest even as she was pinned. Any of these wolves could have truly hurt her if they'd wanted to, and she'd never forgotten it.

I'll think about it. Then I'll do it again, Seastorm informed him, reaching up to try to nip his nose or his chin. But you're not as good for chewing as trees. His chewability was passable, she supposed, but it had nothing on a good tree trunk.

Luhtar stared down at her, his yellow eyes narrowing further as her words sank in. His ears flicked, and his broad chest heaved with a gruff exhale.

"Not as good… as tree?" he rumbled, his tone low and disbelieving. Almost as if he were offended. His tail gave a sharp flick, and his pudgy form shifted slightly. "I am better than tree. Stronger. Softer. No bark."

Luhtar finally stepped back, giving Seastorm some space as his gaze dropped to her injured leg. His yellow eyes lingered on it for a moment before flicking back to her face.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low and direct, though not unkind. He let the pause linger before he nudged closer, his nose rooting through the fallen leaves of the ground, catching a large whiff of her scent. "What name?"

If you were stronger than a tree I wouldn't have to be so careful, Seastorm argued cheerfully, climbing back to her feet with some effort. Wolves are squishy. Wolves bleed.

Her ears fell, though, when he questioned her. Seastorm. I lost a fight, Her clipped tone was meant to discourage further probing, but Seastorm immediately contradicted her own reticence, adding: I should be dead. But Catamaran found me.

It felt good to say it, somehow. I should be dead. Every day that thought circled in her head, around and around until she thought she might go mad. It happened sometimes, at the Glass Cove, but an assassin gone mad wasn't always the worst outcome. She didn't fear madness so much as dread it, like old age or complacency; not quite a tragedy, but never desirable.

Luhtar chuffed quietly, a sound somewhere between amusement and understanding as she called wolves ‘squishy.’

He didn’t fully disagree, but wouldn’t admit it either. Her explanation of her name and what befell her sobered him, though. He blinked once, slow and thoughtful.

He huffed then, shoulders rolling beneath his thick pelt. “Catamaran do good, then,” he said, voice quieter.

After a moment, he met her gaze again. “You alive. That mean something. Hard to kill a storm, I think.” The corner of his mouth tugged into a faint, lopsided grin. “Tree might bend in wind—storm still blow.”