Raven's Watch Shinåb

for @Wormwood! welcome :D

Evening came and Ayovi again crept upon the watershed, this time to one of the smaller offshoots peppered in mountain pines. The broadleaf trees afforded her some privacy, and she used it to drink her fill then wet the parts of her still encrusted with doe's blood. She and Faust were making quick work of the kill. Soon time would come to continue east and down into the valley below. She would not allow thoughts to travel over the consequences of this tonight. Her paws dip calmly into the stream, feeling its divine cool like an intermediary between this world and Big Sky.

hi hi!! :> <3

The golden-brows of the uncoordinated Wormwood were lit ablaze by the crashing sun in turn almost glowing against the water. Unlike she and her companion, his own hunts had been quiet poor of late. Not that he was starving, though he definitely could do with a good meal to silence the ache that gnawed within. The most recent attempt on record had left his coat smothered in dry muck, from a less than gracefully slip and slide through a recent wet patch of earth.

Which had left him facing side down in mud, and now, was removing it with water up to his mid stomach and soft chewing of his affected fur to dislodge what remained of that poor memory.

The hunter is aware of a second figure’s gleaming gold before they spot her themself, and in a protective curl she gathers herself lowly along the river’s snowbanks, using their occupied submergence to marshal back into the cover of trees. In fleet steps she decides to investigate the matter, drawing up behind the gilded man to test the invisible scents he spills into the air.
There is nothing to be had aside the reek of mire, and with a backward scuttle Ayovi means to leave this place undetected. But the rock is wet and slick and her paw slips, and suddenly the huntress is splayed haplessly before him in the churn of mud and ice.

It seemed as if the worlds' poor luck  seem to find itself an unfortunate soul, Ayov, who would have been able to make her escape unnoticed if it were not the case. All that misfortune seemed to strike the pale one in that moment. The golden wolf jerked his head up at the sound of scrambling paws against muck and ice, his gaze quickly finding the creator of such a disturbance before him.

A soft tsk noise escaped him, unsure what to make of her sudden appearance. ''Hm, I reckon there are better ways to break the ice rather than crashing into it.'' His voice was soft, no humour but his words were spoken in good nature. Something about the display made him take a respectful step backwards, flicking an ear to listen around him for the sound of hidden paws.

Nada. Seemed she was alone, as he was. Wormwood eyed her momentarily, his pelt though damp, was now disregarded of the muck that once clung to it which seemed fortunate for him, unlike she, who was now in his prior position.

It was not laughter that burst from his lips, but his eyes were shining with a gentle regard, enough to rouse her legs with optimism. A small, hesitant smile curls her lips. She takes a few quick paces back, testing the air for his solo scent before deciding it is safe enough to move for the water. Ayovi does so gingerly, casting glances back to the gilded man as ice collects over her legs. He looks young, perhaps a fellow dispersal on the search for home.
“Sorry— if I’ve startled you.” The river stings but she bears it’s coolness, dipping maw to take a sip  from the streaming surface, sapphirine eyes moving cautiously up to the stranger’s molten gaze.

The hesitancy in her movements were easily noted, whether it was he individually that caused her to hold such motion, or if it was being alone and bumping into another in which caused this unease - Wormwood was unsure of. But if it helped, the golden wolf took stepped backward, to add to the distance between the pair. With each step, shards of ice moved around his paws. 

''Aha, admittedly I thought maybe I'd done that to you.'' The way that she crashed down it would have seemed so, unaware that Ayovi had attempted to sneak off unseen. 

It was then as the water glistened, that he noticed her gaze and his met hers, unable to stop his ears from perking. Only then had he noticed the hue of her eyes. Oh so blue, as though Winters water was held within them, ice along the edges. Softly, Wormwood cleared his throat.

''Names' Wormwood.'' Having realised the entire time that he hadn't shared his name.

“Not you,” she confesses then with a sheepish look, lifting a paw from the water to show him the opened blisters on her sole. “I’ve been on the move. For too long, probably.”
Wormwood— she thinks his name curious but is too kind to ask of it, lest the question inadvertently insult his heritage. He seems like a kind man and the huntress is eager to stay in his good graces.
“Ayovi Ankgunquint,” she introduces with a raised head but relaxes her stance beneath the eyes of the glinting man. “Are you traveling as well, Wormwood?”

The sight of her tender paws made him wince, ''Tsk, that's no good. It seems you might need to take a break.'' Whether she was able to or not, was another situation entirely, and not one he felt as though he could pose the question for. Though he had been travelling a fair distance himself, Wormwood had always ensured himself breaks. Did she find taking time to stop, an unworthy pursuit?

If she'd asked, he wouldn't have minded - it was a goofy name after all, but the only one he had. Her name intrigued him, huh. Ayovi Ankgunquint.. ''Never heard of a two-namer before.'' His words were genuine, not poking fun. ''Good name.'' A slight toothy grin, before her next question caused his head to tilt.

''Ah, slacking my pace in comparison to you. But been alone for a few months now, is what it is. How about you, you venturing alone?'' Whether it was the water in his nose, or the muck, he was unable to pick up any scents clinging to her pelt. His stocky build made the slight effects of hunger unnoticeable from a distance, but if one were to get close, the dips in his fur were easily noted. The ache of hunger made him often be on the move, not that the pay out was ever worth the energy used in hunts.

“A good idea,” she murmurs, as if the notion hadn’t occurred. Her expression flattens out, secreting the ire that licks its way down from her chest into each limb.
Faust.
Damn him!
Her hackles twitch, she rises from the brook and shakes out her thick pelt, festooning the snowside with droplets that freeze quickly into crystals.
“It means Dove of Red Creek in this language,” Ayovi continues, heart tightening. “I travel with a hunt partner,” the eyes glance away. Faust was more her keeper, but the admission sounded so weak, even if only in the huntress’ head. She leaves it at that.
“What is the meaning of Wormwood?”