Firefly Glen Coming?

for @Galen

Luhtar picked his way through the dense undergrowth, the dapple of late afternoon sunlight warming the thick fur across his shoulders. A faint breeze stirred the forest, carrying the scent of fresh pine and damp earth—and the unmistakable trace of someone familiar. His nostrils flared, heart quickening. He knew that scent as well as he knew his own reflection. Galen was near.

They hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Patrols, hunts, and the demands of pack life had kept them apart—far too long for Luhtar’s liking.

He padded forward, emerging into a small clearing bathed in pale light. And there stood Galen, that lopsided grin ready to greet him. The tension in his shoulders unwound with every step he took closer.

"Thought maybe you get lost!”

Galen had been enjoying the serenity of an evening alone as one best could as he waited, sniffing through hardy little winter's plants and trying to discern whether they were of any use. To him, of course, he thought, nose wrinkling a little. The pickings here were slim, but no less slim than anywhere else, meaning he came up empty. Of course, success wasn't any interest of his, he was more drawn by the game of hide and seek, even if played with nature's minute bounty.

Just as he cleared his nose of the earthy, pungent scents of roots exposed - another scent swept into his nose, a loud and happy thing. His ears tipped forward, head swiveling, mouth already opening in what was to be a jubilant call.

Luhtar breaking into view was enough to turn his focused daze into one of excitement and clarity. He was up on his paws and treading over, tail wagging behind him, As if!

He tipped his head forward, shoulder pressing aside to Luhtar's in a brotherly greeting. His voice was clear and joyous, What's kept you?

“Been watching trees grow,” he teased dryly, yellow eyes shining. “They slow. Very boring.”

He snorted gently, tail giving a solid thump against the snow-littered ground. “Truth is, pack keep me busy—hunts, scouts, stand looking tough,” he said with a mock lift of his chin. “You know all about if you come.”

Then came the expectant raise of his eyebrow as he settled those big, yellow eyes on his friend.

Galen's laugh was jovial, head tossed in a rolling sound. Of course, of course.

A second, quieter chuckle came as he listened to the rest of the list. The quiet air of expectation gave him the slightest pause, but not one negative, just thoughtful.

Isn't looking tough boring? He returned, by way of casual conversation - he tilted his head, a smooth sweeping gaze drifting back across the snow. He asked then, gently, How does Forneskja weather the snow?

Now, it seemed, he was just finding joy in tormenting Luhtar, who clearly agonized over his answer.

Luhtar snorted, his yellow eyes narrowing at Galen’s teasing, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “Looking tough? Boring?” he echoed, feigning offense as he leaned closer, his broad shoulder brushing against Galen’s in a mock shove. “Maybe boring to you. You soft. Too soft.”

"Forneskja strong,” he grunted, puffing out his chest slightly as if to display that very strength. “Snow comes, we hunt. We keep warm. We don’t cry about cold like some wolves I know.” His eyes gleamed with mischief, a crooked grin breaking his usual stoicism as he nudged Galen again for good measure.

“And you? You survive snow? Or you still cry when toes cold?” His tail gave a light wag as he waited for Galen’s inevitable retort.

Galen laughed, taking only jest in his friend's word, before beginning to walk, gesturing with his head, a wide sweep that knocked golden fur awry. The chill was still present around them, and true to Luhtar's word, it'd stay away, given some activity. Besides, he and Luhtar rarely traveled together, and not far at that.

He preferred calmer pastures, and so curse him if his nose being a little too cold for his like was worth complaining about!

You know my nose is sensitive, He huffed, glancing off into the woods before looking back. A little glint caught in his eye, ad though he asked a mote shy, he still asked, Well. If you're doing so well for yourself in Forneskja, when will I meet your wife?

Then he paused, a surprised and then warm smile, Or husband.

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

Luhtar stopped in his tracks, his yellow eyes narrowing as Galen’s words registered. A beat of stunned silence passed, the crisp air between them heavy with the audacity of the question. His ears flicked, and his tail stiffened momentarily before giving one sharp wag of disbelief.

“You think I—?!” His mouth opened and closed once, at a rare loss for words.

Before Galen could react, Luhtar lunged forward, his massive frame barreling into the other wolf like a boulder rolling downhill. His powerful forelegs wrapped around Galen’s shoulders, dragging him down into the snow with an almost thunderous crash. The air filled with the sound of playful growls and the crunch of disturbed frost as Luhtar went for Galen’s throat—not in earnest, but in the rough-and-tumble way.

Well, maybe a little earnest.

For a brief, terrifying instant, they had both frozen. Galen didn't even have the chance to bristle, to start running even. I—

With a great oomph!, the two went from standing to tumbling. Galen yelped, teeth and the whites of his eyes flashing with panic. The snow drenched them both in an icy spray - and his attempts to fend off Luhtar were half-hearted, wide splaying paws and huffs of foggy breath. He dipped his head low, hiding his neck.

I yield, I yield! He cried, only playfully afraid, though it was muddled between their barks and growls; he bunched up and lurched upward, knocking the two into a sideways tumble. The snow flew, he was almost blind, just aimlessly snapping his jaws at the other's thick fur - never to hurt, just to pinch and pull.

Luhtar laughed, booming, as the two of them rolled through the snow. Like a couple of young nuisances, bumbling young pups out to bother their mother like a plague of fleas.

As he launched his fury of assaults upon the golden Galen, his tail wags up a storm; left and right, right and left, fast and strong enough to knock a tree from its roots. He allowed himself to be rolled through the thick cold, momentarily unseated by his friend's attempts.

It didn't take the pudgy wolf long to retaliate. Kicking up off the ground and barreling into Galen once more, sending them both sprawling back into the winter snow. Biting and gnashing his teeth, feigning attack after attack at Galen.

His jaws part to deliver a mocking bite to Galen's thick scruff. "No yield! Fight!"