Wapun Meadow running home, running home

maybe a spree-ish thread ? doesn't have to be too quick but i'm impatient for her hunter skill LMAO

nanuralaaq sought the meadow, as she so often did, and today, the wind worked in her favour. snowwoman drank in delicious scents ; a lone deer, a warren of rabbits, a vole or a mouse underfoot. but, of course, she sought the former. a buck, grazing on his lonesome, unaware, yet, of the huntress who watched from afar. the breeze was strong ; any wolf within the valley could smell both her as well as the ungulate and piece together what her plan was. to make a meal out of this creature.

the women and the children needed to be fed. she wondered if it would be @Cole that would join her, for he seemed to be so noble, so valiantly defending and protecting. their last conversation, her apology, was recent, and yet something within rala still wished to prove herself ; a taught behaviour, one reminiscent of home.

she drew a breath, and released a sigh.

hunger readied her muscles.

He was quick. Always. For it was the scent of Rala that spread through the glade, escaping from their sanctuary that he coveted like bullets to a barrel.
When he found her on the outlook, taught with the strength to fire, he saw what she honed. A buck. Does she think she could take it alone? Even he, a beast, would need a partner to ensure such a bounty. From behind her white figure, he grunted low, baritone.
An easy kill, he breathed, coming to brush his darkened shoulder with her own. He stood much taller than her, muscled, worn.
For the two of us.

and so his presence was a comfort. not in the way that dolce gave, but rather something different ; a friendship, a reliance ; reassurance, in knowing that they were both strong, able-bodied, and able to protect one another. yes, came a simple word, before she lowered her stance and crept forwards. they would be granted the opportunity to get close, should they remain silent, for the breeze did much to hide their scents.

but as snow crunched underfoot, the buck grew wary, and there was nothing they could have done to prevent its swift sprint away. what they could do, however, was kick their legs against the snow and make haste, following after their prey, and that is exactly what the huntress did. jaws snapped forwards, latching onto a boney leg. her grip was hard, the sharp teeth of a predator breaking into the soft bone of prey. the crack came as music to her ears, as did the crying bleats of the buck. there was no sympathy ; no mercy.

with cole's presence, they would take the ungulate down quickly. it would tire in the thick snow, and it would fall ; when it did, they would surge forwards, and take control of the hunt. the meadow was their domain. the land of the bearclaw wolves.

Cole was a shadow behind her, heavy-footed but no less swift, his bulk surging forward with a force that spoke of years honed in experience. Rala’s slender frame wove through the snow with an agility that outpaced him, her jaws snapping onto the buck’s leg with precision. The crack of bone was all the signal he needed.
His steps thundered as he closed the distance, the buck’s stuttering gait leaving it vulnerable. When the prey faltered, Cole did not hesitate. He lunged, his massive jaws clamping around the beast’s under throat.
His growl was deep and guttural, a sound that echoed with the ferocity of the wild as the buck struggled beneath his hold. Blood stained the snow in crimson splatters, painting the scene of the massacre.

the man followed in her footsteps, her actions. his teeth around the ungulates throat was all that she needed to see to grow confident, and so she released the leg of the creature and instead punctured her fangs into its stomach, holding tightly as its stamped its hooves and made its attempts to buck and rear.

a hoof slammed into her skin, searing and painful. a whine left her lips, though it was quickly replaced by a growl of her own, guttural just as his, savage like the black, raging seas of the northland. like the blizzards and the storms. her paws dug deep into the snow, now, as the deer begun to falter. nanuralaaq moved so that she may grasp the other side of the bucks throat. fur had been somewhat flattened, skin turned pink and red from the mark of the ungulates hoof. it would turn into a nasty bruise, no doubt.

but the snowwoman ignored the pain. her thrashing tail called for an end to this. their strength, together, would be enough to bring the wild creature crashing down.

a hearty meal for the needy.

His heart jumped in alarm, his first instinct to pull back, to assess the damage and retreat if needed. But her determination—her refusal to yield despite the clear pain—held him in place. She growled low and guttural, digging her paws into the snow and surging forward once more.
That determination ignited something in him.
Hold on, he barked, his voice rough but commanding as he tightened his grip on the buck’s throat. Blood sprayed hot and sticky against his muzzle, the metallic tang flooding his senses as he shook his head violently, his teeth cutting deeper into the creature’s windpipe. Its struggles grew weaker, its wild, panicked bleats fading into gurgled gasps.
Rala moved in beside him, her own fangs sinking into the other side of its throat, and together their combined weight dragged the animal down. The buck’s legs buckled, its body collapsing into the snow with a heavy thud. Cole didn’t let up, not until the final shuddering breath left its body, its lifeblood pooling crimson against the pristine white.

the heavy thud of the ungulate against the snow hardly matched up to the quick, hard beats of her heart. skin was hot with blood as adrenaline coursed through her veins, powering her muscles, her jaw. she held on until one last breath left the deer, its eyes growing pearly ; lifeless. when nanuralaaq detached herself, her breath came out, panting, as white puffs in the air, cooling as they left her maw.

pale muzzle was stained with scarlet ichor, sticky and metallic. she darted her tongue out for a moment, cleaning her black lips, freeing them of the blood that had sprayed from the buck. now that the adrenaline begun to retreat, the stinging pain from her left side became apparent ; a large bruise sat just above her stomach, smack-dab upon the center of her side. the snowwoman heaved a sore breath, before instructing cole: eat, so that she may not feel his eyes as she tried to crane her head and view the injury.

it was painful, but it would heal. as all things would. as all things had.

Cole’s gaze narrowed as Rala instructed him to eat, his sharp eyes catching the way her chest heaved and the faint wince she tried to mask. The bruise on her side, glaring against her pale coat, was impossible to miss.
No, he said firmly, his voice rough but steady. Lemme look at it.
Stepping closer, he lowered his muzzle to her level, the warmth of his breath brushing against her side as he inspected the injury. The bruise was already deepening in color, and while it wasn’t bleeding, the swelling was enough to concern him. His expression hardened, a frown tugging at the corners of his blood-streaked lips.

the firmness in which he wished to see the bruise was not expected, and yet the snowwoman relented anyway, allowing his view. it is fine, came her half-assed assurance. though she had experienced worse, seen worse, felt worse, it had been a while since she had garnered a wound of any sort, and so, now, this measly bruise stung like a kiijaulluni. worse has happened, nanuralaaq confirmed. it is just bruise.

for one would be silly to think that the healer would want to be healed. perhaps she was too independent in her injuries, but she knew that she could handle her pain on her own. but, almost weary, she said: ... how does it look?

He thought she'd push him away with a firm shove. A slap, maybe, to his muzzle. And he would've taken it. But she didn't. Instead she bared herself. It quelled the beast beneath his skin, reveling with her indirect submission.
Gently, he pushed the guard hairs away. Spreading the white needles from her skin. It blemished, sure enough. When she spoke, he shot his head up to look at her. Worse enough t'make 'ya squirm. He reminded her.
With a snort, he pushed himself away. Dolce's scent still lingered on her, his jaw clenching in inadvertent protest.
And then she confirmed his own suspicions, her worry, evident in her pleading question. Blood dripped from his muzzle, a tantalizing, vicious sight. Y'll be sore. He was lucky himself to not have catered any more injuries, not like that would stop him from hunting, protecting.
No huntin', that's f'sure.

and it was now that she would, indeed, push him away. a nudge of her shoulder was all that she gave before she turned, padding towards their felled meal. i will be fine, came her voice, for she had hunted through all that one could experience, and though her pelt lacked any major scars, that did not mean that she was free of the memory of pain.

i always am, rala's last words were a sigh before she begun eating, tail flicking behind her. whatever remains, she would bring to the valley ; offer to the women, to the children. to the rex and regina, though she knew they could hunt for themselves. it was courtesy, though, to give to the one that homed you. for the rest of the day, she did not meet cole's gaze. her voice was low when she said: eat what you can. we'll take the rest back, before falling into a comfortable silence. almost unlike herself.

she would be fine. always. she would push through her wounds, for that was all she knew how to do. nanuralaaq was named cub of polar bear for her resilience.

no longer qanniujait ; snowflake. she was woman of snow.

fade with your next ? ... or they can yap more .. bond ... whatever you like <3

She was stubborn—always had been—and he couldn’t fault her for it, not really. It was something he admired, even if it grated on him in moments like these.
You ain’t gotta...be like that with me, Rala, he said, his voice low, steady, and just a touch gruff. His eyes lingered on her for a beat longer, but when she didn’t look his way, he finally gave a small shake of his head and turned to the carcass.
Lowering his muzzle, Cole began to eat, tearing into the flesh with practiced efficiency. The coppery tang of blood filled his mouth, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying her words. I will be fine. She always said that, and hell, maybe she would be—but it didn’t stop him from worrying.
The silence stretched between them, comfortable for her, maybe, but heavy for him. Finally, after a few moments, he muttered around a mouthful of meat, You ain’t gotta carry it all yourself, you know. Not with me around.
He didn’t press further. Cole wasn’t the type to push past walls unless they needed breaking, but his tone carried the weight of his meaning. If she wouldn’t let him help now, he’d still be there when she needed him. Even if it was the job of her mate, he was a man that covered it all.

cheers: MORE YAPPING (not too much, but im around to spree)

beating him up but in like a cuteness aggression sorta way ... you write him so well i am actually in love with him ...

his words were met with silence, at first, for reliance, when it came to something as personal as injuries, was not something that she had come to terms with, nor something she had known as a child. for on the arctic plains, within the snowstorms and atop the cliffs, any sort of injury would only slow down the pack, and famine would wipe them out all too easily should they have stopped moving. nanuralaaq had learnt how to function through the pain, but now, she was unequipped with the skills needed to admit when a break was needed. okay, came soft, wobbling words.

she drew in a breath ; deep, calming. she focused on the way it circulated through her lungs, the sting as it stretched her ribcage, and the way it drifted back through her throat as it left her lips. the snowwoman solidified herself, sturdy akin to a block of ice ; a glacier. her words were light, almost an attempt at being nonchalant, when she said: i do not know how to pass it on to other people, and so she would tear a chunk of meat from the deer, the taste distracting her from whatever thoughts could be swirling around her pale head. she would say nothing else, leading the trek back to the valley.

this was a conversation for another time.

and perhaps that means .. another thread ...

exit rala <3

And he let her go. There was no point in keeping her. She was not his to take. He could care less of the burdens that ate her soul alive, but once it affected her ability to protect he'd intervene. Her woes were for Dolce's ears, not his. This, he now understood.
Taking a final bite, he watched her stride into the distance of the valley. Hips swaying, eyes landing on the bruise hidden beneath her thick coat. Would she tell her own husband of the pain, he wondered. But again, it was not his place. Meddlesome as ever, he'd force himself to look away.
With no help from her, he hoisted the carcass upon his broad back. The expanse of the buck was just enough for him to lug it slowly back to camp. Blood dripping from his shoulders to the ground, it didn't stop his mind from wandering.