Bearclaw Valley all i want

maybe @Cole < 3

there was a flash of teeth, a distant coyotes yowl, and a pool of blood. searing pain that wouldn't end, and primal fear that'd crawled into bones to make a permanent home. and then she jolted awake with a gasp. 

winslet trembled, curled into a tight ball inside of her den, as she came too. wide and flighty eyes snapping to the mouth of her den, searching outside for the coyotes she swore were on her in her nightmare. and while she'd find none, the panic wouldn't subside. it was an ache in her chest, one that clawed its way toward her throat, threatening to suffocate. 

breathe. she has to remind herself to breathe.

how long had she been in her den? it felt like ages. bed-ridden, on orders from the healers who'd aided her. confined because she was too terrified to step outside of her den and face the world that was so cruel and unforgiving. 

it was stifling, and her legs still ached. they were wrapped now, and clean. but she swore that when she looks down at them, they're still bloody and injured. it's a cruel trick of the mind that makes her throat feel uncomfortably tight. 

it's clear now, that she hadn't moved an inch for days. had barely eaten—she couldn't stomach anything. barely slept, as she'd just jolt awake from terrors that taunt her. her den was safety, but even that felt like a lie. she doesn't think she could ever feel safe. she doesn't think this fear will ever go away.

a soft whine leaves her as she exhales. her eyes are open again, blurry with tears that threaten to fall, as she searches. searching for cole, her only semblance of comfort, of safety. she needs him.

song i've been obsessed with for them

He never let her get far from the den. Neither was he, ever. His patrols had changed meticulously over the past week, changing routes that were always an ear shot from where Winslet rested from her attack. The radius at which she slept, if at all, had reeked of his scent markers. An angry hound, determined to protect his fox.
Her whimper passed his ears ad he answered as a moth would to a flame. A dangerous, tempting flame that heeded the most sanguine feelings inside the brutalist's chest.
And he was there, barricading the entrance of her den; where did she think she was going to go? Her legs, wrapped in palm leaves and other medicinal uses, still healing. Least she could walk.
But she was frail. Gaunt. Cheeks hollowed, bones in her hips protruding where soft tendrils of fat should have gathered. It made him want to look away— it happened because he was not quick enough. Because he wasn't there, when he should have been. His fault, his fault.
What's the matter, sweet girl? He finally breathed, taking a cautious step closer to her. His figure shadowed hers, toppling over what remains of her body left as hunger evaded her. He wanted to hunt for her. Fatten her up. Y'hungry?

that's so perfect ;;

he was there within a mere moment and finally, she felt as if she could breathe. that icy panic and lingering fear ink away with his arrival, as if he's the balm to her weary soul. as if he's the glue that's holding her together. her labored breaths calm, her eyes softening with affection that was nearly overwhelming. 

her savior. her protector. her everything, as of late. 

hunger. it gnaws at her stomach, but it also makes it churn. she'd eaten barely more than a birds ration over the past week. it was starting to show; she looked frailer than ever, even more so than when she'd arrived to teekon. she felt frailer. as if one strong gust of wind would whisk her away. a self-consciousness curls inside of her then—she must look horrid. emaciated and pathetic.

she can't help but wonder if cole still saw beauty within her, past the skin and bones.

she doesn't want to eat, but she must. "yes," she breathes. rising to shaky legs, she steps to the mouth of the den in which he fills, and does not hesitate to seek his warmth. her muzzle glides against his shoulder, nuzzling against muscle and carding through fur. her heart calms, as does her mind. 

"can i go with you, on your hunt?" while she was still a frightened little thing, shaken from the attack, she was feeling claustrophobic. the little sea-bird wanted to spread its wings, under the watchful eyes of cole. "i cannot stand another second in this den." she murmured. softly, pleadingly. 

and then, she adds shyly, "and i don't think i can stand a moment away from you." because without him, everything was terrifying. he was her shield.

Her marred form, though meek, tempered enough so she could close the slim distance between them. She fell against him like he was made of clouds, however muscle-brawn he'd been, he didn't imagine he was quite the quilted bedding.
Her muzzle against his shoulder, it allowed him to nose the opposite end of her own neck, her cheek. Inhaling her sweet floral scent, he noticed that it had begun to fade. Tapered with heavy pheromones from her den, he too would go stir crazy, wrapped in the delight of Winslet's perfumes.
She wanted to go with him, outright he almost barked a harsh no, but it was her final words that had his mind swarming, sweltering heavier with her oils clinging to his nose. A sharp inhale as he pulled away, beginning to drown further— they would not leave this den if he continued to linger. Maybe it was why he didn't wander too close. The self-proclaimed "restraint" he had gripped upon would soon falter, if not in the next minutes.
Okay, he said, albeit voice gruff from the lack of use, but steady all the same. He swallowed, beginning to turn, opening the door to her bird cage. It reminded him of the bird that they'd come across the first time she met him— was she the bird, now? Teetering that line between flightlessness and fear.
Not far. Maybe we can find s'more of those... he turned his head back to push against her hip, the divot there, jasmine. He rasped, resisting the urge to let his eyes roll from the intoxicating scent. As if he was in a trance, he pulled away.
A cock of his head, he waited for her to join him at his side. This time, she would not be out of his sight.