Neverwinter Forest Journeying minds

@Reilly

Luhtar lay sprawled on a patch of damp earth beneath the sheltering limbs of a gnarled old tree. Thick moss cushioned his broad shoulders, and the scent of decaying leaves hovered in the still air.

He’d dozed off easily in the midday quiet, warmth of his den settling over his heavy frame like a comfortable blanket.

A low groan rumbled in his throat as he stirred, hazy dreams slipping away into the silence. With a quiet grunt, he rolled onto his belly and shook out his fur, blinking sleep from his yellow eyes. A wide yawn stretched his jaws, revealing stained teeth and sending a subtle shiver through his stout limbs.

That’s when he heard it—soft yet distinct, the careful crunch of a footstep pressing into distant foliage. Instantly, his ears pricked forward, and he froze mid-yawn.

The crisp chill that clung to her now was a welcome change. Reilly, inexperienced still in her youth with the change of seasons, still found herself reveling in the ways nature adapted around her. With each passing moon cycle, it brought closer to something fresh once more—and soon, winter would blanket the loamy ground much the way brown leaves had.

And then, rebirth would come—the blooming of flowers and unfurling of leaves.

Many seemed unfazed by this, but to the Meadowfair, it was exhilarating.

Her time in the Forest had sparsely begun. The first few days had been acclimation to her new home. Still very much in the exploration stage of adjusting, the pale she-wolf found herself enthralled with the forest beauty as she carefully discovered—unknown to her that her soft paw falls upon fallen leaves might have disrupted another within the haven of his home.

A pale shape caught in the corner of his vision through the greenery. Young and elegant, the wolf moved with a delicateness.

Luhtar rumbled a low chuff—no threat in it, just a simple announcement of himself. He stood half-shadowed by the gnarled tree’s limbs. His yellow eyes narrowed slightly, curious yet cautious.

He did not wish to startle her, though her pawsteps had roused him from a fine nap.

“Hello,”

A chuffing sound—drawing her from thoughts and stirring the woman to pause like a deer in headlights. One ear gave an idle flick as a rumbling voice came to her then—moonlit eyes falling to the darker form she could now partially make out.

The narrowing of the unknown man’s eyes stirred caution in her, but it was nonchalance that maintained her delicate features as the pixie-like she-wolf gave a cant of her slender muzzle. “Hello,” she returned, gaze tracing over the man’s features before drifting to look at the proud tree in which he remained nestled.

Usually, she was not one to stumble upon words or find herself at a loss. But uncertainty lingered within her breast—unsure whether or not those haunting eyes and partial glare were about to proffer fang upon her as well. “Have I disturbed you?” The tip of her tail curled—almost feline in her observation.

He looked at the girl through narrowed yellow eyes. A pixie-like figure with a feline grace.

“No disturb,” he rumbled, blunt. He shifted his weight, stepping further out from the shadow of the tree, his broad frame catching what little light filtered through the canopy. “Just not expect company.”

“You lost?” he asked. It wasn’t an accusation, just a straightforward question. She didn't seem to know where she was going.

Those eyes remained narrowed upon her—the form of the man ebbing away from the shadows to allow sparse light of the forest to glint upon dark fur that was as intricate as nature itself. Her gaze slid over him in quiet assessment—the shift of her slight frame given in silent acceptance to the more domineering presence that exuded from him.

“No,” she hummed softly, only now allowing the curl of her tail to brush against the cream of an ankle. “Exploring.”

He reminded her of a bear disturbed from sleep—lumbering—disoriented, perhaps—and a glare upon his features. With the faintest tilt of her head in invitation, the she-wolf continued her path, nose dipping down to brush against a fallen pine branch, and considering—before clenching it gingerly to teeth and taking this prize with her.

Brown leaf brushed aside from her steps—a glance given back to the sleepy bear-man to see if he followed her, or simply glared at her back.

when her eyes flicked back toward him, he caught the glance and held it for a beat longer than necessary, his broad form still as stone save for the subtle twitch of his tail. finally, he let out a low, rumbling chuff—a sound that was neither dismissive nor welcoming, but something in between.

“hmm,” he muttered, stepping forward at last, his heavy paws crunching softly against the leaf-strewn ground. “forest big. easy to lose way.” still, his movements were unhurried, as though he had decided to follow her after all.

“find anything worth keeping?” he asked, gesturing with a slight tilt of his head toward the branch in her teeth, the faintest hint of humor tugging at the corner of his lips.

A chuff—or was that a grumble? Either way, she had managed to find herself with a reluctant companion and she was unable to hide a flash of amusement in her gaze as she looked back to him for a quick moment. She wanted to ask him just where he thought she might lose her way from—or to where—but instead allowed him a moment of silence from her impish tongue.

When he questioned her ongoing investigation, she hmm-ed softly in response, autumnal gaze lifting to seek his own before she arched a wolfish brow to the ray of sunshine in front of her. “I think so—but you tell me. Have you ever bathed in a spring with pine?”

The question might have seemed out of place to the roguish man—her eyes now tracing over him brazenly as she attempted to answer her own question. “If you find yourself starting to feel ill, or have a wound, pine can be given as a remedy.”

Reilly paused a moment, considering him, before deadpanning with a glint in her eyes: “I’m afraid it doesn’t cure grumpiness, though.” You’re out of luck, sir.

luhtar huffs again. his yellow eyes narrow, not unkindly, and he tilts his head. spring with pine?

he snorts lightly, his thick shoulders shifting as he steps closer, closing some of the space between them. sounds cold, he remarks bluntly.

his gaze sharpens as she deadpans her next line. without warning, he leans in slightly, his voice low and edged with dry humor: grumpiness no need cure. it keep wolves like you on your toes.

he straightens, his tail giving a faint wag as he motions with his muzzle toward the path ahead. show me spring, pine-woman. maybe i learn something useful.

If Solharr had been a mountain upon first meeting him, it was that he reflected one that held the desire to journey to the top, if only to see the world from his view and what he felt could be offered from it.

This man, mountainous also in formidable size—he was one that was to be traversed with great care, for it would seem there were far too many rocky edges in which to plummet from.

He stole forward—stirring the red-masked face of the woman up slightly to better regard him as he commented, unflinching as he leaned in closer with the same look of scrutiny upon his handsome features.

His words fell from lips like a demand—and yet it did not feel like one. With an arched brow, Reilly dipped her muzzle down, swiftly picking up the larger pine branch with the attached needles and gently thrust it toward his chest. “Carry this, sùilean gruamach . Don’t let the needles fall, or else you’ll simply have a cold bath.”

With that, she dipped down, scooping up smaller remnants of pine before beginning to saunter back the way they had come—past the place he had rested—and further into the territory of their shared home.

She could have carried the large branch herself—but this way, her companion was silenced.

When they came upon the fresh water that pooled into a slightly larger body, the current of its force almost halting, but not enough. She carefully placed her own gatherings toward the edge, sunflower eyes flicking over to the broody mountain. “Now we need to block one end with a log or something larger—at least for a little while, else the water will wash the pine away.”

he takes the branch without complaint, hefting it easily in his jaws. the needles prick uncomfortably at his thick coat, but he doesn’t flinch, merely watching her with a steady gaze as she gives her instructions.

her smugness is noted, though he doesn’t react, his eyes narrowing slightly in faint amusement.

he follows in her wake, his heavy pawsteps crunching steadily through the snow, the scent of pine filling his senses. when they reach the water’s edge, he deposits the branch carefully at her feet, his gaze drifting to the gently swirling current. her plan makes sense, though the practical part of him is already scanning the surroundings for the right kind of log.

there! he jabs a big paw in the direction he looks. that work?

luhtar’s broad shoulders roll as he moves toward the likely candidate, clamping his jaws around the dead wood before beginning to haul it toward the water with a grunt of effort.

Only when the bear of a man places the large branch in a gentle way to her feet that seemed almost impossible for one his size did she cast her honeyed eyes upon him with an arched brow—quiet, contemplating.

But for now he looked around them at her instruction to block the water—without question—and she finds herself flinch lightly at the exclamation of his finding—though she tries to still quickly, without his notice.

He did not wait for confirmation—they both knew it would work. And so as he set himself to the busy work of containing water, she made herself busy as well—pulling a wide-set piece of bark toward her that curved perfectly to a partial bowl.

Soon, it held enough pine needles that the fragrance enveloped her—and she looked up to see the powerful back of the bear-wolf—the flex of muscle as he works enough to hold the attention of anyone, surely.