Raven's Watch of endless possibilities controlling 935

AW!

she did not immediately return to sapphique's claim. recalling how she'd doubled back twice on her own tracks the day she left sivaak, sobeille ranged south on an old caribou trail spilling out into blackwood.

she knew open plains stripped scent swiftly and therefore laid her tracks over the ruts left by many hooves; when at last she came upon a river she slipped into its thawing banks and tread its waters west, wincing at the winterbite splashing against her belly.

onwards, towards the ocean -- she could hear and scent the brine on the breeze by the time she found herself at raven's watch's northern egress. she waded the the river until it spat out into an alpine lake glittering still with ice.

recalling the malevolence in that singular eye, and knowing well sivaak's own hungering drive, sobeille crept up the mountain's stony face and turned west. it would be hours yet before the hammering in her heart softened, but knowing the muradoii was kept with child settled the skipping nerves within sobeille. she hoped sivaak heard her howl as she struggled to push the first child from her -- no, scratch that -- she hoped said child got stuck and sivaak died knowing wolves waited outside her door.

catching her breath on a ledge of granite, sobeille's tongue lolled as she turned her focus to murkwood in the distance.

saatsine hounds were ruthless in their search. quick, efficient; the tartok man had not slowed her hunt. hawk carved the snowy tundra, had witnessed it transform into something more temperate. unfamiliar. and the further she traveled, the strong that scent became. 

there was a war drum in her heart now. an eagerness, as a lanzadoii, to cleanse the filth that had tarnished their lands. so rid of any loose ends. she had no direct quarrel with this woman—or, at least, she hadn't until sivaak and their children. 

whatever her intentions where, whatever reason as to why she had stalked her woman and her cubs, it did not matter. she had been given orders, and she was to see them through. 

she would not fail. either she return with the woman's head—or perhaps drag her back alive—or she return with nothing and face further scrutinization. 

when scent failed, tracks prevailed. a beast unhindered, a hound ready to maul. 

when she found the woman, she cared not to sneak. it was not her way. she announced herself with a deep bark; a warning and a threat, mixed into one. she stood broad and strong, amber eyes narrowed. tail risen along with her hackles, a line of raised fur decorating her spine. 

"you," she rumbled. "you stalk my woman while she births. and then you run. you will tell me why, or I will take your heart." there was no negotiation; this was the way.

if they did not find their quarry then kukuvrak would have to find his blood elsewhere. he would not wish to return to the horde without something to offer—and he knew that failure would insert doubt in to issitoq which the tartok band could not afford.
the moraine gave way to marsh, to salted wind, and with each mile crossed the wolf grew more agitated. he returned to intercept his kill-sister once, twice; and on the third time their paths intercepted, there was a dogged focus to the woman that ignited kukuvrak with excitement.
black hawk was more direct as she asserted herself. the tartok man was keen to do the same, but tactically it would suit them better if he could sever any escape route. he did not know this area—but he would climb and race to support, as he would in any other sort of hunt.
he heard the voice of black hawk, stunned that she would waste any time to speak and not simply kill.
he intended to worm his way up and around, and whether that was successful or not depended on the target's attention being undivided; so perhaps black hawk was doing the right thing, but if instead the woman bolted, he would hopefully be ready with his body and his teeth.

oops shadow posted!! edited <3

sobeille sat upon the plinth of stone and allowed the sunlight to spill over her. she closed her eyes and imagined sapphique again; whole. the laugh of her maman. the annoying urging of val during her many trainings.

her gaze fluttered open as disturbed scree clattered down the slope. locating the source immediately, sobeille rose with her fur alight upon her nape.

the den-keeper. not even the pleasing array of cinnamon burnt to soot along black hawk's pelt could warm the coldness of sobeille's stare. she admired this landazoii for doing the unthinkable and tracking her through fen and water, but now it came to the long running and sobeille had a lifetime of grueling march in the sands to keep her sharp.

she lifted her chin, gaze hard upon the winsome features of the warrior. you do not be knowin'? a mirthless laugh escaped sobeille's teeth as she scanned behind black hawk for movement, prepared at that very moment to run down the shale. i t'ink dat be some'ting your woman would be tellin' you.

it was then she saw a shadow of movement swing wide of them both and her attention snapped back to the woman. with a grunt she thrust herself off the stone, cold with the knowing.

if they catch you, they will kill you.

but as the folklore of hares and tricksters go, first they must catch her. sobeille loosened scree and rubble as she slid down the slope, taking to long strides once the ground evened up and spilled out into woodland.

the leering glare of the woman who'd tarnished saatsine land with her filth made her veins burn with ire. residual anger still so pent up, and thought to have no release. but this...it would be perfect. her shoulders squared, her form unyielding. muscles coiling tight with malicious intent as she takes heavy steps forward. 

"you speak of her with respect, or I will rip the tongue from your jaws." came her grim, eerily calm promise. sivaak's past was not her concern—whatever she did to wrong this woman, it mattered not to her. she did not care. vigilant eyes watched the woman send a fleeting glance downward; that would be her path. 

she could feel the presence of the tartok man lingering nearby. she was pleased with the support, and that he hadn't rushed in teeth first. this way, if the cowardly woman decided to bolt, he would be hot on her tail. 

"i will not ask you again. why were you stalking upon saatsine land?" she bristled, lips curling to reveal menacing teeth, bubbling with spit. 

her cousin had said the man she and blackfell had killed should have lived. but this woman? she would not be permitted that mercy. 

let her run. let her speak; her fate would be all the same. they would chase her to the ends of the earth if needed.

women.

with focus pulled, kukuvrak could approach; then it became a waiting game. he did not like to wait. his enjoyment of things came with decisive action—not this. whatever this was.

what did it matter who this was, or why they were sent? that they were put upon this trail at all was enough for kukuvrak. he waited, tense and agitated, as if some signal might be spared for him.

he would wait for the target to run, or for black hawk to attack.

or maybe he wouldn't wait at all?
they did not look too threatening from behind.
grimacing, ready.

the woman spoke but sobeille had already launched from the rockpad, having chosen the stone for this very reason. its visibility, proximity to the river, and generous slope gave her a vantage sorely needed in this moment.

the clatter of rocks drowned out anything else black hawk said as sobeille flew down the hill's surface. she did not know if they followed, but if they did, they would see why sapphique was not to be fucked with.

lungs bursting, an insiduous rawness seeping into her throat, and her aching limbs told her that this sprint would be short-lived. she must lose them, and lose them quick.

she angled for the river she'd traipsed in to get here - but this time, sobeille intended to cross.

"coward!" came black hawk's war cry. a thunderous exclamation, soon followed by the rear of her body into a heady sprint. she was not built for such speed; but the tartok man was. she would call upon him as she tore off after the woman. he had been watching, waiting, and now was his relinquish. "get after her!" the lanzadoii hound would roar, commanding. the man would listen; it was his nature.

uncaring of where the path led, hawk surged forward. lungs aching, gasping for breath, but her strong legs would carry her far. tartok man would be quicker, and this was good. she hoped he would cross the woman before she met the water, cut her off. box her in, where they could make their attack. together, they would conquer.

together, they would earn the trust of sun eater. all it would take was the woman's head.

he was in position quickly enough. he need not have listened for the alert from the other hunter. a dark head on a ginger body—that's what he saw leaping across stone and down in to the foliage, and kukuvrak bolted as soon as that animal thrill entered him.

any movement from the target brought an excited jolt to kukuvrak's spirit.

there was a river; he had scented as much but did not know where it lay, not exactly, and he did not know this landscape. that said, kukuvrak wasn't the type to overthink his approach during any hunt. he saw the agile figure as he gained ground.

everything depended upon catching this fool.
he envisioned himself the conqueror, and this she-wolf a prize fit to be tossed as a party favor in to the horde; even if tartok was not around him now, the images of what he would do to her—alive or dead—distilled in to pure aggression.

should kukuvrak get close enough he would not try to grab at her. it would be better to pounce across her hips, or ram her hard enough and at the right angle to send her down in to the water or something of that nature. his teeth gnashed all the same—thirsting.

coward is just another name for survivor. sobeille intended to survive today.

the thunderous lope of the woman did not close ground, but another, far more perilous report sounded from behind. a streaking dark shadow gaining. it was then she knew the true lesson of her mothers, of every woman in her bloodline -- run, run, for this man is like all men and he aims to hurt you.

there was no hope in standing her ground: between the two of them she would be torn apart in seconds. no, her odds were better served in the water that raised her.

with her breath burning sobeille gathered her limbs as the bank drew near. the footing was precarious, forcing her to slow.

in doing so, the man that came down upon her closed the gap in split seconds, his breath harrowing upon her spine. as she collected her hind limbs to jump he bodily threw himself upon her, sending her tumbling into the running waters. his teeth raked across the top of her haunch, and suddenly upended, sobeille disappeared under the rushing water.

but this was her blessing. he did not know sapphiqian wolves dove for their meals as early as six months. though her head nearly exploded from pounding adrenaline and the shriveling lack of oxygen, sobeille emerged yards downriver.

panting, gasping, clawing her way to the opposite bank.

water would not stop them. but this was enough distance between them that now, she could run.

hawk slid down the shale, leapt until she met solid ground. tartok man was already leagues ahead, his slimmer form allowing him a speed hawk could not possess. his tail a black flag for her eyes to follow through the thicket. 

down the woman went the crash of their shoulders. tumbling through the shallows, kicking up small waves. the water churns as the woman narrowly picks herself back up to use it to her advantage.

hawk comes crashing through the shallows with vengeance, tall and sturdy limbs allowing her to churn water with a swiftness that belies her heft. the coward is still ahead of her—but it did not matter. 

she would be force to meet justice soon enough.

she does not back orders at the tartok man; he will be capable enough, hopefully, to try and veer ahead. to cut the woman off so she could meet their teeth and her blood taint the river.

he watches the way the woman moves, scrambling in some places, fluid in others. she knows this land better than both who hunt her. the nearer the chase went to the river the harder kukuvrak pushed himself; he did not want to lose sight of her, or see her scent washed clean from the air if that should happen.

first she went along the shallows and then, diving, fought the current. kukuvrak followed on the earthen side and lunged to cross at the next junction, reaching the other side of the riverbank in time to see the target's slicked body scrambling to another run.

he made it across a couple steps behind her; as he neared the wet spot where her body had been fighting for freedom, he was gnashing teeth and sucking breaths. two versus one should be no contest—they had to catch her, though; this was proving to be a larger struggle.

but they were gaining.

kukuvrak would not look back for his kill-sister, black hawk. as it turns out they had met the riverside at the same time, and as the shadow lengthened his stride to try and overtake the difference, the brackish figure of black hawk ran close.

kukuvrak bellowed a raucous sound meant to frighten, and charged.

he ran. sobeille kept the ghoulish face in her vision as she clambered over coarse stones.

by the time sobeille cleared the opposite bank he’d run the length of the river to cross and then back towards her. he was not alone; the spearing shadow of the woman joined him. she hoped to divide them between the river; if she could not, she’d utilize her swimming strength to her advantage and leave them both in the reeds. 

the male’s lifting howl filled her with unbridled rage. that she was made to run —!

sobeille’s breaths expelled in panting wisps as she spun upriver, coursing towards the widening shearwater where no egress forded its churning surface; only the spit of meltwater as it thundered over the shorn spines of ancient mountains.

at the river’s widest she plunged into frothing headwaters and heaved her limbs as they never worked before. every muscle protested; her lungs and eyes aflame as she angled her swim-honed body against the current, her head held just above the boiling surface.

was this not two years in the making, this shaping of a pelagic predator by sapphique’s tireless training? to get her, they were presented two options: brave dangerous water and cross, or lose precious ground doubling back.

sobeille would be gone by the time they reached her second crossing. all that was left was the smear of footprints in the mud, their direction aiming towards murkwood.