King Elk Forest tamarack pines

the dark woman had made an assumption of him in her mind that stood relatively true. if he could have read her thoughts, he would have told her that the only reason for his hardening was because he had chosen that life. youth had nothing to do with the grit of someone's frame, or the savagery that filled their body. she was just as capable as he. in time, she would surely find this out. she needed only to find the opportunity to show what she was made of; her instinct would provide the rest for her. after all, it was how they all discovered what they were made of, was it not?

he followed the movements of her skull as she spoke of the benefits to her cloak, and then to his own. the wildcat nodded his head softly and drew his salmon-colored tongue along his dark lips. she was right in that. tusk could blend well into most backgrounds, if he did not make himself obvious enough to draw attention. such things were difficult when he moved with the swagger of a violent junglecat and carried himself the way a proud boar would. “my brother has a coat like yours. once, i'd envied it,” he admitted to her with a curling smirk and a light shrug of his shoulder. the grass was always greener on the other side, they said. “you carry it well.” that was what mattered.

the cur followed closely at the dark stranger's rear. his ears were cupped and sat tall on his dark helm, searching for sounds that would reveal a snack. the woods were quiet enough that night. she stopped at a split log and scraped against it with her claw, drawing in the scent of the wood. one ear swiveled on his head as he watched. when she inquired what had brought him out there, the razorback frowned thoughtfully. “wanderlust. and you?”