Dawnlark Plains 'cause you're my present, my future, my lesson, my teacher

she looks back at him quickly at the sound of his prize landing in the snow. her ears flutter back to rest at half mast atop her skull, lips parting and breath drawing in to tell him that he's dropped it with a playful smugness that might've even been flirtatious but before she can he responds, bringing the oncoming storm back to her attention. blodreina internally reprimands herself. since when did she get so easily distracted? oh yeah. the moment her body decided to betray her by making her not only fertile but receptive. being distracted was the difference between life and death for a gona; but she couldn't help it. it was decidedly hard to focus on what was going on around her when what was going on inside her was so goddamn pestering and insistent.

she looks determinedly at the rabbit, staring at it until it begins to lose its shape in the crimson splattered snow around it. until it begins to lose its meaning. it's meant to distract her, to keep her from letting her focus draw to him like a sailor to a siren but her gaze lifts as she sneaks peeks in her not-so-determined staring. he wasn't looking at her either, and while under normal circumstances that wouldn't have bothered blodreina she actually feels his aversion to looking at her like a wound.

which was ironic because she'd came out here in the hopes that males would not seek her out ( she admittedly did the unintentional seeking in this scenario ) and that they'd act like she didn't exist if they did.

it plays on old insecurities she hadn't felt in a long time, dredging them up from a grave she thought she'd set a fire too a long time ago. she knew she wasn't as effortlessly pretty as freyja and thyri. she wasn't soft and elegant. she was fierce and wild; their opposites in every way.

shit —

his declaration draws her out of her inner monologue and her gratefulness is short lived as her gaze follows the motion of his muzzle and the wall of white rapidly closing in on them. blodreina hesitates considering that the wall of white would be useful in getting lost in. she could slip away and isolate herself for real; but she looks to the stranger and beneath the hormones of her heat she feels an aching loneliness. she's no stranger to it, but in the wake of heda's death she has realized just how bad it's gotten. he is company. he is company that doesn't know her, doesn't know how even now she still mourns the death of the commander, doesn't know how she fears for the kongeda if atajar cannot be found, if a fos goufa cannot be produced.

if we don't move we're about to be caught in that, blodreina points out the obvious. i don't know about you but i don't want to freeze to death. she declares and then hesitates again not sure if she wants to admit that she doesn't know the territory all that well; a sad by-product of being more or less a homebody. her scouting skills were horribly rusty to so rusty they barely existed. she could go back — try to out run the storm but she doubts she's fast enough even with her small head start and does not want to go back to drageda until her heat is over.