Phoenix Maplewood maybe I can drown

Her smile is tempered somewhat by the tenebrous male's stifled frustration -- wishing, somewhat guiltily, that she had managed to catch something but somehow thinks that might have wounded his pride all the more. An urge niggles in the back of her mind to move towards him, offer a nudge or bump of her blotchy nose in a display of friendly comfort but she remains rooted to her place, stopped by the reminder she clings to. This is the south and as reminiscent as he is of the northerners she's known and loved, the medicine woman does not think the daunting man would appreciate her familiarity. "Jah," the merle's soft, indistinct murmur comes, lips quirking faintly as she recognizes that he did not say that it was good. 

After the man had eaten what he would, Imaq took a few bites for herself -- cleaning the sticky substance from her whiskers with a rasp of her liver-splotched tongue. But even she, who had eaten the sap and even the bark of trees when hungry enough, could not eat much of the sugary treat. It would only turn her empty stomach to eat too much she knew. 

Her seafoam orbs moved to the sky, which looked liable to break with snow soon, and then to the distant direction in which the glacier was supposed to lie. Feeling suddenly, inexplicably, timid, the northron pinned her creamy ears -- fearful that he might've changed his mind with the huntress' failure. "Wintersbane..?" his name was slow and heavy on her unskilled tongue. "We go home?" she asked, tones as soft as snowfall.