Duskfire Glacier [m] one human, one Made,

As if conjured by her thoughts, the earthen he-wolf materialized -- a flicker that drew from the treeline, his intentions clear down to the very footfalls of his eager gait. Anticipation whirled with dizzying intensity in the pits of her being, the golden merle rasping a speckled tongue along her chops as Rye neared -- fighting the urge to let her paws tap against the ground in nervous excitement.

The shepherd stilled as he came alongside her, breath hitching in her lungs as she waited to see what he would do. Tupilak's air shuddered from her ribcage, muscles quivering, as the healer caressed the length of her throat -- gaze falling shut momentarily. When her cracked gaze of seawater found him again it was as hazy and drunk as his, the medicine woman made bold for once as she drew forward on whispering steps to return the golden-eyed male's affections. 

Imaq drew her own blunt muzzle over his chest, avoiding tugging at his healing wounds, and further up to nuzzle at the place where his pale neck met his shoulder. "Jah," she breathed against him, nibbling at him once, teasingly, before she pulled away.

The dove's tropical gaze gleamed as she pranced back a step, glancing towards the shelter of the aspen woods. She bowed, almost playfully, twisting a little from her lowered vantage point so as to paw at the air in Rye's direction -- an invitation to pursue even if she hadn't quite run off. An instinctive beckoning, a silent siren-song call to follow.

It might've seemed odd to onlookers, the wool-soft she-dog behaving submissively towards the bachelor. But there was no Gamma and Zeta, no Imaq and Rye -- just male and female, she-dog and he-wolf -- just a dance of the wilderness that was older than the very Glacier they stood upon.