Larksong Grotto sleeping dog beside you

approval, or more so, appreciation, shone within the polar-cubs eyes when sivaak heard her purpose. and although the arnaq kappiasuktuq would not have the direct translation, nor even a grasp, a partial understanding of her tongue, it was clear in the way that she spoke that her words no condemnation. only that of praise.

aungmik angunasukti came forwards once more when rala had stepped away, her breath warm, lingering. close enough that their furs could be touching. when snowwoman looked up, her throat was exposed, although shrouded in plumage, but she was not afraid to commit such a potentially vulnerable act. instead, she peered into those ruby eyes, something faint stirring within her chest as she did, not defiant - but trusting.

perhaps she was naive, but when sivaak moved away to the pool, rala smiled to herself ; a small, innocent smile, before she turned to follow. we drink, polar-cub echoed, before she, too, would plant herself by the rim, tongue lapping up water into her dark lips. it was cold, almost stinging on the way down, and yet the bite was satisfying. so she would continue. oceans' kiss would feel like this, a distant, fleeting thought.

and the eyes scanning across her figure did not go unnoticed, instead, unspoken upon, until she was finished drinking. when rala looked up, something within the blood-hunters' eyes had changed. perhaps they were less angry. perhaps they were less cold. but they glimmered like rubies nonetheless, and nanuralaaq held that gaze with ease. listening, as sivaak told the snow-cub of what she would like to do with her.

i find you, she said, now. her own tone was confident, too, just as sivaak's was, but there was something distant hiding within it, something that spoke of reluctance. when time is right, we meet again. we hunt, we teach cultures, and mother-tongues, more importantly, we seek more of your peoples, a nod of her head, gesturing forwards with her muzzle as if to prioritise those words. to tell of her listening.

snowwoman took a breath, then, and released it in a sigh. but, as you say, i am free - roam, see lands, hunt, perhaps a dry attempt at an impression of the bloodchief before her, although she did not believe such humour would meet good reception. i seek good, strong and healthy man to deliver the fruits of my future children, and then i return to you, a look of hope upon her face, a wish for acceptance, her tail swaying.

again, almost firm, she said: we hunt, when time is right.

feel free to fade in your next post!! i love sivaak