Bearclaw Valley saw death on a sunny snow

he has my heart ;;

we defend our land with blood, even when hunger demands it.
a sense of familiarity.

when you’re near, i do not hurt.
an echoing pain, for she can not give him what he wants. what he needs.

nanuralaaq allowed herself the luxury of melting into his touch, resting her cheek upon his shoulder, careful not to put too much pressure on him, should she worsen his wounds. should she make him hurt. rala was afraid to do such a thing - to make a choice. to tell how she felt, to hurt him. instead, she stood in silence, allowing the warmth of their skins to mingle, to touch, to share something that words may not truly encompass.

he reminds her of men she had known. her father, her betrothed, and a man of these lands who had deemed her 'star-girl'. protective, brave like her father, dark like her betrothed, strong, intimidating like the man. a touch that she wished not to push away, that she longed to savour, to enjoy, pushing into his pelt with a need to be close. she drinks in his fur with a greed, a selfishness that she could never explain to him. a want that he could not understand. ungasikkaluaruvit, tarnira piqatiginiaqpagit.

melodic voice is a murmur. even when you are far away, she drew in a breath, as if it were a prophecy she had seen, a pain in her heart that told her that when she made her choice, tvar may not stick around. a sigh then left her lips, as she planted a greedy kiss upon his neck ; the first and the last. a taste of something she could never quite have. my spirit will be with you, and yet, the tone was melancholy, as if this were some sort of goodbye, though she wished it not to be so. they had hardly been around eachother for very long, and yet it felt that they were entwined. always.

the care that she held towards the storm cloud made little sense to her.
instead, she looked up at him, watching him, searching his expression, his eyes.

snowwoman stepped away, then, lowering her head.
how do your injuries feel?