Duck Lake what have they done to us?

he is a shadow lurking in the woods surrounding. crimson eyes peeling through the hanging, dead foliage, piercing through the darkness and settling upon her. in the distance, she loiters upon the bank of the lake.

she had stolen away in the night, and it was not long before he'd noticed her absence.

he comes from the chill of the night, stepping past the treeline and into the open space surrounding the centerpiece lake. the moon casts her in a holy glow, framing her face, tending to her every calloused curve; his own mind is a haze of many things. now, she is the center of his tunnel vision.

she had been silent since the deed was done. blackfell had been torn; torn between leaving her to her torment, or trying to salve her wounds. the latter was chosen. paws crunching upon the icy shore the only thing to announce his presence, and he knew that she knew he was there—but periwinkle eyes never turned to look at him. she only scrubbed. washing away the baleful scent she carried.

the water ripples about his ankles, then legs, as he pushes into the cold lake water. his large frame coming to press into her side, where he hovers his mouth against the back of her head. there had been a stagnant sense of duty between the two of them since they had left saatsine. she was honed in on her pursuit of vengeance, and he had went with her, sword at her side. he was nothing if not her shield.

he finds his tongue rasping along her fur. melding through the rivulets of raven that have been stained with the ichor of a traitor. washing his scent from her, silent unless spoken to.