March 06, 2025, 04:49 PM
She heeded him, having no plan to stray from his side then. It was practical, and it would show to any onlooker that she traveled with one of their own as to not provoke undue aggression. Tikigâk had killed many a trespasser for that act alone, and could fault no other for such a response.
The large woman mirrors his movement, sampling the wind—she grunted in affirmation, smelling them. The climb was a sport that she enjoyed; she was a woman born of the mountains, and so she relished this moment where they two made their swift yet steady ascent, feeling the pleasant burn of her muscles working as they rippled beneath her thick winter fur.
Her gaze turned to him, watching how surely he navigated his home—his pace might be another kindness, as he did not seem to be exerting himself any. As his furs brushed against her own, Tikigâk looked out toward the herd that came into view as they rose above the land that they had scaled.
Tikigâk listened to his direction, nodding—and as he suggested that they two kill together, her gaze returned to him. Few words had much meaning to her, but these ones did; did he understand the weight of them?
It felt like the beginning of something, but Tikigâk was much too simple of a woman to understand. Levelly, she answered,
She would see his strength; he would see hers.
As he moved, so too did she—after her eyes found the ice in which she would divert the creatures to. Tikigâk drove ahead, carving her own path. She heard the bellowing of the herd, the thundering of their hooves—the work that the dark man did taking effect, no doubt. Tikigâk erupted forth from snow to herd them in the direction of the ice. It only took one, younger than the rest perhaps, to stir them to move in a flurry of panic. Tikigâk kept her pace at an easy jog still keeping to their flank, rushing in to snap her fangs and force their path so that it would remain aligned with the directive she had been given.
They were almost there, and her gaze alighted upon a herd member that stumbled. Their mark, perhaps.
The large woman mirrors his movement, sampling the wind—she grunted in affirmation, smelling them. The climb was a sport that she enjoyed; she was a woman born of the mountains, and so she relished this moment where they two made their swift yet steady ascent, feeling the pleasant burn of her muscles working as they rippled beneath her thick winter fur.
Her gaze turned to him, watching how surely he navigated his home—his pace might be another kindness, as he did not seem to be exerting himself any. As his furs brushed against her own, Tikigâk looked out toward the herd that came into view as they rose above the land that they had scaled.
Tikigâk listened to his direction, nodding—and as he suggested that they two kill together, her gaze returned to him. Few words had much meaning to her, but these ones did; did he understand the weight of them?
It felt like the beginning of something, but Tikigâk was much too simple of a woman to understand. Levelly, she answered,
we kill together.
She would see his strength; he would see hers.
As he moved, so too did she—after her eyes found the ice in which she would divert the creatures to. Tikigâk drove ahead, carving her own path. She heard the bellowing of the herd, the thundering of their hooves—the work that the dark man did taking effect, no doubt. Tikigâk erupted forth from snow to herd them in the direction of the ice. It only took one, younger than the rest perhaps, to stir them to move in a flurry of panic. Tikigâk kept her pace at an easy jog still keeping to their flank, rushing in to snap her fangs and force their path so that it would remain aligned with the directive she had been given.
They were almost there, and her gaze alighted upon a herd member that stumbled. Their mark, perhaps.
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RE: kill - by Tikigak - March 06, 2025, 04:49 PM