Firefly Glen bones, coiled spine, patient spring

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they battle like the beasts of old, something unspoken and primal driving them both.

their battle is a lengthy affair, no shortage of superficial wounds or nicks, but the wild man emerges victorious, and qupirruarjuit finds herself pleased. he wrestles her to the ground with a throaty growl, teeth finding purchase in the fur of her neck. his claws scrabble desperately at her sides for a moment before finding their place too, and the mountain woman knows at long last her fight is over.

she thanks him when all is done with a dip of her head, turning to leave, but pauses, frowning at the effort it takes to speak.

"sons...yours. daughters mine."