Mount Apikuni she had nowhere else to go

""

He had followed the fading tendrils of her scent away from the Creek, but had drawn himself short, quietly frowning. Here was the dawning obsession that he had striven to ignore; he then pulled himself away from the milieu of her ascent and turned his steps instead to the looming peak before him.

Paws gripping the loamy shale, Lecter drew himself inexorably higher, pausing every so often to glance downward, or at the sun as it rose into the pale sky. Bloodstained muzzle extended; here the air was clear, though the trail-scents of a dozen wolves crossed and wove here.

The pack had grown silent of late; the madman sensed a shift in power, and the sylph with the eyes of flame was the only one whom he would cast his lot behind. Clarice would follow until she could be convinced no longer to stay, and drifted off in service of the Dark One.

Jinx, his mind muttered, quite of its own accord, and Lecter's lip curled at his own weakness. The next baleful sweep of icewater eyes pinned the location of an ermine, still snowy and lithe, and his hackles rose with the suspicion it was one of Atka's creatures, come to torment the shaman in his weakness.

A snarl rose in his throat; he lunged, paws finding purchase on the whitecloaked rocks as a surge of vitality thrummed through his blood.

Yay thank you! :D

Lately, Jinx had remained in the vicinity of Swiftcurrent Creek. There was no desire in her to broadcast to the world the pack's change in leadership. Where once she had shown diplomacy as Shearwater's new-crowned mambo, she now showed a wild disregard for the rivalry of neighbours. Approaching them would only make them aware of her, which had at one time been advantageous but now would give too much information about the creek's numbers. Every wolf from the creek that was met by an outsider was added to the pack's approximate tally of members. To be easily found was to show some vulnerability of the pack, and Jinx would have none of that.

Despite this change in philosophies, the Delta had quit the pack's territory on a frosty mid-morning. Her location of choice was the adjacent mountain, whose name she did not know. Its face was pockmarked and scarred with evidence of disaster after disaster. Here, there was half a tree trunk, scarred black and petrified from years of standing there. There, a characteristic smear of rock that suggested once, the mountain's weight had collapsed upon itself. The entirety of it spoke of death and destruction, but it offered a wonderful view of the surrounding area, which is why she chose it.

She surveyed for a time from its lofty heights the creek winding below. From there, she could see the dark shapes of wolves moving about, flitting through the trees on their daily treks to whatever mundane tasks they set before themselves. She could also see the lake descending from the mountains, and any miscreants that saw fit to draw too near the pack. In the far distance, she could make out the crude monument Njal had built as tribute to Lethe: a bear, fashioned of rock. He could not have known the significance.

But, at length, Jinx bored of her perch on the mountainside. She began a swift descent, only to draw to a halt when she found herself faced with another being in the same area. She approached cautiously, but abandoned that caution (at least somewhat) when she realized who it was. He surged across the snow in pursuit of an ermine, so for the moment she didn't address him. In that moment, she decided she would keep sealed behind her lips what Fox had revealed to her by the creek, as if her will alone was enough to make the shaman oblivious.

But, after a short time of watching him from on high and no doubt gaining his attention with her stillness, she did speak, loud enough that he might hear her even at a distance. "Clarice took on the aspect of Atka a few weeks ago," she revealed, as though she expected he might understand why Atka would use Clarice as a vessel, or might know why Atka had come at all.

no prob sorry ;__; you shouldn't have to wait so long for a reply again

""

Lecter did not continue to pursue the ermine; rather he drew up, turning in a spray of powder to regard Jinx silently. Chuffing a greeting that rose into steam, the shaman approached his young lover, vitality flooding his being. However, he did not reach out to her, unsure of whether or not she was in a mood to accept his stilted affections.

"Atka," Lecter repeated, the Goddess' name swelling bitter and hot between his lips. Why had She come to his daughter? and how had he not known of this? "She will not remain near for long," the pale madman intoned. "Clarice's Loa have too much sway over her mind." Icewater eyes found the leaping flames of her own gaze. "Why do you tell me these things?" he asked quietly, for surely Jinx had a motive. He was not too besotted by her to understand this as truth.

"I am sure that you have sensed the changes within Clarice, as I have," Lecter murmured, a sense of foreboding still curled in his chest. "Perhaps that is why Atka, the Mother Bear, came to her." He did not touch quite upon what it was that had come to pass in his daughter; Lecter assumed Jinx would know.

He knew also that the verve of leadership still burned within her ivory breast, but he did not ask the young wolf what it was she felt in regards to Fox. Having seen them together, and caught their scents mingled on more than one occasion, Lecter had drawn the conclusion that his paramour perhaps did not intend to challenge the halfwolf -- for now.

Shifting his weight, the icewater glare grew somewhat warm, and an uncharacteristic awkwardness entered his tone. "Has the Goddess come to you, Jinx?" Lecter inquired softly, shying away from the truth of what he meant to ask, and yet hoping all the same that he had planted some dark son in her sleek loins.

To say Jinx was naive and childish would be a grievous insult to the Kesuk, despite the truth of it. She didn't understand how Clarice had embodied the Mother Bear, and sought Lecter's wisdom on the subject. When he stopped dead in the snow and turned to her, she felt a heat welling in her belly, a constant feature whenever she thought of he who she so desperately craved. He didn't supply an answer in plain words, but he would not have been Lecter if he did that.

He suggested a change in Clarice. Jinx hadn't outright noticed it, but having her attention brought specifically to it pointed out something different about Lecter's daughter. Something she would not have noticed had Fox not pointed out her own condition. That Clarice should be pregnant would disconcert Jinx greatly should she find out the nature of the pregnancy, but on its own, it wasn't alarming.

"I would have expected Sos to go to her for such a thing," Jinx admitted, letting on her belief that any children Clarice bore would be as black and twisted as their mother. She didn't think Atka could have anything to do with the children. She didn't cotton on to Lecter's role in it, nor his suspicions when he asked if the Goddess had been to visit her, and so her answer rung of truth.

"She came to me through Clarice, when I doubted myself. She told me that nothing is lost." She pondered this still, unsure if she could trust the white Bear Goddess. "Sos also came to me. He wants sacrifice, and I am to orchestrate it." She did not tell Lecter that she had come to understand Sos' desire for the sacrifice to consist of their helpless children. Taking a step nearer him, for at all times she yearned his nearness, Jinx concluded her thoughts with a softly spoken, "why do you ask?"

""

Lecter's teeth flashed in a grim smile. "Sos is no friend to children, though I too am surprised that the Bear Goddess came to her, and was able to find entry." Perhaps it was through the shade of maternity, or perhaps through a darker conspiration; it was nigh until impossible, but not inconceivable, that Clarice's flighty ways had led her away from Sos for a time.

Atka had also spoken to Jinx; Lecter pondered this with a tensing in his jaw, before it softened as the pearlescent sylph drew closer. Extending his muzzle, he closed the space between their bodies with a slow step. Sacrifice. "It has been a time since Sos last demanded such blood," the shaman observed, and though his heart was pierced with the brief sting of wondering why he had not been chosen for the role of the one who was to bring death, it was immediately thrust aside by the soft flood of Jinx's scent.

And he knew then, and his heart brightened. "You are with child, Jinx," Lecter murmured gently, seeking the proud fire of her eyes with his own. He could not keep the brief pride from his gaze, nor the question that his lips next posed: "Did you intend to tell me?"

It was not an inquiry made out of annoyance or anger; Jinx had proven herself fierce and mature beyond her years, but she remained youthful, and gravidity was not something to be taken lightly. And so he stood in the blessed shadow of his lover gratefully, not yet daring himself to think of the tiny lives she carried in the as-of-yet uncurved swell of her belly.

Lecter was always reminding Jinx that she had much to learn. She was a far cry from the high priest her father had been, and both she and the shaman were well aware of it. Nevertheless, Jinx did with what she could, and oft was left wondering at the rest. She hadn't known Sos wasn't a friend to children; she knew He was not a friend to life, but had always assumed He would have some hand in the raising of children to follow His will rather than Atka's. At times, the young mambo forgot that Atka and Sos were, at least in some ways, one and the same rather than bitter rivals.

To that information, she could only nod. Jinx also couldn't remember the last time Sos had demanded blood. She hadn't been born or even conceived yet when the Bay had last sacrificed a wolf. But she was drawn out of her thoughts, and pulled away from supplying more information, when Lecter pointed out her pregnancy. Irked though she was that it seemed to be obvious to everyone but her, her gaze softened when he asked if she meant to tell him.

Jinx hadn't wanted to say anything, and so she answered honest: "No, I hadn't," she admitted, her gaze seeking the ground as shame washed over her. It wouldn't do for her to leave Lecter thinking she was rejecting him or his children, so she was forced into revealing what she had meant to keep hidden. With a soft sigh, she sought his gaze and said, "I... believe Sos means for the blood He craves to be theirs."

""

Likewise, Lecter also sometimes lost sight of the fact that Atka and Sos were aspects, not enemies; it sufficed in his mind that he was bound to the Black God, and that Atka had no place in his life. Whatever fleeting moment of pride or happiness the shaman experienced was dashed doubly; first by her admission that she had not intended to tell him of the lives he had planted, and second by the revelation that they were to end in destruction.

Being a creature who firmly believed that Jinx spoke to the gods, Lecter could not criticize her communion with them any more than he would have accepted her skepticism of his own conversation with Sos. His jaw tensed perceptibly, his gaze fading back into the glacial nature that was so common to him as he glanced once more to her lithe belly before turning his full attention upon her lovely face.

"I cannot fight against the will of my God," the pale madman muttered softly, though with an effort that almost cost him his air of calm. "I only ask that you allow me to speak with Sos before you do this...thing, and allow my presence there." Lecter knew fully that he had no right to ask this of Jinx, but the question remained posed nevertheless.

"Am I the only one who knows?" he inquired after several heartbeats, not allowing himself the comfort of relaxed muscles; he remained tense, less he fall into grief before her. The children she carried would have been his last, the powerful span of two shamanic and blessed wolves, creatures of Sos and Shearwater — but if the Dark Bear wanted them for Himself, who was Lecter to deny that command?

It was the closest she had ever seen him to crestfallen. The quiet way he spoke was enough to make her want to turn back on Fox and tell her she could fuck off, and scream at Sos that he could find some other fool to sate his lust for blood. That she could not give him something she thought he wanted ruined her, but for the time being, she maintained her cool outer composure. If Sos would not take them, then Fox would. There was no way out of it.

She wouldn't tell him that, though. If she could give her shaman one small ounce of hope, she would do it, if only to wipe that expression from his face. She was still, though she yearned to find comfort in his embrace, but at last she nodded. "Of course," she said, torn about how she would feel if Sos changed His mind. On one hand, Lecter would be pleased... But on the other hand, Jinx felt no love for the children she carried, and would not have made a good mother to them should they live.

"Fox knows," she said with a frown, "though how she guessed, I... I don't know. She realized before I did." Jinx, of course, didn't realize that other wolves had also noticed and simply hadn't said anything. It was Fox who had brought it to her attention first, and it was only since then that anyone seemed to express surprise about it.

""

He recalled hazily the pride and pleasure he had felt at Clarice's birth, even after Valkari had abandoned them. The pursing of her lips as she nursed, the rotund puppy's body, the little sniffles and squeaks of a newborn child — she had softened him in ways he had thought impossible. And like an old fool, he had allowed himself the briefest moment's span to grow attached to the unknown number of lives growing in his lover's belly.

If Sos willed it ... Lecter proffered Jinx a small nod, appreciative that she would allow his presence. He would not try to stop her, nor the will of their God, but he questioned it, unable to stop himself. Why, in the twilight of his life, would Sos choose to slay his children? what had he done against the desires of the Dark God.

Fox. Of course she would have known, the vomitus-streaked bitch. Too weak to attract the attention of the males who wished to plant their seed, now she would rob Jinx of her opportunity at motherhood. Despite not yet knowing the redwolf's response, Lecter felt the slow burn of anger mount in his breast toward his leader, misplaced and virulent, as he could not bring himself to feel vengeful toward Jinx.

"What did she say of ... the situation?" he asked, weariness suddenly stealing over him, threatening to weaken his legs and drop him unceremoniously before her. His love for her would continue, though it would be buoyed by a shared sense of loss; Lecter did not know Jinx's thoughts toward the potential brood growing within her.

She had to think back a moment to summon memories of the exchange, but even her hazy recollection had little to share. "She said they have to go, and not a lot else," she said, wracking her brain for whether or not she had revealed the pups' father. From what she remembered, she hadn't, which for the moment meant that Lecter was safe from Fox's punishment. The young woman was small, hardly a candidate for a Kesuk's respect, but she was fierce in her own way. It was perhaps the only reason Jinx hadn't seen fit to throw her from her throne.

"She was busy worrying about her choice to lead, so all she said was that it wouldn't do to have them around. Prior to that, I... Didn't realize." It was supposed to be a woman's instinct that made pregnancy evident, wasn't it? Jinx had had little exposure to puppies in her life, and almost no education regarding the making of puppies. This inexperience would prove her irresponsible, so even though Lecter's responses now were making her reconsider dismissing her litter, it was for the best that they not live beyond the time necessary for the ritual.

we can wrap up soon, if you'd like, since we have a more recent thread <33

""

Hatred hardened Lecter's jaw; had Jinx not already pledged the brood to Sos, he would have gone to see the redfurred woman, to plead for the lives of his unborn. However, as it was, their lives were forfeit to the Dark Bear, and Lecter could not, would not, speak against a demanded sacrifice.

"I see," he said simply, not caring to comment on Jinx's apparent lack of self-observation. Perhaps she had been in denial over the pregnancy; perhaps she had known but not believed. At any rate, what the glossy sylph had or had not felt no longer mattered.

"I will be there to help their souls to Sos," the shaman murmured, reaffirming his right to be at their side. If it was not as their father, then it would be as their proxy to the underworld; he did not know how Jinx would fare after slaying her young.

Jinx nodded dumbly, allowing that he should be there. He was above all her mentor, and had a right to command her that she fancied no other had. Not only that, but she had never been present for a sacrifice, and knew Lecter could be the one to guide her in the proper procedure. They were his children, though, and she couldn't expect that he would not become volatile when she stole their lives.

She didn't care, herself. A deep part of her dreaded motherhood, for it dreaded becoming Nanuq. The once-revered Warchief of the Bay had been an awful mother, absent and aloof, who had abandoned her children. In her bias, she didn't remember the good times or the adoration, only the dismay. She pressed herself closer to the shaman, seeking his comfort in this matter, but said nothing else; she would let him to his hunting now, if he desired.

""

The close press of her body was somehow reassuring to the shaman, and he lowered his taut jawline to caress the pale fur of her earlobe. Words evaded him; Lecter was content to merely stand with her.

They were not to be parents together, sire and dam to a new generation, but his love for her had not lessened with this knowledge. It was merely tinged with an undertone of sadness.

Pushing aside the thoughts for the present, Lecter embraced his lover, content to remain in her presence for a few moments more, as time slipped by.