Hideaway Strath And on most of the days we were searching for ways

@Declan? :3

August was confused. Her instincts were so.... mismatched. Her opinions had not changed, but she certainly viewed many things with a slightly different air. After all, the females here at Teaghlaigh seemed to have so many more priviledges than August had in her old pack. One female in particular - the one who carried pups, and was titled Banríon gained respect from all the other wolves, including the males. She even comforted August and told her that she didn't have to fear anything. That this was her home. This was a whole new thing for the little maiden.

She had never belonged anywhere. Of course, she was a tiny bit more relaxed around the territory than she had been on arrival, but often she liked to wander by herself and gaze at the nature around her, the tranquility and beauty of early Spring bring her peace in her worried life. The girl sang, too. She had sung herself to sleep every night when she lived among her old packmates (could she really call them that?), and now she did the same. But only when she was alone, for she was still timid and anxious about other's opinions of her. They had always been critical.

Here she was, wandering alone in the territory - the home of Teaghlaigh. She closed her eyes and inhaled softly, for once feeling calm and relaxed. She allowed a beautiful tune to escape her muzzle. The blonde girl hummed for a few minutes, before the song really got to her and she opened her mouth and began to sing quietly to herself.

"Days when
We'd fight, we'd fight 'til I would give in
Yeah, perfect disasters
We were reaching, reaching for the rafters," Her voice was unusually confident as she sang, but the quietness remained. She was blissfully unaware of the sounds around her now.

"And on most of the days we were searching for ways
To get up and get out of the town that we were raised, yeah 
'Cause we were done
I remember, we were sleeping in cars, we were searching for OZ
We were burning cigars with white plastics tips 'til we saw the sun
And we said crazy things like....."

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Singing rouses the feral Commander from his hunt, breaking his concentration from the near trance he had induced himself in as he stalks low, using the tall grasses of the river to conceal his monochrome colored body: so that he is little more than smoke and shadow. The dark of night is his best ally and usually when he takes to the hunt, tracking by the light of day. His prey — a particularly fat badger — wobbles as it, too, hears the singing. The singing forces him to be swift and abandon the plan of attack in lieu of not wanting to lose it. He catches it and with a brief struggle holds his grip on the badger until it stops trashing beneath him and it’s body stills betwixt his jaws — though a shake of his head ensures that it is actually dead. However, the victory is not without it’s cost. The badger had left shallow marks of it’s deadly claws across Declan’s face in an effort to defend itself and the wounds sting smartly.

As they are insignificant and he will heal he does not pay mind to his wounds as he carries the badger back to his ‘bedding’ — which was not much of anything. He was fickle and his favorite spot to bed down varied from night to night as he aimed to slowly have slept in every corner of the Strath and perhaps when he had done that he would spend a night or two in the heart of Bonesplinter Ravine where the skeletons of the dead lie. He has no care for superstition. He does not fear the dead any more than he fears the living.

Declan never makes it to the area he has chosen to bed down in. He finds the origin of the singing. Not the showboating Queen, as he first assumed, but rather his little mouse. The feral Commander lets out a low noise as he approaches her before he drops the badger corpse before her. “Eat,” He encourages in a way that is less encouraging and more of a commander. It occurs to him that she may not be hungry and then he adds after a moment of contemplative staring at the corpse as his burning amber gaze flickers from the corpse to her face. “Or don’t.” He adds, salmon pink tongue drawing across his blood painted muzzle. If she did not want it, he would take it to Conan for surely preening had caused Conan to work up an appetite; and on the off chance that neither wanted what he has caught for them then he will put it in a cache as Teaghlaigh has been forced to rebuild everything they had left behind in Ravensblood. Speaking pulls at the shallow, torn flesh and the wounds smart again but he takes pain like a rock: as if he cannot feel it at all.

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The maiden halted her singing as the large male approached, and she fell back into her submissive pose. Her head lowered and she averted her gaze from him as she noticed the cuts across his cheek. He seemed not to notice, so she said nothing, only glancing briefly at the badger corpse as his paws. As he commanded her to eat she stepped forward. And then he gave her a choice. Even so, she went along with his first order and tentatively took two small bites from the lower leg, leaving plenty behind as she knew the rest would most likely go to Conan, or perhaps he and his brother would share it.

Once she had swallowed, the mouse spoke again. "T...thank you.... I t-think Conan would w...want it more," then after her thanks was given the girl noticed again the cuts on Declan cheek and avoided staring. Instead her gaze swept back to the ground. "S...Sir.... m-may I?" she asked, motioning with her head to a small cluster of herbs a few metres away. The girl knew a few things about healing simply because she had watched the healer of her pack do it alot for the men - though she knew she would have been punished greatly if she had been caught. And she had been, and now she would never eavesdrop again.

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Declan watches as she takes the kill and sinks her teeth into it’s flesh. She eats a bit before she stutters about what Conan would like. Declan makes a low hum in his throat as his tail lashes against his hocks, lips quivering, causing the wounds to smart like a thousand thorns piercing his flesh as his nerves cry out in silent but felt agony. “I will hunt for him later,” Declan speaks after a long moment of contemplation fixing her in a intense stare. “You are no good to me or Teaghlaigh if you starve.” He tells her simply, perhaps even cruelly. His guttural, deep timbre is unaffected, as if he is stating simple fact. He does not perceive that his words might hurt her feelings and even if he was aware of how his words could be received is it unlikely he will care. He calls things how he sees them: logical and without the bearing the burden of compassion for the feral Commander has little of that and further little use of it. Besides, he is responsible for her now. His plan of pawning her off to Ceannasach has blown back up in his face and if he is to be shackled to and responsible for her she will be well fed and cared for — in Declan’s own twisted, obsessive way.

He notices her stare at the wounds the badger has given him and her tentative inquiry. May you what? He burns to demand of her. No, the burn of his infernal amber gaze says but most curious of all he lets out a grunt of approval. It is the boldest she has ever been to him and the feral Commander struggles between wanting to re-assert himself and wanting to see how much of a backbone he can force her to grow. The desire to both dominate and nurture is bizarre and he ignores those curiosities as they flag to life in his head like tiny, little sparks. If she can prove to be useful to him and to Teaghlaigh than who is he to tell her no? He settles back upon his haunches and holds his muzzle out for her to inspect and evaluate.

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She hesitated a moment before eating some more of the badger. Honestly, she was very confused about why Declan was allowing her so much food. But then... everything was mismatched and confusing here. After finishing her last mouthful, she nodded gratefully and stepped back. She would not be greedy, no matter what the large male might say. August had eaten her fill, so she was fine. The maiden waited until he let out a grunt of approval and she studied his gashes momentarily before stepping back and turning. Her paws led her quickly to the bunch of poppies and she sniffed them curiously before picking out two seeds. She placed them on the ground with care and padded off a little further. She did not no much about healing, but she had been punished enough to know that Poppy seeds could numb pain very well.

The blonde girl approached a group of Burdock plants, and she sniffed them too before grabbing one and pulling. Once she had uprooted it, August tugged at the root and dislodged it from the plant. Then she went back to where she had left the seeds and she picked those up along with the Burdock root. Finally she reapproached Declan. The mouse shyly tucked her tail inbetween her legs as she dropped her collection at her small paws. She nervously nudged the poppy seeds forward until they lay just in front of the man. "T....They will help... n-numb the pain..... sir..... If you c-chew..." her voice waivered but she finished her brief explanation on the little seeds.

Then she nudged the Burdock root forward. "T-This w...will help s....s-stop infection...." She gestured for him to chew that as well, and then she stepped back respectfully, hoping he would approve of her work.

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She disappeared for a bit and Declan waits idly, letting out a low scoff that is followed by a grunt as he waits. The feral commander has never been a very patient beast and this waiting is near enough to drive him stir crazy. He rises to his paws the moment August returns with her medicines and he stares at them with unveiled disdain as she approaches him. His little mouse lays them out before him and nudges the poppy towards him. Feral eyes search her for any signs that it is poison — she is awfully nervous but this is nothing particularly new to Declan for she is always fidgety around him — before he cautiously sniffs at it. He is no medic and knows no words for these flowers, nor their purpose. He takes pain like a stone and usually refuses all medicinal aid unless it is Conan that brings it to him. Yet, his flirtatious brother is no where to be found and his little mouse is here and offering him numbness and the ability to stop infection. To eat these things she offers him is a sign of trust the feral Commander is not quite so sure that he is willing to give her. “Little mouse,” The croon spills forth from his lips in his guttural voice as he eats the poppy seed and then the root she offers him. “If you poison me I will know.” The threat hangs idly and sinister in the air between them as he moves to the badger and tears off a chunk, chews the tough gristle and tender, succulent meat before he swallows — an attempt to wash down the medicines she offers him before he moves closer to her, aiming to brush his body against hers a low rumble brewing deep in his chest like the thunder of a distant storm.

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He does not show any sign of being particularly pleased with August, but he did eat the plants as instructed - though that didn't stop him from making a comment along with it. Poison? August would never try such a thing; she shook her head in disbelief, and trained her eyes to the ground. It also seemed that Declan had a nickname for her - little mouse. Interesting, but she assumed he had a reason for it.

Then he moves closer, brushing his body against hers, and the blonde girl shivered slightly. It was something about Declan that made August even more afraid. She had come to understand that not all wolves treated females in the way that she had been treated, but he still acted a little like the men she used to live with. And it scared her.