Duck Lake aanniqtuq ☀

the girl was starving.

long gone was the bit of meat she had brought with her; now kukutux carried only the empty rabbit skin across her shoulders. it was all she had left of the place from which she had come. and even now, some spirit whispered that dragging it after her invited evil shadows to follow. kukutux refused to listen, for had she not invited those same specters to steal her breath? they had never come. why would they arrive for a fur that held nothing?

days of no food had thinned her already slender frame; the ivory child had made a few half-hearted snaps at the strange wildlife of this place, but she had no names for what she saw. how were the creatures to be killed? there were few things that could be done in all terrain, however.

she had come upon a lake rife with the noise of ducks. but though her mouth watered for the rich fat of the birds, kukutux instead crouched weakly at the edge of the water, peering beneath the clear ice for any sluggish fish.

Christ, he was far away from home as he could even muster. But @Iskra as he had learned her name was, was just as capable in her battles as she was in her pursuit of learning medicine and being kind. Though she looked average, Cry recognized potential in the mediocre-appearanced wolfess. He’d rather her nurture it at home, however, as that was the safer route to take. Should others rush to see a medic, she would have plenty to work with. And should she grow to Mastery level wit’s the brilliant trade, he’d assess her, and give her recognition that she deserved.

Thinking of trades, he recalled the fine work of @Gwen, and how she was honing herself as both a wife, and a wonderful miracle worker in hunting. She could seemingly snatch meals out of nowhere, and she was growing rather sharp in the specialty of hers. Her dainty appearance was a faux dress over the naked beauty of an experting huntress. Soon, Cry knew, Gwen would have her title.

Not too far into his thoughts, Cry wondered how @Phex was getting along in her travels, and whether she was keeping smart and staying safe. It was tough being an Ambassador learner, as it required not only expert assessment of others, but knowing which door to knock upon and which door to not touch. Phex was stubborn- but if she’d heed his words, she’d be perfectly safe. Yet the youth might be capable of charming any and everyone with her high spirits...regardless he worried for the girl he considered a daughter. Thinking of daughterly figures, @Kai skirted through his conscious, and painfully he pushed any and every possible negativity out of way from the Sea-Found. She couldn’t have simply upped and left... once he had time, he’d have to look for her. 

Throughout all his thinking, Cry barely noticed how far he had truly come. But ahead loomed a rather lively lake, and with it, a fellow lupine. Nearing through a calm walk, the ebonian kindly reached a murmur to the flower that wilted through the frigid world that surrounded them both. “Hello.”

she had reached out a paw to feebly tap it against the frigid surface, but soon decided it was futile. tucking her foot back into what little comfort was offered by her fur, kukutux let out a low sigh. perhaps the spirit had been right. perhaps it would have been better to take her own life than freeze here in a strange land.

the days of wandering had exhausted her; she would have drifted off to sleep there had not the tread of another roused kukutux from her reverie. angut; his voice was kind, but she was wary. despite the protest of her muscles, the girl rose, eyes downcast.

"this woman greets you." if he was like the other, this dark wolf would not understand why she spoke this way. the realization wearied her further.

Cry’s onyx auds swiped to face the pale fae and retrieve that tired swirl of words. It was clear this woman was weak, needed help as urgently as possible. Considering he couldn’t trust another stranger to not take advantage of the woman, he had to be a hero, today. 

Her third person reference was rather intriguing - he had come across quite a few souls and hadn’t heard such a queer manner of speech, but nevertheless he didn’t shun her for it. Everyone was different. He had known Kai who hadn’t enjoyed talking very much, and he understood her perfectly fine. Swallowing the knot from his throat, Cry silently made himself rim the border of the lake, skirting the edge of the frosty death trap. Seeing both his reflection pass into it along with fleeing flashes of silver and blue, the Keeper knew it was rather stocked with cold-blooded edibles. 

Was she hungry?
She had to be. The glacial gaze ran over the thin and wispy body of his company, and her ribs jutted from a thin flask of limp fur, only just modestly hiding sharp shoulder blades under a cleaned hide of added fur- a pelt of a small mammal? This shamanic woman was a strange one, but he held no prejudice to her, regardless of her customs or speech difference. 

Without thinking twice, the Phantom made up his mind. Bringing a hard stare to the crystalline flat of the lakeside, he asked lightly “May I borrow your pelt? The one atop your back?”

he spoke again, not in greeting, but in request. kukutux stiffened; in spite of herself, the girl raised her spring-green eyes to the man, studying him carefully. her gaze went to the water then, the hazy reflections of them both there in the ice. what could he want with the fur?

she wanted to say no. it was all she had from her island; what if he did not return it? what if he ruined it? kukutux had taken care to tan it gently; she could not bear if some stranger killed its spirit. but there was some urging within her that she not deny him what he asked. behind the gentle words of the wolf could come swift retribution.

and so kukutux pulled it from her shoulders, and held it out to him, trembling somewhat as she turned her gaze back to the earth.

Slade had invested so much time into Cry. So much in fact that Cry had almost gone down an extreme path as his Mentor had. But grateful that he took time away from the gentle murderer to figure himself out, Cry had unwittingly saved himself from a life of complete damnation. However in this instance...Slade’s graveled voice echoed scandalously in his ear as he watched this woman surrender something which clearly held value to her. 
“Desire becomes surrender...and surrender becomes Power”...Cry had watched with a torn heart, each thump beating much more crevice into the muscle than the last, as he felt that lesson enthrall him. It held him an a bind, and the name of such a evil chain...
Power. He felt as though the fae had succumbed something forever to him, and in return, his influence over her could grow, could topple over and surprise legions with the same cascade of an almighty waterfall...
as though he could use this woman to rule all of Teekon. 

Sucking in a breath, the Phantom shielded those glazing ice shards behind his lids, and grit his teeth as he vigorously fought the demon within. His body visibly tended as it illustrated his mental plight, his indefinite outcome across this terrible time ranging freely to a side none should even remotely see. The ebonian struggled to free himself from these wicked teachings every day, every minute, but due to him growing lax, the woe and chaos had risen up in this moment of weakness. It had snatched the Phantom, and it vivaciously held. 

But soon the brilliance of Gwen had come once again to rid him of his scalding torment, as though memories of the perfection knew he was in trouble. Those sapphires bled a river into those crevices, filling the abyss with a miraculous and radiant azure that soon became a sea of simplicity, an ocean of forgiveness. Gwen had forgiven him of his trespasses, and her soft tunes, lullabies she had sung to him as he fought through nightmares of his own, hymns that had stuck to his subconsciousness had roared forth and engulfed the draconian of his manipulative Uncle’s draconian teachings once and for all in an absolute and silken wash of unbroken love.

The muscles relaxed, forelimbs and hinds releasing the strain they were stuck behind as though they were relieved for the pacification. Had he been alone, he would have collapsed, but the strangers perfume returned his focus where it needed to be. Here. With her, and her temporary offering. 
Those tormented glacials opened once again to the world, some semblance of eased clarity to them that hadn’t been there before. 

Gently he strode forth to the company, gingerly taking the sacrifice in soft nipping teeth, and proceeded to make himself reacquainted with the lake’s touch. It was uncomfortably cold. But only just in the shores dip, he placed the hide in the frosty waters, and held it down with a paw. 
Prematurely crouching, Cry braced himself to launch at the nearest target  who’d be attracted to the scent of the fresh and cured hide. 

some strong and eldritch energy passed between kukutux and this man. he took from her the fur, and stood tensely with it. not until that moment did the girl notice his eyes bore the colour of the ice, the sky.

she did not think she had ever seen a creature with so harsh and brilliant a gaze. astonished and worried by the response of her spirit to his own, kukutux looked aside.

he was nothing like her mate. the boy had been kind, a newly-made man. he had hunted with his father and with her own; he had not been too proud to learn. and when he had embraced her in their sleeping place, he had been gentle, his soul as pure as the brightness of first snow.

she put him from her mind now.

was this man a shaman? unable to help herself, kukutux let the gemglow of her eyes shift sideways. a muted sound of alarm thrummed in her throat as he drowned the fur suddenly.

horrified, the girl tensed. the skin had not touched the waters of this place before, but here was the man, pushing it below the lake’s surface with no regard for its soul, and angry tears sprang to kukutux’ verdant stare.

The Keeper froze. He felt both the vibration on the air, and the heat that was delivered with it, but he didn’t know the intent. The only connection he could grasp was the only connection he had with the woman-  the pelt. He must have offended her, because the warning had clearly some emotion invested in it... perhaps she thought he would damage it? 

It was was a good thing he was frozen, ears flicked back and body stiff as her growl ransacked into his marrow. Because at that moment, an unaware fish, a rather shapely and hefty lake trout, grew curious at the lakes newest inclusion. It could smell the little flecks of fiber on the hide, the heated tang of copper still invisible yet inviting. The trout hungered. And while waiting, Cry remained as still as possible, bating even his breath as the greedy piscine drifted closer and closer to the shallower water.

it was already fat, probably having eaten it’s way higher up the food chain, but knowing this, Cry had agility on his side. Moving through air was much quicker in short bursts than it was water, and not only would this trout have to turn and swim away, but it would have to take excess seconds to build up speed. All Cry simply had to do was lunge. 

Milliseconds went by before Cry felt that thread snap, and with a quick prayer to whatever god would listen, the ex Assassin threw himself forward just as the littlest end of its beak like mouth crossed the hide. The char was shocked, panicking as it went to move away, but by then Cry had already held his breath and snatched up the 62 pound fish up in cold jaws.
He held, and dragged the heavy meal to the shore, tightening his grip as the hefty char wriggled with enough force to nearly free itself. But eventually, Cry had enough landroom to drop the struggling fish and paw to still, a well enough crack of bone as he bit it’s head to silence its struggle.

Dragging the meal to the pale woman, he laid the massive piscine before her as he deftly turned back to retrieve her pelt before it was lost to the freezing waters. It remained where he had left it, and gratefully he picked it up, and brought the crisp and wet hide back to the woman, laying it besides her newfound food.

“I apologize,” he began.

seconds ticked by. kukutux sniffed back her tears silently. if the fur was dead, it was dead; there was nothing she could do about it. and despite her grief, the girl was curious. she watched in a quiet awe as a giant fish breached the murky shadows beneath the ice, dragged from its home by the man's dark jaws. it flashed silver in the sunlight, a great burden, but the wolf held it as though it weighed little, and killed it before kukutux.

hunger rose savagely in her belly. she did not move as he approached her, drawing the immense fish through the snow, and lay it at her paws. kukutux did not keep her eyes long upon it, for her gaze remained on him. the male returned holding the drenched form of her fur, and an apology moved in his throat.

so perhaps he did know the soul held by the skin! lowering her slender muzzle, kukutux ran her lips across the soaked hide. it had suffered, yes, but it was not dead. and with it, he had drawn the fish. what magick was there in him, she wondered, glancing upward toward where rivulets of water streamed down his legs, from the fur of his chest. it flattened his pelt against hard muscles; she looked away.

what man would give a fish of this size to a woman he had only met? there must be only one reason, and her heart resisted it. i am not yet through with my mourning, kukutux thought. your mourning means nothing if you starve, the spirit responded, and used her secret name, as if to emphasize what it said.

sorrow tightened her throat, but at last the girl raised her springweather eyes to the man's own, a stark glacial blue that stood out like twinned gems against the darkness of his coat. he was not bad to look at. he was merely strange. but he had hunted for her, and he had apologized for his trespass against the spirit of her rabbit skin.

a smile that did not quite reach upward curved the girl's mouth; she sniffed along the long body of the heavy fish, and then looked toward her companion again. "i will be your wife." she needed a husband, after all. no man brought a kill for a woman and did not want something in return. kukutux had nothing to give but herself. and though her soul cried out for the one she had lost, though it growled against being wife of a foreigner, she kept her gaze upon him, shining with invitation.

The Phantom has watched as she analyzed his offer, and he felt such a smart from the glisten over her stunning orbs- she was surely hurt from his act. That rabbit pelt held some meaning to her...had he ruined it? Could she not get another? The fae hadn’t said a response to his fault. Unfortune attempted to nestle in his chest at his trespass against a mere stranger. But then she spoke, her face molding so easily that it left him completely stunned.

The gasp left his lips as he inhaled it as sharp an an icicles’ fallen pike. He was so stunned as she had given herself up, the glacial gems laying across the lively yet dainty verdes of spring’s first burst. Almost ashamed he had even met her seductive invite so easily, he nearly yanked his own orbs from hers. He felt more so for her, for whatever had made this woman this way, whatever had forced her into the mindset of such offerings. Cry believed in some semblance of equality, and she was worth so much more than a fish meal. 
This bedraggled woman was worth love, care, a home. 

He couldn’t accept her offer, for he was spoken for-
but he could reciprocate it with something much more worth her time, and body. A place where she could heal, regain her womanly grace and build herself up with others who’d appreciate her as she deserved. 

“I am spoken for,” he admitted, his mind trailing to the wisps of Gwen’s wonderous magnificence. His Empress would be shattered, should he mate with another, or even claim another. His thoughts wittled to Stavanger, how Thistle was one of Ragnar’s wives. Disgust riled in him before he brought himself back to the here and now. “But I am willing to take you into my Family, where you will have a home, fresh food, plenty of space. There are others like you, alone, who needed companionship and protection,” he gave her what he could of the Keep. “You do not need to give yourself until you desire to do so on your own terms. And meanwhile, I will protect you, as will the rest of Shadewood Keep.”

He sat, allowing her time to enjoy her meal should she choose. He vocalized the intent, a gentle wave of baritones a caress to the wolfess. “Please...enjoy at your leisure.”

the man seemed shocked, a gasp rising to his lips. kuktux did not understand; her ears fell back in confusion as he spoke of being taken, of her own offer not stemming from consent. was it because she was thin? the girl frowned. with good food and rest, she would be restored. or perhaps it was her age. there were many reasons a man might refuse a woman, but having a wife was not among them.

"it is good to have a husband," the girl murmured shyly, watching him through her lashes. "you can hunt. you called the fish's spirit to you. you are blessed. it would not be a bad thing to be your wife," she explained, hoping he would understand how differently she saw her invitation. it was of her own volition; she would not offer herself to a weak man, nor to one who was cruel. death was preferable. among her people, a woman was allowed to choose her own mate. men offered a price to her father, but she would be the one who decided. and the ivory girl had made the dark man her choice.

"i do not mind being second wife," kukutux declared, pride rising in her verdant gaze as she raised her chin to look at him again. "i have twelve moons, and in the turning of twelve more, i will give you sons." perhaps he did not wish to wait that long, but what was a second wife if not a helper for his first children? "i can keep your home clean and peaceful. i will dry fish for the winter months. i will bring berries and herbs to your hearth, and come to your bed when you wish me."

her voice shook in the thin cold air, but this was necessary. the man had provided her a bride price and offered her a home. with no father or grandfather, kuktux must barter her own way. perhaps the way of more than one wife was not done here — if so, she did not understand. one wife provided sons, more provided a greater number. her own mate would have taken another wife in time, and kukutux would have brought her into their ulaq as sister.

aware that she could press this stranger beyond his limit, the girl dipped her head gently in a silent show of gratitude.

It was instinctual for him to memorize a face, a name, a voice, a body, a scent. And over half of it being embranded in his mind at the woman’s request, Cry began to feel some connection to this almost imposing maiden. 
Whether she chose to come with him, or leave him emptily, he would not be able to forget her, now. A name however, would seal her memory into his mind for good. 

Starting over, Cry took a deep breath as he tried to reevaluate the best way to handle this situation. And moreso, rethink himself, and who he was. Already, schemes were coming together, tactical decisions that would have to suffice for these coming seasons. Her proposal and an interminable one of his own. 

“What is your name?” He was aware of how with her growing passion, how she referred to herself was much more direct wordage. Instead of representing as a separate entity, she may have felt emboldened and closer to personally identifying herself to him. “I am Cry,” he gave her the alias for now, as he did not know how this exchange would end up. She was so very young, and his heart would ache should she feel the need to live her life out alone until a man came for her and offered her life. What if they abused her?

But the offer she had proposed to him aroused concerns of his own. Though he and Gwen had a few years left, this youthful girl would pose much less worry to him for Gwen. The older women became, the more prone they were to death in childbirth. As far as he knew, Gwen hadn’t had any children by another- or so she hadn’t told him. But the ivory queen was priceless to him, and as this younger woman offered herself an entire year of time for him to think about her fertility, he compared such to Gwen’s own. He couldn’t let her hurt herself should his trust of Sanguine’s advice fall short. 

“We will consider you...and consider your offer.” His own self fought against these ideals... but the Assassin had to preserve Gwen for as long as he could. This more than likely was a blessing in disguise. She even offered to clean and take care of stocking and drying fish... she would aptly be much more of a wonderful addition than a hinderance. He would have to try and have a talk with Gwen of the terms though...as her opinion was what mattered more to him than seemingly his own. “Know that I am grateful for your offer. Such duties are very essential to a stable pack, and you would be an absolute blessing in your own right should you apply yourself in Shadewood.” 

The Phantom took a step closer to the skeletal artic fae, his own hopes for her put aside as he tried to encourage her. “Please, eat. Once you are filled, come with me so we can talk this over together.”

she watched him carefully, watched the play of emotions across his handsome face. already it seemd to kukutux that he cared, or perhaps now the seed of wanting had been sown in the earthen places of his heart. she would not have wanted her belly to be filled this spring. not with the ghosts of her people still calling to her in dreams. better that she should find a place for her soul to settle, and know whether or not this would be a good place to raise her sons and her daughters.

and his, the spirit added. he had not accepted, but nor had he denied her offer. she would be asset to this pack of his, she knew. what man did not want meat in his caches? kukutux would prove that she was worth being a wife. even second, she told herself, knowing she would have to force a sense of contentment into her bones.

cry. qaryuq. "i am kukutux," the girl offered in a quiet voice. "i will eat, and then i will follow you." the hunger that could be denied no longer writhed in her with urgency. she passed her tongue over the fish-scales, offering thanks to its spirit, and then began to cut into the cold underbelly.

rich. fat. sustenance. she did not look up at cry again until she had finished, and then only a glance before she began to carve the rest of the lake-dweller into slabs with her teeth. easier to carry. an immediate way to prove the usefulness she had claimed only minutes before.

It was a relief for him. He relaxed so much more, turning his face away a bit in case the woman had wanted privacy in her meal. The dark king then took time to examine the spot where he had luckily come across this gift of a wolf; he'd have to make note of it. By some sheer luck, should he go recruiting again, if he came across another of her...culture...then he'd have a bit of preparedness to fall back on. She reminded him of the Rosing's girl, one of the nearer packs that was trying to settle by one of the creeks that worked past Shadewood's font. The were neighbors, and should this woman not want much to do with him or his kind, he could bring her as some kind of 'peace treaty'. 

Wait, what? A peace treaty? What was he, some kind of fucking War Lord? A goddamn barbarian who simply traded women for politics? Cry took another breath - it seemed this woman had thrown an wrench much further and much harder thananything he expected himself to be prepared for. He was formerly a murderer for hire, working his way into packs to be worthwhile by his services and capabilities. His resume was long, bloodied and bruised. His history was scarred, and heartless. But his future was what he needed to focus on, his Family. He would try to have this woman revamped into a free spirit, not one to be tethered to another by gifts and necessities. The Keep would provide for each other - there was no bound in their woods. But should she not change, Cry would have to be concious of the consequences he would surely evoke or wrought on this situation. And he would have to be very...very...careful of what ice he walked on.

Only a swift fleet of seconds flashed by before the Phantom turned to the maiden. She had just finished the heft of her meal, and already he could nearly see the color returning to that verdant gaze. She glanced up at him, and his throat constricted as though she had kissed his cheek without his permission. Flicking his gaze to her work, he could see the carcass was neatly trimmed, a new manuever with the front incisors and deft cuts with canines that he hadn't ever considered. How she had even managed to keep them thin, seemingly weightless, baffled him. With her skills, he wondered what type of den she might make for herself, or whether the shamaness was one to have a store den of sorts, or a cavern dedicated to herself. In the full bloom of the jungle-like Shadewood, she would be able to use the entirity of the bounty to her own heed. And Cry surmised it would be awe-inspiring. 

Pulling himself from the mesmire of her invoke of thoughts, Cry nodded to Kukutux as she finished her work. "If you need any assistance, I do not mind lending aid," despite himself being clearly obsolete in her craft. But should she need an extra back in which to carry things or such, then all was fine with him. 

Turning to begin their trek back to the woods, Cry asked politely, "What lands do you come from? Your culture, what of it? You are clearly not native to Teekon."  After a heartbeat, he couraged himself up to even ask "And your name...what does it mean?"

figure we could fade this out w another post from you? <3

to his offer, she nodded. he had questions, but kukutux was not yet ready to answer them. her spirit spoke, however; if he was to be her mate, then she must not keep herself veiled forever. the time of mourning was a moon. after that, she would be free to accept whatever overture he made.

"i am from an island, far away. we hunt the seal and sometimes the whale. we honour their spirits." she could not discern what cry meant by culture, except perhaps that the man was asking after her ways. well now he knew of her skill with the fish, and that men of her people took more than one wife. it was not uncommon for a man rich with the praise of his clan and skilled in hunting to have three, even four wives who kept his ulaq clean and bore him children.

being second was something kukutux could abide, but the girl knew that to be third or fourth would only make her soul bitter. cry seemed perturbed at the very idea of two wives, however; she did not suspect he wanted more than one. shyly she approached, bearing two long slabs of fish flesh, and lay them gently over his muscular shoulders. if he moved carefully, they would be able to carry.

the other two, she wrapped 'round the middle with her skin. but her name. he had asked after her name. the girl's gem-gaze beheld her ready bundle for a long moment. "it means young duck," came her quiet response. more than that, but the meanings would not be easily translated to one who did not speak her tongue.

lifting the burden in her jaws, kukutux moved to cry's tall side and glanced toward the man, ready to follow him to this land of his.

we def can~ <8

He stood still and silent as she explained herself to him in accented but understandable soft tones. Her ways reminded her of Gwen as well, who he had seen give a pause to the prey she had slain before indulging delicately. Perhaps that type of mechanic would bring the women together, and make this a bit easier for Gwen should he follow group with this ordeal that seemed almost inevitable. The woman had seemed bent on marrying him, and while she had made a fair point, he had too. And the worst part was that both of them worked well together. 
But he hadn’t gotten Gwen’s point yet...
and that was a cog that would either make or break the machine.

He was rather impressed by her hunting however; for whales, he had seen. They occasionally visited the coasts of Sequoia, and he had seen quite a few in his time. But hadn’t ever seen a seal... he would have to ask her more of her stories later. Or maybe she didn’t want him to know much more than she told? He wasn’t very fond of others asking of his past...perhaps this woman valued her internal privacy as well. 

As she finished she’s packing the fish across his shoulders, he idly wondered if she had seen the patchwork of crisscrossing scars over his back and shoulders, those he had received as a youth from a bear. Would she think him a warrior like the men she had probably hailed from? Thistle Cloud has thought him comparable to Ragnar himself in reference to her husbands scars - was Kukutux from the same kind of people? Vikings? 

“It fits you.” That was all he could say, as if he would’ve have spoken more, he surely would have too much. She didn’t seem to be particularly talkative in reference to herself... complimenting her would only make this situation harder for him as it was. 

Giving an affirming nod to her after he ran a frosty gaze over her, he gently pulled over her hide a bit to the right, as it seemed to be slipping already. He wouldn’t be able to move at his usual pace, and this would double the time of travel for them. Hopefully the smell of food wouldn’t attract predators, but it would more than likely make them targets.

With a silent sigh, Cry had come to terms that this journey would be long...and it was going to be torture. But they would see it thoroughly intact, together. 

With that, he began the trip, those lean limbs carrying them forward.