Raven's Watch Back when the earth, sun, and stars all aligned

Now, the spirits called her inland. The witch smiled at an almost paradisical view, Her Ravens calling her home, here. 
Something troubled the shade though. She had only been in this land a few days...was this it? Was this, sleeping beneath her Ravens, her harbingers, it for her? 
It was too much to think about for now. She was hungry, and even the goddess of death had to eat. 
A marmot, bumbling through the underbrush. She moved swiftly, descending on it like a nightmare. 
She quickly said her prayers as it died, whispering almost lovingly and spilling the organs on the ground. An offering to the Ravens. She then sat quietly nearby and ate, watching as the black mass descended.

Don't feel like you gotta match, its mostly just travel details since he's approaching from the mountain-side vs the coast-side.

He found travel much easier when he stopped thinking about it, which was often the case with Revui to be totally honest. He ran, he climbed, he watched for drops in the earth or dangerous routes to avoid, but otherwise kept his mind empty and let the mountain determine where he ought to go.

When the sound of rumbling grew deafening around him, he snapped his attention around. There was an immense lake veeing away from him, emptying down the side of the mountain to some stone flats, and then further, becoming a massive declination and set of falls that blocked his path. He nosed around the edge of the lake for an hour or so before finding a shallow section to fjord, and then had to stop on the other side.

The mountains looked to have been cleaved clean apart, here. There were ravens hovering in the hot currents of air as if to pick apart a carcass, and some dropped in to acrobatic displays as they descended towards a vein of the mountain below. Revui watched them, following at a liesurely pace, until they vanished among the trees. He felt his ears pop from a change in the pressure - he must have hiked quite a ways.

The smell of blood hit his nose, warm, fresh. He prowled closer and when one of the ravens noticed him looming there in the dark, it belched out a few deep notes and flapped its massive wings, taking flight briefly to find safety in a tree. Revui watched this and then turned his attention back towards the blood scent, where a pale wolf rested.

The Klaaak of one of her Ravens drew her attention and she turned, eyes narrowed. A man. In what would be her sacred space. This surely wouldn't do. Either this was not the sanctuary she thought it was, or this male was not welcome here. 
Not that a single shewolf could expect to hold down an entire territory. No, it was not yet time to call this land hers. 
"What is it you seek?" She asked, black eyes staring hauntingly, looking like a nightmarish creature with the marmot's blood on her muzzle and paws, and her Ravens swarming around her.

The woman is bold. She looks at him the way a bear might; indifferent, to a point, guarded and preoccupied. He spies the red marking her face, traces similar crimson upon her paws and knows she is the perpetrator of whatever kill flavors the air. The birds do not react to her in the same manner as himself - they seem to welcome her, appeased perhaps by what she's given them. A scattering of viscera beyond her.

Her question is met with the flick of an ear, a sullen peering around at the rock surface darkened with stains of purple-red. A few lazy steps carry him closer, and he dips his nose towards the piled ribbons of warm soft meats, startling one raven from the ground in to a hop-skip; it stares at him indignantly. He reaches out, slices some of those soft innards with his teeth.

She watched, in wide eyed horror, as the filthy creature dared approach her, dared to wordlessly defile this sacred place. Worst of all, dared to wrap his putrid male lips all over her offering, her gift to the Ravens. 
Macaria was not one for violence, at least not right away. Perhaps he didn't understand her ways. Perhaps he would be taught. 
Her lips curled back in anger and disgust, and she moved in front of him, blocking him from the offering, from her Ravens. 
"It is not good to take that which does not belong to you." She hissed, every hair standing on end. 
A test. The spirits had sent a test. And she would pass it.

He barely had a taste before the woman brushed ahead of him, wedging herself between where he stood and the pile of still warm pieces. He was not offended. Revui could push back if he wanted, she was not a warrior from the looks of things, and the most that would transpire might be a horde of angry ravens as he took what he had mentally claimed as his own.

Her words were shrill in his ears; cold, full of offense for what he had done. He cared more for the cooling guts than her complaints and with a grunt, side-stepped around her. But he did not immediately descend upon the mess. He watched her and licked the red from his lips, savoring what little he had managed to take.

You left it. It belongs to no-one. It will be wasted there. He gloomily pointed out, watching as she bristled and postured in her way. It was wrong, at least in his own opinion, to waste such vital parts. If he wanted them he would take them.

He did not understand. 
Men. Drooling stupid men and their lack of understanding. There was a reason Spirit only spoke to women. Women were sacred- only they could harbor life within their bellies. 
Men took what they wanted. Men dominated and pushed, controlled and defiled. They were disgusting creatures. 
"It is not wasted." She answered, lip curled in disgust. "It belongs to them. You come here, to a sacred place, to where the Ravens raise their young, and try to take an offering as your own. The food does not belong to you. This land does not belong to you. Leave." 
Her dark eyes flash, fury and indignation written across her every feature. Behind her, the Ravens begin to shreik, one landing on her shoulders, their beady black eyes watching the intruder.

The woman smelled of blood but otherwise nothing, save for pine and the airy smell of the birds around her. She was unbound; claimed nothing, was claimed by none in return. Her commentary did not bring about any acknowledgement from Revui. She was speaking nonsense — claiming this place was holy, somehow. That it was some place to be wary of.

Her frustration and ire were charming. He watched the fire burn through her, the fluff of her coat and stare of her eyes — so defiant! A little warrior in a girl's body. The birds felt the tension exuded from her tone, riling alongside her, crying out and waving their wings.

He watched her, utterly bored with the display. If she wanted him to leave she would have to do something more than screech at him. No. He states flatly, the fur along his spine bristling slightly with serration; more annoyed than anything. Who was she to deny him an easy meal? A scavenger, like her birds, nothing more.

https://wolf-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=43173

His refusal, his disrespect, filled her with rage. This man could easily move off, find better pickings, and leave her, and her familiars, alone. 
But since when had a man done anything remotely sensible? Since when had a man thought of anyone but himself? 
Every one she met was selfish. Not evil, no they didn't have the power to be evil. But crude, repulsive, beastial. That they were in spades. 
Her Ravens take to the air, calling raucously, spectators to the battle. 
"If you are too stupid to understand a sacred place, you must be taught." She will spill her blood in this place, to defend her Ravens, her Spirits, and their offerings. 
She slashed forward, noislessly, not even a snarl. This was not something to take pleasure from. Sometimes, a priestess must drive corruption out. 
Blood met her tongue and she gagged around the flesh she had made contact with, shaking her head violently to cause as much damage as she could. A reminder to never underestimate her or any other witch.

She complained further, calling him stupid (which wasn't wrong), before finally lunging purposefully at him. Revui didn't even try to block her attempt because he did not anticipate much from her; however, she collided face-first with the crux of his neck and shoulder, briefly startling the breath from him.

He felt the pinch of her teeth. A flare of pain — the taste of blood in his own mouth somehow — and then, with a wheeze, he pivoted and pushed off the earth. The momentum forced his shoulder in to her cheek in an effort to overwhelm her jaws; if nothing else there would be strain and she would undoubtedly struggle to get a proper breath, which might distract from her footwork.

He did not fight so much as react much as he had with Astara of the Valley. When the shadow had attacked him out of nowhere, he had grabbed her and thrown her against the dirt wall of Ikkalrok's den and been done with her. This woman, by contrast, appeared much the same to him: a threat out of nowhere, something to toss aside like the vital tissues laying discarded in the mud.

(Lmao shes kicking his ass) 
he resisted, further antagonizing her. He choked her, attempting to toss her aside, and she stumbled, a grunt of pain where he gripped her. 
No. She could not fail. She would die protecting her Ravens, would feed them with her own carcass. Or, preferably, feed them his. 
She flew at him again, aiming for his face This time. Hopefully she would gouge out an eye, or remove an ear. A permanent reminder not to fuck with a witch, not to fuck with a necromancer. Her Ravens cheered her on, and all around her she felt the praise of the spirits. This was a test, and she was going to pass it.

The woman was quelled for a moment, gagging on his dense coat as one might choke on dust during a rock slide; but she freed herself of his presence and launched herself again at him, not letting up. He felt the warmth of blood seeping down across his chest and wondered if the wound had been greater than he imagined — it was certainly deep, flaring with pain which served to fuel him, sparking a rage.

She snapped at him, aiming for his face. A tooth hooked his ear and cut it to ribbons along the base. He reacted with a snarl and snap of his own fangs, thrusting himself after her while pain radiated in to his head from where she had torn in to his skin; but still, he was stubborn as well, and would not back down. Let his blood be spilled and his body broken — Revui would not stop.

His own teeth connected with pieces of her spry body and he greedily clenched his teeth, tearing out clumps of her coat more often than anything. Blinded as he was by rage and the heady confusion of blood loss, his aim was not as true as it could have been. If she would not back down and let him eat his fill, he would take his pound of flesh from her instead.

Fangs peirced flesh again, drawing forth wounds. He snarled and turned on her, as she knew in her heart he eventually would. 
Damned male. Damned heathen, foul, putrid, impure....
She cried out in pain as his jaws closed above her ribs, and she snapped desperately at anything within reach, doing little more than scratch feebly at his shoulder. 
She was reluctant to tear herself away from him, knowing if she did, it would only bring her further damage.

All of this fight over some entrails, and for what? To keep some scavenging birds fed? They did not need the help; there were wolves everywhere in this place and their hunting kept everything balanced. Had Revui more sense he would have recognized a deeper significance for the white woman, but he did not hold beliefs the way she did, he did not see the sanctity of any space.

No, he only knew what he saw with his two eyes, felt with his many teeth, heard with his mangled ear: that which stood before him as an obstacle. A fury of white, which he would overthrow.

He held her firmly in place with a lean of his broad body and the scything of his fangs, wishing she'd try to pull away for the satisfaction of maiming her. Turns out the bloodthirsty nature of Ursus had a deeper effect on Revui than he knew; but he caught himself wishing that Merrick was here to enjoy the chaos of this little spat, all the same.

Well shit lmao. Didn't expect this to happen... Good fight! I really thought you had her! 

A cry pain and frustration. 
This test carried a lesson, a harsh one. 
So foolish of a man he was, to think he was merely fighting her for a meal. There was so much more to this, to her. She had to protect these lands, protect her Ravens. No. She could not fail this task. 
tears in her eyes and limbs trembling from pain and blood loss, she braces herself. She had only one chance to fell the brute. One shot. With a ragged inhale she breathed a prayer, and bucked. She shrieked in pain as flesh tore away and her ghostly white pelt became streaked with crimson. The buck was aimed at his jaw but missed, barely drawing a scratch. No matter. 
She stared at him, grey eyes furious, legs braced. The voices whispering to her, praising her, urging her forward. 
"My name..." She panted, "Is Macaria Ellusis. I am a Daughter of The Ravens. You will remember that, and remember....they are holy. They are always watching you. And they will judge you...in this life, and the next." I am Macaria. Goddess of blessed death. And your flesh shall feed my armies. 
She was unsure of where the strength came from. Surely, not from herself, or any earthly source. The wound along her back was painful and would be difficult to treat. But something blocked the pain, If only for a moment. Something urged her forward, jaws gaping, to close around the man's throat, the momentum from her leap perhaps carrying them both to the ground, if he didn't somehow find the strength to brace himself. 
She held him there, a display of dominance, a show of conquest, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest.

When all was said and done, they were two bloodied bodies surrounded by hungry ravens, which circled in wait for one to fall. The most eager among them would shriek and squall from ringside seating in the trees; perhaps their raucousness praised the white wolf in defense of their customs, or merely goaded them both in favor of their failing, as both wolves would serve the birds as easy meals.

Revui was oblivious to them. His focus was entirely upon the woman as she tore free of his grasp, seething with some kind of adrenaline-fueled vigor. Her shout filled his ears; then the hissing of her voice as she named herself, likely cursing him with words he cared little for. He was not a beast of words in any sense — physicality was his realm, he was too basic for more than that. Words often pushed in opposition to someone's true beliefs and behaviors and so he had learned not to trust them.

In one ear, out the other. Instead he read her body as she came lunging after him; a bold move for someone so sleek and so damaged, against the mountain of a man. He was too slow to react in that instance, so she collided with him and drove him in to the dirt alongside the cold guts of her offering; pinning him there a moment.

It was enough. She had defeated him after a glorious battle. There was no need to linger in her space and bleed for her birds. He let her savor the moment for a heartbeat or two before bellowing a gutteral note of frustration and then picking himself up, forcing her off of him through sheer force of will; he did not tuck his tail in defeat (he was too proud, even now), but he did not attack again, and his body remained rigid and low-to-the-earth, as he skulked away.

Exhaustion came on rapidly. 
she blinked, sides heaving, nose almost touching the ground as he tore himself away from her, admitting defeat. 
But despite the pain, despite the blood she spat onto the ground, there was a smile on her face. She had won. She had bested this male. She had proven herself before her gods, before her Ravens. She watched him, dark eyes following him as he faded from sight, before looking up at the cliffs where her beloved Ravens nested. 
Then her eyes rolled back, and her legs failed, body slumping to the ground. She would sleep well into the next morning.