Hushed Willows isumanguruk

@Valmúa ??

After the conflict within the territory Kigipigak took the time to soak his wrist in the lake, attempting to sleep off the majority of the pain from the lost dewclaw as he could. A few days passed during which Kigipigak kept to himself; he did not patrol, he did not talk with the other recruits, and on occasion - if pressed for socialization by one of the other recruits - he would warn them away with a low tone in his throat.

Eventually Kigipigak became frustrated by the attempts by others to tend to him, so he hobbled his way down towards the valley, then veered his path along a ridge that dropped-off near a patch of willow trees. It was a patrol route he had found ages ago and had been working on prior to Whrist's tresspassing; it had been tedious to spread his scent along the path and now it had gone stale. 

Huffing to himself, Kigipigak followed the path and tried to raise his leg to mark it over again. He had to put more pressure on his other limbs to compensate and felt a fierce burn in his injured wrist at the last moment, causing him to stumble and swing too near the edge, almost falling. He pressed himself back against the trunk of a willow tree and waited for the pain to pass, all the while cursing beneath his breath.

>:D

The red sister was enjoying her freedom in the same way that she had learned to enjoy her punishment. The Willows were a good place to remove herself from the day to day of the Watch. She hated the women, she hated the way her brothers frowned upon her every move, and she hated that Kigipigak had found a way to place a fence between her and what she had wanted. She was a bitter, cruel person, finding solace in the face that their ends would eventually be brought forth by the earth herself, who had her unshared plans that she had hinted at through visions to Valmúa.
Sheltering from the snow in the Willows felt cheap, and eventually the sister grew bored of this. The little mushroom coyote was not about, and so the one gain she had pulled from the territory was absent. She moved to return to the Watch and resume a miserable existence under the feet of the brother trio that the hrinja had so readily pushed her to follow from their homeland.
It was on this path back that she found the scent of Kigipigak, coupled with the weakness of old blood. Ever angry with him for leaving her to be on her own and walling her from Njord, the fire woman trailed after him, finding him just as he leaned against a tree for support. She saw immediately the wrist that pained him, and couldn't help but grin. Poor, sexy, beautiful kigiboy, unable to sustain himself. You are a mess. She said, standing firm.

When weight was alleviated from his injured wrist he felt better - nowhere near perfect, just better. The sound of something moving stirred curiosity within him. It would be a few more minutes before he turned to glance over his shoulder, at which point Valmua had emerged along the path and stood staring at him. The toothy grin was infuriating; Kigipigak tried not to show how irritated he was by her presence and looked away, although he was not very good at hiding his feelings at any point.

He did not want to engage her. As if any time spent with her could be levied against him. What if the ravens saw? What if someone caught them together? Kigipigak would not accept further accusations from anyone. He was cold and moody, ignoring her with a level of petulance typical of children. When he moved to take a step and get some distance between them Kigipigak's wrist twisted and burned with a revived pain — he grimaced, grunting some epithets.

A moment later, as he had broken the silence with his slew of cursing, Kigipigak explained: There was a trespasser within the Watch. They're gone now. Took a piece of me with them. He didn't look at Valmua as he said this.

For once, his cool and collected style had a crack. Within the light of it, the fire woman saw weakness. She saw his pain and his misfortune. Another woman of their pack might have felt pity and a will to heal him, but Valmúa merely looked on apathetically. Internally, she rolled her eyes. Her Kigimuscleman had turned into something disgustingly weak and foolish.
The white northerner explained his condition. She did not frown. She did not smile. Intentionally, she took two large steps toward him to close the distance, for she held the power over him now. I am sure you did well, my pet, she said, knowing very well that he was hardly a creature that gave two shits about her any longer. She did it to incite a reaction. She longed for it in him. One might say in some disturbing way, she missed him.
The fire woman flicked her tail, partly dominant, mostly provocative. Did you take a piece of them? She asked, knowing the likely answer.

As she drew close Kigipigak took notice but did not move. He did not bristle despite feeling the urge, did not lash out as she poised with her mouth so close to his face. The way she spoke to him, of him, was belittling. Kigipigak had not noticed how it made him feel until she made her verbal jab and he did not like the welt it left on his pride.

Did you take a piece of them? Valmua asked next. Kigipigak's eyes narrowed as he looked down at the dirt, his gilt-eyed glare turning to slant her way. His scarred eye, the left, twitched slightly. Would not be surprised to find a corpse at the bottom of the mountain. 

Kigipigak made a mental note to look for one just in case. The trespassing woman had been able to run off before he could end her — those wounds, though. It would be a surprise if they withstood that kind of damage without aid. More importantly — what was the point of this boast? Kigipigak told himself often he did not care what Valmua thought; he did not find entertainment in her presence, he did not want to breathe the same air as she breathed, and yet...

There was a strong desire to touch him. It threatened for a moment to overpower her, but instead, her desire was visible with a tiny wetting of her lips. The thought of Kigipigak destroying a person enough that they had become a corpse at the bottom of their Watch was exciting to her. The flame she had felt when he had first suggested she be leader fluttered in her heart, and though she ignored the underlying desire, she felt it beat in her chest.
Valmúa took another step toward him, smaller, but still closer. She inhaled his scent. She remembered his deliciousness. Perhaps it was his distance made her desire him more. The bones will ward off others with the same idea, she snaked, words tasting like a delicious toxin. Because Kigipigak refused to look at her, she pushed in obnoxiously close, quite intentionally, pressing her side onto him. She refused to accept his ghosting any further.

The woman was infuriating. She pressed in closer and goaded him with her presence, simultaneously charming him with how right her words sounded. It made him feel impressive. A righteous knight earning the attention of a beautiful maiden. As Valmua pressed her side against him Kigipigak tensed; he did not trust her closeness nor approve of her teeth being so near to his face, reminded of the day she'd pushed him to the dirt and mounted him. He had felt so victorious — then so demeaned.

Kigipigak turned his scarred face towards her. The crease of puckered skin beneath one eye gave him a look of someone older. He flashed his front teeth and clicked them shut as a warning; quick, curt. His side-eye told another story: deferrential and frustrated. Others, like the boy from the sea. 

Kigipigak sneered. I should not have been seeking wives for your brothers, but husbands for you—then again, you do well enough to lure plenty yourself. The monotone nature of his voice did not lend itself to jest, but it was an insult all the same. A part of Kigipigak would always be possessive of the fireheart even if he would never admit it to himself.

Kigipigak clicked his teeth, which she responded to by slowly licking one of her canines. She took a slight step sideways to offer a tiny amount more space for him, but she was still very much invading. It didn't surprise the fire woman to hear him butthurt over Njord, only that he didn't openly call her a slut. It is Freyja who blessed me with beauty, she answered coolly. But I do not seek husbands, my pet, she said, tail flicking as she moved away and in front of him, offering a brief and crude view of her hind end before turning.
It was accurate. She had no desire for marriage. It was only the pleasant endowments of men that she hunted for, that and their pitiful, easily guided minds. Kigipigak had become a failure to her, an experiment that she could not leash properly. Only the comfort of men, she licked her lips.

Kigipigak wanted to rip the smug look off of her face. She'd moved a little so that there was more space and it stopped him from seeing it, but there was no mistaking the manner of her speech. He lifted his lip again when she called him pet and all the while Kigipigak knew she was only goading him further, getting the rise out of him like she wanted. He was playing right in to her desires. Someone to poke and prod for entertainment.

She licked her lips and confirmed his suspicions, the attempt to verbally joust with her failed terribly as she took full ownership of her behavior. Kigipigak wanted to try again and the first thing that came to mind was, there are no men here to play with. That wasn't what he'd meant, so he held his tongue a moment.

Then with a small rumble in his throat Kigipigak stepped away from Valmua to force them apart. He said, The boy you lured, then? What could you gain from him—besides disappointment. A venereal disease? But he knew what she'd garnered; it had been a show, watching the two idiots fight over her. Kigipigak was done fighting. She was not worth the bloodshed.

As her Kigipet stepped away, she did not follow except with sharp eyes. She pretended to frown as he spoke poorly of Njord. She wondered if he knew just how much entertainment she had gotten out of the encounter. It was true that she was still charged up due to a severe lack of physical touch because Kigipigak had refused to allow her sea-faring date near, but that had almost been worth the humiliation she had served him when he dared to interfere. Internally, she was grinning at the feeling of him under her.
Why do you hurt me like this? she asked, leaning into the lie as her heart stood still and she leaned away from him and tilted her head. You will not give me your disease, so I must go elsewhere, she said, looking away as though forlorn. She was enjoying herself, inviting him to just try to make her lose this very lopsided battle of wills.

She was still playing her games. Still trying to worm her way under his skin. Valmua had been successful from the start and Kigipigak loathed her for it, displacing the irritation he felt at himself for being stupid and gullible and easily manipulated, and placing all of it on her. He did not think himself so weak-willed to be cajoled by a woman, yet time and again he fell victim to it. 

Even now as Valmua verbally poked and prodded, Kigipigak wanted to roar in her face; he knew it was what she wanted. She was a manipulative creature and knew when she had found her mark. 

What do you hope to gain with your games? Kigipigak spat at her. Do you wish to see me chased out by your brothers? That is what will happen. They let us roam again and likely wait to see what we plot next. It is a test of our loyalty, and you are still up to your old tricks! He was, of course, ignoring the most obvious fault in his logic: it had been Kigipigak to initiate their first and only plan, not her.

Somehow he could see through her. Perhaps it was because he had seen her do the same types of behaviour to Stjornuati on occasion. Perhaps it was the way she had pushed and shoved against other members of the Watch while she was stuck there. Whatever the case, he knew her too well, and she both relished it and hated it.
It is like you think I do not care for you, she answered glumly, her head still lifted as though proud of herself somehow. You will be fine. You do not care about me anymore, and so they will not touch you whatever it is I do, she explained, the dark truth wrapping itself about her. The full truth was that she hated the distance Kigipigak had placed between them. When it suited him, he had fought for her, only to continue ignoring her existence after that as well.
Besides, I have no plan, my pet, she answered, frowning, finally lowering her ears and head a bit. She looked away from him balefully toward the mountain. She wished it would blow up. Maybe that would make them all leave, and she could start over atop their rocky graves.

Try as she might Valmua could assert herself as someone innocent of wrong-doing, pure in her devotion to her brothers, and without any designs in place. Kigipigak knew better than to listen. He only did it because he had ears he could not turn off.

The added jab of pet made him flash his teeth and rumble at her. I am not your pet. I am Kigipigak. Use my name when you speak of me, niviaksralugruak. But she wasn't even paying attention to him now. Her head was bowed, her eyes directed scornfully towards their home.

What is it? He murmurs after a pause, glancing towards the mountainside and following her eye-line with an air of caution. Kigipigak could not see anything wrong but they were at quite a distance. The ravens did not swarm; he went quiet all the same, wondering if Valmua heard a song upon the wind he had missed.

Though he spat at her, she was a world away, eyes as close to forlorn as they had ever been in the presence of any since leaving Stormhaven. For despite his distance, it was Kigipigak who found these tender moments with her. Little Girl indeed. She did not answer him immediately, letting her gaze linger coldly on their rocky home, ruled by the aloof and the stern brothers. Though she had accepted her place, she did not accept it as the only truth. She knew well that the Watch could have been much more. Her brothers were too busy meditating under stars and treating the weak with herbal medicines to see it.
Valmúa turned her gaze back to him and smiled. We would have been great together, she said slowly, Kigipigak. She was tempted to still insert the words he had just told her to stop using, but decided against it.
She imagined the strength of the warriors they would have collected. She imagined her brothers beneath her, looking up to her not for her skill in battle nor her prowess in hunting, but for her knowledge and ability to lead. She should have been the flame at the top of their mountain, the torch leading their way through the darkness.
But they had not seen it. The fire flower blinked, furrowing her brow, angry that she had not gotten any of what she wanted.

He sneered, but said nothing. Kigipigak had that thought first, it was why he had introduced Valmua to the idea of leadership. That she would come to that conclusion so late made him more irritated. Now, having been burned by her flame, Kigipigak did not hold the same sentiment.

And once you had made it to the top, you would have cast me aside as you tried to do your brothers. His remark was hollow; as true as it felt to Kigipigak he did not want to invite further conflict from Valmua, as he was convinced she would say anything if it meant winning in the end. You would use me until someone else came along. Perhaps the boy from the sea, perhaps another. He grunts a small laugh, finding little humor in the idea of being replaced by Njord.

But in the end Kigipigak turns away from the woman's company. He is no longer antagonistic of her presence; he is dismissive and bored, eager to get back to his own devices.