Blacktail Deer Plateau tuviatchiak

@Sakhmet led the way. They stopped once to gather her bearings and to drink at a stream, resting an hour or two, then carried on north-east until the mountains blocked the sky.

The higher Kigipigak tried to look the less he saw. The forest swallowed them up together. There was a distant misting of color that told him rain was catching against the eastern range of cliffs.

By the time they found the route up to the plateau the rain had shifted atop them. He could hear it against the tree branches, smell as it perfumed the pine needles.

It was a good time to arrive home. The pine scent wrapped the land, offered to coat them in a shared scent. It was a welcomed thing, to have another in her lands.

This is it. I call it Blacktail. She offered warmly. That ghost of a smile back on her features again as she allowed her pale eyes to look back towards him. Although she had compared him to snowy mountains, ice fields and glaciers in her mind, he seems at place here.

Maybe that's simply because she wants him to be at place here.

I can show you where I've made home? Offered when she realized that it was best to look away from him now, focus back on the rainy land.

The terrain evened out, for the most part, as they reached the pinnacle of the cliffside. Her voice carried its name back over a shoulder. Kigipigak caught the smallest glimmer of a smile from her and warmed.

Blacktail. Ittukmiuk. Not aware of the resident deer population or its secretive manner of living within the woods here, Kigipigak thought only of the young blackbird; it somehow was fitting.

Yes, please. So I know where best to rest, and what to protect. Kigipigak said. His eyes wandered up again, then down, as he sniffed a swath of bunched grass, then tiny trampled flower buds; gathering scents as he wandered.

Warmth bloomed within her chest, overwhelmed once more by the kindness he showed. It was not what she had expected to find when she had gone out. She figured at best she would return with a quick meal. Something she, small as she was, could drag back home.

She returned with something greater than that.

On the walk, she would point out certain landmarks. A stream that was always ripe for drinking. Pathways to vantage points. Finally, when they reached the little hole she made home, her smile lingered longer.

I don't know who or what lived in it before, but there is plenty of room. In case you'd like... She trailed off softly.

There was indeed plenty of room. Perhaps from a previous pack, perhaps a bear who had made it home long ago. Regardless it smelled only of her now.

Laid on the floor, a small section of deer hide. Tattered at the edges. Clearly salvaged, not treated with the care of a professional.

There were many places for him to explore. The trail leading them here had worn him out, not that he'd admit this to the girl, but when Sakhmet introduced him to her sheltering place he was eager to see it.

There was a tattered skin on the ground there, which she took up residence upon. There was ample room for his own bulky self but in the moment Kigipigak did not feel comfortable invading her space; he was conflicted, not sure of which avenue of action to go down. She had invited him to inspect the hollow and so he sniffed at the edge of shadow, eyeing the hide that had not been properly maintained.

I know someone who can make these, he offered as a piece of casual conversation, settling to his haunches, then his belly, just outside. Someday he would track down Kukutux and see about trading for a new hide, as a gift to Sakhmet; for now he thought only of making the girl comfortable.

Your plateau is a good place to make home. The cliffs to the mountain are steep, so you need not worry over strangers appearing from the north or east. Kigipigak thought so, anyway. He wasn't much of a tactician - or evidently a conversationalist - but he hoped only to compliment the girl on her choice, to make her feel good about it.

She felt some inkling of embarrassment at his words. Like he might scorn her for not doing better, might think poorly of how bad she did tending to it. Only such harsh words never came. It was a simple statement.

Perhaps I can learn. It was not as though she busied herself with much else in the silent moments upon the plateau. Blacktail remained small — protected — despite its few faces seen.

Any worries or embarrassment of former washed away as he spoke of her home. Thank you. I hope to make it a meaningful home one day. Somewhere that others might wish to stay and grow close. Honor our histories... Something warm and whimsical in her voice.

Although she realized her sort of...ramble of words and opted to drift off back into silence. Eyes trained on him as she took in more of his features.

She was happy, and so he smiled to her; Kigipigak wondered what sort of leader she might be, and what sort of people might come to follow her.

So far as the young man knew, a leader was an issumatar — a warrior.

Sakhmet did not strike him as such. She wasn't physically imposing nor willful, she did not act in a dominating manner but a more subdued one, too caught-up in her own head to see her own potential. She had the sharp features of a fox or a coyote; her affect was of a creature struggling to survive rather than the truth: a tenacious woman fully capable of survival and more, if she set her heart and mind to it.

He saw what could be. It was different from what he believed to be true strength (in the way that Tartok believed in physical power above all else) and as such, he would have to learn to see things in a new light.

In his silent way he watched her, and in her own curious gaze he saw himself reflected back; but it was only a moment of many thoughts blustering inside of his mind; more thought than Kigipigak had put towards anything else before. He feels his cheeks flush with warmth and with a little laugh, drops his gaze from her dark face.

She did not know what to respond with or what to say, when his laugh tumbled forth and his gaze dropped. It had not seemed mocking and so she did not immediately shrink beneath the sound. Although she did bring herself to look away from him as well.

We don't have to talk more. A little shake of her head, unable to completely wipe the lingering smile off her face. She did feel silly the more she rambled after all.

We can do...anything. Internally scolded herself for talking more, but the offered needed to be put out there. Kigipigak was as welcomed to this land as she was now.

They were both bashful. It was a new feeling for Kigipigak, always the bold and brash creature filled with prideful masculine energy. There was no reason he could see for the change, only that she was a calm sort of creature unlike the boorish women he had grown up with; he was at-ease because she was so placid, and the challenge of making her smile and laugh and feel good was new to him, perhaps due to his nearing adulthood.

I like talking with you. He comments next, and knows immediately how stupid he sounds. Kigipigak has always enjoyed the sound of his own voice and the effect his boasting has had on others, either to prompt a fight with another man or to impress the adults he's lived with. With Sakhmet it felt different because she did not force the competitive side to take over for Kigipigak.

Before, when I told you of my people... I wondered about yours, he broached the topic as carefully as he could, not wanting to upset her. I did not ask then, but I would like to know... What sort of home you had, if you'll tell me. Or maybe something else, if you'd rather not. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable but he was deeply curious.

Kindness, repeatedly given to her.

She did not know what to do with it. Truth be told. She figured the only thing to do was...respect him. Share with him everything she had here. The den, the deer, the land.

It was not a place just meant for one.

Truthfully it was meant for more than just two as well. Yet she found comfort in the small, silent corner of the world she had claimed. It reminded her of...

"What sort of home you had, if you'll tell me."

She started with slowly, sinking down onto her haunches. It was...home. Not very far from here actually, but strangers live there now. I don't think they know the history. A little shake of her head. Gods, Daedra, lived in the dark woods. Some honored them with their actions. Some places held presences. Vague and loose for she only remembered so much from a religion she had not clutched onto forever.

She could recall caves. A poisonous tree. An altar.

Then the land grew angry one day. We had to leave, it wasn't safe anymore.

Kigipigak thought that he had a good grasp on these Wilds. There were many valleys, many peoples, most of which he had met hailing from other places. It was like the convergence of many rivers — and then there was this girl, who surprised him. She was not like a river, but a piece of black ice floating atop it. This place was her place of birth and so she held a deeper connection to it. Sakhmet might have been the first Wild-born wolf he had encountered — at least as far as Kigipigak knew it.

As she spoke of her home there was a weight to her words. He listened in his own pensive silence, although it was as short-lived as her tale. Just as well; Kigipigak was not known for being introspective or sombre, and he did not have the patience to be quiet for long.

It is hard to leave the land of your birth, Kigipigak admits. He can sympathize somewhat with Sakhmet's story. In his own case it was not the destruction of his village that caused him to leave, but the death of the man he called his father. That, in a way, was its own kind of destruction.

I am glad you left. He says with a smile, the kind that seems too big for the moment. If you had not, perhaps you would not be here now. I am glad you are here now, with me. This place can be a good home. Fortified on one side with a mountain range and bordered by thick forests elsewhere, the plateau could become a fortress easily enough.

maybe a fade here? :)

He understood.

And, oh dear, was it good to be understood. The easiest way to soften her up to company was to have that bond. Even if it was thin and small, something to grow with time.

Granted his next start struck her as odd until he spoke further. About how if she had not had left, she might not have been here. With him.

This place could be a good home, couldn't it?

Surrounded by good company and in a well shielded place.

I am glad you had left too then. To be here at the plateau now. Returned, warm and kind. Sheepish a little. She could not help it when her complimenting experience was not so high.

Fading! :> They're so cute aaah.

To think — all he had needed to do was kill someone, and he could have a moment like this.

It was a far cry different from what Mahler had promised him. What he had expected to inherit from his mother, maybe, had he stayed within his village. Different from what those of Tartok were oft meant to pursue — this understated moment of understanding.

It was not war, or blood, or the conquest of nations. It was only the attention of a sad, lonely girl; but somehow it was more important than everything else.