Greatwater Lake vaal hazak
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#1
All Welcome 
The day had stretched into dusk without Nettleclaw filling her stomach. Freshly dispersed, it was hard to miss a meal.

There were scents laid like latticework in the snow. Nettleclaw followed their tracks in an unhurried way. It would be dark soon, and the world had taken on a rushing quiet.
Loner
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#2
she was not patient enough to fish, but she had seen fat silver bodies in the deeper water and was watching for a chance to strike for them. bear-like, with shoulders hunched. it was as if the fish knew her shadow and kept far from the bank.

the woman huffed a few times as she sought one vantage point or another. she was turning one last time before giving up the fishing attempt when she caught sight of someone striding through the grass and snow; smaller than the ice man, and unknown to her.

immediately zharille bayed a sound to alert the stranger of her presence - as well as give warning to any of her men who might be roaming nearby, who is this?
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#3
The tracks fanned off, winding around a nearby water source. Nettleclaw's dark nostrils twitched as she inhaled molecules of icy banks and fish.

A scent lingered. She knew that scent, for it had marked her for dispersal in her own camp.

Nettleclaw flinched as a deep bay washed over her like buckshot. She scanned her surroundings and spotted a figure loom between the reeds. A female, tall and dark as the winter worn buckwheat that sheathed her.

Nettleclaw's tail stiffened, but she stopped in her tracks. Her head bobbed as she tried to gauge the distance between them. If she had come close to territory, she hadn't been aware.

Her claws tensed in the hard snow.
Loner
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#4
it was a woman!

zharille was not in a good mental place to be around other women; her scent was so strong now, and her possessiveness over her men and her land would likely prove detrimental.

the stranger paused, giving her a window of decision. she lunged from the reeds and quickly closed the distance, standing tall with her tail up in a stiff display. the mantle of her shoulders bristled.

she moved close to investigate the woman for scents and information. where had she come from? who had she seen? most importantly, was she lured here for the same purpose as zharille? she checked for rivalry above all.
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#5
The reed-beast lurched. Nettleclaw felt a chill rake her skin, sending her fur on edge.

It seemed Nettlelcaw might hold her ground as the wild woman advanced. With each strident reclamation of earth the wildwoman took, Nettleclaw's resolve melted. She saw this woman for what she was: an assertive competitor not to be fucked with.

The dark ends of the stranger's fur lifted like toothsome mountain ranges.

Nettleclaw's head lowered beneath that of the woman's. She swallowed twice. Her back hunched while her tail curled close to her belly. She stood still as she was inspected despite her nerves. While she was inspected, Nettleclaw tried to pull her own pieces of scent information from the woman.

The scent of estrus clung thick to her pelt. It was all Nettleclaw could sense.
Loner
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#6
a low rumble came from zharille as she made her inspection. the stranger seemed healthy, a little weathered - perhaps by travel - if there were wolf scents upon them they were faded, old. this woman was alone.

she withdrew briefly, but made the effort to snap her teeth by the stranger's cheek, so she knew to take care. this was zharille's land and there were many eyes watching.

but she did relent. the lake was still a fixation for her, and the fish that bobbed in the depths. she moved back to the reeds without fear as her back turned - content for now that this stranger was no threat.

she wanted food, that's all she cared for right now.
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#7
The stranger rumbled. Nettleclaw's ears fell to her skull.

It seemed the inspection had drawn to a close. Before Nettleclaw could pull away teeth came for her face. She yelped and pulled away.

The wild woman turned back to the water. Nettleclaw remained in the snow with one paw raised in quivering question. She watched the woman stalk the reeds in a prowl.

Their hierarchy had been firmly established. Nettleclaw did not advance until she was certain the space between them was appropriate. Her nose twitched while she measured the cold bite of air.

Like the woman, Nettleclaw was quite hungry.

Somewhere along the opposite bank a sharp splash sounded.
Loner
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#8
zharille had learned to be wary of ice from ensio, and had very little experience with water overall. she could smell all kinds of things in the reeds and the water but she could not suss out how to catch them; the fish too, were so different from what she was used to. when something splashed farther from her, her head raised and ears pivoted to show her focus.

a focus that transitioned to frustration, which crept down her withers as a shake, as she moved along the lake's edge. her heavy steps sank in to the softer, soggier soil every so often - and one placement had her wet up to her wrist, which she ignored as best she could. the closer she got, the more obvious it became zharille was nervous of the water.

she lifted one paw then another, flicking them independently to try and remove the bracingly cold water. she huffed and swung her head down again, as a truffle pig might, and feigned stronger interest in the grass.

for once she felt inadequate.
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#9
Something about the wildwoman changed. Before she had been brimming with resolute energy. Now her fire softened. Nettleclaw did not draw close, though her ears and eyes strained to see what had made the noise across the bank.

Once the woman slouched to the taller grass Nettleclaw rose. She scurried past as the woman flicked icy water from her feet.

Small ripples shimmered along the far bank. Nettleclaw measured their origin, eyes thoughtfully scanning the cold depth.

With a grunt Nettleclaw leapt from the bank. Water cascaded in shrill coldness about her. Its sheer iciness stole her breath away. But more importantly, Nettleclaw resurfaced from the dark waters with a fish snapping wildly between her teeth.

For a brief moment Nettleclaw felt the warmth of victory seep through her - but it was then she remembered the wild woman.

Nettleclaw froze as she looked upon the wild woman. The fish slapped stupidly against her face.
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#10
zharille was so focused on her own frustration and trying to appear, at the very least, competent, she did not follow the actions of the other woman until she heard a prominent splash. it was the sound of the stranger's body colliding with water, and zharille immediately moved to where they had launched themselves, unsure of what to do.

the water sprayed. it slicked the woman's fur and made zharille aware of the strength in her youthful figure; more importantly, they returned to the lake's edge with a bundle of silver wriggling desperately. there was the scent of blood, alluring.

zharille wasn't sure how to feel. impressed, yes - but also jealous, and hungry, and she knew her own power so she lunged towards the woman with her tail high, like a banner. she could not catch these things herself and it was her land; to her, that meant the fish was her's to eat. a tax, a gift for trespass.

her teeth snapped the air, not quite reaching the woman and wary of the water.
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#11
The wild woman had seen Nettleclaw's catch.

Nettleclaw felt her legs tense, her heart scream, her mind roaring go go go

But the wild woman had seen. She lurched in a terrific display of dominance. Nettleclaw felt her jaws tighten around the wriggling fish, the taste of blood tinting her senses, the feel of slimy scales against her tongue forbidding her against yielding.

Nettleclaw did not realize the wild woman feared water. She was just the type that would take advantage of this if she'd known, by springing into the bracing waters and swallowing the fish whole.

As it was, Nettleclaw only noticed those sharp teeth and how quickly they came for her.

Nettleclaw dropped the fish with a scream and scuttled to the far bank, teeth bared, spine hunched, and tail tucked in a show of overzealous submission.
Loner
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#12
the fish went from its toothy grip to open air, and as it hit the dirt it seemed to give one more thrash before zharille went for it.

the other woman shrieked and shrank, curling small and away. zharille didn't care - she snapped at the fish and grabbed for it, pulling it away from the woman and the water equally, and with her tail high she began to rip it apart.

her brief aggression had faded but not evaporated. she kept one ear turned to the woman and kept flashing a single yellow eye towards her in case she tried for the fish again.
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#13
The wild woman fell upon the fish. Nettleclaw watched mournfully as she pried flesh from bone in delicious smelling strips.

Now that the water was disturbed, Nettleclaw’s likelihood of a second catch was slim. The subordinate female licked her lips. A soft sigh exhaled in fumes around her muzzle. 

Once more she peered at the dark water. Nettlepaw felt the burn of the wild woman’s eyes upon her as she stalked the lapping edges.

A glint of light flashed in the depths. Nettleclaw sprung from the muddy bank, but this time came up sodden and empty-handed.
Loner
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#14
it did not take long for zharille to consume all that she could. she was chomping on the remains of the head when the woman launched herself towards the water again, and the fast movement made her tense and move away as if deeply offended. the fish head abandoned.

the other woman was not successful a second time. zharille was unsure of her, as now she was amped up and defensive, but she saw the failure in their posture and could, to a point, empathize. she licked her lips and looked away, then moved at a slow stride from the lake's edge.

her tail was lower now, swaying with an invitation, and she crooned a note as if to say, come this way. away from the water at least.

there was no reason to heed zharille now, after having stolen their meal and been so antagonistic; but maybe something could be salvaged.
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#15
Downtrodden by her failure Nettleclaw pulled herself up the bank. She kept her distance still, seeing the way the wild woman hunched in reactivity. 

Snapping twigs announced the wolf woman’s movement. Nettleclaw looked up expectantly despite her low posture. A croon broke over the murmuring water. 

An invitation. 

Nettleclaw sniffed the air, ears working independently as she measured the wild woman’s posture. It was softer now, the intensity broken by the woman looking away. 

Tension began to melt away between them. Nettleclaw’s tail held a little looser now.

Nettleclaw bound from the mud towards the abandoned fish head.  She pounced upon it and swallowed it in a singular motion. 

Then Nettleclaw shook water from her pelt and trotted after the woman with new energy to her step.
Loner
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#16
the lesser woman did move, and did come away from the water. perhaps she feared another correction from zharille, and had learned her place quickly. as she moved zharille ignored her - turning her head away, finding no reason to track her as closely as others who have come to her land; but the stranger took a beat longer than expected, as they grabbed for the fish head.

zharille turned and was about to make a clipping motion with her teeth as the stranger came closer, and so the wild woman relaxed. she turned upon the submissive wolf and made a move for her face: grabbing her snout, with a low rumble, which was only to remind her who was the boss here; and then when she released her, zharille drew herself so close that she could impart her scent upon the other woman.

if she wished for more fish, she'd proven her ability. and she had proven she would heed the law of zharille, so, she was welcome here.
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#17
Any jauntiness the woman had was eclipsed by the wild-woman's approach. Nettleclaw sunk to the snow as her muzzle was grabbed in a display of dominance.

Here I am, I am no threat, I am yours to mold.

She waited with breath held until she was released. Her tail was clamped to her stomach.

Yet as the wild-woman pulled away, Nettleclaw sensed a comradeship there. Rising slowly Nettleclaw trailed behind her, wary of any flash of teeth but willing to follow.

After all, two was always better than one.