Duskfire Glacier [m] seremoni

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in the early dark of a winter morning, mireille came into herself, a flame which ran the length of leg and bone and marrow. breath singeing in her throat, she had descended the cliffs at once and called to @Chacal thereafter, that she would now go.
and val;
mireille did not dare to sing for him, but the obsidian knew he would wait for her, that as before she would return in the peak of her glittering body for he alone.
but in this moment, the daughter of rosalyn and erzulie was of one mind, and instinct led her to the glacier where she had been pursued for the first time.
emerald eyes beheld; but voice did not lift. she did not need to call. men would arrive. mireille filled the breeze with long slashes of her scarlet tail.

The bounty hunter doubled back. He would not brave the outer wilds again before the snow had passed, but perhaps... perhaps he had missed something. Perhaps his prey was closer at hand than he'd guessed. He travelled with his nose to the ground, lifting only occasionally to taste the air.

It was on one of these occasions that the breeze brought him whispering word of a far greater prize.

A man came, prowling closer as his eyes fell on the redcloaked woman. He announced himself with a quiet sneeze, climbing lithely up the incline to reach her. At this distance, saltbrine filled his nares along with the more cloying scent of estrus. His blood thundered; a sea creature stood before him.

He tested her boundaries, drawing as near as she would allow him.

a pretty man. a seawrought man. mireille purred to see that the ocean had seen fit to bless her with a denizen of the sands. that he was man mattered nothing in these days to come. she allowed his boldness; if his muzzle should stray to touch, she threatened a snap though her eyes burned with interest.
mireille circled; she caught at his hip and grinned, backing away along the narrow, treacherous path that led to the top of the glacier. many wolves had fallen to their death, she was certain; but the test was his to take, and she whirled, leaving the roseglow fragrance in her wake as she sought to lure the saltman along.

She struck out; he let her, tongue lapping at the blood that dripped from the shallow scrapes on his muzzle. He pressed forward, still questing, stubbornly ignoring her appraisal of his wound. The pain of it was immaterial in this moment. Or perhaps it was something outside of himself. Something he carried with him like an ankle weight, that he would only be made stronger for when it came time to shed. With a quiet huff of laughter, he picked up his pace, loping after her up the steeper inclines, his claws digging in where his weight threatened to make him slide. He moved like a mountaineer when he hit his stride, doggedly seeking to press his muzzle into her flank.

They danced in this way, the bounty hunter in pursuit like a Komodo dragon that had already struck poison into his prey.

a man of sea and mountain — mireille cried out in faux alarm as the rogue prodded her once more, and whirled, catamount, to bat claws along his muzzle. upward! up; flanks pulling and limbs long as the glacial wind filled her senses entire.
her body was in conflagration by the time the top of the path was seen; mireille turned now to grapple with her pursuer, hoping to throw him aside, to deter him; in her eyes and laughing mouth and the curve of her hips she said that he must continue a while longer if he wished his claim to be seen.

The bounty hunter knew no retreat. The danger of her was second to the prize. He sought her claws when she struck, hoping to overtake her while she was distracted — but the chase was on once more, and Catamaran was not dissuaded.

At the peak they faced each other, the woman with fierce heat and he with heavy-handed affection. There was a clamoring in his chest that cried touchmetouchmetouchme and he found no fault in her when she complied. Even a fight felt like lovemaking to a creature as starved as he. He took his lumps without rancor as he struggled to subdue her. Her green gaze was laughing; his own held traces of amusement amidst the burn of desire and a deeper adoration.

so silent! so somber; her teeth flashed once and then her lips were at his shoulder, no threat below them; she surged in his arms but her interest grew until softly in amusement she let his embrace tighten around her and at last lay back with crimson fur tousled and emerald eyes aglow.
their hearts raced with the impetus of their conflict; mireille looked up into the sculpted face above her own, and felt the answering pull low in her loins; an arched brow and she was pulling from under him, turning, hips lifted into his own with slow deliberation as the glacier seemed to pulse and spin beneath she and the saltwolf.

Warring shifted to an urgent tangle; the bounty hunter pressed close to feel her body burn against his own. For a moment, they were in each other's eyes, and Catamaran was gladly drowning. She moved, and he moved with her,

---

Time moved slowly, and then very fast. The woman stood, and Catamaran scrambled up with her, uncharacteristically clumsy. A sense of loss he knew would soon fade made him feel cold and ungainly. He watched her, unsurprised but just a little sad all the same. Soon, he would need to wash himself of her scent and return to either the hunt or the rise [mash] but for a little while, as was his wont, he had been able to pretend differently.

"Catamaran," he said to her back, the name rasping from his throat. "My name. If they ask."

<3

"catamaran."
they would not ask, and this truth was writ as much into mireille as she stretched before his eyes and tossed him a salacious look, though the set of her mouth said he should not follow.
he had fired her; the obsidian was pleased that the ocean had given her one of the salt-bound, but now she descended the glacier and sauntered off, deeper inland.
perhaps in some time she would discover if the man had given her new life, if that day she carried it.
mireille did not turn back.

The bounty hunter did not expect much from the woman. She did not offer her name in turn, and Catamaran did not ask for it. His part in this play was over, and the woman was quickly moving on. This was the way of things, and he did not resent it. He only needed a moment to come down from the height of his emotions, which were as much as draw as the biological imperative when he caught such scents in the air.

Soon, he was behind her entirely. The bounty hunter laid down to rest, giving her just a little more time to disappear before he made his way down the glacier himself.