Sleepy Fox Hollow But you're perfect being yourself

Etienne felt hollow and rung out. There had been too much on the last few days and each sharpening emotion from those around him set his own on edge.

He found a small tree that overlooked a bend in the river. If he sat right by it no one could really see him. He sighed as he stretched out. The sin shining gently down upon him.

He groaned softly as the muscles in his back so tight began to loosen a little and he began to slowly lose the tension.

The storm had passed and Ciri was once more on the move. It had blanketed the Sunspire range with a fresh sheet of snow that glistened in the midday Wintertime sun, a stark difference to the day prior when the grey-white blizzard forced her to seek shelter on the mountainside.

Her stride was careful, naturally, for Ciri had been born and reared on rugged terrain. She'd been young when her family relocated from Sawtooth but she knew she was close; she recalled how happy she'd been there in her early youth. Her memories there were good, and there was no bristling of her to be near her family's previous claim.

The swallow flared her nostrils at the distinct aroma of fox as she trailed her way through the hollow, though it was movement in the snow that caught her attention. With her pride still wounded following her confession to Chakliux and their inability to find a common ground, Ciri didn't feel much like making small-talk with a stranger. She moved to pass him by, sure to offer a thin smile on acknowledgement in passing should he glance her way, though had no desire to stop.

Pretty wolf colored in his mothers colors. It made him long for home. But she was here in the hollow and Anselm would be angry. So Etienne shifted and got to his feet. Though his body protested a little.

'ey you. You be in claimed territory. May want to go outside of de borders..

He didn't wish to cause issue, but he also didn't want to tickle the bear that lay sleeping in Anselm lately.

Sandy masked, golden eyes. Watched and waited unsure.

The stranger called out to her, and Ciri paused mid-stride to turn her face his way. She looked at him with hollow eyes, an edge of anxiety creeping into her being. Sorry, she mustered, and turned to hurry herself along.

Perhaps it was the snow or the overwhelming aroma of fox that hung in the air that'd masked any fresh markers, but she did not wish to cause offence in any way. Ciri trudged on through the hollow and did not look back.

Etienne almost followed her. That gaze was full of emptiness. And the healer inside him wanted to fix it. But she was moving too fast to get out of range. He could have run. But that could be misinterpreted.

So instead he watched her woth kind eyes and hoped he'd have a chance to help her another day, because goodness.

could I nab this for a trade? If Ciri has exited that is ok<3

 
Once again a scent broke through the borderlands, fading out along the crooked arm of the hollow’s river. He sniffed at her paw prints and was told a brief story; middling health, female, and old enough to know better. Anselm’s fur was on end as he set after the tracks, ready to sink his teeth in the interloper the second he saw her. 

Instead, her scent turned back away — but not before Etienne’s braided into the dirt. Anselm chuffed from across the river, nose to the air as he tried to parse from the language of the wilderness any remaining molecule to track. 

He threw back a hunter’s howl, hoping it reached the interloper so she might know his fangs were coming for her.

Final one from me

She carried on, as quick as the thick snow would allow, though she wasn't sure how far she would need to go until she could allow her muscles to slacken. The dark she-wolf heard the offended call of another rise up at her rear, far enough off that she was safe from his immediate pursuit.

Ciri did not fret. In time she would disregard the experience and forget about it, and attempt once more to find the joy she deserved.

Etienne didn't see Anselm, but he heard him. He jumoed a little, but turned towards it not away from. he was fairly certain the girl was long gone now.

But he also knew that wouldn't stop Anselm from chasing her scent aways.

His howl faded from the forest, and for a minute he was enveloped in the rushing silence of the woods. 

Anselm picked up a trot, following Ciri’s scent. The ground was hard, leaving little tracks — but he was able to isolate scents left by her footprints here and there, the occasional tuft of fur imparted on thorny shrubs. 

Nearby, he sensed rather than saw Etienne. Nose to the ground, Anselm pursued the now distant Ciri, content her tracks bid straight for the borders, but irritated nonetheless another itinerant broke their borders. 

He would double down on the borders where she had first crossed into the hollow - but first, he had to find it.

There was silence where Anselm's howl had been. A deep quaking silence that was heavy.

Etienne didn't follow directly behind Anselm. He fanned out a ways from him. He had a strong suspicion the girl had heeded him and was long gone from the border line.

Part of him hoped they didn't find her. She had been apologetic. And the fox scent did make it hard sometimes.

But he would follow and mark more borders. Anything to calm the agitation that stiffened the shoulders of the mountain boy with pretty eyes.

Occasionally, the scent trail broke and Anselm was forced to double back. 

On one such instance, he encountered the faded scent of Etienne. There was a paw’s imprint in the snow; its outline crisp and perfect. 

Silently, the man placed his paw print besides that of the seaborn — sea and earth, water and fire — two indelible marks in the snow that would fade like everything else. 

Anselm turned back to where he’d last found Ciri’s scent. She’d crossed into the hollow by the stream’s mouth. Here Anselm deposited a hefty stream of urine, scraping the snow and mud with his paws. His scent was pervasive here now — for good measure he rubbed his body along a score of low sagebrush. 

This ritual did little to placate Anselm. He dropped to the snow and rolled vigorously. When he rose, powdersnow stuck to his ruff. 

He shook the snow from his pelt and took stock of his work, silent as the stream rushed alongside him.

Etienne wasn't following her trail. Non. He was more so following the borders and remarking.

Even though he was tired and his brain buzzed with unwanted memories. And his emotions were still hard and tight beneath his breast bone. And his shoulders stiff with the weight of it.

He found Anselm finally. Standing quietly. The lime of frost dotting his frame already light. Each dot a crystal for the sun to shine in. He took a moment to appreciate it. Then slowly settled himself to his haunches. Not speaking.

Whether they sat like this or Anselm spoke or he left. Etienne was comfortable and wouldn't move.

The rustle of the stream continued. A settling came over Anselm as he watched the river water glint and sparkle. 

After a time, he was joined from a distance by Etienne. Anselm regarded him, wondering if he’d come after hearing his howl. He had no way to know that Etienne already knew the nature of his call, and so, with briskness that killed any sense of intimacy, Anselm rose and strode towards the seaborn. 

A voman crossed our borders here, I discovered her scent downriver. He scoffed at how clueless lone wolves could be. She is lucky I did not find her before she left our claim. I reinforced our scent by the stones where our markings vere faint. If she comes here again, she vill not like the outcome.

Etienne felt his body tense ever so slightly as Anselm came towards him with intent. Did he know Etienne hadn't struck her? Was he angry.

Etienne sighed and nodded. I know. I'm de one dat told 'er to leave. I was restin' w'en 'er passed by. Told 'er to leave or 'er be attacked. 'Er agreed and left. Den i reinforced de borders.

A paw tracing the dirt beneath. Unsure what was about to happen. Anselm gave him much more grace than most, but he also didn't like interlopers and preferred violence. But Etienne was not built this way.

Anselm’s expression cut to surprise. Etienne had already found her. 

The last of his outrage fizzled away. Anselm wanted to be annoyed that Etienne was too soft with interlopers — and in a way, he probably would always be irritated — but he recognized that softness was the only reason Etienne stayed by Anselm when he deserved better. 

Oh. Anselm said quietly, a little disappointed. But, the redeeming fact was Etienne had resecured their borders alongside him. Vell. That takes care of that.

He brushed his feet against the snow, rising to make his leave. And as much as he wanted to bask in the illuminating glow of the man that made his heart surprisingly tender, Anselm did not. There was still a reckoning inside of him that could not come to terms with its attraction to another man, and it was that ugliness that drove him to turn away from Etienne and finish marking elsewhere.