Morningside Cuesta tamon

water dappled into the afternoon light as heda shook her red hackles beneath a gentle downpour. she pointed solemnly over the edge of the cuesta to the remains of an elk cow and a deer stag.
"they ran off the cliff," heda said to @Anselm, swinging down with a practiced and expert nature to pluck meat from amid muddy bones. "i helped, i guess."
there was amusement in her today, glimmering for a moment as she collected enough meat to fill a cache as she'd done every few days since.

The splatter of rain caused scent molecules in the air to almost percolate; Anslem could sense the rotting meat well before he spotted it. 

Heda leapt down the tumbled stones with ease. Anselm watched her for a moment, expression inscrutable — before he carefully descended. 

At the base with the dead bodies, Anselm studied the ascent. He was impressed with Heda’s indirect kills, but said nothing complimentary. Ve could drag them up together. He suggested, though the cliff face was daunting enough the task would be difficult.

"i hadn't considered it. i didn't think it was something i could do alone," heda remarked, glancing up from where she pulled entrails into the open.
like anselm, she was careful. the butchering took most of her focus, thankfully enough. yet then she made as if to cut the skin from around a skull, instead slipping in the mud with an exclamation of surprise and anger.

A charnel house. Anselm eyed the slope distrustfully as Heda slipped down it, following in mince-step.  She set to work, gristle riming her cheek and flank. He was unmoved, up until she slipped. 

It was strange how quickly he reached for her — and caught himself just before he was to catch her. He shook his ruff out and turned, ashamed by the lingering feeling he felt die between them. Are you alright?

a line of mud trailed along the pale fur. heda did not look at anselm, feeling foolish for — many reasons.
in silence she passed him the pieces of carcass. they could pile them along the clifftop and bring them to rivenwood by trips.
ravens alighted. the den mother rocked back on her haunches to watch them, fore-ankle to weary cheek staining even more earth there below her eye.
the clock.

Heda did not answer — but she did not have to. Her silence communicated well what she felt; Anselm was not so kind as to reassure her that slipping happened to everyone. Instead, he set to the grueling task of bringing each meat chunk Heda disunited from the carcass uphill. 

Ravens collected along the lip of the cliff side. Anselm gave them a disapproving stare, challenging their bold approach with a snap of his teeth. Each time he did so they cleverly leapt out of reach, only to flutter down in a new spot several yards away. 

The stack grew higher, the raven count grew bigger, and Anselm grew more tired as he worked in grim quiet along the woman who deserved so much more than his taciturn silence.

we can keep going or have a new one sometime! <3

from time to time, heda glanced up to watch anselm driving off the large dark birds, careful to try and keep their eyes from meeting at any moment.
when she felt as if enough had been cut, she hauled herself up the slick cliffside to join him, stained to the hips in mud. had she been thinking, she might have brought a hide to at least drag some pieces upon. as it was, heda only gathered what she could carry and started back along the wet trails for home.

i think a new one would be refreshing <3

At some point during one of his many charges at the growing dark swarm of birds, Anselm turned back to see Heda had cleared the mound. She was covered in mud; it was a jarring visual, but it inspired in him an appetite he was not expecting. 

He shoved it aside, careful to avoid her gaze too. There was much left unsaid, much he wished to share — but in this moment he did not trust himself to shatter the illusion of their tentative peace. 

He seized what meat he could, just like she did — and in familiar silence they made for home while a chorus of ravens swarmed the remaining pile.