The Sunspire [m] sun born

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cloud singer, blood running into his eyes, his mouth, had worn a surprised look beneath the terror of his final words. perhaps he had not expected death. but it came all the same, muskrat's pleading in vain as two warriors held her and the others —

mouths stained in red, they had all dragged muskrat off when it was over, gorseberry at their head. destroyed by the sight of cloud singer lying limply in the moss, narrowing to a final glimpse and then nothing, her cries had been genuine. harrowing. 

her people had never made it back to six kills with muskrat. she did not even know how she had escaped the second time, or with what strength, but now she was here, blinking slowly back to the present as her body sang for a lover. 

rain again, slanting as she wandered.

makono had always wedged herself where a man belonged. prince, soldier, pharaoh. now she chased the scent of a woman as if she was equipped to handle this too.

she tried to not think on how she missed the roman's presence in the barren canyon below. how he might have guided her with the pointed direction of a general as she scaled now. he had made her a tactician in these lands and it showed in her expertise climbing, in her slinking prowl against stone walls.

makono could not give this woman children.

still she flexed her strength and even the marring of her features. peacocked for the woman to admire. she was committed to showing she was just as good as any man, if not better.

that did not mean this woman would think so.

hard yellow eye slitted to pantherine stare as footstep announced another. it was no man who came for muskrat, but a ranger with confident step and a single eye which burnt hunger.

a laugh rolled as if to say at last! and her own warrior's step carried her forward in appraisal only formal.

she had already accepted.

boldly her scarred muzzle lifted, tongue tasting the rainwater on the fur of the other's silent chest.

the woman was tiny. oh, but not frail by any means. makono could recognize (and admire) the strength of a coyote in ones blood.

they both wore marks of warriors upon their faces.

in the face of another, those eyes might have akin to bright spring flowers. in this face it was the brilliant gaze of Ra. makono knew she did not need to whisper prayers or poems to woo this one, though.

she pressed herself into the woman's touches. lapis gaze looked down. she opened her teeth to comb the neck of the one that took shelter from the storm in the cradle of her chest.

the tactician was nearly startled to find herself so fearless in navigating this unknown.

[mature]heavy suggestion onward[mature]

muskrat responded powerfully, all the beautiful fluted demand of the season pulsing hot as emberlick in her veins. fighters responding to one another. she felt for the hard strength of those seeking arms, the turning shoulders, and did not find the stranger wanting.

there in the grass she drew the goldmade figure down, muscled bellies in a firm collision.

for a moment, citrine stare beheld the curve of elegant kohl around the remaining eye, and wondered, and then wound her arms around the wiry body. she wanted to wonder no longer, think no longer.

the last she had been laid in grass like this —

her face burned and wounds long healed ached much like her longing did. it all burned up within her, or maybe within that fired gaze of the one who held her this time.

just like the burning woman, makono did not want to wonder or think anymore.

she meant to use her divine blood to bring the pleasures of gods down upon earth, upon the point of this mountain and more importantly upon this woman.

and she meant to stay in the moments after, too, if they did not turn into warriors at-odds in the wake of this tangle.

she was carved into a spearpoint and remade a thousand times. in return, the raiding-spirit rose competitively; she took her swain through an athletic tour of hipbones slotted together in ways men would never comprehend.

she sat up first, another victory; she could not come fully to her feet, and so extended her forelegs to hold herself, panting softly and watching the glowing figure sprawled in the grass of the mountain which had guarded her for so long.

no words, only a long look which held as the moments became irrelevant.

her thoughts were selfish in the wake of her.

she found that she would hate if a man tarnished the beautiful polished she had placed upon this rough-cut gem. she was too content to lay upon the ground as if she continued to soak in the remaining divinity they had created. she thought of how she could become a violent guard of the fire in this woman.

this one had awoken something within her. how did you return such a thing?

she reached with long limbs to pull the tiny figure close again, as if she might threaten another bout of heaven. perhaps not so soon! but greedy devoured her mind, her innards.

her thoughts followed along a similar path, and the reach of the stranger stoked the natural flame of the season into a conflagration once more. muskrat felt rather inexhaustible; she devoted the next span of time to a slower exploration, one punctuated with gentle laughter and still, no words; her palms were pleased by the lithe ranger arching beneath them.

the second time they came away, muskrat was at last weakened for now, and lay breathless and rainwet, and quite vitally alive.

a curious smile now came to her as she turned her face against the tangled grass and gazed thoughtfully at the woman who had answered her call upon this mountain.

she had no illusion of this being some kind of budding love blossoming upon rain watered mountain grass. it was something else that felt like every worship, every prayer, every song had suddenly exploded within her chest.

she could not breathe. her laughter was golden and radiant as it had once been even as she choked on the season flame of this woman.

no. something more divine than just a woman. makono would have bled a thousand horses to keep this holy one pleased.

there was comfort in being able to match her breathing and her pulse with the now settled warrior at her side. there were no gnashing teeth or even being driven off to be replaced by a man.

none could tame you, her voice a hoarse whisper. but i want to hunt you.

radiant, poetried, gleaming; muskrat was filled with pride and an unwavering light as the woman used tone to proclaim something she did not need to fully understand.

the sharks'-teeth glinted in a feral grin that was breathless in its own right, her touch raising to caress that marvelled cheek, the lips that moved in desire.

and there was nothing of men about it.

enlivened, she rolled to her paws and pulled the goldblonde up with her, mouths meeting in the same sacred fire beneath the gathering rain.

muskrat's laugh glowed; she leapt aside, then ran for the summit of the mountain with the other in feverish pursuit, or so she hoped, testing herself against the rugged sprawl of folded mountainslopes.

the mountains could have flooded and it would not have put out this burning.

why had she waited so long for this? maybe because she had not known it would be a woman! and with a woman she felt no fear, no worrying of the vying vipers of men come to steal her divinity.

here things were leveled. the positions when bedding one another did not change the power they swayed over each other.

a man would have left her to lay, would have taken the head start.

instead there was only the smallest, nearly playful, sliver of time between their starts. makono expected to be matched here too! surely this one had not picked the mountain to hide within for its ease of access. she ached deeply with memories of training and found she longed for a military life once more, perhaps.

but her future (brief or not, she could not tell) was shaped in the tiny frame of a coywolf.

makono ran as if she had no fear of falling on rain slick slopes.

once she did almost fall, slipping dangerously upon the stone necklace which hugged the neck of the mountain. any further and the air would thin too much for a run. it was here she veered right, leading her companion upon a series of leaping vaults which the pale panther took in full stride.

her breath, caught in mouthfuls when muskrat landed in another almost-sprawl on the far side, and felt her legs made jellied for a third time though the reason was different. the rain was good upon her face; the fire sparked in her again. "sacsayhuamán," she said at last for the stranger's soaring step, her voice a husky song, her tongue offering a word that flowed so near to what the other was that the gods surely smiled to see it.

an approach on fluted feet, fiery wings, pressing the other lightly back against the mountainside while lightning flashed over the forests far below them now.

a chase, a challenge, a course.

it was not as easy as it once was, but she found she cherished that too. learning exactly how to see the world again was something no one could have ever taught her. it was a task she must grapple on her own — not dissimilar to how she wished to grapple the tiny figure in this game.

game — this was much more than that.

sacsayhuamán.

between them this would become her name. a good tactician wore many disguises and knew their uses in each encounter. her heart did not need to know what it meant to feel its weight.

here, pressed against a wet stone wall, she felt undone. as if her unexpected lover had snipped the ribbons that held together her image. intoxicated and dizzied by perfumes and mountain airs. lightning could have set the whole forest below on fire and she would not have seen it beyond —

she was leaning in for another kiss before she could think anymore.

their searchings were unhurried here, and perhaps there was a tree or two lit afire that night. but there was no wildfire that might concern the two more than that which was encouraged over and again between them. petrichor and the taste of the wild world, rainwater and the tangle of her companion's nape.

sounds to savor, to eke in more volume from the poured-cream column of that throat strangely delicate despite the bearing of a seasoned warrior. her mouth explored the scars, those seen, those unseen, parting the pale-gold fur to breathe upon the pinked skin beneath.

there was everywhere. there was nowhere. the earth was fallen away, the heavens swallowing them in another slow whirl of stormy stars.

she did not move in a manner that suggested the roughness she might be capable of. the things shared here were as sacred as any holy ritual. she was devout, worshipful at this shrine given earthly form.

her throat could have been punctured by teeth and she was certain the wonders of night would have hid it until the aches settled in at dawn.

it pained her how she might burn whole empires for this one.

tell me, her voice could not raise above a whisper! does a place trap you? does another await you? a tightening grip around a waist spoke of how jealousy might burn her if the answer was yes.

possessiveness? she listened for it, tonguetip caught between her teeth as mischief scampered across her face. pushing her hips against those of her taller companion, muskrat faced up into the fierce face made soft by their loving.

"live in creek." why don't you leave? 

"for now." her citrus eyes grew resolute. "but no one waiting for me." 

she said it with a pang, but this was the way of things. no attachments in the creekwater camp meant freedom for muskrat, a freedom which lived in her eyes and the set of her jaw; she was a feral creature, an animal wife who wished only to belong to herself.

for now.

and does this creek fill your every want? every need? clearly not, otherwise this rough cut gem would not have returned to stone bedding as if it belonged here instead. it would have stayed at that creekside for someone there to polish. it would have been guarded!

but freedom, so sweeter than any honeyed berries, had brought them together.

her lips became familiar with the facial scars of this warrior again, aware that she blurred boundaries between them by asking such things.

her mind considered akavir, arlette, arric, contemplated the boy who had wrapped his arms around her waist and the woman in front of her now, scintillating with want.

a deep, horrible pain lurched as she thought of cloud singer.

the kiss warmed her skin, but she guarded the cold jeweling of her heart forever, and for all.

she did not answer, closing her eyes beneath the warm brush of the other's mouth.

"i will go back." if only to show akavir something more about himself: that he did not know her and so spoke with unearned authority.

"you will find me again, sacsayhuamán?" it had been so long. too long, since cloud singer's bloodied face had been so thoroughly shoved from every single one of her thoughts.

not now, her eyes conveyed. stay here until this time is over.

the one who could not be tamed was chained by something. she would not pretend she did not understand. so she kissed again and again, only a low hum in her throat for the moment.

i told you i would hunt you.

did she not feel that tether them? that when makono spoke it she meant it?

the greatest hunts are not one night. they may be weeks or months of tracking only. then begins the true hunt.

her voice was whispers over scarskin, promises and prayers. binding magic meant to tie them in a way that meant makono may be successful in seeing this one again.

but now was not time to part yet, they both knew this in the long look they shared.

nowhere was home for muskrat; she had not felt any sense of settlement since she had come. a goodly portion of this was due to the fact that she had arrived beneath duress, another was the way she had come to the creek at all.

and the last part was nothing more than the notion of a warrior incensed.

softly she reached to kiss the bottom of that open socket, silent where another gemstone eye might have once gleamed down at muskrat.

the true hunt.

"i look for you in trees, in rain." her voice was soft to hide the twisting unsurety of committing herself to anything or anyone, even a moment unknown on the horizon.

but she did this, and laced them together with another gentle press of stormlaced bodies. purposefulness; she craved this more than a home, and what greater purpose could now be sought if not the embrace of the eagle-woman?