Dragoncrest Cliffs but really when it comes down to it

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sobeille had not been expecting visitors, so when a solitary shadow leaned into the den, she sat upright in her bed of peltskins. it took several seconds for her eyes to adjust and her head to stop spinning — but when they focused on the features of the visitor, her gaze brightened.

@Ajei! sobeille exclaimed, ignoring the wince of her stomach as she reached for her friend. the last time they’d touched, something akin to an electrical impulse had fluttered its way up her skin that made contact; she held that sensation in her heart ever since. it pleases me to see your face. she tried on kukutux’s warm greeting, finding it cleanly fit behind the lilt of her tongue.

ajei’s face was inscrutable. as sobeille pulled away, she saw her friend’s gaze flicker — and it was then she caught the shape of someone else behind her.

@Arrluk. sobeille’s expression darkened. she tried to ignore him as she sat propped up in bed, giggling with her friend as ajei showed her the pelts she’d brought, the little stones she’d collected, and the soft capeskin worn across her slender neck like kukutux. seeing the delicacy of her skin there, how close to the surface the blood came in tiny pulses beneath ajei’s fur, sobeille was mesmerized by dark obsession. 

but arrluk was still there; each time they giggled she saw his looming shadow, and finally, feeling her fever and stomach ache recede in the warm rays of light her friend provided, sobeille suggested they go outside.

she did not remember how they arrived at glintwater, or even what she had said to ajei to send her away — maybe to a cache, or to go back to the den to collect the pelt she’d left behind — but as ajei left sobeille rounded upon arrluk, studying his handsome face and wondering just what in him inspired so much ugliness in her heart.

he was not wholly without appeal. she understood why ajei — sweet ajei— found attraction in him. he was muscular in a way that thrilled sobeille; not so much out of sexual atteaction, but for the rough power behind each ripple of his flesh. the thrilling intrigue of what lay beneath it — corded white viscera, ropy lengths of sinew mottled with merlot and soft pinks — an intimate and exhilarating scene that had sobeille imagining the noise his ligaments might make when stripped back from gleaming white bone.

she showed him the bank and pointed out the blue heron stalking the reeds. as his eyes — so glacial in their glass-water green — traced the heron’s graceful stalk in wonder, sobeille seized the back of his head and bashed his skull against the stone.

her blood soared as adrenaline rocketed around her skull, her breath in ragged gasps of excitement. she held his head underwater as he bucked and again felt that sinister energy ripple through her, ending with a climax that sent a gasping shudder through the flame-licked aching of her belly.

she did not know how long she stood there, the proud hunter staked over the felled body of her conquest — but eventually, she left his muddied and limp form floating between bobbing reeds.

ajei.

back at the den sobeille slipped into her friend’s warm embrace, senses engulfed by the scent of her skin, the velveteen of her soft fur. hers, hers to have and to hold and to cherish and to gently wipe away the beautiful tears that framed the soft girl’s face when she learned of arrluk’s horrible fall, how his head cracked open with the contents spilled out like sodden fluff. and sobeille, legs flaked with mud, had retrieved him from the still-waters but it was too late —

sobeille woke with a scream, the pleasures of her dream forgotten as another curse knifed through her gut.