Firefly Glen Take you like a drug;

The forest lay silent in the wake of his hunt. Cole, steady and efficient, had claimed a lean rabbit without much fuss, its small weight hanging from his jaws as he turned back toward the wolves of Bearclaw Valley. Pine needles crunched lightly beneath his paws, a rhythm familiar as his thoughts already shifted to the evening back in camp.

But a scent drifted through the crisp air, halting him mid-step—a scent unmistakably feminine, carrying an earthy richness mixed with hints of intrigue. It coiled around him, distinct and unexpected, a tether pulling his gaze off his intended path. He blinked, his head tilting ever so slightly as his senses adjusted, honing in on this new arrival or perhaps a wanderer along the fringes of the valley.

Cole adjusted his hold on the rabbit, muscles tensed under his coat, aware of his own presence now lingering on the border.

---

@Arnarkla

Fortune was a wave of the sea, rolling in and then pulled back out. She haunted scent trails of elk herds, tracks of the odd critter. Fate had pulled her luck away it seemed. 

The wraith wandered past the spires that had caught her moonlit gaze. Hunger was beginning to nest in the pit of her innards. 

A rabbit's scent had caught her nose and she followed unhurriedly, conserving energy. It proved to be a fruitless endeavor—another had been faster. Her tongue lapped at her nose, nostrils flared. The smell of wolf was soon found, intermingled in the rabbit. 

Haunted eyes fell upon the victor in the distance. She stood in place, staring, unaware that his gaze was searching for her. A short sigh tumbled out.

Cole stood rooted in the clearing, the stillness around him broken only by the quiet rustle of the trees and the lingering scent of his freshly caught rabbit. His gaze swept over the landscape, scanning the shadows and the rocky outcrops nearby, yet he caught no movement. The air was thick with the scent of another wolf, layered beneath the wild tang of the rabbit. Someone was near—hungry, perhaps cautious, and lingering just beyond his line of sight.

He could hear her.

A huff flooded his hears, and he knew then for sure he wasn't losin' his mind. She was here. Waiting, stalking him.

With the rabbit dangling from his mouth, he held his ground, muscles coiled and ready but with no intention of aggression. He tipped his head slightly, speaking into the night, low and steady.

I ain't gonna hurt 'ya.

Her left ear flicked as her head tilted at the voice. Common tongue with a gruff, bone idle cadence. It took a beat to decipher. The distance between and his looking away made the words sound like dandelion seeds had whispered them into her ear. 

She took a couple steps forward. He was a wolf with a kill, she neither desperate enough nor dim-witted to come off as a threat. 

Nevertheless, the mountain wolf could still tease: But could you?

Accent thick, the words of common felt like molasses on her tongue.

Cole’s gaze swept over her slowly, taking in the rich, dark browns of her coat—a rugged beauty that seemed carved by the wilds themselves. She was composed, neither edging too close nor retreating, with eyes that held a hint of mischief beneath their guarded caution.

The rabbit hung still between his teeth as he sized her up, unmoving, like he had all the time in the world. When he finally spoke, his words were low, a quiet conviction in his tone.

Yes, he rumbled, his voice carrying a subtle weight. Then, with a hint of that southern charm lacing his words, he added, But I’m a gentleman.

A gentleman, he claimed. 

Words only mean so much.

But she could agree he could hurt her. He had the height and the bulk. She wouldn't be surprised if there were trophies of past brawls marring his skin. 

Arnarkla wondered if he thought she couldn't. 

Moonlit eyes briefly flicked to the rabbit. She swallowed to abate the stomach that threatened to growl. It was food she needed, not conversation; even if, so far, she was entertained by the "gentleman".

]Cole watched her gaze flicker to the rabbit, a subtle interest that didn’t escape his attention. With a quiet, unceremonious motion, he let the catch fall from his jaws to the ground, nudging it forward in a silent offering as his eyes returned to her.


Could you? he asked, voice low and steady, holding her gaze with an intensity that was calm yet unyielding.

Then, after a beat, he added with quiet curiosity, Would you?

It wasn’t just a question of hunger, and the words hung between them, charged with an undercurrent that hinted at more than just a meal shared on the edge of the wilderness.

Haunting gaze flicked back when the rabbit fell. She watched him nudge the kill toward her. A sharp breath was drawn in. Her eyes narrowed, blades set on whetstone. A wolf that could give was a well-fed one—a comfortable one. She wielded a glacier's pride but it was suspicion that held her back like the raptor that had gripped her shoulders. 

The eye contact was maintained, even when it made her flesh warm that cool, autumnal night. 

If need be, she said. Lack of faith lowered her voice. 

Was this a test?

Cole held her gaze a moment longer, taking in the quiet strength that simmered beneath her suspicion. The flicker of something honest in her response struck a chord, one he wasn’t often willing to admit lingered within himself.

His voice broke the silence, low and steady. Then I guess we ain’t so different.

A slight nod followed, a silent recognition that perhaps both of them, in their own ways, had tread paths shaped by necessity rather than choice. He glanced down at the rabbit, nudging it just a bit closer, his approval clear, waiting to see if she would accept.

There was a subtle twitch of her left ear at his words. He nudged the corpse nearer, insistent. She felt a pang in her gut that made her muscles flex under her coat to keep the organ silent. 

Arnarkla continued toward him with measured steps. As she neared, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She had heard the sincerity but a part of the mountain wolf waited to see his mandible unhinge and show pearly teeth and ropes of saliva as he lunged. 

And then the rabbit was at her paws. She shifted to keep him on her left. 

Takk, she uttered in the mountain tongue; the gratitude in her voice would provide enough translation.

Cole gave a faint nod, recognizing the gratitude wrapped in her single word. "Takk." It was simple, spoken low, but the weight of her thanks lingered in the cool air between them. His gaze met hers for a heartbeat, steady and unwavering, before he moved a step back and lowered himself to sit, easing his massive frame into a silent watchfulness.

Settling his shoulders, he kept his focus on her, waiting as she began to eat, undisturbed. Her cautious approach, her precise movements as she kept him within her line of sight—it all held his attention in quiet regard. There was a patience in his stillness, as if content to just be here, letting her take what she needed, no words necessary.

The pale eyes softened a little when the male took a step back. She regarded the kill on the ground, and then her lips moved to mouth two muted words like a silent prayer. Afterward, she placed a paw on the rabbit to hold it down as she began to tear the soft underbelly with her fangs. 

Her left ear swiveled toward the stranger if he might speak while she ate—or change his mind. Arnarkla intended to help herself to only some of the innards before wrenching off a hind leg. The rest would be left for the hunter.

Cole watched her begin, the faintest smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He appreciated her quiet reverence; it spoke of respect, not just hunger. When she moved with a restrained precision, as if she planned to take only a sliver, he cleared his throat softly and gestured to the rabbit.

Go on, take what you need, he drawled, his tone warm but firm. Else I'll end up fat, and that won't do me any favors.

A touch of humor softened the edges of his words, but his stance remained easy, resolute. He held his ground, content to wait, offering her space to take her fill.

"Take what you need."

She swallowed her first mouthful before regarding him from under her lashes. Her tail twitched at her hocks. The candlelight of an imp shined in moonlit eyes. 

Mind your words—I can be more selfish than one thinks.

Arnarkla took another bite. Her muzzle was stained from the cavity she made.

Cole's eyes remained steady on her, the faintest hint of amusement softening his gaze as he watched her with a silent, unspoken understanding. He’d seen the sharpness in those who fought their way to a meal, the tension in their shoulders, the guarded way they held themselves. The whisper of a warning in her tone only made him huff softly, unconcerned.

A hungry animal should never be cornered, he said quietly, his voice carrying a touch of that roughened charm. He meant it—respectful of the hunger that could turn any creature wild, willing to let her take what she needed without the slightest sign of fear or judgment. The way she guarded her meal, the fierce set of her jaw, only made his regard grow.

There’s nothing wrong in taking what keeps you strong, he remarked, his tone a mixture of quiet acceptance and resilience. He respected the instinct, the survival drive, and if she claimed more, he’d not begrudge her that.

She made a soft hum at his words. 

Are we still only speaking of food? she asked. Taking what makes one strong. 

Regrettably, Arnarkla's appetite was dampened in the presence of a stranger, in spite of all his camaraderie. The gentleman. 

She held the carcass on its shoulder to tear off a hind leg before taking a few steps back. A nod toward the remains said "All yours" before she settled onto her haunches; tail wrapped around her.

Cole raised a brow at her words, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly in amusement. The hum of her tone had his ears flecking, but he'd remain tall. 

Only if that's what you'd wish, he'd grumble, watching her. As she settled onto her haunches, he couldn’t help but notice the grace in her movements, even with the carcass still in her grasp.

With a tepid step forward, he'd grab the remaining rabbit and tear it apart with ease. For a large man, the poor hare didn't stand a chance. With a few guzzling gulps, it was gone. Bones crunched with his molars, he left one remaining, using it as a means to pick out the excess cartilage from his teeth. 

Y'got a name, stranger?

Her eyes shined at his words but she remained silent. For a moment, there was only the din of crunched bones and smacking jaws and leaves aflutter, those that desperately clung to the barren branches and the ones that littered the glen's floor. 

When only bones remained, the mountain wolf had lowered onto her underbelly. The small femur was restrained between her paws as she worked the bone between her molars, snapping it in half, and then lapped at the marrow she could access. 

The request for a name had her left ear flick before her eyes followed, landing on the man. She supposed he had earned it. 

Arnarkla.

Cole observed the way her eyes sparkled with intrigue, and he couldn’t help but let a small smile touch his lips.

Cole, he introduced himself, his tone steady yet warm. Pleasure, Arnarkla. He watched as she settled comfortably, savoring the last remnants of her meal.

After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, curiosity getting the better of him. Are you from 'round here? he asked, his voice genuine. The glen was a place he knew well, but he was eager to learn about her and the stories she carried with her.

Cole. It suited him. She made a small dip of her head with a slow blink of her eyes to say "likewise". 

Upon becoming mindful of the blood and gore on her muzzle, she lapped at her whiskers. She dampened the side of her paw with her tongue before dragging it across the sides of her muzzle. 

When asked about her locality, she said: No.

She regarded Cole upon deciding her face was clean enough. A spot was missed on the bridge of her nose. 

Are you?

Cole’s gaze remained fixed on her, a quiet amusement flickering in his eyes as he shook his head. Neither, he replied, voice steady. But I’ve become a pledge to Bearclaw Valley.

Watching her wipe at the blood smudges on her muzzle, he noted the small patch left on the bridge of her nose. After a pause, he rose to his feet and approached her, each step unhurried, respecting the space between them. When he was close enough, he leaned down, his own muzzle mere inches from hers, his voice dropping to a murmur.

You missed a spot, he said, a hint of warmth threading through the quiet words. His pale gaze lingered, steady and unwavering, before pulling back, allowing her the choice to close the space between them—or not.

The wording caught her attention. Pledge.

Is that what this place is called— her eyes drifted around to take in the area surrounding them before returning to the male— or a pack?

Brought awareness to it now, she noticed the scent of others, though faint. Recently pledged, she thought. Perhaps that explained how comfortable he appeared. 

Arnarkla watched his approach, eyes shadowed to slits. She didn't move, if only for fact her vitals were safer that way. The muscles in her neck went taut as his head lowered toward hers. 

A missed spot. 

The mere mention of it made her snout itch, a muscle in her hind leg flexed but she remained a statue. Her ears twitched back, and then her skull canted upward in a subtle, wordless relent. She wasn't opposed but she would watch closely.

Cole gave a small shake of his head, the shadow of a grin tracing his lips. Not quite, he drawled, gaze shifting from her to the area around them. It’s where a gatherin' is for a pack hunt. I’ll be headin' back home with them. The implication hung there, both an explanation and an invitation in his tone.

He closed the gap between them, his breath warm as he leaned in, his rough tongue sweeping across the missed spot on her muzzle with a firm, insistent touch. The texture of his tongue was unyielding but careful, intent on wiping her clean. She didn’t flinch or turn away, her gaze staying steady on him, and he couldn’t help but admire her composure beneath the closeness.

Satisfied, he drew back and met her gaze once more, a question flickering in his eyes. Would you like to join?

Home. Quaint. Undoubtedly, he was their muscle. None of his words implied he possessed any kind of authority, unless he was truly so humble. 

The blemish on her muzzle was groomed. Despite her stoicism, her ears had warmed and she had held her breath until he stepped back. She let out the breath as softly as she could, avoiding a sigh. 

The invitation reined her mind from wandering. She hummed with contemplation. 

Well, I have grown rather attached to my autonomy.

The idea of being bossed around tasted bitter. Never mind the presence of strangers she would likely be expected to share space with. 

How did they manage to lure you? she asked, head tilting. 

He seemed sociable enough yet he carried an aura of independence.

Cole’s gaze lingered on her, catching the slight shift in her composure—the way her ears flushed, and her breath hitched beneath his touch, even as she held herself firm and unaffected. He allowed himself a faint grin, a subtle spark of amusement at her hum of contemplation.

He shrugged, glancing toward the distant mountains. Even a wolf fond of autonomy can’t dodge the winter’s bite forever, he said with a slight tilt to his voice, as if he himself hadn’t quite come to terms with it.

They ain't care where I came from. What I've done. He gave a brief gruff, taking the time to know that he wasn't exactly a gentle soul, though with his tongue against her muzzle one would guess otherwise. Reckon they're good folks, he muttered, not entirely convinced, but the jury's still out.