Firefly Glen made it out alive, but I think I lost it

The morning light paints the outskirts of the valley in amber, lacquering tree bark crimson and blades of grass a warming green. Paler blues mount the midnight sky to wash away the darkness. As rays of warmth began to soak into charcoal fur, the woman stirred with a croaked groan, dark lashes fluttered open. Pushing back against stiff muscles, Gjalla forced an upright position. She doesn't wait for the wave of vigilance to reclaim her body before pivoting from the ridge, tracing the stone path back into the heart of the glen. 

The gnawing hunger in her belly guides her steps, urging her onward as she moves with purpose. Black-tipped ears curve to the sound of rushing water - it spins webs in her mind, an old familiarity to when the woman committed the Stormrift's rivers to memory. Her body turns rigid before she registers his figure, their scent stinging the inside of her nose – a stranger. Competition, if she was particularly unlucky.

She stood at the edge of the clearing, her ebony-blue form framed by the shadows of the trees. The princess was half tempted to turn, leave them to their solitude, and drink downriver and hunt elsewhere so she would not have to deal with them, but Gjalla did not pride herself on cowardice. Begrudgingly, the woman pads forward. She maintains the gap between them, lingering at the opposite side. The water ripples against her paws as she dips her head, pink tongue lapping at the liquid in eerie silence. Periwinkle eyes do not leave them, no, staring daggers at the beast.

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all welcome !! bring me your dogs...

Ameline returned to her campsite with the haunch of an elk in tow. For her hungry daughters, it would be breakfast- she’d selected the hunk of meat (complete still with the rest of the leg and hoof) from the leftovers before the sun had risen so that they could eat as soon as they awakened. 

Blue eyes- as bright and cool as sapphires- peered up hungrily as the woman drank. Ameline inhaled, and from the woman, she could smell only frost, and the pine-like scent of juniper. 

Ameline had once been a starving orphan- so she knew what hungry looked like. But she could also see potential in the woman’s form, health in her coat, and intelligence in her expression. 

She set the elk haunch down, and chuckled lightly. You jutht wandered into about the betht plathe on earth for a loner. She said, quietly, so she might not awaken those who slept still.

Gjalla eyed the elk haunch with muted interest, her gaze flicking to the black and golden she-wolf. The lisp, soft and almost melodic, grated in her ears, and she resisted the urge to narrow her eyes. Practicality first; her tolerance could come later. There was time, yet, for the woman to earn her ire.

Gjalla narrowed her eyes, skimmed over the woman’s form appraising her like a potential threat before letting them slide to the meat at her paws. The chunk of elk dangling in her jaws, the glint of that hauntingly blue gaze, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her maw.

The warm scent of blood taunts her, makes her salivate while her stomach snarls. "Convenient, is it?" she murmured, voice low as her gaze swept over the meat and then the woman. Fortunate, perhaps, but best was generous. "No more convenient the meal you hold." To her, at least. Though Gjalla was no diplomat—not anymore—she wasn't above persuading the girl to share.

She shrugged her shoulder. "If yuh lookin' fuh thomeone, thith ith ya betht chanthe to find 'em. If yuh lookin' for food...Well, there'th that too- fuh trade. An' if yuh lookin' fer a pack to join," She said, and gestured broadly to the Glen- where more than half a dozen packs mixed, mingled, and traded. She'd essentially just wandered into a job market, and everybody was hiring. "Take your pick." She said with a chuckle.

If the woman wanted to be alone, then she would have steered clear of the glen. "Tho," She said, flicking her tongue across her lips. The woman's mention of the elk meat did not go without notice, but she wasn't offering handouts to everyone; not when she was curious. "You come here jutht in hopeth of findin' a bite to eat, or are you lookin' fer thomethin' elthe?"

She stepped forward, tracing her tongue over her muzzle in thought. The glen offered prospects, something she hadn’t come by in a long time—places to scout, people to avoid, and just maybe, a few souls worth keeping around. There was potential in such a network; that much was true. She wasn’t one for charity or for blind loyalty, not after what she'd lived and seen. A pack could wait. For now, she’d take what she could, be it food or anything else useful.

A welcoming attitude— though a stranger willing to trade, to barter—seemed more a trap than a kindness. She’d seen generosity turn tooth and claw enough times not to trust its smell—old habits die hard, after all. "And what of you?" she allowed, almost grudgingly. "For trade, I mean." A pointed glance to the elk's limb was telling; Gjalla did not have much, but the princess had always been fond of elk.

Everyone was looking for something- and by the way the woman perked up, Ameline could sense that she was searching. For what, or for who, she didn’t know- but when the woman’s hungry gaze fell upon the elk’s leg, she guessed that she hoped to find her next meal here. 

Hungry, huh? She asked. I know the look, I got five daughterth, She said with a grin. That being said, it was her priority to feed them first, not every stranger she found on the way. You got anythin’ to trade or am I gonna hafta barter on yuh behalf? There was more than enough food- it would take little more than a promise to take another share. And her promise might be more valuable than that of a lone wolf.

Gjalla scoffed at the suggestion, a smirk curling on her lips despite the wary edge in her eyes. Trade, promise—everything came with a price, even here in this supposedly ideal glen of plenty. She wasn't about to promise a thing she couldn't deliver, and she had nothing to offer this woman but her own grit and perhaps a debt, though she'd bite her tongue off before she admitted it.

"Trading promises isn’t my way," she answered coolly, though her gaze lingered on the elk's leg, hunger gnawing at her patience. She shifted her stance, claws flexing in the soil. "But I know how to hunt, track, fight." Her eyes flashed, the blue of her gaze cold and sharp as steel. "If that’s of value to you, then we’ve got a deal. Otherwise, I’ll find my own meal—don’t need anyone to speak for me."

She offered trade skills- valuable ones- but here, where food was plenty and fights were unnecessary, Ameline knew that there was more value in goods. She seemed empty-handed; but perhaps she could barter with her skills if Ameline could find a way to put them to use...And her lips curled into a smile as an idea dawned on her. 

She stretched, tilting her head to one side and then the other, rolling her scarred shoulders to loosen them up. I think I have an idea, if yuh up for it, She said. How'th about you an' me have a thpar- not a thuper theriouth one, no blood, She said, I coult uthe the practithe. Gimme a good thpar, an' you can have thith. Thound fair?

Gjalla’s ears swiveled, interest piqued. "A spar." she echoed, rolling the word on her tongue as if testing its weight. Her gaze flicked to the elk haunch, a tempting reward for so simple a task. She wasn’t someone unfamiliar with a fight, and Gjalla’s blood stirred at the thought of a challenge—even a measured one.

But her stomach growled, and her body yearned for sustenance more than carnage. She shrugged as she stepped forward, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. "Very well," she conceded. "On you're mark." Her paws dug into the earth, her muscles coiling like a spring. The hunger in her belly was momentarily forgotten, replaced by the sharp edge of anticipation.

There was a risk to challenging a stranger to a duel, especially when her opponent had more on the line. She had family nearby, and a whole league of wolves who would intervene if she found herself falling under an unfair attack. She was punching above her weight, challenging the tall and stately wolf, but the potential danger of the situation made the battle seem all the more exciting. 

Ameline eyed her opponent, admiring her for her strength, grateful that she accepted the invitation. She grinned as she set her paws, tail lashing behind her as she tested out her own balance. Get thet, She continued, a glint in her glacial eyes.

Gjalla’s muscles tensed as Ameline set herself, eyes never leaving her. The playful grin, the readiness in the she-wolf’s stance, it all fed into the thrill of what was to come. There was a certain beauty in the way the woman balanced, preparing for the clash. For a moment, Gjalla allowed herself to appreciate that—though her expression remained cold, a flicker of respect passed through her gaze.

She settled into a stance of her own, like the stillness before a storm. Her body coiled with the same intensity, tail flicking once as if readying itself to strike. Her anticipation was palpable.

"Go." With barely a moment’s warning, she moved—swift, precise, a blur of dark fur aimed to close the distance between them. There was no hesitation, only the pulse of adrenaline, and the sharp, instinctive drive to dominate. Her movements were an extension of her will, fluid and controlled, no wasted energy.

The spar, while not lethal, would still be a contest of strength, willpower, and skill. And Gjalla, even with hunger gnawing at her, would be relentless in proving her worth.

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we can do dice rolls?

I love dice rolls <3 your call how we do them :)

Like clouds rolling and collecting energy, the two women squared off against one another, eyes as piercing as lighthouse beams. Between them passed a moment of silence, and while other wolves chattered and went about their tasks in their camps, the world shrank down to a mere matter of space that would collapse the moment the ravenfeather woman spoke the cue. 

Go.

Ameline's muscles coiled and a moment later as she sprang she met the woman chest to chest in a movement so sudden that an onlooker might think that gravity had surrendered its claim. The battle began as swiftly as a crack of thunder, the sound of two bodies meeting in combat.