Meadowlark Prairie codeine scene

roan moved steadily through the snow, his pale eyes sharp and unyielding as he kept close to @Synder’s side. the cold bit at the air around them, but he barely noticed, his attention fixed on her uneven gait. each limp of her injured leg tugged at his focus, the break a glaring weakness he wouldn’t ignore.

his muzzle brushed against her flank, nudging the damaged limb with enough force to make her falter slightly. he huffed low, the sound carrying his command without the need for more words. when she slowed, he turned to face her, standing broad and immovable in her path.

stay, he rumbled, his voice curt, his tone leaving no room for argument. his eyes flicked briefly to her leg before meeting her gaze again, unrelenting.

after a pause, he stepped closer, his breath warm against the cold air as he leaned in, his nose brushing the side of her neck. i will hunt.

with that, he turned, his dark form cutting through the snow like a shadow. roan moved with purpose, his movements efficient, his body language clear: she would stay, and he would provide. that was all there was to it.

Synder followed, tried to keep up, her features tempered against the idle ache that set off the nerves in her leg, not quite so icy, nor sharp as it felt on the worst of days. She'd had enough of a rest for it to calm and return to the ever-present tingle that usually haunted it.

Would it always be this way? Better not to think about what could be, it would only make things harder. 

His figure blocked the windchill, in this spot she'd strategically placed herself. She flicked an ear and met his gaze with intrigue as he became a barrier in her path, her pace come to a halt. He nudged her, enough to require the other 3 legs to make up for the shift in balance. 'Stay' he commanded, and uttered his charge against her neck.

She put up no argument, eager to eat something aside from fish or carrion. Bronze haunches lowered to the snow while she watched him stake off with purpose in his stride.

Would that she could do such a thing. It shouldn't have made her bitter and yet time and time again, it always did.

roan returned with the weight of success draped across his shoulders, the small pronghorn’s lifeless body hanging limp from his jaws. its death had been swift, clean—his approach steady and unrelenting, his teeth precise as they found the vulnerable place at its throat. it hadn’t stood a chance against him, hiding poorly among the sparse shrubs of the plain.

he dropped the kill before synder, his pale eyes flicking briefly over her seated form. she had stayed, as commanded, and her quiet compliance earned no scorn from him. instead, he stepped back, giving her the space to take what she needed.

without a word, roan lowered his broad frame into the snow, resting nearby but still watchful. his gaze remained on her, not out of impatience, but as if ensuring she wouldn’t falter. the wind swept across the plain, ruffling his dark fur, but he remained a steady presence against its bite.

it was hers to eat, his task fulfilled. roan did not linger on the effort it had taken him to bring the meal—this was simply what was expected. what he did. without praise or ceremony, he watched her begin, the faintest flick of his tail the only sign of his approval.

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She waited, scanning the horizon in the meantime, ears pricked and attuned to the sounds of nature, or rather, the lack of them; the whistle of the wind was all to accompany her in the vast white expanse, his figure had already dipped below a distant slope. She tasted the scents on the breeze in her solitude, looked to a crowd of ravens as they flew overhead. 

When he returned, he did so with a pronghorn slung lifelessly across himself, the load lifted as though it were weightless. 

Thank you. She said in the silence that followed the thud of pronghorn against snowy ground. Her eyes met with his, searching for intention as he hunkered down nearby, seeming to relinquish his kill entirely to her. She was not one to turn down a gift hard-fought for. At the flick of his tail, she leaned down and tore into it, graceful as one could be while tearing flesh from bone. 

She hadn't been starving, per say, but it had been a while since she'd eaten anything other than carrion or fish. The fresh, hot blood of this one was a delicacy that couldn't wait to be savoured. Synder resurfaced, bloodstained, her tongue quickly rectifying the scene. She slowed, her eyes finding his again as he lingered to the side, watching, a silent bastion that gave her a strange, bad feeling just as much as his simple presence comforted. You can have what's left.. I don't mean to take advantage. She gently prodded the carcass with an outstretched foreleg, and looked to him expectantly.

roan shook his head, the movement slow and deliberate, his pale gaze unwavering as it settled on her. there was no hesitation, no desire in the flick of his eyes toward the pronghorn’s remains.

he did not eat such small kills. this one had been for her.

his broad frame shifted slightly, settling deeper into the snow, a silent sentinel as she finished. the blood on her muzzle didn’t bother him—her survival was the only thing that mattered. when she spoke, offering what was left, he exhaled a low huff, the sound dismissive but not unkind.

it was not his way to indulge in words or explanations. actions spoke enough. he had brought her the kill, and she had eaten. that was all there was to it. with a flick of his ear, roan turned his gaze to the horizon, the unending white expanse ahead holding far more interest than the offering at his paws.

Her offer was met with silent dismissal, which was to be expected, but she had figured it was polite to at least try. Amusement tore at the corners of her jaws before she turned her attention back to what was left of the pronghorn. Even when she did not look to see his eyes on her, she could feel that they were. They trailed to her leg again and again, as if one of these times it would magically go away. She had not missed the way he lingered on it. His gaze was trained to the snowy wastes now, she couldn't help but prod.

Does it bother you? She asks abruptly, an idle flick of her tail against the snow to accompany her words. The lightness of her voice masked the severity lingering beneath.

roan’s gaze shifted back to her, steady and unyielding, his expression unreadable. for a moment, the weight of her question hung in the cold air between them, unbroken by explanation or dismissal.

then, with a faint flick of his ear, he answered simply, yes.

nothing more, nothing less. his tone was low, direct, giving her no room to decipher whether it was the leg itself or something else entirely that stirred his thoughts.

And it's not even attached to you. Synder quipped with a light laugh, inky forelimbs draped over one-another. 

It bothered her too, but.. she'd adapted to it, what other choice was there? And yet you stay, and you hunt for me when it would be much easier just to leave me here.

she let the silence linger a moment, obscuring the scarred appendage beneath the curling champagne of her tail. It was not like he owed her anything, if anything she was the one stepping further and further into debt. 

..Why?

Kindness was not often given without reason, in her experience.

roan’s gaze flicked to her, steady and impassive as ever. her words hung in the air, carried on the faint whistle of the wind, but he didn’t answer right away. instead, he shifted where he stood, a subtle adjustment, as if the question itself unsettled him.

men protect, he said finally, his voice low and curt, though it carried a tone of finality.

his golden eyes held hers for a moment, unreadable. then, with a faint snort, he added, women warm.

nothing more, nothing less. to him, it was the natural order of things. with that, roan turned his head back to the open plain, watching the horizon as though the conversation had already reached its end.

She could've left it at that, let the silence linger between them without a second word and taken it for what it was. He was curt in his answer, final; this was the world he knew. For the briefest of moments, she felt envy tug at her heart. If only life could have been a transaction so simple and not a convoluted, confusing mess of love and pain and—

Do they? She challenged the notion with an air of severity, raising a brow as if it were a joke, her tail uncurled once more; forcing him to confront it, blunt as it was. Resting her head on her paws, she would trade the severity for bated sensitivity, quiet on her breath as she let out a sigh. ..I appreciate what you've done for me.

She knew which game to play. Gratitude and soft words.

roan’s sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, unblinking and heavy. her words challenged him, tested the simplicity of his belief, but his response was not verbal. instead, he huffed, the sound low and guttural, a dismissive exhalation that filled the air between them.

his expression hardened, as if carved from stone, but there was something flickering beneath it—something unspoken that her words had stirred. no, his look seemed to say, not always protect. the reality was harsher than that. men could fail, could harm, could destroy as easily as they could shield.

his eyes flicked briefly to her injured limb, then back to her face. there was no pity in his gaze, only acknowledgment of what had been done to her and the weight of her gratitude now offered in return. he gave no reply to her thanks, only a small nod, curt and measured, it is what men should do.

She watched for the smallest perceptible changes in his expression; and yet, pity was absent in his hardened gaze. Synder couldn't help but feel... conflicted.

It was liberating, in a way, to be seen separate from the terrible thing that had been done, this weight carried both in mind and in body. A tingle of excitement burned in the shadows of her soul, hidden with great care. 

But that same absence filled her with the lightest flicker of unease, as well; pity was a weapon, among other things, easy to use and bend to your own advantage, here, she had none. Whether she had use for such a thing... time would tell, but right now the lack of it made her feel strangely exposed.

A quiet sigh fell from her lips at his response. It it what they should do, he was right in her opinion, but power, well, it ruined people. Muddied the lines between should and shouldn't, there were no consequences at the top. Briefly stretching, she would pull herself up, this moment of respite offering enough recuperation for her to continue on. She walked closer to him, placed weight on the leg, enough to mimic a regular gait. She stopped just at his side, looming above. Well. Where are we off to then? A pack of yours?

He did not smell of other wolves but.. she figured the question needed an answer regardless.

roan’s lip curled, a sneer pulling at the scarred edge of his mouth. no pack, he muttered, the words clipped, spoken with an undertone that brooked no argument. the notion of being tethered to others was distasteful, even now, when survival was at its harshest.

his golden eyes flicked to synder, assessing her carefully. the way she had approached, her movements careful yet determined, was not lost on him. she wore her injuries plainly, but her strength was evident.

he tilted his head slightly, as if to weigh her worth before speaking again. you? the single word was gruff, edged with curiosity he did not bother to hide. she did not smell of belonging, not truly, but her scars carried a story he could not yet name.

No pack, as if the mere suggestion offended. Some history boiled beneath the surface, a kindred soul, but Synder would not reach too far, not yet.

Mm. Before. She answered with a flick of her tail. ...I could not stay. Not that I was kicked out, I just... couldn't watch it anymore. She murmurs, an air of resignation to her voice. Words were chosen carefully, darker truths still shrouded in thorns. Being a refugee was more favourable, isn't that something? She remarked with a scoff, distaste coating her words.

Guilt crept from the shadows. What a rotten soul she had, to abandon those who needed her.

Self preservation. Was it really so awful? No gods could judge her, they were just as complicit in every terrible choice weighted on her shoulders. Had they had their fill of entertainment yet? Could they finally retire the circus pony they'd made of her?

I had hoped to try my luck with another pack... eventually, then I ran into you. It's not the most riveting of stories but—I'm a medic. I figured I could buy my way in.

roan’s ear flicked at her words, sharp but silent. the cadence of her voice wavered in places, carrying truths she chose not to fully unearth. he let her speak without interruption, his golden eyes steady on her as she finished.

her mention of a new pack and the thought of her departure settled heavily between them. roan’s head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable, save for a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.

you leavin’ me, then? his words came low, almost gravelly, breaking the stillness like the creak of an old branch in the wind. it wasn’t accusatory, but there was weight behind the question—a quiet challenge, perhaps, or maybe something softer.

he didn’t look away, his gaze lingering, searching her face for an answer that might extend beyond her words.

She looked back to him, pulling her gaze from the wastes around them. Hm. Her head would tilt a moment, before inky limbs brought her closer, and she pushed her head into his own, words tender as they fell from her jaws. ...I don't think so.

Mouse called to a glue trap. Hardly a day, and she'd grown attached enough. Curious enough. 

Maybe she just didn't want to admit that she wasn't ready to go back to that life.

Self-serving.

roan stayed still as she came closer, his breath a steady rhythm in the cold air. her touch was unexpected but not unwelcome; her words hung between them, soft and undecided, like the snow that refused to settle. he did not move to pull away, his head tilting slightly as her warmth pressed into his.

hm, was all he gave, low and rumbling, his golden eyes watching her without judgment, but not without weight. she was not leaving. not yet.

he let her linger, let the silence stretch. then, slowly, he shifted, pulling his head away just enough to look at her fully, the faintest flicker of something in his gaze—understanding, perhaps. it wasn’t sympathy, though. roan had little use for such things.

stay, then, he muttered finally, his tone neutral, almost dismissive. but he didn’t move away from her entirely, didn’t break the moment completely. there was no need to say more.

Synder lifted her head back up, breathed in the quiet air and let out a huff of amuse before bringing herself to the ground next to him, meaning in action.

Just in the field or..?  She toyed, he would have to break to her humour at least once. Dark paws crossed over one-another. A picture of poise. Such a shame to have been vandalized, but little was lost in the face of presentation. 

The snowflakes were thick, soft and slowly falling, far nicer than getting pelted in the face with wind and sleet. This felt like the most serenity Synder could've dreamt of.

 The silence carried no weight, only the lulling embrace of oblivion. Perhaps rebirth. Synder had no beliefs, none beyond the tangible, but for a moment, she understood the pull. Absolution.

roan snorted, the sound sharp and unexpected, like a wolf coughing up a laugh. his amber eyes found synder, glinting with rare amusement.

anywhere. everywhere. his voice rumbled low, his lips twitching into something close to a smirk before he shook his head, dislodging the snowflakes that had dared to settle there.

for a moment, he let himself relax, leaning slightly into the calm around them. the storm had quieted, leaving the world softened by snow. she was funny, in her peculiar, self-assured way, and he found himself begrudgingly entertained.

he didn't answer further, content to let the humor settle between them, unspoken but shared. he glanced at her once more, then back to the horizon, a quiet exhale escaping his chest.

Anywhere, then. I'll try not to slow you down. Her voice rolled off her tongue with that easy calm she always put on, eyes of godly ichor trailed back to the ground, mulling over the commitment she'd just made. Would she even be able to back out if she changed her mind? He was.. comfortable, protecting in the way men should and yet...

Do you feel the hair on your neck rise before lightning strikes?

The unease of experience. 

Her head sank down to her paws, the finest meal she'd had in a few weeks, and it was about to knock her out. Letting out a content exhale, she peered out of the corner of her eye, challenging him lightly. ..If I travel with you, you must talk to me more.

roan’s ear flicked at her challenge, his sharp, shadowed gaze sliding to her without a word at first. the faintest smirk ghosted across his lips, but it wasn’t a playful one—it carried a weight, an edge that cut through the soft quiet between them.

his voice came low, a rough rumble like distant thunder, breaking the silence. what do y’wanna know?

he didn’t offer more than that, didn’t fill the space with unnecessary noise. roan wasn’t the type to give without purpose. if she wanted words, she’d have to ask for them outright.

Synder let her weight slide gradually onto her side, hind legs pushed out from under her to splay along the ground, a slight twist to her spine. The air had shifted in a hardly perceptible way, a little heavier, more guarded despite the words that followed. She adjusted accordingly. All things could be untangled with patience.

..Nothing of great importance, for now. She murmured, a forepaw lifted to idly trace circles into the soft snow. Maybe just assurance. You show me yours, I'll show you mine. Truths and only that. I'll do the same.

With that, Synder looked back to the ground, the comfort of plush snow, still air, and serene silence bearing the lull of sleep down onto her shoulders. ..I think you are interesting, Roan.

roan huffed, the sound low and brief, his expression unreadable as he mulled over her words. assurance. he supposed it wasn’t much to ask for.

his gaze drifted over her, watching as she sprawled into the snow, her movements deliberate and relaxed. fine, he finally said, the faintest twitch of his ear betraying his agreement.

but i ain’t interesting. the words were blunt, a simple statement of fact in his mind. roan didn’t see himself as anything worth anyone’s curiosity. but if this arrangement kept her alongside him, he wouldn’t fight it.

he let the quiet stretch between them again, comfortable in its weight, before lowering his head to rest on his forepaws, his eyes still lingering on her for a moment longer.