Broken Boulder daddy's ghost behind you,

it was with careful, snow-confident strides that the woman moved. pushing past thick tangle of bracken, forest guarding lands like an oaken sentry, pale lady trekked across the soft, white carpet of wintertime, a master in her movements, sinupiult blood coursing through her veins, warming a small body. well-insulated by a thick, healthy pelt.

and although it was not warm by any means, rala was not battered by blizzard, nor thrown around, nor blinded by snowstorm. small flakes drifted from the sky, crystalised and each unique in their shapes, landing on her crown and her dark, black nose. they gathered on pale lashes, and so the polar-cub would blink them away. her tail swayed.

boulder split in two sat grey and fat upon the horizon. she made it her target, now, trudging towards it with precision, quick paws easily moving through aput. dawn-sky eyes scanned her surroundings, watching, as she moved her thickly coated head. neck plumage moved with a silky grace, seemingly waterproof, like that of otter hunters. imarmiutaq. but she moved the thought away ; gentle expression upon soft features.

polar-cub grew closer. inspected the stone with the eyes of a huntress, studious and inquisitive as she peered. darkness loomed from deep beneath the boulder, in which the woman could assume a cavern system sprawled out. if not large, then at the very least sizeable enough for wolves. curious how no claim had been staked. a hum left her lips.

nanuralaaq turned away from cold stone, now, inspecting the plains. grass protruded from the thick, white sheet. the gentle rushing of a creek that went unfrozen had been caught by attentive ears, and so the woman would move towards it, each stride, each step filled with an evident purpose. every single move - calculated. simply not without intention. and so the stream was where she would find herself, taking small sips. thirsty.

pale head lifted, then. lips drew together in a howl. long and melodic.

calling, summoning, someone to speak with.

to learn from. to travel with? unsure.

hype hype! @Rala

so much snow, framed by desolate land and dull grey skies. quiet and still. dolce trudged through the thick blankets with ease, long and strong limbs carrying him swiftly. he lumbered; the cold made him feel...lazy. uninterested. it brought aches and creaks into bones that'd bore too much. 

back south, he was acquainted with dry deserts, arid summers. only when night fell did cold grip the heartlands, but nothing quite like the winters in teekon. endless white for miles, only broken by cragged peaks or tree stripped bare. lonely, in what it made him feel. a loneliness he wasn't familiar with.

he hadn't come across a single soul out here. figured any pack would choose to settle somewhere less bleak and vast. very little prey, save for snow hares and voles. not nearly enough to satisfy the hunger of one wolf, let alone many. 

large and numb paws scale an outcrop, a raised hill enough for him to scan the horizon. nothing. but the frigid breeze carried a lone, melodic howl. it sounded nearly haunting. who else was out here, alone and cold? 

dolce moves forward, heavy steps bringing him in the direction of that lone song. perhaps he craved company, maybe an ally to roam with. the life of a lone wolf was not his—and he did not wish for it to stay that way. his head cranes back, lips parting as he responded with a deep howl of his own.

her howl was returned, and the lady found herself somewhat surprised. these lands were desolate, she expected to hear but a mere echo, something further inwards, but it sounded to her that someone was nearby - closer than she had expected.

and so she would reply with another of her own ; determining her exact location, providing as a beacon for the stranger to navigate towards. 'i am here', it said. 'come find me'. but she, too, would move towards whomever it was who had answered her call.

brown-and-cream figure on the horizon. she moved towards it with a careful grace, treading through the snow with a learnt precision. tail swayed softly behind her.

a bark left rala's maw. one of greeting.

@Rala

another melody, carried with the howl of wind. more clear, more beautifully haunting. a beacon it was; he'd step farther, faster, churning through the power that displaced at his heavy paws, turned into a mist of powder. facing west, the sun framed the horizon. 

and then it framed a small woman, casting her in a warm, backlit glow. his pace slowed now that he was within ear-shot. a bark, a greeting. closer and closer until he was staring down at the dainty little wolf. 

fur was white as snow, probably as soft as the cotton that grew back south. delicate. too soft. he felt more brutish than ever. lowering his head, he greeted her with a deep chuff. "evenin', miss." his southern drawl was thick, heavy. voice rough from disuse. 

with a glance around, dolce concluded she was alone. but why? settling on his haunches—perhaps a subconscious act to make him appear less...burly. he wasn't a man to be trifled with, but it wasn't his intention to frighten her, either. "what's a small thing like you doin' out here all alone?"

closer they came until rala could practically feel the man's warm breath upon her nose.

she looked up at him with curiosity sparkling behind dawn-hued eyes, tilting her head, a small smile upon her face. she blinked, once, twice, ears twitching as words spilt from his maw decorated in a melody that she had never heard before. it sounded warm. deep and thick, his voice was, prompting a fastened tail wag. first impressions were important, and this stranger was making a good one.

he sat back, then, as if to match himself towards her size. what a gentleman, she thought with an inwards chuckle. i have just arrived here, nanuralaaq said with an accent that combatted his own. northern, matching her mother tongue. her common was not the best, somewhat broken and without informalities, everything she said either sounded proper or old-timey. you are alone, too, angijuq angut, a slight tease, ending in a chuckle.

the snowwoman would move, then, circling a sort of 'perimeter' around the stranger. scanning him, studying him, as if forming an opinion, or a professional review. he was decorated in scars, of which she could commend. she found them quite beautiful, really. the tales of battles fought and won. caped in hues of oak, amber, sand and white, she found herself thus far approving of this stranger.

polar-cub would sit back in front of him, now. what is your name, aallajuq?

the words that left her tongue were unfamiliar, although melodic. pretty little thing with an even prettier voice. a chuckled rumbled in his chest as he sat up just a bit straighter, as if bolstered by her curious enthusiasm. he couldn't understand what made her so excited to meet a stranger, no less a strange man—naivety? loneliness?

for all she knew, he could've overwhelmed her, sank teeth into that plush fur. held her down while he crushed bone. he had to remind himself that he wasn't that kind of man anymore. "mm." a deep rumble. dainty, pretty women like her never faired well on their lonesome. not where he was from, anyway. "ain't such a good idea to be out here on your own, darlin'. folk ain't always so friendly."

it wasn't a threat, but a warning. from a man who once was the type to be afraid of.

dolce liked her boldness. she pranced around him, hardly taller than the snow that lay in thick blankets. examining him, sizing him up, maybe. it made him chuckle. head tilted as she came back around to sit before him, his dark eyes were curious. the name she'd called him—he didn't understand it. 

"name's dolce. what's yours, little lady?"

well, dolce, i can be unfriendly, too, rala said, a humorous smile decorating dark lips. something about this man, perhaps the scars that spoke of an unknown past, or the way his words rumbled deep within his chest, gave the snowwoman a somewhat embarrassing flicker of excitement. he sparked her curiosity - and she was not the type of woman to shy away from admitting that he was quite handsome.

i am nanuralaaq, and she held herself with a formality not borne of ego, but pride ; one that had been hard earnt, as well. many did not survive their first winters, and yet she had. although you, i call you aggakkut, and so you call me rala, if you wish, should he notice the twinkle behind her eye, the way she tilted her head when she spoke, he may be able to perceive the nature of the nickname she had bestowed upon him.

you do not look fit for snow, dolce, but although the words themselves may be misconstrued as mocking, or rude, she said them with a smile almost firmly planted upon her soft, pale features, a curious tilt of her head only emphasising her inquisitive nature. how do you find yourself here? pale tail swaying behind her.

"you, unfriendly?" it was followed with a short, deep laugh. the kind that brought a hint of warmth to dark eyes, a warmth that hadn't danced within for some time. "i reckon that's a sight i'd wanna see." a crooked smirk, the closet he'd get to a smile.

he'd been surprised before—it seemed like the smaller the woman, the greater the fire within them. and she must be quite the little fireball. his posture relaxed, broad shoulders less squared. his docked, short tail twitched with amusement. 

nanuralaaq. dolce wouldn't make a fool of himself, trying to pronounce it. it made him all the more curious—where was she from? it sounded native, like the cherokee tribes that he'd often war with back home.

"nice to meet ya, rala. what's, uh...aggakkut mean?" he butchered the pronunciation. the glimmer in those soft eyes let on enough, though. he found himself graced with a roguish grin. "best not be makin' fun of a man like myself, darlin'." he teased. he reckons she could pick fun at him all she'd like, and he wouldn't mind one bit. "might get'cha into trouble."

she mentioned he wasn't fit for harsh cold like this. "you're right. i'm used to deserts and heat. from the south, lil' place called the heartlands." dolce rumbled. it's all he'd bother revealing—frankly, he didn't want to scare her away by revealing he'd ran with some bad, bad people. 

or that he'd once been a bad, bad man. 

"where did you come from?" he turned the question back to her.

her maw would open once, jaw parted in a sigh of faux shock, brows drawn together, as if offended, only for her own lilting laughter to leave her. she could appreciate a not-quite-perfect smile. nothing was quite perfect about this man, dolce, and so she found herself ever the more fascinated. more than she had been with the forthbringer she had once been set to marry, although she pushed the memory away.

aggakkut, snowwoman shook her head, smiling. you are not to know, yet. i will tell you, ah ... when you are ready, but something knowing, faint and humorous, glinted like embers behind pale-orange eyes. everything about her was light, almost airy, from her complexion to her silky fur, her melody and her precise, careful movements. she seemed to be defined by grace, and yet something, deep down, burned within her.

and she could not help but giggle at his butchering of the arctic word. how funny it was, how they came from such distant worlds. snowwoman, desert man. i do not make fun, rala laughed, then. it is nice thing, aggakkut, and it was the truth, although she would not reveal the meaning of the word just yet. perhaps she would make him work for it - earn its' reveal, although she did not know how long he would stick around.

the heartlands, nanuralaaq tested the name of the location upon her tongue. when she gave a final, approving nod of her head, she would answer his question: in common, it is called muskox grounds, she begun, ever the talker. beautiful place. you call it, ah, sunset plains, where i was born. orange fields for miles. gorgeous at the namesake-time ; sunset, it is where her den had been. where the union between tribes had been forged by the generations to come. her and her littermates.

my lands are very, very much north from here, rala explained, then. two weeks of travel. long days, very cold at first, but here, it is warmer. and then, although she was not the shy type, nor embarrassed, nor unabashed, she said, with a dry laugh: i get told, ah, 'rala, you talk too much'. accompanied with a careful shift of her shoulders.

that laugh was like a balm to a tattered soul, lilted and soft. dolce decided then he wanted to hear it again. it was as wistful as  rala herself, airy and untethered. that not-so perfect, wolffish grin of his widens, charmed. "ain't you just a ball o' sunshine." 

teasing were the words, but genuine. he'd met many great women in his time, but none quite like her. she withheld the meaning of the nickname, but he didn't mind. if she was to reveal it later, it gave him all the more reason to seek her once again. "i guess i'll take yer word for it. 'n i will take you up on that promise, darlin'." 

dolce listened to her ramble with content, amusement. he liked her voice. she revealed her home, a place apparently far colder than teekon. that was a bitter image in his mind, but it was soothed when she mentioned sunset plains. it reminded him of home, where sunsets had bathed the desert horizons in gold. he imagines hers to be more beautiful—it was only fitting, after all. 

in his minds eye, he pictures rala prancing through the snow, all while the sunset bathes her in ethereal light. it's enough to make his icy heart thaw, if only just a little. 

her integrity isn't lost on him, and his gaze softens with admiration. such a tiny, feisty woman, strong enough to not only live in blistering cold, but to make the arduous journey down here. but he couldn't help but wonder; what is she searching for, so far away from home?

"that's a long journey. you're strong; stronger than most." he hummed, low and rich. not as soft as she appeared, and he enjoyed that. he shook his head then, when she apologized for her talkativeness. 

"nonsense, dove. ain't no such thing." a nickname of her own. fitting for her small and snow-kissed appearance, her gentleness. "reckon i'd sit 'n listen for a while, if you'd have me. you down here lookin' for somethin'?" 

and, clearly, although she had not much of an ego, there was some remnant of what may have been one that the scarred man calling her strong was practically enough to have her grinning cheek-to-cheek. she would not shy away, would not turn her face, rather she would permit his view of just how appreciative she was of such a compliment. and it was true! rala thought herself to be strong - not the type to be insecure, afterall. but to have it confirmed was sweet. she found herself enjoying the company of this southern beau more and more, clearly portrayed by her tail swaying cheerfully behind her.

and! he was quick to shoot down any possible apology for her talkativeness. her heard beat like the thundering ocean waves within her chest, smile almost permanent, etched upon her maw. for a moment, it felt that it would never leave her. at least, not until this man, dolce, left her memory - and that would take quite a long while. i would talk until the snow would melt, if possible, rala breathed, shaking her head, and yet she clearly was not disappointed with herself, for if she was, she would not look so happy. so full of warmth, practically radiating it in a way that she had not been before.

what i am looking for, well - but should she tell him? it was harmless, she was in search of a husband. and typically she would not restrain information, but part of her felt suddenly worried ; a change in character. and so she would reign her thoughts in, and reconstruct her intentions for these lands, if only under the watchful, oaken eyes of this man. - i ... am not sure, yet, it was not a complete lie, and yet part of her soul hurt when she said it. although, she thought that if she was true, and told him of her search for a husband, he may find such a thing strange. a breath was drawn, then.

and because she could not hold her truth forever, she broke: i wish for a family of my own, she said. perhaps ... join a pack. make ... and snowwoman looked him from ear to claw, a faint smirk growing upon her features, full of laughter that she had yet to release, laughter that had been dying to come out over the years. ... friends. connections. i dislike being on my lonesome, and ... with a dry laugh:

the journey was hard.

suddenly thoughtful, she scanned his expression.

what of you? what do you search for?

there wasn't much that'd pierce through the armor dolce wore. not much warmth that'd fill his chest to blossom and bloom. but the little dove's bright, wide smile was strong enough to chink. he found himself with a boyish grin, a pride that he'd made her react so vividly. he felt like a younger man again, chasing after a woman who was too good for him. 

and she was, undoubtedly. too soft, too sweet. but old habits die hard, it seems, as he finds himself anticipating this chase. 

"you talk as much as you want, darlin'. i ain't the best conversationalist, but i can listen." if she wished to chat his ear off, then so be it. he'd stay rooted to the spot, enchanted by this little snow-mistress. 

there was a hesitation on her end. he could've suspected that answer—many lone wolves desire to settle down, find some peace and company. where would she end up? and would she forget about him, wherever she planted her roots? 

he pushed those thoughts aside, as it wasn't his place to wish for such domestic things. she'd move on with her life, and he'd move on with his. but for now, he had her attention, and that was good enough. "reckon any pack would be scramblin' to let you join. you'd have 'em head over heels, with that charm o' yours." he rumbled with deep laughter. 

his smirk turned roguish. "friends, huh? dunno if you'd wanna find that in me, dove. i ain't exactly the best company." not for her. his loyalties ran deep with the wrong crowds, his moral compass still broken and clouded. he'd be only but a dark cloud, hanging over such a radiant little star. 

"hmm, i ain't too sure. haven't run with a pack in a long, long time." he gave a roll of his shoulders, perhaps a distant look in his eyes. "been alone for a while. gotten used to it. dunno if pack life would want me." 

you appear, at the very least, fine, to me, she took in an unashamed glance at his figure once more, cocking her head in a humorous way, a single brow raised. however, said act of coyness did not last all that long, and rala was quick to default back to her typical self - wholesome, honest in her admiration. and you listen to my ramblings - your company is more than appreciated. she knew when to be grateful.

flattered, and quite charmed by his southern accent, snowwoman found herself lacking words. quickly, she almost stumbled over herself when she next spoke: and you, too, dolce, said in a hurried manner, as if trying her hardest to be convincing ; leaned forwards slightly, as if telling him a secret. you - strong. scarred, and then, moving backwards, with a small smirk upon her features: aggakkut, pack-wolves will fawn over you - or, more likely, women will. she wriggled her eyebrows, grinning, now.

although something within her seemed to soften, then, when she noticed his distant gaze. the way the past seemed to linger within it, as if it had once been a wall that had built him up, protected him, only to come crumbling down - leaving him lost, and vulnerable. if pack-life is not what you seek, then that is alright, huntress said, now, genuine. but, should i find you again while i am within ranks, i may have to snatch you away. a soft, comforting edge of humour to decorate her words.