Raven's Watch nerve

she should move on.

yet the world seemed to be still here.

here it felt as though there was no time. days came and went, but the land stayed the same. snowy and raven riddled. she became a part of it.

loneliness nipped at parts of her, but she busied herself with hard work. today she sought to hunt something — with the knowledge it might be lackluster if it even happened at all. regardless she plucked along the land. silent despite towering height.

could she afford to thin out even more through the winter?

he smelled her first.

searching to cool off steam from ayovi's outburst, he had left in a fit. searching wildly for a woman who he hadn't even known. over the bushes he jumped, the trees he brushed with his scent. ayovi insisted on defying him at every turn. it made him wild. untamed.

he found her. the brunette. thin, but tall, she looked carved out of the mountains, a symbol of a long lost home.

with a masculine huff her approached her, tail held high as he assessed her.

a man.

what had he come for? she did not shrink beneath his gaze, but she knows she is outmatched if he wished to fight over claims. they might nearly share height, but he had a hulking mass behind his own.

she is a willow tree. something made to bend with the wind and take on the changes of time.

she met his huff with a scenting of the air around him. she did not seek to challenge him, only investigate what might be upon him.

her scent was littered with ayovi!

he snorted against the fur of her neck, pulling back with a raise of his lip. what had she done with her? what had she wanted? fuck, the ice woman was not his problem any longer. though her form continued to palpitate on his mind. stupid women.

you're alone. he stated, rather than a question. her thin form and gathering of herbs and supplies spoke louder than words.

blunt man.

she would become cunning creature now.

no, she decided with flat features and neutral tone. it was impossible to tell that she had thought this was a cute little joke to make. you are here. a swish of her tail once. something bonded them together in their scents.

she did her best to not think about it too hard. thinking, planning, had always ended up with her becoming flighty.

the woman had jokes! what a refreshing tone than the constant snarl he was belittled with. faust felt more in tune with a stranger than the woman he's been housing.

he showed this with an approving grin. approaching her again, he pushed his nose into the furs of her neck. marking, claiming, for the short time they were amongst each other.

unless she sought a place to stay. a harem of females is something that faust could create, mold for his city.

you are funny.

he wasn't a hard man to get along with, he thought. hungry?

she liked someone who did not struggle with nearness.

she shoved her own nose back against him. along his shoulders, into his own neck ruff. perhaps being seen as funny when she had worried about the delivery was just what she needed.

hungry. she agreed with a nod of her head. i help, though. no handouts she had decided.

this is the attention he had craved. a man amongst the forest, the mountains, perspired by a woman who sought the same closeness as any animal. he was a man of touch, physicalities, and he showed no issue with her against him in such a manner.

she was hungry. faust didn't need her to say it, he knew. no woman should be thin. he did not like to see skin and bone.

he hummed. only little help. man take care of it.

with a rub of his head against her chest, he moved to set off with his nose against the ground.

man take care of it?

she wondered if she should have exploited the kindness of men instead of seeking the soft strength of women. regardless the chance was given to her now and if this man brought her back to familiar company with a full stomach? well...

she reached to bump a nose to his hip as he began his walk. she would take place here at his hip comfortably. perhaps too content to let him dictate this little hunt they embarked on.

there was a soft swell of excitement within her chest to see how he might do such hard work.

he allowed her to stay close. her nose at his hip, he tempted to turn back and plant her against the ground— but he was a man on a more important mission. a mission to fill her belly.

he caught the scent of a female pronghorn— noted, clearly on the ridgelines of the watch. he slowed his pace, crouching low, as he saw it up ahead.

he didn't want her to help. faust was more than capable to catch his own prey— he always had been.

he nosed the woman to stay put. with a raise of his lip, the command was austere.

with a spring, he bolted from the brush. his paws were firm on the ground, careful not to shake the stones as he ran. the poor thing had been eating the frost-tipped grass, and when it had noticed the great tyrant, he'd already been upon her.

the pair went soaring down a small incline. tumbling. faust atop the ungulate, strangling its last breath until it mewled for desperation.

with a crack of its neck, faust left it bloodied. he looked up from the small drop towards the woman, tail wagging.

a lip raised!

she stiffened, but more importantly she stilled. she did not dare to chase after him as he began on the true hunting. some part of her felt a great envy. she wished to run, to chase, to fell the beast.

at least there was amusement in watching him go.

she held her breath when the collision occurred. even more when they tumbled down the incline. she thought she heard the sharp sound of something cracking, muffled beneath his behemoth figure.

there was going to be grand disappointment if her meal ticket had gone and expired so soon.

only she was pleasantly surprised to see him look back at her.

good, it meant his strength was not only for show. she chuffed and a tilt of her head. was she allowed to come now? obedient dog already.

faust’s frame settled into the snow with a deliberate ease, the weight of his catch lying between his paws, untouched. his green eyes flickered back to the tall woman, a quiet demand glimmering within their depths. he did not move, did not speak, but the signal was unmistakable.

the tilt of her head earned a slow blink in return, his gaze sharp yet patient. he would not eat before her, a gesture less of courtesy and more of judgment—a test. the wind whispered through the barren trees, carrying the scent of blood and freshly turned earth, mingling with the sharp winter air.

she was allowed now, he had decided, but his presence was a reminder of the unspoken rules. the first move was hers to make, and faust watched, ever still, like the shadow of the forest itself.

hungry, her stomach an endless churning of the feeling. this would be the first true meal she had devoured since leaving the vale's safety.

if the man had not made a move to eat first.

so bracken, hunched and slinking, came to pry away meat first. her teeth set to work at a delicate stomach. it was rich and nutrient filled things she sought. it was evident she did not intend to look any of his work in the mouth.

if she was lucky she could depart from him much fatter than she had arrived.

then the wandering would be good and the winter not so cold.

snow dusted his dark coat, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only movement betraying the energy he had expended. there was no rush to draw nearer; he allowed her the moment to assess his work, the silence heavy between them.

the stillness suited him. it was a language he spoke fluently, one where strength did not need to roar but could stand firm and resolute. his posture was neither tense nor lax, a quiet confidence radiating from his towering frame. the hunt had proven fruitful, and he had done what was expected.

his focus never wavered, studying her reaction with an intensity that bordered on scrutiny. the cold bite of the air did little to dull his curiosity—he wanted to know what she would make of him, and, perhaps, if he had done enough.

there is blood on her when she pulled away.

blood from his hunt, from his work. she did not turn a blind eye to this. instead she came now slinking to him. the felled pronghorn left behind for the time being.

she sought to swipe a tongue at his chin.

faust remained still as she approached, her movements deliberate, her intent clear. her tongue swept across his chin, leaving the faint taste of salt and iron in its wake. his emerald eyes stayed on her, sharp and unyielding, yet there was no rejection in his posture.

name? his voice was low, a single word weighted with quiet expectation. he wanted to know who this bold woman was, this mahogany shadow who moved with such purpose.

she wished —

she wished she had no name. she wished there was no reason to ever speak, to ever utter anything that was not basic sounds.

bracken, there was no pride in the name. only direct delivery. her ears flicked outward softly as if she meant to dismiss her own introduction. her gaze now traveled down his strong limbs and drifted down to his large paws.

faust hummed, a deep, thoughtful sound that rolled low in his chest. his emerald gaze lingered on her, catching the subtle flick of her ears and the quiet dismissal that shadowed her words.

bracken, he repeated, testing the weight of it on his tongue. it lacked the softness he might have expected. his head tilted slightly, the faintest trace of amusement curling at the edges of his lips.

not a feminine name, he remarked, his tone even, unbothered. there was no insult, only observation. his eyes narrowed slightly in contemplation before continuing.

would you like a different one? the question was quiet but firm, laced with the barest hint of curiosity. faust rarely offered such things, but something about her demeanor—so carefully muted—stirred the smallest ember of intrigue within him.

no, was it?

but no one back home had been given names meant to highlight their identities. there names had all been alike and had all meant to show the way they had been woven together.

yet none of them were here.

it was not any of them who had filled her with food and company.

an ear flicked in a more attentive manner now. eyes swept back up those strong limbs but never reached higher than his broad jaw. keen to maintain this idea that she was worth hunting for, worth keeping warm even maybe.

what name?

receptive to this new identity if it confirmed survival.

faust's gaze lingered on her, studying the way her posture shifted, the way her ears flicked with the faintest hints of curiosity—or submission, perhaps. bracken, he repeated under his breath, almost dismissive. it didn’t sit right, not with her, not with the way she moved or carried herself.

his mind drifted briefly, weighing options, considering the pieces of her that he’d observed—the lean grace, the wariness, the faint flicker of pride she couldn’t quite suppress. something more fitting. something earned. he did not speak it aloud, not yet. instead, he let the idea simmer, steep in the quiet between them.

her eyes darted upward again, stopping just shy of his jaw, cautious and calculating. he let her look, let her stay in her space while he thought. a name wasn’t a mere sound; it was a statement, a mark on the world, and she deserved one that carried the weight of her survival. asha.

his lips twitched faintly, a shadow of a smirk, as if amused by his own musings. her willingness to adapt—receptive, watchful—did not go unnoticed. she was someone who could be molded, sharpened, perhaps even forged into something greater. but for now, she remained a puzzle, one he intended to solve.

she cherished the spreading silence, the thoughtfulness of it. here she did not need to try so hard to seem impressive or sound put together. here she could breathe and feel the weight of his presence without needing to voice it.

if they could spend many moments like this, it would work.

asha might even like it.

a new name was not a whole new wolf, was it? or maybe it would be if she spent many waking hours beneath his piercing gaze and his unknown ways. she might be like a stone and him a rushing river, keen to shape her in different ways.

but like a stone, she had been here long before anyone had sought to change her.

asha.

she echoed at last with one solid thump of her tail against cold earth. bloodstained from his kill made this feel like rebirth. it was so very different from the name she had slung upon her shoulders from her first birth.

asha.

this time with more grip upon it, claiming it and taking it for herself.

with an incline of his head, the faintest flicker of approval passing over his features as she echoed the name back to him. her voice, softer now, gave it life, and he found a satisfaction in hearing it. asha.

faust, he rumbled after a beat, his deep voice low and deliberate. there was no flourish to his introduction, only the weight of it, a name meant to endure.

his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, tracing the curve of her form against the frostbitten earth. the bloodied earth and the wildness of her presence stirred something primal in him. his muzzle dipped toward hers, not quite touching but near enough to feel the warmth of her breath against the cold.

the gods led me to you, he murmured, his tone carrying the gravity of a man unafraid of belief, even if it was fleeting. his eyes, sharp and verdant, softened slightly as he added, asha suits you.

his tail swayed faintly, a gesture of unspoken contentment as he let the silence return, their shared space filled only with the rhythmic cadence of their breaths. he did not move to fill the quiet—he preferred it this way, where words were unnecessary, and the presence of another could be enough.

and so it was done.

blood-soaked reborn.

here stood asha beneath the gaze of faust. together they were bound by no titles, no places. their silence was heavy but brought comfort to her wilderness. he was near enough that they could touch and yet neither made the move.

she liked how they lingered in the in between places.

gods, she echoed with this newfound sense of ease. there was curiosity dancing in her gaze, in the way she subtly shifted her weight and flicked an ear.

who, what, how things she could have asked but refrained.

he would either feed her knowledge as he had meat or he would not. she decided it was okay to be the one to not decide that.

faust let the quiet stretch between them, his gaze resting lightly on asha, though his thoughts wandered further. the hum in his throat was low, contemplative, as if he were weighing the very air between them.

north, he said at last, the word rough-edged but deliberate. his gaze shifted briefly to the horizon, where the cold stretched endlessly. to settle. gods willing.

his tone carried no reverence, only certainty, as if the act of speaking made it so. he glanced at her then, a flicker of something curious in his eyes, as though gauging how she might react to the unspoken invitation. he sought no chains but would not deny the weight of her presence.

there was strength in her stillness, and in the way she chose her silences. faust found himself not minding. he stood firm, ready for what lay ahead, though the idea of companionship—hers, specifically—settled in his chest like an ember that refused to extinguish.

north?

higher upon the mountain or maybe — taiga? she questioned with a gentle gesture out east. once she had been there. briefly, but she had liked the land. high places, long shadows and cool breezes. she tried to picture him there. he would fit so well in dark, cold corners.

she might like to see him upon high slopes, upon glaciers.

she wondered if he would still be as strong in those places.

she reached for him now with the goal of brushing her head against him. an exchange of scent between them. she wished to carry his for safekeeping and he could have hers for whatever his own desires might be.