Wapun Meadow in the way you're walking,

AW but preferably bearclaw wolves !
hunting thread - maybe @Tvar or @Cole ? :3

polar-cub left the packsite with a single intention ; bring a meal back to the wolves of bearclaw valley, and, ever the stubborn woman, she was going to accomplish just that. her nose jutted forwards, tilted upwards, drank in the scents, navigating with her nose, letting her paws push her forwards upon the thickening blanket of snow.

winter had only just begun - there was still a chance to find something particularly satiating. perhaps a deer, injured and week, though no less filling. or a rabbit, perhaps a few, due to their small size. a hare would be easier to catch, went her mental musings. although, several would be needed in order to satisfy the pack. so, without changing her expression or movements, she decided to seek a deer, searching the winds.

for a moment, though, she slowed, looking back at the valley. her tail was high over her rump, confident, a lingering happiness following her as she went. experience had taught her that two (or more!) wolves were better than one, and so she would tilt her head back, dark lips pursing in a long, melodic call that would beckon any willing bearclaw wolves to come join her on a hunt. waiting, standing just before the meadow.

who would be the one to join her?

the call reaches him where he lingers near the border, its melody cutting through the crisp air and bringing his steps to an immediate halt. tvar raises his head, ears swiveling to confirm the direction before his paws carry him forward, instinct as much as intention pulling him toward her.

he’s thought about her more than he’d like to admit since that walk to the dens. the way she spoke with such conviction, the way her smile brightened even the darkening evening—she’s unlike anyone he’s encountered before. rala. determined, bold, and unafraid to speak her mind. it draws him in, stirs something in his chest he hasn’t felt in some time.

he follows her scent through the thickening snow, the steady rhythm of his strides cutting through the pristine white blanket. when she comes into view, standing proud at the meadow’s edge with her tail arched high, a faint warmth spreads through him. she carries herself like a wolf who belongs—completely, utterly, without question. he admires that about her.

“rala,” he greets as he approaches. he speaks her name softly, with affection. he offers her a nod, and his eyes momentarily shut as he basks in her warmth. he is bold as he moves closer. to press his chin to the top of her forehead in brief embrace, a packmates kind hug. her name feels natural on his tongue now, as if it had always been meant to. his sharp blue eyes settle on her.

it was tvar who answered her call, and she watched his dark form draw closer towards her, a once still tail slowly developing a sway, curled above her back and swishing. her nickname rolled of his tongue fairly well, but part of her ached as a result of not sharing her title. the name she had earned with her survival: nanuralaaq. perhaps she would, in due time. and maybe she would share her birth name, too. the one that had sprouted like a thin flower from her very birth ; her very introduction to the world.

but that could wait. instead, she said: piqsiq' nuvu', almost a term of endearment, now, and accepted his wolfish embrace. if anything, rala furthered it, burying her nose and her muzzle into the fur upon his neck - drinking in his scent, akin to how one would with wine. when he pulled away, her dawn-hued gaze would settled upon his own, of which seemed to shift in the sun. she could have sworn that the night they walked together, they looked an almost hazel-green. now, they shone like the sky above them, a striking blue. nanuralaaq had to be careful to not get lost in such a gaze.

smiling, now, she flicked her tail. we are hunting, her sentence came with a leaders conviction, as if those three words could command armies, bring forth wars, or mend peace. she would walk closer to bring her tail across his chest before assuming a place besides him. i have settled on deer, but then, when she looked up at the man besides her, tall, indestructible, almost, her eyes shone with something different: something innately feminine, searching his expression carefully. you think...? yes? no?

tvar watches her closely as she buries her muzzle into the thick fur of his neck, a gesture that feels both natural and intimate. her warmth against him stirs something deeper, a quiet longing he hasn’t allowed himself to acknowledge fully. when she pulls back, her gaze catches his, and he notices how her eyes hold the color of the dawn—soft, yet piercing in their intensity. he’s careful not to linger too long, lest she see the way her presence has begun to affect him.

he dips his head slightly, his tail giving a faint flick behind him as he considers the practicality of her choice. “aye,” he murmurs, his voice low, but firm. “deer’ll do well. the pack could use the meat, and the snow’ll slow them enough for a clean chase.”

as she moves closer, her tail brushes across his chest, the contact subtle but deliberate. his muscles tense briefly beneath his dark coat, but he doesn’t shy away. instead, he meets her gaze again, his expression calm but searching, as if trying to read the intent behind her movements.

“we’ll have to track carefully,” he adds after a moment, his focus shifting to the task at hand, though his attention never strays far from her. “wind’s working in our favor for now, but they’ll scent us soon enough if we’re not quick.” his gaze lingers, though he remains careful not to let it show too plainly. watching the way her coat catches the faint light, the way her steps fall in perfect rhythm with the world around her. he’s careful not to linger too long, careful to keep his own thoughts in check. yet, despite himself, he can’t help but wonder: if there’s a place for her in the life he’s tried so hard to keep distant, if there’s a place for him in whatever future she’s envisioning.

“lead the way, lāosyssy.” snowbird. high time he gave her a name of her own, in his mother tongue. his voice is softer now, if such a thing were possible, and yet still thick as if gravel sat in his throat.

it’s her hunt. he is content to follow.

snowwoman seemed to settle at tvar's approval, a faint smile crossing her features. my thoughts, she mused ; he seemed to echo her assessments, and that was something that the polar-cub learnt to appreciate. he spoke of tracking, of the wind - easy for a smaller woman, whose scent glands were smaller, though she did not think the same for a man of pure muscle. a challenging expression clouded her face, now, brows raising with a hint of mischief. lucky for you, i am quick. perhaps even quicker than piqsiq' nuvu'.

and the way his eyes met her figure did not go unnoticed, although snowwoman would not be one to directly encourage his fleeting glances. he was still under assessment, in some far corner of her mind. still deciding, working out where he would stand amongst her. and, still, her thoughts lingered elsewhere. she could not be sure of a man until he was the only one within her mind, and tvar did not meet such criteria ... yet. pushing the thought away, she stood, trotting forwards with a dancers poise. tail flagging behind her.

deer scent drew towards them on the winds. it was faint, far within the meadow, she assumed, and so rala slipped into a hunter's saunter, a somewhat subconscious movement as she moved faster than a walk, yet slower than a canter. though her coat was plush, at his height thickness during the winter, it was visible - the way her well-trained body moved underneath. seeking her prey akin to that of a mountain lion. stalking, even.

it would take a while, judging by the strength of the scent, to reach their target, so the snowbird would turn her head, curious. one day, she begun. breathy, hiding a bout of laughter that could erupt at any moment. smiling. i will find out what your ... lāosyssy means ... and perhaps i will tell you the common-speak of piqsiq' nuvu'.

then, assessing his figure rather shamelessly, she said: or, maybe taaqtuq qaqqaq suits you better, unabashed when it came to his muscled figure. glancing at his eyes, then.

tvar watches her closely, his sharp blue eyes catching the faint curl of a smile on her lips. her words, light and teasing, brush past his ears, and though he doesn’t return the grin outright, there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “is that so?” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “quicker than me, aye?” the corner of his mouth twitches, though his tone doesn’t betray whether he takes the challenge seriously or not.

it’s just as well.

taaqtuq qaqqaq. the words roll from her tongue and though he doesn’t know their meaning, he doesn’t care. she could call him anything, and he’d let her. the corners of his mouth tug upward, but he doesn’t let it show—not fully. instead, he huffs faintly, dismissing the question he might have asked. it doesn’t matter what she calls him, not really. what matters is that she calls him at all. that she turns to him, looks at him, shares her words with him. corny, perhaps, but it’s the truth he doesn’t dare voice aloud.

call me whatever you like, he says finally. his eyes flick to hers, catching the playful light in her gaze, and he feels the faintest pull in his chest, an ache he doesn’t quite know how to name. perhaps it’s the season. perhaps it’s her. he’s never been one to dwell too much on what drives him, only that he moves forward, that he doesn’t falter. but rala—she’s different. she’s more than the playful smiles and clever words she offers him. he can sense it, though he hasn’t yet seen it all. and he wants to. he wants to see her, all of her, to know what lies beneath the beauty and confidence that cloak her. it’s a desire he doesn’t entirely understand, but it’s there, strong and insistent, growing with every step they take together. he hums, as if debating whether or not to reveal to her the meaning of his nickname. he finds he cannot resist her and he leans close to nudge her by the ear, letting his warm breath and speech wash over her. it means... snowbird. he smiles.

he leans his head back then, only to find himself looking into her eyes for a brief moment. daring her to meet his gaze back. you are pale as the winter mountains i was born upon. and whimsical as the birds we loved. he explains. for a moment, it makes him think of his own companion. wherever bran was, he hoped the crow was safe. happy. warm. and he hoped, that perhaps one day, they should meet again.

as they press on, the scent of the deer grows stronger, and he forces himself to refocus, to fall into the rhythm of the hunt. but even as his ears swivel to catch the faintest sound of movement, as his nose works to pinpoint their prey, he can’t fully shake the weight of her there, at his side. it clings to him. she is many things he is not: light where he is heavy, open where he is guarded. rala, he says her name firmly, drawing her attention as his tone turns serious for a moment. we’ll get the deer. and he glances at her briefly before adding, but you are not satisfied easily. a hunt’s just a start, isn’t it? — he knows she will realize he is not just speaking of the hunt.

he does not seem to outright smile, nanuralaaq notices, although a twinkle in his eye and a careful tug of his maw seems to be his way of expressing humour, or happiness. now, the pale woman has a new motivation ; to prompt a genuine, toothy grin from such a stoic figure. he gives a huff, and rala quirks a brow, eyes squinted with a smile of her own as she looks at him, ever curious as to why he seems so ... guarded.

gaze turned away. almost shy - unlike herself.

his maw met her ear, then, breath warm, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up in a way that was not fear, but rather something she could not quite decipher. snowbird, the word meant, followed by one of tvar's own, careful smiles. and she does - she meets his gaze as a shiver crawls down her spine, her tail flicking curiously. pale as winter mountains, whimsical as the birds they loved, the words would stick with her, something that was not to be forgotten, but rather, honoured. she wished to explain her name for him, but she was met with more words ; listening without question.

her name summoned snowwoman's attention, ears swivelling first, before pale orange eyes sought those of sharp blue. his tone turned serious, and for a moment she worried, though such things were quickly alleviated as she sought the true meaning of his words. a hunt is the start to a feast, rala tested, looking away, now. seemingly focused on the scent that drew nearer. but it was clear in the way her ears flicked that all her attention remained on him. a feast is the start of an alliance - and an alliance, the start of many generations to come. the implications were clear.

a sidelong glance was given to the man. taaqtuq qaqqaq, she took a breath, releasing it slowly as she said: it means, 'dark mountain'. like those in which defended my home, kept us safe from the outside world. and you- glancing at his figure, then, his gaze, something genuine sparkling within her own. -remind me of them.

almost homesick. deer tracks were firm in the snow, now.

they were getting closer.

tvar feels her gaze, and he knows that she would steal his breath. in fear of being unable to speak, voice dry, he says nothing, and his silence is broken only by the faint crunch of snow underfoot. he is not a man used to such comparisons, such sentiments. "dark mountain." he says softly, letting his eyes swap towards her. much like the mountains she describes. tvar lets himself admire her openly, unafraid for her to see, for him to see. he feels an unfamiliar warmth bloom beneath his stoic exterior. she is pale as the snow around them, but her spirit burns bright, vivid in a way he cannot ignore.

you honor me, he says at last, letting eyes drape upon her. to remind you of such things. his gaze holds hers a moment longer before it shifts back to the trail ahead, his focus sharpening once more.

the scent of the deer is stronger now, pulling his thoughts back to the task at hand. tvar lowers his head slightly, his frame moving into a smoother, quieter gait as they approach. his muscles tense, ready to spring into action when the time comes, but his mind lingers on her words, on her presence at his side.

as the tracks grow fresher, tvar slows, his movements lacking the grace they had once upon a time. his sharp eyes scan the terrain ahead, and he tilts his head slightly toward her, speaking softly so as not to disturb the silence of the hunt. lead us, snowbird. i’ll follow. as he always would, if she'd let him. there’s so much he wants to say, but he swallows the thoughts for now. this isn’t the place. the future—their future—will have to wait. this is her moment. her hunt. and he will follow her lead, not out of obligation, but because he trusts her.

there’s no need for words now. the connection between them is enough. the dance of the hunt is enough. the chase, the kill, the shared triumph—it will have to be enough.

best keep up, storm cloud, she smiled, indirectly revealing the meaning of the first name she had given him, too. and it seemed, then, that although the playful manner continued to follow after her, she had adopted a seriousness that came with the hunt. nanuralaaq was known as a huntress for a reason, a purpose.

a swath of deer fur on the horizon, its head lowered, seemingly grazing at whatever grasses had not been completely covered by snow. steps were light, careful not to alert the deer too early. though blood scent seemed to radiate from its body, she could not quite see its injuries, as it seemed tall, and as plump as it possibly be considering that it was wintertime. a weary tail flick that tvar could possibly discern as a sign of worry.

as the pair drew closer, its head raised, antlered and watchful. but she would continue, eyes narrowed, braving through whatever anxieties she may have had and darting her tongue out to wet her black lips. there, she murmured. he may be strong, but we are stronger in unity. the words almost prayer-like, akin to a rally before a battle.

and so she moved, leading the man, larger than herself, to the hunt.

he listens to her murmur, her words carrying a weight that echoes through him. unity. it’s a word he hasn’t thought much about in a long time. for most of his life, strength had been a solitary endeavor, something sharpened in isolation. but here, now, with rala at his side, the word takes on a new shape. perhaps it’s her voice, her conviction, or simply the undeniable truth in her words. whatever it is, it stirs something in him.

we’ll bring it down together, he murmurs back, the accent of the north rolling over the syllables. his gaze flicks to her briefly, catching the way her eyes narrow in focus, the determination etched into her every move. she is a huntress, through and through, and tvar feels a flicker of admiration rise unbidden in his chest. he is happy to now, finally, see her in her element. as she leads, tvar adjusts his stride to match hers, his larger frame moving with a surprising amount of precision for a wolf of his size. the deer lifts its head, antlered and alert, but tvar remains patient, waiting for her cue. he feels the familiar rush of anticipation building—the kind that always precedes a chase, a fight, a kill. but this time, it’s different. this time, he’s not alone.

tell me where you want me, snowbird. he’s already calculating the angles, reading the terrain and the wind, but he’ll defer to her lead. this is her hunt, her purpose, and he’s here to support her, to be what she needs him to be in this moment.

together, they are stronger. together.

tell me where you want me, snowbird. and the words caught her off guard. sure, she may have kept moving, but her eyes widened, and something within her chest stirred. something primal, in a sense, and yet she pushed it aside, focusing on the deer ahead of them. i take the rightwing, she said, words low, muzzle moving by the mans ear as to not alert the deer. you will take the left, a command, and yet it was soft-spoken.

we must scare it to run, follow until it tires from snow, they were approaching, now, and the hooved creature stamped at the ground, turning to face them with the beady, black eyes of a prey-animal. we take it down, then. together, and that was the last thing she would say for the rest of the hunt, giving one last movement of her tail, flicking across tvar's flank, before she would move away from him.

nanuralaaq assumed her position, watching as tvar did the same. a growl was given, directing the deers attention to her, before she would move closer. slinking. stalking. another growl rumbled from her throat, still, somehow, melodic, in a way. never was she her truest self - she hid very little, and what she did, she would only reveal to those she truly loved. easily spooked, now, the ungulate began to run, rala alongside it.

her tail flagged, a signal for tvar to hold back. let it tire. let it fall.

they would take it down. together.

tvar's ears swivel toward her as her low voice murmurs by his ear. her command settles easily into his mind, and he gives a faint nod, blue eyes narrowing as they fix on the deer ahead. left wing, he murmurs, his voice little more than a low rumble, quiet enough not to carry far. it pleases him, the way she takes charge, her confidence a fire that warms something deep within him. when her tail flicks across his flank, he feels it like a spark.

as she moves into position, tvar watches her briefly. it’s a sight to behold, and he allows himself one fleeting moment to admire her before he turns his focus back to the task at hand.

he takes his place on the left, moving low and steady, each step muffled by the snow. his muscles coil beneath his thick pelt, the hunter in him awakening fully now. his gaze flicks between the deer and nanuralaaq, reading her signals as if they were his own instincts. the growl she releases is melodic, almost haunting, and it draws the deer’s attention as intended.

tvar holds back, just as her tail signaled, his pace controlled as he watches the deer’s frantic movements. it runs, and he follows, his larger frame moving with surprising ease through the snow. the chase is not yet his to lead, and he trusts her judgment, her plan. still, his body thrums with readiness, every fiber of him prepared to strike when the moment comes.

she could feel his presence, though further away. the way he followed, the way he let her command, just as she had once told him she appreciated within a man. it felt, now, that he was taking her words to heart - an appreciation for the polar-cub, the snowbird, that triggered something within her. something that she could not, dare not name.

not now, not in the midst of the hunt. not while @Dolce still lingered on her mind, stuck like a burr in a matted pelt. she moved now, relinquishing both of the men from her thoughts - following the deer, using it as an outlet for the energy, the thoughts she had pent up, hidden away from the world. the deer moved with panic, bounding through the snow. as the moments went on, it grew slower, slower. long seconds passed by, and now it could only trot, brought down by the cold that was withstandable thanks to the thick coats that the pair shared. the deer, to, had its fur thickened by the cold...

...but it was no wolf.

it turned, now, rearing when they drew closer, and so nanuralaaq would dart - practiced, poised and precise - to its hind, latching on to its rightwards leg. her tail, high above her, would wag viciously, now, a silent call for tvar to bare his teeth and bite down. a meal soon won. it would struggle beneath them. soon to be grounded. bleeding.

tvar watches her move, eyes fixed on her as she circles the deer with a grace he can only admire. her command of the hunt, her poise, her precision—it’s mesmerizing. he follows her lead and his muscles coil with anticipation. there’s a quiet pride in the way he lets her take control, a satisfaction in seeing her words to him reflected in their movements now.

he’s aware of the way her tail flags. he feels the tension in the air as the deer falters, its strength waning under the relentless pursuit. the moment is close, and tvar’s focus sharpens, the rest of the world falling away until only the hunt remains. when the deer rears, its panic a desperate final act, tvar sees her dart in, swift and sure, latching onto its leg like a piranha. her tail wags high and fast, a signal he doesn’t hesitate to heed.

he surges forward, his larger frame moving with power and purpose, jaws parting as he aims for the deer’s exposed shoulder. his teeth sink into its flesh, and the taste of blood fills his mouth as he clamps down. the deer struggles beneath them, its cries piercing the cold air, but it’s a fight that won’t last long. tvar feels the strength of her grip, the way she holds the deer steady, and it fuels his own resolve. he adjusts his position, unhinging jaws only to snap teeth back over its neck, bracing his weight against the animal, forcing it down, its legs buckling beneath the combined force of their attack.

tvar takes control of the animals neck, fuelling a fire inside of her, the huntress's spirit that she had worked oh so hard to hone roaring alive and powering her small, yet muscled figure. she moves, then, with quick though no less graceful paws, and snaps her teeth around the opposite side of the deers neck.

with the pair on its pressure points, it comes crashing down, legs wobbling, weak, as scarlet ambrosia spills from its skin. for a moment, panting, she draws back, though with a single glance at tvar, she powers through exhaustion, as is typical for the polar-cub, and sinks her fangs into the ungulate once more. a second, two, three go by, and it is grounded, panting, looking around with dark, wild eyes that eventually go still.

the hunt is over. her white maw is bloodied, and she heaves breaths over the deers body. her tongue cleans the blood from her lips as she returns her gaze to tvar, giving a silent nod. their meal is earned. she begins to eat, saving her words for a later time.

a moment of silence. a moment shared. together.

the hunt is over.

for a moment, there is only the sound of their breathing, the faint rustle of wind through the trees. tvar lowers his head, beginning to eat, his hunger a sharp edge honed by the adrenaline still coursing through him. the meat is warm, fresh, a hard-earned reward for their efforts. he eats his fill, but his mind is not entirely on the meal. his thoughts drift as he sits back on his haunches, letting rala claim her share.

his blue eyes find her, and for the first time, he allows himself to truly look. to see her. not just as a companion, or a fellow hunter, but as something more. her bloodied maw, her breath heavy with exertion, her pale coat glowing against the snow—all of it speaks to her strength, her spirit. she is a woman well-met. and she reminds him, in the deepest parts of himself, of the women he once knew. the women of his family. fierce, resilient, capable.

and yet, she is unlike them in ways he cannot describe. she is wholly herself.

tvar feels the weight of that realization settle in his chest, a mix of admiration and something he dares not yet name. he has only known her for a short time—a walk home at dusk, a hunt shared under the pale winter sun. and yet it feels as if it has been longer, as if she has stepped into his life and pushed away the ghosts of his past, the torment of memories that once held him captive. @Gjalla feels distant now, her shadow replaced by the vivid, undeniable presence of rala.

he exhales, the breath heavy in the crisp air. he does not often speak his feelings, but he knows he cannot let the moment pass without acknowledgment.

rala, he begins, though regretful to interrupt her meal. i’ve met few like you. you remind me of the women i grew up with—strong, proud, fearless. but you’re not them. you’re more than that.

his ears flick back briefly, a faint hint of hesitation as he searches for the right words. i’ve only known you a short time, and yet… it feels longer. like i’ve known you for seasons. maybe it’s the hunt, or the way you speak, or something i can’t name. but you’ve… brought me peace.

at the sound of her name - the one that part of her regretted to share, the one that should have been said in its wholeness, she swallowed, moving away from the meal, listening with forwards-facing ears. his words came hesitantly, and they met her with an unknown expression, processing the words, somewhat lost in reply.

she listened, silently, turning his words over in her head. i am glad to have brought you peace, she breathed, then, her maw upturned and yet, her gaze floating from him to the deer beneath her, uncertain in her gaze, unready to say anything that could potentially tether her to him. nanuralaaq was not ready to make that choice. not when this was only their second moment together. not when a certain man still lingered in her mind. but, with a blink, and another breath drawn, she said: you are strong. i meant what i said, in calling you dark mountain, akin to those that protected my home.

and i wish to have more conversations, and to have more walks, and hunts, and all the things, she shuffled, then, moving her paws against the snowy ground, sitting up from where she had once laid, her brows drawn together and a guardedness creeping up upon her figure. a cloak that shrouded the openness she so typically held. but i see the way you look at me, she wanted to say. and i like it, but i am incredibly selfish.

a moment passed, maybe two, before she stood. we should take some chunks back, nanuralaaq said, nodding at the deer. should he invite touch, she would return it, that much she would allow herself. though now, her gaze remained firmly on his eyes, blue like the sky above. the huntress would not let them linger. could not.

walking together was nice, though. she invited him along with a smile ; a flick of her tail.

this was something they could have. no implications. just togetherness.

it’s good to know i remind you of home.

there’s a pause. when she speaks of walks and hunts and conversations, his ears flick, and a subtle nod follows. he wants those things too, though his chest tightens at the thought of wanting more, of wanting her in ways he suspects he shouldn’t. but for now, he is content to take what she offers, to walk alongside her without expectation.

aye, we should, he says when she mentions the deer, his gaze flicking to their shared kill. he rises with a deliberate slowness, muscles rippling beneath his thick coat as he moves to take his place beside her. though her words carry no implications, her tail flicking invitingly in his direction makes his chest ache. togetherness, however fleeting, is enough for now.

he leans down, teeth sinking into the deer’s flank as he tears free a sizeable chunk. blood stains his muzzle once more. stepping forward, his shoulder brushing hers briefly as he moves. the touch is light, fleeting, but deliberate. he doesn’t linger on it, doesn’t push for more.

her beautiful eyes and her beautiful words—all of it will stay with him.

fade!!