Whitebark Stream the black sea

pings for visibility / mention! feel free to join -- other than that, maybe a @Sun Eater ?

her scarred muzzle dips low to lap at the icy water. the chill bites at her tongue, but it does little to cool the fire building beneath her skin. her season—soon to arrive, but not yet upon her—is an inescapable heat crawling through her veins. her crimson eyes flicker up briefly, scanning the trees, ears swiveling toward the faintest rustle of branches.

she exhales sharply, nostrils flaring, and steps back from the water. her agitation is palpable, her movements stiff and restless as she paces the edge of the stream. she knows what her season brings—brutes with swollen egos and no sense of restraint. the thought of it grates against her, her lips curling faintly at the edges in a silent snarl.

any man who comes unworthy will bleed. this she has already decided. her claws flex against the frost-bitten earth, her tail lashing behind her as if warding off unseen threats. even @Randolf, if he tries—though she has yet to decide his fate. he has proven his strength, his worth—it depends on her mood if he does approach her.

she will drink, rest, find @Sobeille and randolf, and move again soon.

!!!!

a predator threaded the taiga.

he saw it in her long, confident movements, in the darkness of scars. her legs were taut with the muscle of long hunting. sun eater glimpsed her femininity in those undulating steps.

he went to her as proud man, as chieftain, as bloodhunter. the single eye bored into her form but he did not speak, for in their matched command he saw no reason to speak.

let each proclaim in silence what was meant to be said.

words would come after.

skip me unless addressed directly

hard miles, hard people.

sobeille cared not for the man who joined them some weeks past, but she followed sivaak knowing to do otherwise would somehow tarnish her honor. it was principle: they hunted, they slept, they roved.

she missed sapphique and the pound of the sea. she missed dogfish and astera and chani. the twins. shadess. her maman.

but she knew if she was to see their faces again, she must not defect.

so she trailed sivaak at a distance, discomfiture rankling her spine as a man strode to sivaak as if he were her equal. he went to her as if a stag rutting; proud and tall and spearing and ready to cut his teeth on the world. but sivaak had spoken of the muradoii, and the supremacy in their femininity. so this man, sobeille was certain, would be cut down soon by sharp teeth or sharp words.

she remained silent, tensing her short claws in the hard packed snow.

she pauses mid-step, crimson eyes narrowing as her ears flick toward the faint sound of movement behind her. her body remains still, coiled with tension.

when the figure emerges from the trees, her gaze sharpens, studying the stranger with a predator’s precision.

she sees in him... her lips curl faintly, the barest flicker of a sneer breaking her otherwise impassive expression.

she steps forward, her movements slow and calculated as she circles him. you hunt, she growls finally, her voice rough and low, more observation than question. you fight. but black scar no muradoii. what is he?

just to be on the safe side, she ushers sobeille to remain behind her with a quick snip of teeth.

what she was came fast, and his nostrils contorted with immediate disgust; up flared dark hackles and his teeth were grim. "we are lanzadoii." we! the many hunters, the attentive, blood-stained wife; the captive he had taken.

was this one of her own? he did not care. "what does a blood-drinker want so far from the sea ice?" surely if she stepped so boldly, she was able to speak in a more civilized tongue, and he strayed far from common now. why, when all the saatsine learned his words?

blood drinker.

that earns a loud, boisterous laugh from the white wolf. so, black scar is lanzadoii. that is better than sharadoii. but not good as muradoii. she gives him nothing more than a huff, relishing in the disgust that he wears upon a tattered complexion. tail swishing with hunger.

same thing that you want, one-eye. to hunt. to survive. ah, yes. it shoots a thrill through her blood to once more speak a language of kin. to feel the weight of words her own upon her blood-soaked mandibles.

we, he declared. so there was more of him. more lanzadoii. her eyes flash, crimson, seeking to poke around the outskirts of the lands that surround them. where? here? such thoughts can be seen in the way she looks, trying to gauge whether he was alone.

so you are a blood hunter too, but softer. wandering dogs. i see now. her words come in a taunting sneer, her head lifting, brow quirking as she looks upon the man. does she wish to provoke him, or merely share verbal blows? to test his strength? is he worthy of standing alongside? of following? do you know us, blood-drinkers? or just the stories?

keep skipping me! i just put this here since she was motioned to by sivaak

motioned to stand attention at sivaak's strong haunch, sobeille did so silently.

her gaze traveled the long arc of this hunter's build. the sinuous muscles under windswept fur. the asp's glittering malice in his gaze.

they speak a different language now. sobeille kept her attention on the man, noting disgust on both their features.

was this the sharadoii sivaak spoke of so disdainfully? or some other doi, as she'd learned existed all those weeks ago?

"does the sea turn its back on you now? i thought it gave all things to the muradoii," sun eater growled. "can you not live as your ancestors did?" they were monsters; if the salt had risen against them, these caribou hunters deserved it.

"tell me something of you, wolf-eater," the lanzadoii man tossed back in challenge; "tell me and i will tell you if it is a truth told by stories or if it is a lie."

blackpelted tail lashed once. he did not like to admit his enjoyment at their wordful sparring.