Bearclaw Valley violent disposition

@Cole IM SORRy if it's terrible, im a yapper and am running on four hours of sleep hdhdhs

with cole's promise of protection, and her own promise of remaining within the borders of bearclaw, she went through the days with a confidence that was newfound. perhaps misplaced — she did not understand what she wanted. or what the man who's been haunting her dreams. a yearning for more, something more...intimate than just simple protection. 

she wanted more, and yet, she would not ask for it. could not, not right now, when she was so unsure. he'd made it sound as if his only obligation to her, the only thing he really wanted, was to stand guard like a steel sentinel. and she's grateful for it, truly, but she's selfish and naive and—

she wants more. so much more. words left unspoken, feelings she couldn't navigate.

it's all too much. so much, that she's distracted. so much so, then when she was out on the search for peace and quiet, she hadn't noticed she was being stalked. hunted.

coyotes weren't typically an issue for a wolf, but she was helpless and small. not the huntress she perhaps wishes she could be; not a woman who's able to hold her own against threads. they swarmed like buzzards; their yips and yowls overwhelming as they circled the nymph. 

winslet could not fight them, least not all of them. her tail tucked and her back against a tree, she snarled and snapped her jaws. sage eyes wide with fear and panic; her heart thrumming unevenly in her chest. they were bold, unrelenting, and it all happened so fast...

a sharp pair of teeth sink into her delicate legs, tearing through flesh as if it were paper thin. blood stains the snow then, pooling beneath her unsteady paws. she wondered then, while they bit and clawed, if cole would stay true to his promise.

The meadow stretched endlessly behind him, the long haul scout weighing heavy on Cole’s broad shoulders. His mind was on the quiet satisfaction of returning to the valley, the routine of the borders, the solace in familiar faces. The thought of Winslet flickered unbidden—soft, fleeting, a warmth he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on too long.
Then he heard it.
Clashing teeth. Snarls.
His ears pinned back, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. His heart hammered as his paws froze mid-step, listening, straining to confirm what he already knew. The scent hit him next—jasmine, sweet and unmistakable.
Winslet.
Fuck.
His voice was barely more than a snarl, and then he was moving, tearing through the snow and brush, each step faster, harder. A storm brewed inside him, fueled by fury and fear alike. The yips and cries of coyotes grew louder with every bounding stride, and his growl deepened until it tore free from his throat like a thunderclap.
When he saw her, his blood turned to fire.
Backed against a tree, surrounded. Blood pooled at her paws, staining the pristine snow. The coyotes snapped and clawed, their frenzied forms like a plague, but all Cole saw was her—helpless, vulnerable, and in danger.
His vision narrowed, darkened, until there was nothing but the enemy and the primal need to destroy.
With a deafening roar, he surged forward, a streak of fury and muscle. His massive frame collided with the nearest coyote, sending the smaller predator sprawling with a sickening crack. Before it could recover, Cole’s teeth sank deep into its neck, shaking violently until the creature went limp in his jaws.

their ceaseless yipping and growls filled her ears along with the heavy drum of her heart, and it was nearly deafening. the coyotes nipped at her legs, her sides; tufts of her plush fur stuck in teeth, only to be blown away with the wind. she'd never felt so afraid, so weak. 

tears blurred her vision. staining the white fur of her cheeks, her jaws parted in pained yelps and shaky cries. they might've just been little demons in her eyes, looking to snuff her innocence. she kept her chin tucked in efforts to protect her neck, but they were relentless, and it wouldn't be long before the swarm overwhelmed her. 

and then there was a break; she had smelled him, before he'd even arrived. she sobbed, frantic eyes searching the treeline, searching for him. "cole!" she whined, pleaded. he'd  come to protect her, but she wouldn't rejoice just yet. 

he was a mere blur in her line of sight; a barreling bullet, precise and targeted. she watched in horror as he tore through the coyote; it was helpless against a force like cole. she had never, in her entire life, witnessed carnage and violence to this scale. 

the coyotes turn their attentions to the mountain of a man then. they snarl and pounce, their teeth minuscule compared to his, but they weren't quite ready to scatter. she knew she should run, as she watched them swarm him, but she was rooted in place, frozen.

Throwing the limp body to the side, he was ready for the lunging attacks. Clamping jowls, protruded teeth— he'd be lucky enough that they aren't rabid with how disgustingly they drooled. Fuckers wouldn't be getting away this time. But Tvar wasn't here.
It was just him and Winnie. Winnie, Winnie.
Blood churned louder, hotter, venomous. A coyote attached to his back, one at his forepaw, one at his tail. Three left. That's it.
He'd faced worse. Done worse. He'd taken men the same size as him, torn their throats from their bodies, hung their heads on spikes. He was a monster, but in this moment, he was a totem of God serving Winslet.
When they trickled upon him like snow, he surged backward. Leaping back, crushing his weight to the ground, there was a satisfying crack from the spine of one coyote. The one braised against his spine, gone.
Two.
Jumping back up, he kicked the body away. Casting a glance towards Winslet, it was both anger and worry. How did she fuckin' end up here? How'd these mongrels scathe by undetected? No time for questions. Ain't got time for this.
The other two would feign interest in Winnie. Their attention's pivoted as quick as a fall of a dime, but Cole was faster. Lurching in their path, he was a guardian in front of her. Take it out on me.
Again they launched, and he too met them with such ferocity. A titan walking amongst mortals, he focused on one. Pounding heart against his chest, he stepped on the throat of one, pinning it beneath his black feet. The other aimed for his shoulder, ripping skin, and he snapped his teeth in reply. Through the forearm his teeth struck true, mangling the bone until it protruded from ugly skin.
And he'd force the choking one to watch.
Slowly he ripped them apart. Bone cracking against molars, blood seeping from his lips. The coyote let out a belligerent cry, and it fueled him further. Gas to a two stroke. The other leg was next, popped out of the socket. A yelp. Beneath his paw the other mewled, vision darkening. He was a conqueror of death, all four horsemen in one united body.
With a final snap, the coyote with snapped forelegs fell to the ground. Bone shining. Splintering. The one beneath him was a fast death, remorseful, perhaps. A snap to it's neck, clean, guileless.

brutality in the most primal form. visceral, rage-filled—gods, she'd never known such rage could infect someone like that. in that moment, her rose-tinted vision of cole was divided. one on side, was the caring, protective man that made her fawn. and on the other, he was a harbinger of death, destruction. 

it frightened her. but it also made her want him more. his bloodlust was terrifying, but his dedication to keeping her safe was reverence. 

their numbers dwindled in a matter of seconds. one left to lay still in the snow, with another shortly to join it, it's body mangled beneath cole's weight. the carnage makes her breath hitch. 

when their eyes met for a brief moment, she was swallowed by the anger and concern that danced within cole's. she pouted, her ears pinned back against her sleek skull. how could she of been so stupid, so careless? he had every right to be upset with her...

and then the violence continues. in a beat of her fragile heart, another coyote is fallen. with another beat, comes another death. he was efficient and quick; calculated and unrelenting. in that moment, she can't help but wonder; were the coyotes the monsters, or was he?

there's so much blood. the pristine snow now coated in it, stained like glass with sanguine. it makes her stomach churn, the scent of metal and death. her chest heaves, and the nausea is overwhelming. 

and then as fast as the battle started, it was over. so many limp bodies circling cole like a twisted sigil. she was frozen for a while in shock, in fear, in awe. until her paws carry her toward him in auto-pilot, and she crashed into his barreled chest and sobbed. 

her limbs ached and burned where they'd torn through flesh, but she couldn't feel anything. "i—i'm sorry," she hiccuped, her form shuddering with each cry, her face hidden and buried in his bloodied fur. 

he may be a monster, but more importantly, he was her savior.

In his vibrating rage he could see nothing. Nothing but the spilt blood on the snow, distant memories of a life he promised to shut away broken through the dam. He was surrounded, cornered, a violent animal that was not destined for captivity. He wasn't destined for anything— matter, he ain't worthy of none of it.
But it didn't fuckin' matter when Winnie crashed into his chest. A fit of sobs escaping her, drenching him in both her muddled blood and salt brine tears. He flinched backward, falling back to reality. Shaken, but not contested.
She muttered apology after apology. He took a tight breath in through his clenched jaw.
And then he wrapped around her.
Paw to her back, nose against her neck. He breathed her in— jasmine, so tender, so soft— diluted with crass iron.
It's alrigh', he breathed, hearts beating out of their chests. I got 'ya. I got 'ya, baby girl.
There was so much blood. So, so much. He was covered in it, but more importantly, she shed it.
Holding her close, he gripped her chin with a gentle tug of his teeth. Where 'ya hurt? He shifted her face from side to side, inspecting, looking down, down, down. Until he saw her legs.

he should scold her. he should snarl, and yell, and tell her what she did was stupid. he should be angrier—but he holds her close, cradles her against him. gentle as if she was fragile glass seconds away from shattering, but firm enough that she knew he was there. that she was okay.

her sniffles and whimpers are muffled into his fur, broken noises that make her quiver with each breath. "i—was so scared," she gasps between cries. it was pathetic, or so she thought; she couldn't hold her own against coyotes. she couldn't hold her own against anything. a rose without thorns, one who'd been sheltered and coddled and hidden away from the ugly, terrible cruelty the world has to offer. 

perhaps she deserved more than just the wounds to her legs. winslet is teary eyed and vulnerable, and she just wants to sink into his warmth and protection and disappear. shelter herself again, because she isn't sure she can handle the real world.

her once pristine white fur is smeared with blood. if she wasn't so shaken, she would've been mortified. so, so much blood. but all she can focus on is cole; his voice, his face, how his eyes rove over every inch of her, searching. she frowns; she doesn't deserve his tenderness. 

her eyes follow his and fall to stare at her slender legs, and she chokes on a sob. blood oozes slowly out of the heavier wounds, but it didn't hurt. not with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. but it's terrifying. 

"i can't feel it. why can't i feel it?" her voice was shaky, uneven with horror. glassy eyes wide as she looks to him for guidance, for comfort.

Cole holds her tightly, his broad frame enveloping her trembling form as though he could shield her from everything in the world. His heart aches at the broken sobs wracking her body, but his voice is steady, low, and soothing.
You’ll be okay, he murmurs, his lips brushing against her crown as he speaks. Breathe, baby, breathe. C’mon, look at me. he tilts his head down, his deep-set eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that commands attention. That’s it, sweetheart. Stay with me now.
He shifts slightly, one paw bracing her frail, bloodied leg as gently as he can manage. He assesses the damage with a practiced eye, his jaw tightening at the sight of the gashes. But his voice remains calm, a tether keeping her grounded.
You can’t feel it ‘cause your body’s in shock, he explains, his drawl soft, almost melodic. That’s normal. Don’t you worry ‘bout that right now.
His nose brushes against her temple, an almost imperceptible gesture of reassurance, as his large paw cradles her closer. Eyes on me. Don't look no where else.
He glances at her legs again, the blood staining her once-pristine coat. Anger simmers beneath the surface, not at her, but at himself for not being there sooner—at the coyotes for daring to touch her. His grip tightens just slightly, protective and steady.
The guard makes a move to lift her, ready to ply her atop his back.
You’re safe now, he coos, his voice unwavering, even as his heart thunders in his chest. I’ve got you. I've got you. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you again. Not while I’m here.

The shrill whoop of coyotes voices made Ameline sneer and roll her eyes. It was their breeding season too- and as dull-witted as they seemed to be in general, to bring their caterwauling voices so close to the pack’s borders was a plea for violence.

But those were not a lover’s cries- but the yowls of a pack hunting, blended with pain and anguish. She heard Cole’s voice and made a beeline for the borders only to find the battle ended- but the road to recovery begun.

Winslet was torn, shredded, bled. Keep huh here, call for a medic. She said, staying the man who looked keen to move the young woman to the valley, for safety. She was not sure if any in their midst could heal such wounds- but she knew one who could. 

I’m going to Twiftcurrent, for their medic. Tend to huh, now. I’ll be back ath thoon ath I can.

Time couldn’t be wasted; she set a course, immediately, for their neighbours.

panic wells in her chest, heavy and sinking and suffocating. she tries to focus on cole; his gentle brush to her forehead, his deep and soothing voice. and she tries to keep her eyes on him, but they gravitate back down to her wounds. deep, fresh, ugly. she swears that she could see muscle, maybe even bone, and prays that's only her frantic imagination working in overdrive. 

she'd been hurt before, and pain wasn't unfamiliar...but it was no less startling. she sinks against him, her limbs shaky, and the adrenaline is slowly leaching away. she starts to feel it then, incrementally. a stinging, overwhelming burn that threatens to grow sharper, threatens to bite harder. 

"there's so much blood—" she mumbles. glassy eyes are drawn to it, and then drawn to the carnage that lays around them. "w-why is there so much?" how much of it was coles, how much of it was the coyotes, and how much of it was hers? 

she feels nauseous, uneasy. light-headed. she grips onto cole tighter, her fear palpable. 

there's another voice, another presence, but it hardly registers through her mania. it's like a faint mumbling, or as if ameline's speaking underwater and her voice is muffled, dull. 

the only words that pierce through it, are the regina's urgency to get help. her chest seizes, her pants heavier. would cole go, too? would they leave her alone? "stay," she cried, forcing her eyes to meet his. they were pleading. "please don't go. i can't—i don't—"

he urges he won't leave, and then she's being lifted up, perched atop his strong back. her injured legs dangle on either side of him, and she buries her face into his scruff, muffling her own dull whimpers. "it hurts. i wanna go home."

He cradled Winslet against him, his heart hammering in his chest as if it could beat strong enough for the both of them. His hands were unsteady but sure as they cupped her delicate frame, keeping her pressed close. He rocked her gently, his voice a rasping, frenzied whisper against her temple.
Breathe, baby...you’ll be okay, I got you, he murmured, planting hurried, desperate kisses along her bloodstained cheek. His grip was firm, anchoring her to him as though his touch alone could hold her steady against the tidal wave of her pain and fear.
Ameline's arrival snapped him from his spiraling thoughts. His gaze, wild and sharp, darted to her. Hurry, he rasped, his voice raw with urgency, thick with emotion. Please! Hurry...
As Ameline bolted, he returned his focus entirely to Winslet. She was trembling in his arms, her breaths coming in frantic gasps. Cole pressed his forehead to hers, grounding her as much as himself. Don’t look at that, he said firmly. Look at me. Winnie, right here. I ain’t leavin’, you hear me? You’re not alone, darlin’. Never alone.
When she begged him to stay, clutching him like he was the last thing tethering her to this world, his jaw clenched. I’m here, baby. Not leavin’ you, not now, not ever, he promised, his tone steel beneath the tenderness.
Her trembling frame was so small against his, and it only made him hold her tighter, like his strength alone could shield her from what had already happened. But the blood—there was so much blood. It clung to her fur, smeared across her legs, her chest, her sides. Some of it was his, but too much was hers.
Her small whimpers broke something inside him, but he refused to falter. He had to be strong. For her, for her! We're goin' home soon. Y'hear me?
Listen t'me.
More kisses against her cheeks; against her temples. Talk t'me. Winnie, darlin', talk t'me. Tell me 'bout those birds y'like.
He insisted. And whilst she thought, he tilted his head back in a deep, resonant howl. A howl meant for none other than @Rala.
Don't fuckin' fail me now, cub.

snowwoman had already drawn herself from the valley by the time that the call had wrung out ; a howl, low, beating like a drum of war. it called the polar cub forwards ; meant for her, only her, and so she moved without reluctance, paws carrying her in haste. the scent of blood, metallic and fresh, guided her, wearied her ; it smelled of winslet.

now she moved faster, fasterfasterfaster. she was but a scrawny thing, that winslet. thin-boned, delicate, like a bird. flightless ; grounded ; bleeding. she could smell it. she could know it without seeing. cole! winnie! came the shout of her light voice, alerting them of her presence, hoping to alleviate some stress. soon, whatever adrenaline that may be coursing through the thin veins of the newcomer would wear off, and the pain would grow in intensity, turning away from the shield that had been holding it back.

i am here, nanuralaaq's words came in a low murmur, gently pushing cole away so that she may adopt full access to the injured woman. the broken bodies of coyotes littered the scene, their scents thick and revolting within the already biting air ; cold. but the coats of wolves could keep them warm, and so meticulously, without thought or word, she began layering a blanket of snow upon the exposed flesh. gentle motions.

and then when she spoke, her tellings were of the intention to distract, to soothe, her voice akin to a mother calming her weeping whelp. the snow will sting, but it will calm inflammation and soothe. it will be a barrier between the injury and the air, so that you do not get infected. winslet, listen to me: you will be okay. i will ensure it.

nanuralaaq looked to cole, then. do you know what poppy seeds look like?

the pain was unbearable. it was hot and seething, coursing through her in waves. she wanted it to be over; she isn't strong enough to bare it. any of it. she felt like a child who'd scraped it's knee, being coddled and soothed by their mother. her whimpers and cries drift through the air, and she has to force herself to focus on cole as he cradles her.

"g—gulls. they're called gulls," she hiccuped. birds that she used to envy, for they were free and untethered. she could almost hear their nostalgic calls, and it's enough to tear her mind away from the pain for a moment.

rala joins them, urging cole aside, and his loss stings more than any wound. she didn't wish him to leave. at least rala was a comforting presence; a soft and kind woman who'd made an effort to become winslet's friend. her only friend. her voice was calm and reassuring. she shouldn't have to witness her like this.

the snow burns as it's packed into her limbs, and she tries to weakly pull away, her eyes screwed shut.

Gulls. He ain't ever heard a word like that before. He'd listen to her talk about them over and over again, so long as she promised him that she would live. Through this, if they could make it, he'd worship the Lord over and over again.
He opened his mouth to respond, quickly snapping shut once he is ripped away from her. Fire, not the kind that Winslet feels, tears through him like a knife to an open flame.
He damn near snapped Rala's fuckin' neck.
Even as she knelt beside Winslet, Cole's dark eyes stayed fixed on her, his breath shallow, frantic, every instinct urging him to pull Winslet back into his arms.
He grimaced, watching Winslet's body tremble under the snow's sting, her cries cutting deep into his core. When Rala asked about the poppy seeds, he faltered, his mind racing. Yeah, he rasped, barely more than a growl. I’ll get ’em.
And then he ran. The scent of Winslet’s blood clung to him like a curse, driving him forward as he plunged into the woods. His paws tore through the underbrush, his nose to the ground, desperation fueling every step. Every rustle, every unfamiliar shadow sent his heart into his throat. He wouldn't come back empty-handed—he couldn't.
When he returned, his muzzle was flecked with dirt, a small bundle of herbs clenched carefully between his teeth. His chest heaved, his gaze darting to Winslet immediately. He dropped the bundle, nudging it toward Rala with a trembling paw, then turned to her.
Winnie, he murmured, his voice soft but weighted, trembling with emotion. He crouched low beside her, pressing his nose gently to her cheek. We’ll get through this. And after… we’ll go. His voice grew firmer, more certain. We’ll find that ocean you were talkin’ about. You hear me? Just hold on. Fight.
He looked to Rala then, a silent plea in his eyes, before his attention returned wholly to Winslet, his frame once more a fortress around her fragile form.