Fox's Glade my knees are cold

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though the meadow was thick with prey, nanuralaaq found herself wandering, as one typically does. it was to the glade that she returned, where she had reunited with @Dolce, who would find himself stuck in her mind as of late. she let pale paws carry her nimble, thickly-coated body as her reminiscent thoughts drifted away from her.

thinking back to how @Cole had said that both @Towhee Jr and @Ameline were pregnant. the latter did not surprise her in the slightest, and she supposed that she could not judge the former, for she barely knew the young woman. instead, some sort of maternal instinct had budded its way into her heart, and now it frequented her mind often. she considered, then, if dolce would ever be interested in having children.

deep down, she hoped that he did, for if he did not, she would have to search for another, as was that not the whole point of her travelling to these lands? to branch out, to continue the legacy of the waterdivers and the snowpelts? the seal and the ox? but nanuralaaq knew that, no matter what dolce did or did not want, parting from him would be difficult, and so she would refuse to, even if it meant sacrificing a part of herself.

sighing, the snowwoman shook the thoughts from her head, and laid herself within the glade, rolling first to her side, then to her back ; looking forwards at the treetop ahead.

---

dolce often found himself returning to the glade where he'd found his dove. the woman who was single-handedly tearing him apart and piecing him back together, molding him into something better. worthy. because, with all the time's he'd walk that same path, one thing had become clear; he wanted to be the man she deserved. with her, there was a greater purpose. 

a future that, for once, didn't feel so unattainable. but with that came the question; what does that future entail? a marriage, a bond, a family? all things that a past version of himself would've scoffed at, as men like himself didn't go on to live happy ever afters.

 they die a gruesome death, get buried somewhere in the desert to rot and whither away. left to become nothing but a blip and buzzard food. no legacy. 

with whelping season around the bend, his thoughts naturally drifted towards children. he'd never thought about starting a family before, because that wasn't something outlaws did. but there's a chance now, with rala. and it terrifies him. 

on one of those walks, he'd found her. laying on her back, staring up at the bare tree tops. she was enough to chase the ghosts and doubts out of his mind, if only for just a while. for a moment he just watched from a distance, that warmth in his eyes that was meant just for her. 

and then he made his way closer, until he was standing before her. "look as pretty as a picture, rala." with a soft rumble, he lowered his head to graze his nose across her cheek. "what'chu doin' out here?"

and she is not alone for very long. rala wonders, then, if dolce does the same as her ; if he, too, comes here, to where they had reunited, so that he may think, and so that he may reminisce, just as she does. pretty as a picture, dolce says, and at that, she chuckles. a 'picture'? what is that? lifting her head so her dark nose may brush against the side of his muzzle, while his own found the plush, pale fur of her cheek.

he asked, then, what she was doing out here. for a moment, she was uncertain of her answer, before she let out a breath and replied: i am thinking, her tone was naught but a quiet breath, as if a secret whispered to only him and the glade that kept them shielded from the sun that shone overhead. of things i am not sure i can ask of you, yet, she rolled onto her opposite side, now, so that she may rise to stand before him. of questions that i am afraid to ask, and terrified to hear the answers of.

there was a vulnerability twinkling within her gaze, one that was weary, and yet full of trust. before he could ask her of her questions, she gave a flick of her tail and turned away, giving him a mere glance over her shoulder before she would take slow steps away from him. what are you doing out here, dolce? here words were carried on a light, lilting voice. melodic in all ways one would think possible.

curious, nervous, once brash and unbothered ; now brimming with an affection that made her almost ... anxious, though perhaps it was her misinterpreting excitement in the moment. she turned back to look at him, now, watching.

waiting for him to draw closer.

"means yer as beautiful as any sunset or sunrise." he chuckled at her gentle inquiry. his compliments to her came freely now; and with them a warmth that was hers and hers only. as far as he was concerned, no one held a flame to his dove. 

she rose and spoke with an uncharacteristic doubt. that bright, bold light of hers dimmed. he grunted, displeased; she wasn't usually so hesitant to speak freely, a quality he'd come to adore. he followed behind her as if it was his instinct to do so, head leveled with his shoulders. 

"was just walkin'. thinkin', same way it looks like you've been doin'." his voice was low, softer. concerned, or perhaps tentative? her reluctance to share her worries and questions was enough to make him worry, too. "what's troublin' that pretty lil' head of yours, huh? there ain't nothin' you can ask me that'll chase me away." he urged her.

and so he followed after her, a silent test that she had not even been aware that she had set out for him to attempt, and yet he had passed it as she always knew he would. her paws carried her pack towards him, then, and she smoothed her cheek along the fur on his neck. i wonder if, someday, you will take me as your nuliariik, came her gentle tones, then, marking her scent upon his figure. reaffirming her claim.

and maybe, you may give me nutaqqat, there was a purpose behind her mothertongue, for though she had voiced her thoughts, she was not ready for him to understand them, for him to hear them in all of their entirety. nanuralaaq drew in a breath, burying her face within the fur on his neck, and said: i worry you may not want the things that i want. it is difficult, thinking that, because i travelled so far to get it, and she did not want to give him up just so that she may have children.

a dry chuckle left her lips. it is good thing that you do not know my words.

nuliariik. a word he didn't know, and yet desperately found himself wanting to learn. he's sure it held importance, with the way her melodic voice lilted when she spoke it. he leaned into her touch, his eyes soft in a way only she could make them, as her scent wrapped around him like a vice. he'd never tire of it. dipping his head, he'd press a quick kiss to the her crown, his own claim. 

his brows furrow as he lifts a sturdy limb, guiding her closer, closer, and hoping that she'd stay. he embraces her with a deep rumble that's gentle in a way that belies his size, his strength. he used to fear becoming soft. but with her, it felt natural. right. "darlin', i'd find a way to give ya the world, if ya asked for it." a promise. 

what could she have wanted so badly, that she was willing to give a piece of herself away to stay beside him? what could she want that he wouldn't? 

"so teach me. i wanna know. all of it, every word." he was ignorant to her tongue, and perhaps he wasn't the most studious man, but he was willing to try. seeking a deeper connection to her, so maybe one day, she'd reveal what she wants, and he could provide.

i give u rala ... do not die ...

he asked. he asked for her words, for their meanings, to be taught every word of a tongue that had felt - within these lands - strictly reserved for her. for a moment, she could only blink, only raise her brows in surprise ; nanuralaaq had hardly processed what he had said at all, before the words left her tongue: wife, she whispered. nuliariik ... it means 'wife', but, would he be her nukik? did he want her, in that way?

and now, nanuralaaq drew forwards a breath. it was with the second word that she found hesitance. where the first, she had simply blurted, she felt that now, perhaps she may be smart to watch her words, as she so often did not. nutaqqat ... a word carried with sigh. means, ah ... and rala did not wish to say it! she did not want to misuse her words, push him away! for what if this was something that he did not want, could never want? what was she to do? it means children, and the words came quickly.

snowwoman moved closer, so that she may bury her face within his fur ; so that she may not have to witness the dance of confusion, disgust, unwanting upon his face. so that she may be pushed away, at the very least, and leave upon her own terms. i wish to be you wife, dolce. to have children. your children, almost mumbled.

wife. children. now he knows, and he chides himself for having been so dull as to know have seen it before. of course she'd wished to be wed, to start a family of her own—she'd left her home for that, hadn't she? 

what a fine, fine mother and wife she would be. strong, beautiful, independent. loving and caring in ways he could never be, no matter how soft she'd make him, like water smoothing over a boulder. he'd still have jagged edges and deep cracks. 

he'd question if she wished to have him even then, but he already knew the answer. she'd already proved she'd take him for whatever man he'd become, for whatever direction he'd walk. 

dolce truly doesn't know how good a father he could be. he's strong and dependable, and would protect his own with everything he has. but is that enough? would it be enough for her, for their children? it's a daunting, terrifying thought. but he'd weathered through storms and through betrayal, through violence and greed. 

if she saw him fit to sire her children, then that's all the encouragement he'd need. she has a way of seeing the good in him that he's blind to. 

he holds her closer, possessive and with a tenderness that belies his gruffness. nose presses to the crown of her head, lingering. "you'd make a fine wife, 'n an even better mother." he rumbled. low, intimate. "i ain't gonna pretend like i'd be some...father of the year, but i can promise you this; i would die to protect you 'n our little ones." 

he draws in a deep breath. "i will make you a wife. i will make you a mother, if you're willin' to take that chance with me, dove. i'd give ya anything." because life without her was dull and lifeless, and he'd fight tooth and nail not to return to his past self. if she saw good in him, then he would be good. 

he will be everything she needs of him, no questions asked.

with a crooked grin, he chuckles. "now teach me how'ta say husband in your tongue. 'n father, too."