Deepwood Weald keeper

Spring’s breath wove through the land, carrying warmth that barely kissed the shade’s weary frame. Rhaena did not stop; never did, never would. Periwinkle eyes flicked left, then right, her nose twitching, but not for the scent of her dam this time. No, she hunted something far more pressing. Hunger gnawed at her ribs, loud enough for any passerby to hear, but she would not beg. She would take.
Frost still clung to the earth beneath her paws when she finally found it: a rabbit, small, pitiful, but enough. It had no idea, no chance. She moved as she was taught, silent and swift. Then, she struck.
Warm blood met her tongue, and for a moment, the taste dulled the ache in her belly. But memories had their own way of creeping in, unwelcome and stubborn: Find me when you’re ready.
Her jaw tensed, ears twitching, but she forced the thought aside. Not now. She tore another bite, crimson smearing her dark muzzle. The past would wait. Hunger would not.

raedwulf had been watching for only a few seconds now. wolf steps had come to stop at the top of a ridge of dirt and stone. below, a she-wolf hunted.
he did not speak the language that most did in these lands. it would be useless to attempt communication, but raedwulf could not help but to sate his own manful curiosity.
he leaps down, landing upon thudding paws. descending the hill, watching as the woman voraciously feasts upon the measly meal she had conquered for herself. drawing a breath and then chuffing loudly, announcing his presence just as his head parts through flowering brush.
Þū hæfst þē sylfe gemetegod lȳt hūsceapan. meager, also, is his hope that she might understand his tongue. brown eyes looking then upon her face, to gauge any reaction. any sort of recognition.

Rhaena had been too focused on her meal to notice she was being watched. She tore into it with urgency, as if expecting it to be snatched away at any moment. Only when the heavy thud of paws neared did she freeze, periwinkle gaze snapping up, her grip instinctively tightening around her prize. It wasn’t much, but she had caught it; she would not let it go so easily.
A large figure loomed before her, draped in coal and wood, his brow heavy, his dark brown eyes unreadable. A man built of iron and shadow. The man spoke, his voice deep, the words foreign to her ears. And yet… not unfamiliar. Her mother would have understood.
She kept his gaze, cautious but unafraid, curiosity flickering beneath her guarded posture. „Are you hungry?” she asked at last, the words slipping out before she could think better of them, though she kept her meal clutched close.
Something about his voice tugged at her memory, and her thoughts raced. Then, it struck her. The shadow girl had heard this before; or something close to it. Excitement surged through her. With a sudden stomp of her paw, she straightened, eyes wide with realization.
„Wait!” she blurted, practically vibrating with energy. „Hjálpaðu mér! I think this means hello, yes?” She wasn’t sure if he would understand, wasn’t even certain the word truly meant what she thought; but she had heard the adults say it often though. And that was enough to make her try.

he does not startle when her eyes snap up—and he doesn't move, only watches, eyes remaining focused upon her. seeing the way she clutches the kill like she means to die with it. she is young, maybe even wild.
his head tilts slightly at her voice. the same foreign tongue he kept encountering, quick and smooth. are... hungry—he knows the shape of that word. he’s heard it enough to place it, even if the rest swims in his ears.
when she suddenly moves and exclaims, the man takes a step back—wide in berth, his eyes widening briefly in both alarm and surprise. exclaiming that she needs help.
he is slow to respond, looking her once over. þū wilnast fultomes?

Rhaena’s excitement bloomed like a firework, bright and unrestrained; only to fizzle the moment the coal-colored man stepped back. Her ears twitched and tail hesitated; had she said something wrong? Had she insulted him? His response was nothing like what she had expected, and a warm flush crept over her cheeks. This is why you don’t use words you don’t know the meaning of!
„Yes! I mean no! I’m sorry,” she blurted out, ears folding as she tried to salvage whatever was left of her greeting. Steeling herself, she held his gaze, determination flickering in her periwinkle gaze. „I meant hello.”
To make up for her blunder, she wagged her tail, a universal gesture of friendliness. Surely, even if he didn’t understand her words, he’d understand that. But she wasn’t done yet. Rhaena pointed a paw at him, then mimicked eating by snapping her jaws together. „You,” she pointed again, „eat? Nom nom?” He was foreign, viking maybe, and he could probably snap her in two if he wanted, but she wasn’t afraid. If anything, her childish persistence would be her shield. A little thing like a language barrier wasn’t about to stop her.
Emboldened, the shadow girl rose to her paws, grabbing the little rabbit she had caught earlier. She padded closer, though she kept a few steps of respectful distance, then placed the offering before him. Again, she snapped her jaws in an exaggerated motion, repeating her message in the only way she knew he would understand.

he blinks once. she is trying. even if her words are air to him, her meaning rings clear.
when she offers the rabbit, he does not reach for it immediately. instead, he looks at her. long enough to test her resolve, long enough to see if this is jest or truth. then, slow and with care, he lowers his head. ġeferrǣden. he murmurs warmly, lowly.
he does not snap the rabbit up. he leans down, takes only a small bite, then pushes it back toward her with his paw.
be twēonum.

As expected, he seemed… a little weirded out. Maybe even confused. But did she care? Not one bit. Rhaena had always been this way: bright-eyed, full of warmth, the kind of wolf who found light even in the darkest corners. She had spent her days seeing the best in others, offering kindness without hesitation. And so far, no one had taken advantage of it. Hopefully, no one ever would. The world, in her eyes, was soft, painted in warm hues of trust and innocence.
Her tail gave a hopeful wag as the man took a small bite of the rabbit, then nudged the rest back toward her paws. Was this it? Did she just make a new friend? A broad smile stretched across her face, excitement bubbling up in her chest.
Then he spoke again; deep, foreign words that rolled over her like a wave. One ear twitched. Then the other. Whatever he said entered one ear and slipped right out the other. But she didn’t want to seem rude, so she simply nodded along, pretending she understood.
But wait; where were the introductions? „Me,” she said, tapping a paw to her chest. „Rhaena.” A name she had once disliked as a pup but had since grown into. It was hers, after all; unique, uncommon, just like her.
She then lifted her paw and pointed toward him, head tilting curiously. „You?”

his eyes linger on her—soft now, rather than sharp. she is small, but not weak. eager, but not foolish. not yet. he sees no guile in her face, only something unfamiliar to him.
innocence.
when she taps her chest and gives her name, he watches the gesture closely.
she points to him next. he blinks once, then slowly lifts his paw and mirrors her gesture—taps it to his own chest with a low grunt of acknowledgment.
rædwulf. then, after a breath—his head tilts slightly. frēond?

love these two, they remind me of Pixie and Brutus!

Rædwulf. A name that tangled on her tongue, heavy and foreign, yet oddly intriguing. She mouthed it silently, as if testing its weight, before perking up at his next words. His language was strange, rough like the crashing of waves against the cliffs, yet familiar; in some way.
„Fre…” she echoed, ears twitching as she pieced it together. „You mean… friend?” Her head tilted, the realization dawning like the first rays of dawn, and then her face lit up. „Yes! I will be your friend!” she chirped, tail wagging behind her, unable to contain her delight.
Rhaena’s periwinkle gaze danced over him now, taking him in properly. Scars marred his frame, lines of history carved into his flesh, and his jaw; oh! He was missing a tooth. But his fur looked so soft, thick and wild like the pelt of a beast made for braving storms. A gentle giant, she decided, a retired warrior, perhaps?
Brows rising in curiosity, she stepped closer, head tilting one way, then the other, as if trying to see his past written upon his skin. „Why do you have so many scars?” she asked, voice laced with wonder rather than fear. Another beat, another observation. „And your tooth! Did you lose it in a fight?” A gasp left her then, her paws bouncing slightly in excitement.
Her head lifted eagerly, eyes shining with an idea, the childish enthusiasm returning tenfold. „Oh! Can you teach me your language?”

he watches her echo his word—friend—and says it with such light that something stirs in his chest.
frēond, he repeats, with the faintest pull of his mouth. not a smile, but close. she draws near, and he allows it. her questions come fast, bright. he doesn’t understand them all, but her tone is kind.
he lifts a paw, taps a long scar at his shoulder. teeth. then to the side of his broken jaw. battle. words he’s picked up in passing during his time with forneskja.
her last question gives him pause—teach. his brow furrows. strange, but not unwelcome. he taps his chest.englisc.
then, slowly, he draws a circle in the dirt. taps the center twice. his eyes lift to hers.
hām?

Rhaena mouthed the word as he repeated it, shaping it carefully in her mind. Frēond: she liked the sound of it; warm, familiar, she would remember it.
As he motioned to his scars, she watched, her periwinkle gaze darting across each old wound with curiosity. He had lived through battle, survived things she could not even imagine. But what kind of monster would even dare to challenge him? He was huge; a living fortress! Rædwulf could flatten anything that stood in his way if he wanted to. Her tail flicked in thought before she blurted out, „What could have possibly hurt you?” A beat passed, and then she beamed, as if realizing something. „Oh! Unless.. unless you fought a bear! Or no, a pack of wolves! Or maybe a bear and a pack of wolves at the same time?” The excitement danced in her voice, her weight shifting eagerly from paw to paw.
Then, at his mention of English, she perked up. „English? Yes! That’s my language!” But the moment of realization stretched a little too long, and when he gestured toward himself, she blinked, confused. „Oh! You want me to teach you?” Her ears twitched in surprise before she giggled, a nervous, airy sound. „I mean… sure! But just so you know, I'm terrible at teaching.” She pawed lightly at the dirt, suddenly bashful, her gaze dipping downward. „I’ll try, though!”
Rædwulf’s massive paw traced a shape in the earth, a rough circle, and his claw pressed into its center. Rhaena’s head tilted, ears flicking as she studied it. Hām; home.
Her tail stilled, the light in her expression faltering for just a second. She understood immediately, but something about the word settled heavy in her chest, sinking deep like a stone in a riverbed. Her paws shuffled, weight shifting as she glanced away, ears folding back slightly. „No home,” she admitted softly, the words slipping past her lips before she could think to stop them. The shadow girl forced a small smile after a pause, kicking lightly at the dirt as if brushing the thought away.