Bitterroot Valley dalnum

The morning of summers were the only bearable thing about them.

Before the sun scorched the land beneath harsh rays of heat. Already she longed for another turn of seasons, for fall to return and plunge them into winter. Doubtful that she would still feel that way if she continued onward alone when the time came.

Yet for now winter was a dream.

The flowers along the short-cropped valley were pretty she supposed...

The idle thinking of a young woman who walked along the trails of migrational beasts. Deep, long and winding. Generations of hooved creatures had used this place.

So why did it feel so utterly empty and lonely on that summer morning?

hope this is okay ;w;

He emerges from the depths of the taiga; once a snow-ladden landscape, now a dry plains, carrying a browned hare from its hovel. Once, he would be here, smiling and laughing with his sky-cousins. But now, he is alone. Ayovi, Skorpa, her children. Tethered elsewhere, he has never felt so alone. 
but that was okay,
He was okay. 
Tawny paws scraped the hardened surface, callouses rough from the terrain being claimed as his own. He wandered aimlessly, no destination, and pushed forward until he'd find something worth his time. 
He passed a herd in the highlands. Elk taking their part in the lush greenery before it was covered in heaps of white. His ears flicked, listening to their bellows. A hollowed out cavern whelped in his chest. But he pushed the emotions away. 
Entirely caught up staring at the herd, he hadn't seen the piebald woman. When he turned his head, he thought he was seeing a spirit. Big Sky chilled him. Loneliness scuttled by his toes. 
With a gruff sound of a 'hello' he was apathetic with his distance. Keeping it firm, but making no attempts to leave.

pls it's perf

A man.

Why did he gaze upon her? And what was it that was in that gaze and gruffly understood greeting?

She had never been a spirit reader, but wished she had tried to learn. If only for this meeting. A whimsically foolish thought. Youthfulness still controlled her thoughts it seemed.

He was, near concerningly, large. Sturdy. Only he did not seem a threat. Not right now.

Her eyes did not meet his own. They did not raise above that scar that laid chiseled into strong cheekbone like a river splitting a mountain.

Hver ert þú?

Curiosity laced her voice as a thoughtful look lingered upon facial features.

<3!

Words were exchanged; ones that he did not understand. But he...reigns an air of familiarity with the tongue. Was it Skorpa who had spoken the same tongue? The man who whisked his cousin up and off her feet? His lip dared to curl, if only brief, but he restrained himself. 
She did not look at him— but he looked at her. Swirling pools of emerald that stared back to his willowing amber. Hers were stronger. Much more. 
The hare was dropped at his feet. She questioned him. But he did not know what the small piebald asked. 
He pointed at himself. No longer Cövah. Sega. 
friend.

Food should have been appealing to any traveler.

All she can think of is the stranger. Who was he? Where had he come from? He smelled of no others which meant they were both travelers — or at least alone. Yet they could take comfort in each other for this brief moment. Exchange words, if they shared any, and...then disappear?

Was that all her life was now?

See new faces, leave them behind.

She watched his gesture now. He pointed at himself and then uttered a singular word. No, a name.

Sega.

As familiar as it was strange.

She did not mimic his gesture but she would offer up the same information he had.

Svana, Coyly spoken as she dared to tilt her head to the side. Finally willing herself to look up into his gaze. She had dreamed of fall and now here was an autumn gaze. She could have laughed for the absurdity.

She kept staring at him. Any Big Sky male would take it as an invitation. A chieftain would swiftly dismiss any coital activities, dissolving anything outside of a union as a fallacy. Sega swallowed. 
He swallowed hard. Hard when she finally connected those opalescent emeralds with the loneliness of his own. It hit him, then, how lonely he just was. How unbearable the nights had become when in times of prosperity he'd be surrounded by a coven of women. Of brothers, too. But there were no brothers here. And only just one woman.
Svana.
And he took her in like the first breath of air he'd breath for months. A reawakening in his ute soul, revitalizing him in a way that only the sweet scent a woman could. 
Sega pushed the rabbit towards her. Sharing mine. Mine for you.

Food could become appealing when offered freely.

Was it truly so free? Móðir might have suggested she say a simple thanks and look no deeper. Faðir would have his head! Her sisters would have all been great, grand giggles and delightful whispers. Her brothers would have surely teased her and bullied him!

For the first time in the turn of a moon, she became homesick. As if the shine of new lands wore off once she thought of home.

So she made her own choice in this moment.

The hare was taken and then, as cleanly as any beast could reasonably manage, split in half.

In the manner of a lady she assigned herself the smaller half. Then nudged back the larger half to him.

Borða. She instructed him now with a soft tip of her chin towards his half.

In the waiting moments that he watched whether or not she'd take his offering, he felt like he'd throw up. Churning knots in his stomach, he'd pray to mother that it would be a passing side effect, and not end up with yesterday's dinner upon his toes. 
He'd grown thinner in the past months. Not entirely noticeable, but he would imagine his mother would have. He is not the Big Sky hunter that he was. No, he was only a shell of what his father carved of him. And even that haunted Sega. Svana reminded him of what he had lost— but even then, he'd refuse to let her go. This beautiful painted stranger. 
The hare was split in two. 
Sega shook his head when she gave him the half. 
Woman take all. He'd clarify. Pushing it back to her.

He returned it.

For a moment, she could only look at him. Right at those autumn eyes that she still could not fathom! Nor did she entirely understand what he said. Something about all. Yet had he not killed this meal himself? Did he too not deserve to eat?

Organ meat removed, small things from such a delicate creature but rich.

These are placed at his feet now. She will eat the bulk of the meat, but he cannot go without.

She will not be all take.

Borða. Once more! This time with a more pointed tone and look at him. Her muzzle swept in a motion from his muzzle down to the food.

She would rather not enjoy if he declined a second time. Even if she, too, understood pushing her luck with a strange man might be a rather bold choice.

He was pleased when she took the meat back and skinned it for the fat for herself. Woman needed it more than he did. And even then, when she could have taken all that the hare had provided, still pushed tiny organs towards his blonde feet.
She was stubborn, this Svana. He would give her that. He reminded her of the women from his tribe— one's who commanded their soon-to-be chieftain husband's.
Begrudgingly so, he pulled the remaining corpse towards himself.
He waited for her to eat first.
Whilst he did, his autumn gaze would fall upon her. Her scent, albeit sweet, had no traces of anyone else. Was she alone just like he was? A part of him hoped so. A part of him, trekked deep within his soul, wanted to whisk her away and keep her forever. Make her his wife.
But it could be the loneliness speaking through him. He shoveled the thoughts down, taking a wary bite.

There was silent pride building in her chest when he did not protest again.

Now, she could enjoy her meal. Truly. It did not feel given freely if he had some too. Yet she could not help but wonder what he might want from this.

Only company?

She allowed herself to steal glances at him between bites. Slow. No rush to eat and dash away from him.

He did not seem to be in any particular rush either.

There were many things she wished to ask him. Did he understand her? He had gestured earlier and now she felt the gap between them. Two different worlds even if it seemed they lived the same life. Where had autumn eyes come from? Was there a mother who missed him? Brothers who had trained him or he had taught?

Kjöt. A paw tapped what was left of her meal, the rich hue of the meat inside the hare. She could start with simple words. Teach him, bridge the gap between them.

Perhaps silly. She imagined he'd have better things to go do after this meal.

He ate slowly. Watching her the entire duration. Watching as the meat came apart once touching her lips, once the flesh rolled down her throat. It was as intimate as he'd been with anyone in months. For this, he would be grateful.
The bridge that tied them had disappeared. His share of the carcass gone. But some of hers remained, and he couldn't understand why. Was there something wrong with it? Rotten? No, it couldn't be. He had just hunted it.
She spoke a word he did not know. Kjöt. Did it mean rabbit, meat? He couldn't tell.
Meat. He said back to her in his heavily accented voice, but then countered quickly, Tüm.
Any excuse to talk to her.

His first word is not her own.

It is one she has heard before from other mouths not of her blood. Vainly, she has no interest in common words. The second word that comes from him is neither usual nor familiar.

This lighted her gaze with warmth and surprise for but a moment.

Then she was thoughtful once more, composed and collected. She could not seem too eager. Even if she was.

Tüm.

Her voice a soft echo of his own gruff one. A claw touched the edge of the meal.

Aleinn.

This time she gave no clue for what she was telling him, teaching him. Only a long look into that face that towered above.

He nods at her pronunciation. Albeit not the same, it was close enough to where he could understand her. Food. Something that combines them both. Brings them together for whatever odd reason. Food means trust. Companionship, even.
Sega, himself, had to hold back his eagerness. To be happy is one thing, but to scare her off entirely would most definitely be the pinnacle of his demise.
Upon her tongue came a word that he had no idea the meaning of. She made no effort to teach him this one, an he'd never been a great student. His taavi had his patience run thin very quickly in his youth. Especially on the hunts.
But it was what made him such a great tʉmʉʔai. And he wouldn't take it for granted.
Tuka? He'd help her this time, being more than content to stare down the sights of her pretty face, counting the brunette freckles that spread from her splotches.

In this voice is a question.

She does not know what he means to say now. The gap between them spreads again and she cannot help but wonder how many miles separates them. Where had he come from?

A now meal-stained paw raised to gesture at herself.

Aleinn.

She repeats again.

He will know this is obviously not her name, they had already exchanged such, but that this word is still for her.

Alone — how depressing a title to carry.

Why did she feel the need to convey such to him?

Bloody paw pointed at her chest, he understood now. He understood what her solemn word meant, and even when she first spoke it, could not explain it. They are pack animals. Being alone meant death.
Yet here they are, standing with one another. Alive, very much so. With her lording figure and gleaming emeralds, alive. He let go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
Wáni, he affirmed for her, mimicking the point at herself, instead a bloodied white paw at his own chest.
It was a vulnerability to admit such: to be by oneself.
He gestured between them, then, Tuka-vaa?

He mimicked her now with his own word.

Did they understand each other? Perhaps he'd never know what she was truly trying to tell him. That this was the first good company in many suns. That traveling was indeed nice, but perhaps she was not built for it. That being alone was not for her. Not truly.

The novelty of it wore off in a moment of kindness, it seemed.

She watched carefully as he now gestured to both of them. This word longer than any of the ones they had spoke before.

Tuka-vaa?

Brazenly she stepped over what little remained of her meal, nearer to him. Dwarfed by his near mountainous height. That autumn gaze of his cooled as much as it burned her.

Now she gestured between them with a sweeping of her muzzle. She could have reached, had touched, but refrained. Some sense of lady-like behavior bid her to not lose all her senses.

Tuka-vaa.

She still did not fully understand, but she was trying to.

His ears flattened the moment she stood, but quickly rose once stepping closer. Was this acceptance? Companionship? He'd never struggled with such a feat, but here he was: ready to lose everything in order to keep him close to her. It'd been moons since anyone had emerged from the dry plains. But they were his, and he intended to stake a claim. 
He just needed someone with him. A woman. 
The smile upon Sega's face could not be hidden; emotions sweltering that couldn't be contained. He looked down into the cold green of her eyes and only saw the warmth. He promised himself then: Always.
Svana did not touch him with her painted muzzle. The Big Sky hunter resisted, too, ultimately giving in and pushing his nose forward to embrace her scent at the column of her throat. He inhaled, now visibly relaxed. 
She was beautiful in more ways than one, but her light was brighter in the lens of hospitality. Of kindness. Of partnership. Gratitude of this level could not be seen in just this moment!
He nodded, pulling his head back and chuffed. 
Follow?

close this one? <3

Oh.

No lessons in life had prepared her for this. She became deathly still like a doe. No retaliation but no return.

It was likely only seconds, but the moment had stretched into feeling like a lifetime.

Then suddenly her space is her own again. Yet it seemed he did not mean to leave her alone. The offer is clear in wolvish ways.

A once wave of her tail.

She would let him guide where they went first.