Sunset Valley sólsetur

She stayed away from the great heights of the taiga.

There would be nothing there for her on the stones and the ice. Pretty to admire from a distance, but they would surely only bring heartache when she stood upon such lands.

Veering around the slopes had brought her to a valley. Here rivers and creeks ran from the runoff of the the glacier. The land had been carved into this over eons before her. How many families had been here? How many travelers had veered through this place on their journeys?

The beauty of an early summer morning was undeniable here.

In the depth of this place, the sunrise was a golden crown upon the valley hilltops. It reminded her nothing of home. Something to be silently grateful for. She did not want to feel melancholy or loneliness anymore.

Bull elk could be heard in the distance.

Birds took flight to the radiant sky above.

Her heart raced — and she laughed, featherlight, at nothing in particular to no one at all.

Loosely, he was her shadow. No— not loosely, closely. He was never far behind Svana when she would wander. It was all they could do— walk. Walk anywhere, and he'd be at her heels. Either poking his nose at her hip to assert he was still there, solid, or a playful nip to keep her going. 
Whens he stopped over the crest of a hilltop, staring in to the morning sunrise, he watched her. The even pace of her breathing, the gentle flutters of lashes that brushed her brows. He, too, found peace. Here, in this moment. 
The bugling elk could be heard not far off. His ears flickered, honing the sound. It would take them only minutes to reach them. 
But it would mean a hard fight. The bulls are in their prime for their season. The strongest that they will be throughout the year. This was the hardest season to live through. Thriving prey made starving predators. 
He almost jumped when he heard her laugh. A crackling sound against the quiet, tender moment. He raised a brow at her. Tuuve?

It was not to no one.

She should have known he was there. Not as a shadow but as a guiding light. There is something akin to embarrassment that flicked over her features briefly. Tucked away to become quiet and composed.

Slowly she had been trying to understand his words. Many, many times she still has to ask but this one is a clear question.

An open inquiry.

Þú myndir ekki vita það jafnvel þótt ég segði það.

It is perhaps the longest thing she has said to him! Yet she realized that in her own tongue, she can tell him secrets. If he does not understand, then he will not know.

She rounded herself to return to his side. Disinterested in hunting the elk in the distance or watching the birds find a migration route. Only the most delicate brush of shoulder against his strong limb. She has not found her full confidence in touch as he had — yet never had she warded off his contact.

Tuka-vaa.

Whatever he wished for his day to be filled with, they will do it together.

The only part of her sentence that he had deduced was "you" and "not." Was this a slight at him? He hadn't ever had to learn another language besides the common tongue. And even then, he was mediocre at best. He, too, had been filling her mind with his words. To what avail it stuck, he didn't know. 
What he does know is that her sentence was structured in such a benevolent manner. Awed, he gaped at her with his lips parting. He didn't know what to say in response, mindlessly staring in her direction. 
The gentle touch of her furs against his foreleg was enough confidence. They must find something to eat. It would not be these elk, but with the sun rising and the wind blowing towards them, he was not worried. 
Sega touched the column of his throat against the top of her head before pulling away once more. Together, she reminded him. Most certainly not alone. 
He rose to those powerful limbs, shaking off the grime from his underbelly, and set off down the hill. Perhaps it would be a deer. A wolverine. And he wanted to see Svana hunt. 

up to you what prey ^^!!

She thought of all the things she might say to his ears — that would go basically unheard. She could tell him what she thought of him, of his looks, ask questions that would never have answers. As cruel as it was kind.

Yet she fell into silence at his familiar touch and the urging onward.

Hunting was easier when not alone. Neither of them need be such anymore.

She followed the trail of something musky. Wolverine. Not that she had the common word for it. Such a smell reminded her of brother's hunting after father. When they returned, there was such a stench that her mother had sent them all off to the river!

Why did she wish that for herself and Sega?

A memory stirring in her heart.

Softly, she huffed and gestured down the trail that had been worn by clawed grooves. Hopeful to catch the creature before it disappeared into thicket or den.

Would he allow her to set teeth upon it?

Sega’s pale coat caught against the dimming light as he lingered close at her side. He did not know the shape of her words, but he understood the tilt of her muzzle, the weight of her breath as she marked the trail ahead. Piebald, patterned like bark and snow, she moved with memory stitched into her step. He followed not for lack of direction, but because her presence gave him one.
The scent clung sharp in his throat— musky, sour, a promise of fight. Wolverine. He had known it before, long winters back where the mountains shadowed his youth. His people would have called it by name, spoken in the tongue that seemed useless now upon his lips. Here, with her, there was only silence and the trade of glances.
He brushed her flank once, a quiet affirmation, then shifted his weight into a hunter’s lope. Whatever claim the beast might make, he would not take it from her. Sega carried the loneliness of a man without kin, but in Svana he found a rhythm again— two bodies instead of one, steps beating toward the thicket as though they had always hunted together.
If she wanted the kill, he would see her teeth set upon it first.

He was steadfast.

A thing she learned quickly and treasured even quicker. He did not balk at the potential of risk nor did he dissuade her wandering or learning. He was not so terrible, no? A thought that brought the briefest smirk to her face before it was replaced by concentration.

This would be tricky. It would not be some lame, bleating doe. The beast would have claws and wish to survive as much they did.

Yet a plan began to form. A risky one placed in the loose weaves of faith she had began to build in him. If she drove the beast towards him, she might have luck in grabbing it from the back. Surely such a strong man would know how to defend himself, yes?

Quickly she made a wide circle and motioned for him to stay on the other side. A silent, patient look as she waited for his readiness to be bait to the beast.

Sega’s ears tipped forward as she peeled away, circling through the frostbitten brush. His gaze tracked her path, golden eyes sharp, shoulders taut beneath his pale coat.
When she looked back to him, he answered with a low dip of his head, a slow lash of his tail through the snow— ready.
He sank lower into the ice, muscles coiled, breath steadying as it misted from his jaws. A soft grind of claws marked his grip on the earth. She would drive it. He would catch.
For her, Sega would hold.

this slipped through the cracks, i apologize!

He is ready — and her faith in him grows.

She moved with a burst of speed from the blessing of such a small size. Noisy and quick, rushing the creature.

It turned to face her. Claws that might seem like beautiful trinkets once the thing was dead. Teeth that seemed as if they ought to be in a bear cub's mouth instead. Now she wished for it more for trophy than any kind of meal.

A ferocious, angry thing she had set her sights upon.

At least the wolverine was skittering backwards toward Sega in its attempt to escape from her.

Sega surged forward as the wolverine skittered back toward him, golden eyes locking on the flash of its claws. Snow burst beneath his paws as he closed the distance, low and fast, teeth bared.
It twisted to face him and he struck— a heavy snap of jaws aiming for its shoulder, his weight slamming down to pin it. The beast snarled, wild and thrashing, and Sega held, claws raking for purchase, anchoring it long enough for Svana to close in.

There is something twisted about still seeing the beauty in it all.

The fur with its rich colors and long hairs — not that she'd know how to save that, an unfortunate lesson she had missed.

Yet she noted too the handsomeness of the man who sought to pin the beast for her. He did not slay it without her bidding. Which meant she'd get her wish of being the one to fell it. She moved with a swiftness so as to not risk his own safety.

Her jaws parted and then crushed down upon the pinned creature. A mouth full of neck and shoulder, shredding into it to end its existence upon this valley. It was an ugly action that had created an ugly sound from the dying beast.

She had done that.

It was not as if she had never killed anything before — she was wolf, after all — but something in it caused her to disengage as quickly as she had started this. A few steps back from the scene.

The wolverine’s last thrash stilled beneath his weight, her teeth doing the final work. Sega held until the creature went slack, then released it, chest heaving, steam curling from his jaws.
He did not chase her when she stepped back. He only watched her, pale eyes steady, the blood still fresh on her muzzle. A short breath rumbled from him— not laughter, not scorn, only an acknowledgement of her kill.
Sega dragged the beast aside, paws rough against the snow, leaving her the space to settle. Then he moved close enough to brush his muzzle along her shoulder in wordless reassurance.
Núuchi-u, he said, voice low, meant for her alone. A simple truth.
The rest, he let his silence carry: that she had wanted it, taken it, and it was hers.