Bitterroot Valley A Strange Kindness

aw but maybe a @Vanja ? :]

Dawn rose lazily over the valley's mounds, kissing the sky with its' warming hues and waving the night, and its' moon, its' stars away. Barrett returned to the clearing with a rabbit held gently within his jaws, limp and mostly untouched. The kill had been quick, clean, merciful, for he had a reason for this loss of a life. A purpose behind it.
As he settled within the clearing, now, laid by where the pelts hung to dry, Barrett placed the rabbit before him, where he could carefully, carefully use a claw to hook under the skin, methodically slicing the pelt from the body. It was small, hardly enough to provide adequate bedding, but, still, Barrett thought that maybe it could be a gift, of some sort. A gift to...
Well, a certain someone.

But, he pushed this thought aside, for now, and reigned in his focus on removing the pelt from the rabbit. Zoned in on only this—completely lost to whatever may be happening in the outside world, while he worked.

twitch spotting him much before he ever saw her. a good thing, too, considering how hard she’d been staring the past few minutes. his shoulders are loose, head bent over his quarry. he was focused, fully sunk into whatever careful task he was doing.

the pheasant hung heavy from her jaws, feathers sticking out at stupid angles where she’d mauled it in the last moments of the chase. she hovered behind a boulder for a breath, doing that ridiculous back and forth dance of will-she-won’t-she like she had to psych herself up before approaching him.

it’s stupid, she thinks, but the thought rarely stops her. decidedly, she lifts the bird again and steps out from her cover.

and then she’s there, padding up to him with a mouth full of feathers and a far-too-pleased smile. “mine’s bigger,” she said, muffled and terribly proud. she spat a stray plume out, pheasant falling from her mouth with it. “having fun?”

It was her voice, her voice, that distracted him from the rabbit, and he damn near sliced his own paw off at the startle. He looked to her, face warming almost instantaneously, and smiled. Looked to her catch with an approving nod and raise of his brows. Wouldn't say bigger, he hummed, though. That thing's all feather, nothin' else, a warm chuckle rocked his shoulders.
I wouldn't call it fun, he said, now, looking back to the rabbit. His work, as of yet, was sloppy, his paws stained scarlet, though he supposed he was about a quarter-way done. Intensive, more like, and he spoke that word with emphasis and a nod of his head. Needs a lotta focus, ya see.
Now, he released a breath, and turned back to Twitch. Yer up early again, he observed. Couldn't sleep, huh? Come snuggle up. Barrett used his tail to thump the ground beside him, gesturing for her closeness.
An invitation that would not go unsaid. A strange kindness.

the girl gasps in feigned offense, "all feathers?!" she repeated, scandalized. "you wish. this thing could knock you on your ass if it still had a pulse." even then, her grin remains the same—pleased he had noticed at all.

his tail thumps the spot beside him, an invitation she accepts with careful consideration. twitch toes closer into his space tentatively, paws anxious in their placement until she lowers herself, gray coat brushing his ever-so-slightly at the hip. was she too close, or not close enough?

"you're telling me," she scoffs, inhaling before she continues; "either sleeping too long or not at all," her voice small when she admits it, but it is matter-of-fact. "today was an awake day, apparently." she hooked a foreclaw into the pheasant’s breast and yanked free a clump of feathers, shooting him a sidelong glance as they drifted away on the breeze.

"so. figured I’d be productive." another pluck, another tiny pile of down. "what's your excuse?"

He smiled at her righteousness. Her indignation. All a jest, as she came to sit beside him in due time, furs mingling ever so slightly. Content with this, he gave a low hum in acknowledgement of her closeness, appreciative of it.
An awake day, she said, and Barrett nodded. It was good, he thought, that she had a name for it. That she knew what she was experiencing. He felt, maybe, that he had known people that had once been the opposite; those with problems that they did not understand, that they could not possibly comprehend, and it had made it all the more difficult when it came to trying to solve those issues. It seemed that Twitch, at the very least, had a head-start.
She gave him her 'excuse', and then subsequently asked for his. Tryna get the hang of workin' with hides, he told her, gesturing to the rabbit that he cradled in his paws like a newborn. Figured it'd be better to start smaller, so I don't fuck up one'a the bigger pelts, like an elk, or somethin', but, with a pointed look directed to the rabbit, he said. It's on my bucket list, though. Gonna work myself a lovely hide, one day, accompanied by a firm nod.
As if, perhaps, he could will such a thing into existence.

Now, he returned to working on the rabbit, carefully, carefully using his claws to hook beneath the skin and slicing it precisely from the skin. His voice came forth once more, gravelly and low, and yet his voice was quieter, as if asking something intimate, or, perhaps, sharing a secret:
Would'ya like this when I'm done?

He did not look up from his work.

twitch blinked, slow, pausing her work to look to him. “me?” she echoed, too soft, like she hadn’t expected the offer at all. her gaze flicked from the little rabbit to his paws, then to his face, searching for the joke. she doesn't find one. he was serious.

a breath left her, small and startled, nose dipping toward her own feathers as if to hide the flicker of warmth crawling up her throat. “don't think it'll fit me too well,” her claws resumed plucking, slower now while she thinks. her mouth twisted, unsure. “could be good for sleep, maybe,”—yes, that'd work.

decidedly, she nods. “keep it a bit.” a pause, then context: “needs your scent first. i sleep better in the illusion of company.” real company, too, but that felt to forward to admit now.

He only gave a nod at her echo. Didn't want to say it. Or, maybe couldn't, because he knew that he certainly wanted to say it, certainly wanted to say it to her. He swallowed, then. Swallowed hard.
Not fer ya to wear, fool, he chuckled now, looking to the pelt and imagining it slung around her shoulders. Hardly slung, more like sitting on her back with all the grace possible of an ant. He wondered, then, if he took down, say, an elk, or better yet, a deer, for her small figure—would she wear the pelt? Flaunt his catch? His skill, that he dedicated to her, and only her?
He was taken aback, then, by a comment that she shared. The illusion, hey? It was a murmur lined with humour, as if he himself was processing the statement. Why not the real thing? And it was this that he shot back with a sly smile, and the mask of purposefulness. Yes, this was all a facade, for he knew what he was doing. Of course he was confident in this, why would anyone ask such a thing? He felt warmth flush his skin.
Notta be forward, he chuckled, laughter rocking his shoulders as he returned his gaze to the hare. See, I don't sleep with girls on tha secon' date, he shot her a faux apology in his gaze. Sorry 'bout that, princess.

twitch went still—still—like a hare sighting a hawk, but the look she gave him was anything but prey-soft. her eyes narrowed, something slow and wicked curling up her spine as her mouth pulled into that dangerous, knowing half-smile. “i’ll let you guess, hm?”

she plucked another tuft of feathers free, flicking them toward him with a snap of her paw. some find places in his mane, his to pluck out on his own.

“mh. getting funnier,” she retorted with the same dry humor she used only some days ago. callahan teases, and so she does it right back: a pink tongue kisses her teeth to tsk, brows drawing together while she cooes, a thin line between condescending and sympathetic. “oh, s’ okay sweetie. you couldn’t handle me anyways,” it’s goading, the way she says it—a trap laid out with an eager hunting hoping he would take the bait.

At this playful banter—laced with crude implication—that they shared, Barrett would scoff and shake his head, hiding, ever-hiding, the cacophony of sweet-singing thoughts that lingered deep within.
He wouldn't pluck the feathers from the scruff around his neck. Rather, he'd leave them until he could find the perfect moment to scatter them all around Twitch, just as he had with the spray from the lake sometime prior.
Couldn't handle you? He echoed, followed by something like a scoff, or maybe a jumble of words unspoken that caught in his throat and tore like briars. Still, it sounded primarily of scoff, and his brows shot upwards as he cast Twitch a glance. Not side-long, nor tentative in the slightest, but rather, he ogled quite visibly. Holy, he muttered, looking away and shaking his head with a shocked grin. Fine, you win, princess, his breath almost hitched.
It was boyish, the way he felt. He didn't know how many times he would think the word 'implication', but it seemed that such was the language in which they spoke with one another. Barrett wasn't sure if he could keep up, lest he grow a pair and do say something about it—which was not a plan of his.
His gaze returned to the hare, which he had absent-mindedly been tearing fur from, the hair lingering around his claws, his paws. Shit, he sucked in a breath, releasing it just as quickly in a disappointed sigh. Goddamnit.
He shook his head, looked back to Twitch, and was suddenly unsure on her opinion towards his cursing. Suddenly felt very, very aware of his vocabulary. Still, he said: Reckon I need to do... looked from Twitch to the patch of hair. Anythin' else, he huffed. Walk with me?

i luv them

she’s a freak im sorry barett

---

she tries not to look delighted at the reaction he offers, but subtlety was never her strong suit. the grin she offered him was all teeth and triumph, a victory she wore shamelessly.

her ears perked, a hitch of surprise tugging her gaze from her bird to the patch of rabbit fur he’d accidentally shredded, then up to his sad, sad face. “sorry,” she feels obligated to say it, nudging his shoulder as if it’s enough to make it better, “first try’s never the best one. promise i only bully you ‘cause it’s easy.”

she plucked another feather free from her pheasant, setting this one at his paws—it’s mottled, brown and tan with a flash of read at the end. it must not be enough to soothe him, because now he stands, asks to walk instead. she finds no reason to say no.

she rose to her feet, shook loose the stray down clinging to her sides, and nodded toward the treeline with a loose flick of her tail. “c’mon, meltdown,” she added, more light-hearted now, if only to keep things from getting too earnest.

he's actually just a big baby ignore him

She tried to soothe him, and it was this that he quickly remedied: No, no, it ain't you, he hushed, shaking his head. Just... the outlaw drew in a sharp breath and exhaled it just as quickly. Don't know what it was, but it wasn't you, so don't worry 'bout it, ya hear? The latter of his words coming humorously, almost akin to a faux warning of some sort.
Yer too cruel, Twitch, he hummed now, mocking a sad, almost pitiful tone as he looked to the woman, flicking his tail to her flank with a smile returned to his face. Yer bullyin' is gonna ruin my life, y'know, he hung his head when he said this. Breakin' my heart, you are—y'know that, right? And now he had risen once more. Grinning, almost ear-to-ear, should such be possible for him and his now beast-like anatomy. In spirit, at least.
He led the pair towards the trees, away from the clearing, but went to exchange such leadership. You wanna lead the way to yer grove, princess? The pet-name slid from his tongue in a way that sounded truely genuine, almost, as if it held something warmer. Something fonder.
Something that had yet to be explored.

Something that would not happen today, but, perhaps, in the distant (or near, for all hew knew) future. A sort of hope coursed through his bones.

twitch snorted—soft, derisive, but not unkind. it scraped out of her before she could help it, because his whole flustered unraveling was… cute. more than that, really, but she pushes the more vulgar content from her head the moment they come across. she tries not to look pleased with herself, but her ears were high and her mouth kept tugging, like she couldn’t decide between smirking or laughing outright.

“mmmhm. sure,” she drawled, not buying his insistence for a heartbeat. dramatic man. she doesn’t move from him when his tail flicked her flank; she didn’t even flinch this time, just angled him a crooked grin. “yeah, yeah. tragic. you’ll live.”

the last feather at his paws, the little nudge of her shoulder—none of it softened him, apparently, but she let his grumbling run its course. she walked near enough that her steps brushed the outside of his, glancing sideways at him as they went.

“ruin your life?” she retorts, incredulous, snickering under her breath. “haven’t even done anything yet,” she takes the lead when he asks, slipping ahead of him as the shade thickened under the trees. “don’t fall apart on the way, cause i ain’t carryin’ you.”