Bitterroot Valley I waited for you

There were still many foxes in the valley. Angel didn't mind them there, but when she caught them sneaking from the caches, she took it upon herself to hunt them down. This one had put up a bit of a fight, and her muzzle was scored from its flashing little teeth — but the tiny beast was now dead, and halfway stripped of its skin by Angel's careful teeth.

She did this work in the grasses, underneath the weak winter sun. Blood stained her chest and paws from the messiness of the work, and the pelt was currently redder than it was orange. But it had been a large fox, and she thought it would make a fine pelt when it was done. She worked carefully to keep her cuts clean, even if her own ruddy pelt suffered for it.

She hummed while she worked — as song from her girlhood, back before everything had gone wrong. Those were sacred times to her. Times she'd kept locked up safe in her chest for a long, long time. But she was beginning to feel that she'd gone back there. Back to a place where everything was as it should be.

Still. It was a little lonely here, even though the valley was beginning to bustle. When she was done working, she promised herself, she'd go and find someone to speak with.

sega found her by scent first— fox-blood copper on winter air— then by the quiet hum threading through the grass.

he stepped from the slope above, a fresh badger skin draped over his shoulder, still thick with its own heat. he'd taken it that morning. not yet cured. not yet ready. but worn with the quiet pride of a hunter returning to his people.

angel, he greeted, voice low, warm. his eyes drifted over her work, the neat peel of fox hide at her feet, the small cuts on her muzzle she pretended not to mind. good pelt. you make clean cuts.

he shifted, the badger skin sliding slightly down his flank. he adjusted it with a huff.

i bring this for cure later, he said, nodding to the hide. you… maybe show me better way? a faint, rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. i not so gentle as you.

She was not surprised when he found her, though a quiet thrill rushed through her when he appeared. She admired the cut of him against the skyline, her tail whisking in the dry grasses behind her. The pelt especially made him look wild and strong — and something wild and strong surged in her veins as if in answer.

"Sega," she replied, warmth, or something warmth-adjacent, in her own voice.

She invited him closer, snipping once or twice more at the pelt as he spoke. She paused, though, to study the badger skin, looking for signs it had been harvested incorrectly. It seemed perfectly salvageable to her — and she wondered if he sought her help simply to spend time with her. Perhaps she hoped so.

Still. She did have her methods.

"The best pelts are stripped of all fat and meat, and then bathed in brain tissue," she replied, sitting up and stretching when she felt a crick in her neck and tension between her shoulder blades.

"Let me see it?" she asked, sauntering closer to touch the pelt with her nose, asking permission to take it — and breathing in the scent of blood and Sega, which stirred something in her once more.

he stepped forward without hesitation, lowering his head so the pelt brushed against her muzzle.

here, he murmured, the word soft in his rough-edged common.

up close, her scent tangled with the iron of blood and the musk of the fresh kill. something primal tugged at him, but he kept his posture steady, offering the hide for her inspection.

i take quick, he told her, as though apologizing for its unfinished state. you make better.

she spoke of fat and brains and the old ways of curing, and he listened, eyes warm with quiet pride. she knew these things. she carried them well.

when her nose grazed the hide—and then him—his breath caught, a faint flicker of a smile tugging at his jaw.

angel, he said, her name almost an exhale, you show me. i watch.

She was astounded by her own daring. Made giddy by it, though only a bright smile betrayed this. She snagged the pelt and pulled it away from him, laying it pink-side-up in the grass. Her own fox carcass lay forgotten for the moment — she was eager to please, and faintly disgusted with herself for that fact.

"Better unfinished than damaged," she assured him, clawing at a few far deposits to check their thickness. It needed quite a bit of cleaning, but she didn't mind that. Not the work, anyway.

"I'll show you," she told him, lifting her eyes back to his handsome face. Her breath caught, but her own gaze was faintly calculating. The smile that followed carried a hint of running behind her usual teasing nature. "But you will bring all your pelts to me from now on. The ones you don't finish yourself, only I will cure for you."

She lifted her chin, daring him to deny her this. It was not a power play, exactly. She did not say it for the sole purpose of commanding him. It was just that she could not stoop to requesting these rights — and if they were courting, truly courting, then she would not suffer another woman attempting to dress him.

sega watched her claim the pelt with that sure, deft confidence that stirred something low in his chest. she bent to inspect it, spoke of thickness and cleaning, and he found himself listening the way a hunter listens for the first crack of a caribou’s hoof—intent, fixed, unable to look away.

his tail gave a slow sway. almost a smile tugged at his mouth.

good, he said, voice low, warm. i want that.

he stepped closer, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed as he looked down at the pelt she’d claimed.

no other woman touch my hides, he added. not ravah. not any.

then his gaze slid back to her, steady and unflinching.

you cure for me. only you.

a soft tsk followed, mirroring her earlier daring.

you say this like i ever bring pelt to someone else.

She did not avert her gaze or duck her head as he moved closer, as she had in the past. It hurt, just a little, to look at him like this. So close, so close, touching — she didn't understand the burn of it in her chest or the squeeze of it low in her belly or the way that her nerve endings prickled down her spine and in her toes. A fanged set of jaws seemed to grab hold of her heart and wrench it forward, almost bringing her along with it, so that they might touch all the more —

But she held steady, the only signs of her distress her rabbiting heart and a soft but shuddering exhale.

He was teasing her, she knew. But when he spoke, it was again with words of intention. This time, Angel felt the promise was more concrete. She could no longer wonder if they were dancing around what she thought. Either he wanted to marry her, or he was a liar.

"A woman must make her expectations known," she replied, her eyes sparkling. She would take him at his word until forced to do otherwise. "Besides — how am I to know what you got up to while I was away?"

She was only teasing. She'd had a spy here, after all, and Elowyn had reported no unsettling developments.

he stood still, close enough that her shiver brushed his whiskers.

woman right, he murmured, voice low, roughened by something he didn't name. must say what heart want.

her sparkle, her challenge, drew the faintest crook of a smile onto his muzzle. she was bold today. bolder than before. he liked it—more than he should.

when she teased him, he gave a soft scoff.

what i do? he leaned in a fraction, enough that his pelt brushed hers. hunt. teach. keep valley safe.

then, with a tilt of his head, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion—

and angel think i chase other girl?

a beat. a quiet rumble of amusement.

hn. no. i keep promise. wait for you.

his gaze softened, not losing its weight or seriousness.

Despite how breathless his nearness left her, she could not help but grin at being told she was right. She didn't answer, because she thought that he was about to speak about what his heart wanted — but conversation moved on to other things.

She liked being teased a little less. But, perhaps she didn't dislike it.

"Good," she finally replied — and here, she pressed forward to steal a kiss. Just a quick push of her nose against his cheek. She felt a powerful need to retreat and take stock of her life, new to all these feelings and compulsions, but she found herself quite unable to pull away.

"I would have felt very silly," she said, "coming home to that after telling my mother that you're a good man."

sega felt the brush of her kiss like a spark struck to tinder—small, quick, but enough to set something roaring through him.

she began to pull back.

he did not let her.

a low breath left him as he hooked his muzzle beneath her jaw and drew her in again, firmer this time, stealing another kiss from the corner of her mouth. and when she broke from that one—only barely—he followed, lips grazing down the line of her neck in soft, warm presses. slow. hungry. he would stop the instant she stiffened, but if she allowed it, he trailed those kisses until his nose touched her shoulder.

hn, he rumbled against her skin, voice gone thick. angel tell her mother this.

he lifted his head just enough to see her eyes, golden gaze fierce and tender all at once.

what else you say, hm?

a teasing edge, but edged with curiosity. and something deeper—something that wanted to know everything.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears, deafening her. His breath was warm against her fur, seeping in to heat her skin. The questing nature of his touch was foreign to her, and filled her with desires she was still learning the names of.

Her breath caught. Her eyes closed without her knowing, and then she was blind as well. Statue still under his touch, but not quite in rejection.

When he spoke, her ears were still ringing. Her lashes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with her mouth just slightly agape in wonder. For a moment, she looked exactly her age, and exactly as inexperienced as she was. That, after all, had been her first kiss. Her first true and intentional amorous touch — and she wanted feverishly for more.

"That your body is strong," she told him, more forward than ever despite the beginnings of trepidation that stirred in her chest — "And that your face is handsome. And that your words are beautiful to my ears, and pleasant on my tongue."

Her eyes burned despite the cool blue tones of her irises.

ega huffed a low laugh against her throat, the sound warm and rough, his breath stirring the fur there. he lingered in that space—half for her, half because he could not quite pull himself away. her praise thrummed through him like a struck drum.

hn. strong words, he murmured, voice thick. feel good… here.”he pressed his forehead lightly to hers, eyes half-lidded. angel speak like… she see me true.

for a heartbeat, he simply breathed her in.

then his tone shifted—still soft, but steadier, fuller.

your family, he rumbled, they want gift? for your hand? his lips brushed her cheek as he spoke. customs different in lands. i give what is needed.

a pause, heavier now. he pulled back just enough to look at her properly.

and… i tell you truth. another breath, warm and close. i was born cövah. horse of white sky. boy of big sky people. the name tasted strange on his tongue after so long, but not unpleasant—not when given to her. i lose him. buried him. become sega tuhut.

his nose brushed her jaw in something like reverence.

but you… his voice dipped, almost a whisper, almost a confession, you make me feel like him again. like man i was. better man. maybe you call me cövah again.

It was easy to believe in the fairy tale of it. That their romance had turned to true love, and that this love made her see him differently than everyone else; better, and more purely. His words made her heart sing, and though she had fully expected to be asked now for her hand in marriage, the question still made her breath catch.

"My... my father," she said, though she'd never actually addressed @Rodyn as this, and was not sure if she was overstepping. She just wanted this moment to be perfect, and her perfect moment included having a father. She thought instantly of Moontide's former leader, who had sheltered and watched over her and her family for as long as she could remember. "You must ask him for my bride price. And my mother will want to meet you."

But he gave her something else, then. Something she knew at once was far more precious. Some of the stars faded from her eyes, and this time, she really looked at him. It was disconcerting to feel surprise at this revelation. Shouldn't she have suspected that he'd been born with a different name? If they were in love, if she really saw him. But she did not know what to make of it.

Except —

Except it was clear to her that he really needed someone to see him as Cövah. Even though he was a man, now, and perhaps twice her age. There was still a boy inside him. Still some secret vulnerability that she'd not yet even guessed at.

"Cövah," she repeated with a little smile. She pressed another kiss to his face, this one more affectionate than risque. "I want to know more about this boy," she told him, because she felt it would help her better understand the man.

Something she was only just realizing she would need.