Thunder Dome one of many hiccups

Scaling mountains is tough. She thought she was made of tougher stuff than this. @Mallaidh took to climbing better than she did much to her surprise. Turns out being older by a whole year doesn't mean you're a master at everything.

With her travel companion behind her (out of sight by now), Varinril turns her attention to the numerous pathways found throughout this range. The paths themselves seem to widen near the top, growing level around the crown. Hopefully, they will find respite near the top. Just a place to rest, that's all she asks. These cliffs made her terribly uneasy.

Perhaps he hadn't been born for this terrain but he still thrived in it. Large size with large muscles meant well for hauling himself up the rugged paths. Granted it also meant he tired quicker from lugging his heavy arse around.

It was on one of those breaks that he spotted someone. Pale and feminine. Should he approach them looking all rugged from his travels? Probably not mentioning he was a man fond of his good looks. But loneliness beat out and so he let out a deep bark.

Each step drew more from her, muscles aching. She prided herself on having gotten so far; she has not traversed many mountains in her short life. Briefly, she wondered what fool would make their home here. Perhaps goats? As tempting as they were, Varinril could not see herself hunting here, the inclines too perilous. Worse yet, the rocks were slick from both rain and cloud. The less time she spent here, the better.

Noise tore her solicitudes from her. The burliness of the stranger drew in a sharp inhale. Varinril's large ears swiveled, concern written across her features. She realized with a sinking feeling in her gut that this stranger standing only several paces away was unquestionably male. Testing the air for confirmation, her rosy tongue swiped nervously across her lips.

Deep down, she knew her dread of him was something to work through, not avoid. She knew. And yet...she cannot stop the panicky racing of her heart nor the lucid retelling of what happened not too long ago. So she finds herself crouching, spine arching, and tail drawn betwixt her legs. Her ears lay flat against her skull as her hackles begin to bristle, teeth visible. A grumble bubbles within her chest and escapes from her mouth.

Fear is a powerful thing and she is it's vassal now.

sorry for the shortness, getting back into the flow of writing him

That wasn't what he had been expecting. It was hard to stop the narrowing of his peach eyes as a frown dug sharply into his masked features. He hadn't done anything wrong. He knew he hadn't. The way she crouched and arched made him feeling unnaturally uncomfortable.

His mood was only messed with further as teeth became visible. There was a brief flicker of agitation across his features. What was her problem? Don't stand like that. He said, words a bit sharper than intended.

You're alright! My posts aren't going to be super long either. :p

Disapproval shaded his face, mouth forming into a frown. She would have been unsettled further with a smile and yet...she is still scared. Of his presence and his veiled intentions.

Varinril takes a step back, mind reeling. She is all too keenly aware of her surroundings then, of how one misplaced step would spell the death of her. You're trapped. Whether that was true did not matter, feeling every bit like a cornered beast.

Desperately, she surges forward, jowls clasping shut in a deafening snap! She was closer now, but the action itself was clear: leave. Now.

lemme know if u want anything changed!!

Outlander wasn't sure what the hell he had done wrong. Was being friendly suddenly a crime? Did no one around here have a lick of good manners? The stocky male knew he was by no means the most charming but even he in all his dumb-ass glory didn't deserve this. Or so he thought.

When she snapped her jaws, Outlander briefly shrunk back. Anyone with at least half a brain would take that as a cue to leave. Instead, his hackles raised defensively. This time he didn't speak. His own jaws parted as he keenly moved forward - ivory rows ready to seek (his version of) justice - with hopes of grabbing some part of the pale stranger.

You're good! I think Mallaidh should post next.

Varinril had hoped that show would have been enough to deter him. Seems she was sorely mistaken. He made to move, his mouth split open like a sore. All that posturing to get him to piss off had the opposite effect, looks like.

Stunned, Varinril braced herself. Her ears slicked back and she groveled further, chin touching the stone below. Knowing the basics of battle was doing nothing for the fear that had her paralyzed. For that, she would pay.

His teeth sunk into the stretchy skin on the back of her neck.

Dread set in.

She wrenched herself back with a cacophonous bark, not taking into account the damage she might inflict upon herself. She continued to bark, alarm rattling her brain. Let go, let go! Let go! LET GO!

She trails after the girl with no particular speed. They’ve wandered off here and there, making their own path and ultimately coming back together. Today is no different. Nothing gives her urge to speed up her trail and she stops and smells the flowers along the way. Every so often she finds a scent trail that lead her off their course for a while and eventually she finds her way back, ears cupped forward for anything disturbed in the distance.
 
When she is close enough, surprised to hear sounds of conflict, her feet react first. She’s thrown into motion without a second thought. It takes several seconds to confirm it’s Varinril’s scent she’s following but no idea what she’s getting herself into and she doesn’t have time to figure it out. The alarmed yelping of the pale girl sends her ears back as the strange male grips her friend’s scruff.
 
The yearling bee-lines toward the scuffle, lips peeled back in warning as she approaches. Back legs launch her forward, aiming over her friend to break the hold the stranger has and to force herself between them.

Success.

Outlander would have kept his grip tight in order to teach her a lesson but the stranger pulled back with an awful sound. It would have been hard to keep his hold tight enough without going forward with her or ripping the tender skin open altogether - which he wasn't sure he was fully committed to doing but it seemed she was. Not to mention there was suddenly a new challenger. His jaws parted with the full intent to release and move backward from the launched body.

He should have been smart but smart wasn't his forte. Outlander foolishly stood his ground and as such, made himself fairly open to attack.

Long legs send her gracefully over the crouching girl. The brute is quick to release her friend and stumble back, leaving her room to skid to a halt, pebbles and dust clouding around her. All Mallaidh gives to Varinril is a twitch of her ear, angled back to listen but her focus remains on the male as his pose shifts defensively. Her fur bristles around her mane, thick fur expanding into the evident daughter of a lion. Her tail stiffens out behind her and she keeps her lips peeled back.
 
Whether or not she knows she’s outmatched, she moves forward with a low rumble in her chest. He is a beastly form that she can only match with the expansion of her fur. But she does not want to fight him, but she does not want to see her friend in anymore pain and with him around, it is only doing more damage. Mallaidh snorts and tongue lashes out over her nose, inching closer, hoping he’ll see the threat before teeth and if not, she has plenty to offer as she launches forward with snapping teeth to drive him away.

He didn't know what he had gotten himself into. This place was really weird and the wolves here seemed to — somehow — be weirder.

If teeth hadn't been a clear message to Outlander before, they sure weren't now. His tail lashed behind him but he had no time to do much more than that. He wanted to protect himself but all he managed to do was a half turn. There was a very good chance teeth were going to meet his shoulder or side as they were now exposed to the defensive stranger.

He knew he needed to get going now but he also knew he needed to find a safe way down. Which likely meant he'd escape with a few injuries due to slowness while trying to get back to the path.

The brute doesn’t turn fast enough—she’s surprised he’s turning at all—and she bares down with all she has. Her teeth tear into the tender flesh where his neck comes to shoulder, fangs piercing on the opposite side. With a trained strong hold, she continues to push her entire weight into him, forcing him back as far as she can get him. Her intention to chase him off turns to bloodshed, ignoring any marks or pull of her he has to offer. She releases her grip to growl, a snarl vibrating out of her chest before she begins to snap relentlessly again

just a short exit post for Outlander~ thanks for the thread ❤

Ah, shit. That hurt and now the message got through his thick skull. There was sure to be plenty of blood matting the fur on his shoulder neck. A groan left him as he staggered upon her release. He didn't need her snaps to know it was time to go.

Without another word or aggressive display, Outlander took off down the path he had come from. He would need to find somewhere to nurse his wounds once he knew he was far from the duo.

Thanks Bunyip! <3

Once free of the male's grip, the ermine-furred wolf clambered back. Wide eyes looked on at the flurry of movements before her, captivated. Mallaidh has caught up with her, using wit and brawn to force the agouti assailant back. Her ivories are more than enough of a deterrent, blood scent defiling fresh mountain air. Varinril watches him flee with a leer, tail swishing testily behind her.

His retreating form did nothing to quell the panic inside her.

White noise. That's all she could hear. She was deaf to the thrumming of her heart, to the very presence of Mallaidh. Still, she had the presence of mind to rush ahead of her companion, her destination unknown. If Mallaidh spoke to her at all, her voice did not register. Varinril was off in her own world and she wasn't coming back anytime soon.

She made to round a sharp corner. A most unwise decision as the rocky path they stood upon was still wet from earlier showers. Varinril's right arm slipped out from under her, dangling precariously over the edge of what would have been a sure death. Thankfully, she didn't put enough weight on it to go over the ledge. She awkwardly scuttled back and away before sitting suddenly. The whole ordeal sent a different horror spiraling through her: one of mortality. Varinril laid down and grew eerily still. She said nothing, she saw nothing. If only the same could be said for her brain.

Adrenaline pumps through her veins, her heart beating loudly in her ears, and there’s no end in sight despite the male fleeing. Her jaws snap in rapid succession after him until he's gone from view entirely and even then, it takes a moment to recenter and remember her priority.  Her ears fall back, listening, and she turns into to see Varinril flee by her.  Mallaidh doesn’t wait, turning back and trailing after her.
 
The frantic escapee is met with some guidance, where she can, but beyond directing her out of harm’s way, she hasn’t been able to get her to snap out of it. All words go ignored and she deviates only if Mallaidh gets in the way. She is not fast enough to block the girl’s path and when she stumbles back and down to the ground, Mallaidh slows to a stop with a heavy breath. “Varin,” she urges, repeating her name several times in hopes to get her attention. If she doesn’t gain it any time soon, she begins to lick and nudge her face to try to distract her out of her daze.

Her brain played and replayed events best forgotten. A dale full of sunlight, but no warmth. She wanted so much to be loved. So, so much, it pains her. Life was little more than a chore. They had very little freedom. So long as they sat and endured their 'teachings' - likely the crowing of lunatics - they were fine. Those teachings - how much was true and how much was word of mouth? She wished to know dearly. Most of her mentors were anything but patient. Screw up one too many times and death was sure to follow. She swallowed thickly, Mallaidh's nose numb of her cheek. Her past was a blur of faces, of scents. Except for one.

His eyes were yellow.

Mallaidh's constant nudging grounded her, in a way. Nine long minutes had passed since her malfunction. When she came to, she realized she was laying down. She was still on a mountain, in a land she's barely explored. She looks around with a glazed expression. Mallaidh was laying down beside her, wide awake with concern. Varinril can see the questions burning in her eyes. Varinril cannot find her voice just yet, opening and closing her mouth several times before the words slip from her.

"Are - are you alright?" An earnest sentiment with a broken delivery. She was a mess and still recovering.

She can’t get the girl’s attention and worry settles in. She’s been there before, panicked and unaware and lost but the concept of time often escapes her. Out here, on the other side, everything is fast and slow at the same time. By the time she does come around, Mallaidh doesn’t know how long it’s been.

Are - are you all right?

Mallaidh blinks a few times, unable to find her own words. “What happened?” she asks, finally. “Are you okay?” She leans forward carefully, picking herself back up and sniffing at her friend. She hadn’t gotten a chance to see what wounds had been left on either of them and too worried about her dazed look to investigate anything else. She’s breathing and alive and none of the wounds seemed imminent at the time for concern. But now, one thing is out of the way but she’s still no medic. Thinking of Rose sends a flash of pain and betrayal through her, knowing she’s hurt the girl again with running away.

“Maybe we should find help,” she suggests though she doesn’t have a clue where they are or where she’d even find someone. Could her companion even get around without the excitement running through her? Would Saarthal know what to do?

Asking loaded questions right off the bat was not the best way to go about this. The Renatus wanted to answer but could not explain what just happened. The only thing she could remember was feeling cornered, Mallaidh coming to her rescue, and the subsequent mental dullness that clung to her still. When Mallaidh made to move, Varinril locks eyes with her. Where was she going?

"Wait." Her tone betrays the fragility within her, panicked and pleading at once. She can't move. Not yet. Not when she is in a place where one misplaced step could bring about her end. When Mallaidh said they should find help, she quelled the urge to snap at her. Who would bother helping two rogues? No one. Besides, a healer would not be able to help her. A therapist, maybe.

"Can - can you just - lay beside me?" Please? Please.

An extra body will give them some kind of help, even if it isn’t medical. With Saarthal at least, they can keep Varinril safe, but leaving her isn’t what she wants to do either. Their dangerous location doesn’t add any benefit and not knowing where the ashy girl currently is, what is she to do?

Halfway to standing, she stops as the pale girl calls for her and she looks back. Something is wrong, she can tell, but she doesn’t exactly understand. She recalls the few times her mind warps out of control and the touch of someone offers some kind of comfort and as her friend pleads for it, she slowly lowers back down to the ground. At first, she does not say anything, carefully keeping herself between Varinril and the edge should anything happen, gently brushing against her side.

“I can call for Saarthal. She might be able to help,” she offers quietly after a moment, hoping to have a little guidance in a situation she simply doesn’t know how to handle.

The other's presence is like a balm, soothing away the fog in her mind. She looks to her comrade with growing clarity, still unsure of how to suppress the girl's mounting concerns. Varinril swallows thickly. A different kind of fear swells within her, heart thrumming in her breast. Lowering her crown, she looks out over all creation, expression growing forlorn. She opens and closes her mouth once, twice, before the confession spills from her lips.

"Someone...took something from me when I was very young." The words felt and tasted of lead. Heavy, suffocating. Sharply, she looks away. Would this hurt ever heal, she wondered. "That's why I don't trust males. Don't want them near me." She paused, blinking. That part made her feel a little better to reveal.

"Felt trapped back there. I couldn't - I couldn't do anything."

Her words teetered on blubbering. The spit in her mouth burned, her eyes burned, everything burned. Varinril grew still again, eyes losing their focus. Seconds ticked on by. Then she turned to look at Mallaidh. No, not at, but into. Emotion welled within her, both naked and rough like waves within a storming sea. The intensity of it may very well repel Mallaidh, but this mixture of depression, upset, pity, hate was aimed at no one but herself.

She was not able to do anything back then and she was unable to do anything now.

Mallaidh is ready to tip her head back and call for their other companion, watching for any new signs of distress. Being on the other side of a panic attack is new to her; you’d think she’d be able to just do what she’d want but what was that, exactly? So far, finding the magical trick hasn’t exactly happened and so she sits there, waiting for instruction.
 
When Varinril begins speaking, she relaxes her head back down and eagerly listens. So, no Saarthal. Not yet, anyway.
 
The other girl goes silent, but it doesn’t leave her sobbing words any less emotional. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t exactly understand the weight of her words, and in response simply leans forward and offers a few gentle licks to the side of her muzzle in the meantime.

Varinril never told anybody what happened. Mallaidh was the first and she did not seem to comprehend the substance of her words. How could she? She is just a girl. Varinril had been a girl, at the time the incident happened; had yet to go into her first heat...The moment it happened, she knew it to be wrong. Her autonomy over mind and body had been touched in ways she was recovering from, verdicts tainted before she was grown. Would she move on from this? Could she?

Her companion picked up on her distress, tongue washing over her muzzle. Varinril's breathless sobs ceased, finding the sensation soothing. Faint whines replaced weepings, her anxieties fading. She returns the touch, her own tongue swiping across the girl's snout if and when her protector allows it. This too, she finds, is comforting.

She takes her affection and attempts to return it, slowly only to allow Varinril a chance to do the same. Her eyes close and she leans in close, shoulder to shoulder, only to feel a weird sensation against her own fur. Sticky saliva touches her, the faintest hint of blood, and she turns to look at the mess the strange male left behind. Turning carefully, she noses through the fur in search of the wound, attempting to help clean her up and get rid of any traces the troubling wolf caused her friend.
 
“We should find somewhere to settle for the night,” she tells her. They don’t have to move now but they need to soon, when Varinril is ready.

She takes the affection in stride, nose sifting through the alabaster furs of her nape. Varinril stills, curious of her findings. There's a wound there, dripping lightly. What blood has accumulated is scant in comparison to the offender's injuries. Still, her scruff is greatly sensitive, and she makes this known as Mallaidh tends to it as best she can with hissing breathes. It's painful, yes, but necessary. Clarity returns to her, gradually, with each stroke of the girl's tongue. And when she speaks, Varinril is attentive.

"You're right," she says as she slowly stands, leaning against the rocky face. Her stance becomes surer with time until she is standing on her own. Something keeps her rooted to that spot, even as her lightening struck friend jostles at her side. When she opens her mouth, her voice carries.

"Mallaidh." A sharp tone meant to draw the girl's attention. And once she has that attention, Varinril's face melts, apologetic. She was still on the mend, trying to reacquire her typical, modest ego. Sorry. I'm sorry. "Don't tell anyone about this. About...how I..." Broke down? Feeble. You always break. "You guarded me against a dickhead. That's it." With that firm assertion out of the way, she turns to face the girl fully, eyes expectant.

"Lead the way."

(When the sun slips behind the horizon, Varinril profusely apologizes for her brusque attitude. She also thanks Mallaidh for coming to her rescue. She does this until sleep claims them.)