Northstar Vale shotguns and barbed wire fences

She'd not spent much time exploring these mountains. In the past, it had always seemed something like betrayal to admit that she was curious about what secrets the opposite peaks might hold. She was no less devoted to her home and family now, but she craved knowledge of things outside them.

This was the vale, she decided, where Hydra had brought news of Rannoch's injuries. Alya wondered why anyone would leave this place - it seemed the perfect haunt for any pack. It was flat so that Liffey wouldn't cut her delicate paw pads. In memory of the insipid girl, Alya allowed a sneer to pass briefly over her features. Over time, her guilt and sorrow over that situation had cooled. What she felt now was a tired sort of irritation and a deep, abiding scorn for the burly Frostfur male.

They occupied the neighboring peak now, she knew, but the dark shewolf had no plans to visit. Instead, she picked her way slowly along the walls of the vale, searching for entrances to secret caverns to keep herself occupied as she travelled.

With smoke causing the once fresh air to reek and become heavy in his lungs, Bruges sought out a respite from the stiflingly poor air quality and headed for the mountains- assuming that with higher elevation, the air would be clearer. Bruges had not grown up on the mountainside, but found it agreeable- he was nimble and light on his feet, and unlike some who might find the loose footing condusive to clumsiness, he found himself enjoying the challenge of moving along, as silently as possible, without missing a step. The mountain, without a doubt, called to him. 

Once he had enjoyed a touch of fresh, mountain air, he ambled down the mountainside, still picking his way along with the cleverness of one who had been raised on the shale. Fate, it seemed, had drawn him there- for in the distance he caught sight a shadow that moved with the agile and feline grace that was more suitable of a panther than it was of a wolf- but still, the canine shape could belong to nothing but a wolf. This wolf too seemed to belong in the rugged landscape, though her pelt would have made her disappear into oblivion once the sun set. No trace of silver or grey seemed to mar the darkness of her pelt, and he found himself allured by the subtle grace of her beauty.

Alya had mostly ignored the smoke. As long as it was not Moonspear on fire (she had learned about fire through her exploration of the Heartwood, the destruction of the Sentinels, and much questioning of her elders), she didn't really care what burned. The smoke was an unfortunate side effect of other creatures' misfortune. More than anything, she wished they would keep it all to themselves.

But there was nothing for it, so she didn't dwell on the tight soreness of her lungs or the diminishing air quality. It did, at least, provide some stellar sunsets. Alya appreciated beautiful things.

Speaking of beautiful? There was a boy on a nearby slope, his pelt dark but for a white 'kerchief coveirng his throat. Alya had met many black wolves since Dash, many of whom were more true to his coloration. But something about this wolf made her think back on her childhood protector, who had laid down his life for hers. Maybe the length of his legs, or the smooth, natural grace of his body as he picked his way down the mountainside.

Alya paused her investigating to watch him, as she often paused her patrols to watch the sunsets.

She paused to watch him- good. Now that he had her attention, Bruges made sure to put on a purposeful, but nevertheless harmless front, lest she- as other females had- assume that he might be up to no good. His tail drifted gently from side to side at his ankles, still an inch or two above the ground, due to the length of his legs. He gracefully picked his way closer to her- not heading in a direct line, but picking his way along the slope where the way was the smoothest, his path more definite, rather than risking a misstep on the shale or loose rocks. He couldn't afford a slip-up; not when faced with someone regarding him directly, and certainly not when they were as attractive as this female was. 

He greeted her with a deep rumble that emanated from deep within his chest, and swept his head in an elegant nod. "Evening," He purred, lifting his gaze to meet hers, two pools of vast, endless dark blue. "Mind if I join you?" He asked. He wasn't sure where she was headed- but whatever she had on her mind, or wherever she was going, he knew he wouldn't mind going too, as long as he was permitted to travel by her side. He, as a vagrant, had nowhere to go, and nowhere to be.

Alya tensed for a moment when she realized he was coming toward her, but after surveying his lanky figure, she allowed herself to relax. If it came down to a fight, she would win it. And if it didn't, well - she was not in any hurry. Easthollow would likely still be there when she made her way to its borders. (She did not know that, miles away, another pack was crumbling to ashes.)

When the male spoke, Alya offered her most enigmatic smile and a curious wag of her tail. Hydra had been delving into wordplay with her beaus, and Alya suddenly decided to take up Hydra's old game of silence and gestures. The truth was that she didn't mind being joined. Not for the moment, at least. This was a trip she wanted to undertake all on her own, but why not linger a day or two in this mountain paradise, with a bit of company to break the solitude of her voyage?

With a quiet snuffle of approval, Alya made as though to move past him - aiming a nip at his flank and taking off toward the flatter, more open stretches of the vale.

She didn't respond verbally but came toward him, walking in his direction and it gave him pause for a moment, not entirely sure what to expect. Of course, should she launch at him at the last moment, he'd be unable to get away and she certainly looked more tough than he did- but it was worth the chance, or so he figured. She was a prize- one that he wanted. So when she came close enough to the vulnerable curve of his flank and nipped him gently, he felt a hot shudder stiffen the guard hairs along his spine. Her invitation was received, and drove him to want her all the more. 

He moved along beside her, his shoulder just behind his, willing to allow her to lead the way. He stayed close by her side, as a protective partner might, and he was willing to defend that position should any other males show up and make their claim. While he'd had every intention of capturing her interest, he hadn't expected to find himself so enthralled with her prowess and silent beauty. He could feel the static sparking electricity between them, as just the tips of their guard hairs touched, but he matched his pace to hers so that they moved together, step by step; and he at the ready should she suddenly bolt or stop.

He seemed awfully intent on her, which begged the question - was it this new tactic, or just her natural charm and beauty that drew him? She knew better than to ask, and resigned herself that the knowledge would never be shared with her. To speak now would be to break character, and Alya wanted to see this experiment through - all the way through, perhaps.

The man was handsome, after all, and clearly beguiled. She was stronger than him, too, which would not be a good thing if she were looking for a mate, but for an experience? Perhaps.

Alya, feeling the same primal electricity as her companion, turned abruptly with a flash of fangs. The blow, though, was gentle and coquettish, her teeth merely combing through his fur before she danced back several paces. This time, though, she did not turn and run, but offered a playful bow and laid in wait, daring the male to come closer.

As he sauntered alongside her, Bruges watched for any sign for changes in her demeanour, but she seemed fairly demure. Still; the little nip she'd given to him earlier had set his senses on fire, so with each step she took he moved in tandem with her, synchronized, as though taking part in a fairly sedate dance. So when she moved, he caught the ripple of muscles that preceded her motion by only a milisecond, and with a movement deft but graceful, he moved as she did, a smile playing on his features as he did so. Her teeth combed harmlessly through the black and white fur of his chest but as soon as she made one step in the opposite direction, away from where he was, he moved with her. 

He wanted to maintain the same proximity he had before, as he'd quickly gauged her advance to be nothing more than a test. Perhaps it had been a warning, not to walk too close- but he was willing to take a chance and place his bet on the fact that she was simply trying to see how he would react and what he would do. He certainly did not have the strength that she had- but what he lacked in brute strength, he compensated in grace and speed tenfold. But imediately, he could see that she wasn't expecting him to follow his movements, and he reveled in the fact that he might surprise her- by maintaining proximity, and swinging his body effortlessly alongside her, and mirroring her bow. 

He, however, did not linger there, and swirled quickly, aiming a nip at her own flank and brushing his tail-tip along one of her long, strong forelegs before he side-stepped neatly, and regarded her, tail curled over his back but waving nonetheless. She wanted to test him? He was game for it. But while he wouldn't engage in a show of strength, Bruges would be damned if he couldn't at least show her that speed had its advantages too.

If it was a game meant to test him, it was only subconsciously. Alya wanted to play. It was easy to mistake this for other intentions, of course. Even Alya at play was rather ruthless and aggressive, all force and teeth rather than frolic and finesse.

But the male would not come close enough, and Alya wanted to feel the heat of his body rather than the breeze between their flirting pelage. The dark woman flopped to her side and stretched her forepaws toward the stranger, a growl-whine-yawn escaping her as she entreated him to come closer, engage her. He was so pretty on those long, doe-legs of his. Not the sort of boy she'd normally go for, not as pretty as her, but desireable all the same. I am ripe for the picking, said her bright, blue eyes. Alya, too, knew how to tell lies without speaking a word.

Normally, Bruges wasn't the sort to fall into traps set by pretty women; if anything, he was the one who ensnared the hearts of women and tended to leave them wanting more committment from him than he was ever willing to give. Of course, the few women who had wanted the same thing as him had provided pleasant, no-mess encounters which ended just as easily as they had begun...But with this remarkable, alluring female, he couldn't be too sure. 

He could feel himself being drawn toward her, like a magnet to the shiny surface of metal, when she stretched out on her side and beckoned him with a harmless yawn that slipped into a needy whine. His tail wagged from side to side behind him for a moment, as though to say sure, right, like I'm going to fall for that trick, but at the same time, he wasn't really all that willing to be too guarded. If he didn't play her game, she'd simply leave, and if he pursued, she'd get rough for sure. 

So, feigning indifference, he walked around her, giving her nothing more than a side-eye, head held up but still canted slightly toward her as he walked, her spine toward him. He was far enough that she wouldn't be able to reach him if she suddenly snapped out- but close enough that in an instant, with no warning, he suddenly dropped and snaked in to tease the fur at the top of her hips with his teeth, angling his hind end away from her still just in case she chose then to strike in retaliation. 

What he should have done then, though, was leap back as soon as he'd neared her...But this close to her body, he found it all the more difficult to pull away. He'd linger there as long as he could, his chin just above her flank, watching her with luminous silver eyes, half torn between the instinct to run and the need for proximity.

This was what she wanted - but when he suddenly left her sight, her head snapped toward him. She made no move to fend him off, only keeping him in sight as he nipped at her hip and then hovered there, tantalizingly close and yet, so very far away. She wanted to feel him against her, but he was playing coy. It figured that, as soon as she was done with that game, another would pick it up.

Silent, puzzled, and slightly frustrated, Alya gazed back at the deer-like male. Her tail wagged half-heartedly. She blinked slow, projecting fawn-like innocence. She was a lamb for the slaughter.

Was it something about her, she wondered? Was he afraid? (And, honestly, she did kind of want to bite him for being so close, for standing over her. But she rememebered that she'd put herself in this position and that she wanted this and kindly refrained.)

Bruges had to tell himself to stay on guard. The swift ferocity with which she'd nipped at his flank- a gentle and teasing feeling but unexpected nonetheless- had left him suspecting that she was a wolf in sheep's clothing, rather than a simple, helpless fawn. But there she was, meek as a housecat, laying there and imploring him to come closer with her coquettish, mischevious smile. Thus he concluded only one thing- he would have to keep his guard up, but he could possibly avoid an altercation altogether- if he could completely and utterly seduce her, and quell that flickering passion he sensed she held within her. As shallow as Bruges was, he could be a decent judge of character from time to time. 

Thus, he tested the waters by moving toward her shoulders, and uttering a soft murmur of a growl; not a possessive sound, but a pleading one, as he hovered his chin over the nape of her neck, allowing his warm breath to tease the hairs there. While he was aware he was compromising his position by being so close to her face, he was banking on his own ability to charm the girl into being tamed. While normally he would whisper a compliment to his counterpart at this point, he felt it more honest to say nothing, and rely simply on the depth and speed of his breaths to convey his message. He touched the tip of his muzzle to her right ear, tracing down from its slightly rounded tip, along the edge where a small, triangle shaped nick from some past injury marred its shape, down to the feather-soft fur at the base, toward the crook of her jaw, where he placed a kiss. He growled once more, more wanting and needing than before, as he paused for a moment; he would have to be hyper-attentive if he wanted to read her correctly.

Finally, he heeded her desires. Alya watched him, bemused, as he made his way up her body. She was wary of any sudden movements (something that showed in the restless twitch of her tail and watchful quivering of her whiskers), but was certain she could win any fight the man started, and thus allowed him to explore her as he pleased.

A tiny hum of pleasure escaped her as he nudged the bulb of her ear. She allowed her lids to flutter shut for a moment, but her dagger-like gaze was on him once more as soon as his nose began to travel once more. Experimentally, she tipped back her head to allow him better access to his throat. It felt - dangerous, evocative. She didn't like it, and pushed his face back with a catlike paw, reaching a low grizzle of warning escaping her as she lunged with exaggerated slowness. Stop that, said her teeth, seeking gentle purchase on his muzzle and chin.

Hopefully, this would not scare him further from her clutches.

He'd be damned if the young female wasn't trying him out too, watching him. She didn't feel fully relaxed on the ground beside him, and when after she exposed her throat for a moment, it seemed as though she quickly remembered herself and redoscivered some small bit of insecurity and pushed his muzzle away, reaching for it with teeth that weren't actually looking to bite. Bruges knew that sort of language; that was a warning, but a tease as well. This girl didn't know exactly what she wanted, which tickled her male suitor. He was going to show her what she wanted, if she'd relax enough to let him do so. 

Now, he felt slightly more secure, knowing that she was willing to let him explore and even if she did object, she wasn't likely going to explode in his face and aim to maim him right off the bat. His movements were slow and careful, and when she lunged for him he moved away just slowly enough to allow her teeth to graze the fur of his chin without raking or tearing it. He looked down at her then with a gaze that simply claimed that he wasn't interested, whatsoever, in doing her any harm. Her reaction was almost ridiculous- or, at least, he wanted her to feel that way. Bruges had absolutely no intention of hurting her. And while she did seem a bit reluctant to simply lose herself in sensation, he was going to try his damn hardest to get her to do so. 

Knowing that she would need a bit of affirmation, he moved to the nape of her neck, and lay down beside her, putting some trust in her so that she might relax and trust him as well. He combed his teeth through the fur there, trailing up the back of her neck to the place where her spine disappeared beneath the base of her skull, and back down to the point between her shoulders where the fur was long and dense. He allowed his muzzle to run along one shoulder, eyes constantly watching her face, willing her to relax and sink into his gentle massage.

The correction and corresponding punishment was accepted without protest. He did move back from her jaws, but Alya wouldn't have just sat there to be harried, either. That was fine. He moved then to lie beside her, and some inaccesible coil of anxiety abrubtly loosened and dispersed. Her head lolled to better track his movements, but her eyes were half-lidded, now, giving the impression of lazy acceptance. She was close to it, at least.

A snuffle of encouragement escaped her as he combed his teeth through her fur. The Moonspear girl shifted - slow, so slow - rolling back toward him an inch or two so that she was almost more on her back than her side. Her teeth sought him again, this time aimed at the fur of his chest. She tugged gently at the fur there, and then pushed her nose into it until it until his heart pulsed again her leathery nares. This, of course, caused her to sneeze, and then she was quite limp against him, tail wagging in yet another sign of encouragment. What a good boy, she thought, peering up at him to see what he would do next, or if there was something more he needed from her in order for her to keep his attention.

She was certainly relaxed now. He felt a bit nervous with her preening the fur of his chest, but when she sneezed harmlessly, and rolled over against him, nearly revealing her belly to him, he assumed that any ideas he'd had before- about her having some hidden agenda and secretly waiting to lure him in before she pounced and gutted him- was just simple paranoia. This girl wanted it as much as he did, and he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of being groomed in return. 

He was still reasonably wary of her underside, as she might still be a bit touchy when it came to her vulnerable parts, so he'd have to lull her into a greater feeling of security before he made any brave moves. He didn't want to leave his throat exposed to her, by reaching to kiss her cheeks of forehead, so that was out of the question. Her throat was apparently out of the question as well, but he was willing to test the waters a little. 

With her in this position, he sat up slowly, and placed one foreleg on the other side of her abdomen so he was partially straddling her. He lowered his head, espression gentle but fixated nevertheless, as he reached to nuzzle her shoulder, wanting more closeness than she'd granted him before. He realized she might feel more vulnerable, lying partially beneath him, but he wanted to see if she would at least put that little bit of trust in him.

Alya's gaze was merely interested as she watched him, now. He sat up, trapped her beneath him - that was fine, though. She wasn't worried about being overpowered. Only about being taken by surprise with his jaws near her throat or underbelly. It would be embarrassing to come to harm this way, after all, and she didn't want him coming out of that fight looking better than her, or worse - getting away entirely unscathed.

It seemed, however, that he was not interested in harming her. She could believe that, for now, and rewarded him with an appealing wiggle, turning more fully onto her back. Her paws reached up toward him, seeking purchase on his wiry neck to pull him down closer to her. Both so that she could feel his lean form against her own, and so that it would be far more cumbersome a move if he tried to attack her, now.

A sharp whine - begging and commanding in equal turns - escaped her, now. He seemed to know what he was doing (and that was good because one of them ought to), so she was willing to give him the freedom to interpret that command however he wished.

Welcomed so thoroughly into the position he'd precariously placed himself into, Bruges sank against her, with a rumbling, pleasant growl disappearing into the thick fur of her shoulder. Her forlegs pulled him closer to her, and he lowered himself so that his chest pressed against hers, and he brought his hips closer to hers, though an animalistic part of him wanted him to straddle her completely, albeit in this somewhat unorthodox position. As close as they were, he hungered for more, and when her high, sweet voice crooned an imperative note into the air, he gave into the urge that had possessed him earlier, and lifted his near hind leg, moving so that he straddled her. 

It was slightly uncomfortable, being in that position, what with her hind knees sort of in the way, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to be on top of her, but this position certainly wasn't going to do it. His tail waved from side to side, and he realized, then, how ridiculous they looked- but feeling the warmth of her stomach against his was still quite nice. He gave the size of her muzzle an affectionate kiss, but trailed past her ear, and nudged her shoulder, as he pulled himself off her and stood, uttering a low, beseeching note, urging her to roll over and stand.

Like her nameless companion, Alya was intrigued by the heat that seared between them. The position felt right in a way that she was reluctant to let go of, but she allowed it when the male removed himself from her person, and stood at his urging to press hard, biting kisses against the ridge of his cheek and base of his ear. Her tail wagged in excitement, but her legs were stiff with renewed wariness. She was willing - no, insistent - on continuing along this path, but she couldn't help but remember her failed, aboritve attempts at copulation with Vaati.

This new male seemed more suited to the task. Alya kept herself from bristling by sheer will, and drew her body along the lean length of silver-eyed boy, preening along his spine and down toward his feathery flank.

Then she turned her head back toward him, blue eyes anxious but expression inviting.

Tension returned to the female's form when she stood, and by now, Bruges was able to diagnose the cause as an unwillingness to let go of control. With this in mind, Bruges made sure to steer clear of making demands, or seeming as though he was in any way going to put her second; instead, he wanted to get her into the mindset that he was there to please her, for her to take advantage of him. He was merely a willing subject, eager to please her and indulge her desires. So as she worked her way along his spine, he returned the gestures, leaning gently against her with one of his lean shoulders, enjoying the feeling and returning it with tender gestures. 

The look she gave him was watchful but inviting, and he couldn't help but wonder if she had done this before. She had to be somewhere around Niamh's age, he guessed, and he changed his mind about her tension- maybe she was nervous. All he could do then, was remain calm and attentive, and not push things too fast. He didn't want her to feel as though she couldn't regain control at any moment, when she asked for it. Given the position he'd need to get himself into, he'd need her to not only want him there, but to trust him there too. 

So to her pleading gaze, he uttered a crooning note, and nibbled at the fur at the very end of her spine, imploring her with a moan, as he tested the waters, leaning his shoulders against her hip. He placed his chin atop her hips and gazed at her, then, preening the fur at her flank with a featherlight touch, hoping he wouldn't need to ask again.

Whatever his deficienies in the size and strength department were (Alya found herself more and more charmed by his lithe, boyish figure), he was miles ahead of Vaati when it came to putting her at ease. There was no violent grab for power (it had enflamed her then, but it had also set her bristling like nothing else) or her scruff. He simply mirrored her actions, and when he reached her hips he set his chin upon the flat of her tailbone, and the warm, teasing weight of his jaw loosed an airy, keening whine from between her teeth. The sound startled her, but not as much as the desire that this tiny gesture had engendered. It was a promise of things to come, and Alya was impatient to see it play out.

She shifted restlessly, leaning her body toward his warmth even as she strengthened her stance in preperation to bear his weight. Her pulse was thrumming loud and fast in her ears, and throbbing in the pit of her stomach and burning hot wherever they touched.

Later, he thought he might look back at how paranoid he'd been when he'd first met her and laugh. Here he was now, seeking the near-final permission to take her, and he received it, as she sturdied her stance. Fortunately for her, Bruges was light on his feet and thugh he was tall, he didn't have too much weight resting atop his feet that would then rest atop her. She invited him, so he moved, still tending to her with gentle caresses of his muzzle against one hip, and then the other, pressing his chest against her hindquarters for a moment before he rose onto his hind feet, and angled himself forward. 

He pulled himself closer to her, rather than pulling her to him, and felt his own breath begin to quicken. She still had the opportunity to pull away from him, though his forelimbs were long enough to firmly grasp her hips. He didn't squeeze her, necessarily, but in the advent of such passion, he couldn't help himself but want her as close to him as possible. He ran his teeth through the stiff fur at the base of her neck, and with a breath of hot air, pushed himself forward and into the sensation that he so desired.

All this was familiar to the dark girl. She allowed him atop her, and shuffled to meet him as he pulled his hips toward her own. Everything felt good, felt right, especially without all those alarm bells that Vaati had set off for her. The danger had been part of the allure, yes, but this was good on its own merrit. He was.

And then it was different, and Alya's skin jumped at the sensation, a sharp yelp escaping her because somehow, of all the things that could have happened next, she hadn't quite expected that. But it was a pain nowhere near what she could easily ignore, almost akin to exercising a muscle that had been recently strained. And even this soon faded, giving way to the sensation of almost overwhelming heat. And Alya would look back at some point and be embarrassed by her lackluster performance during her first time, but all she could really do was pant and, at times, press haphazardly back, still too surprised and overwhelmed to do anything but appreciate the intense, rose-gold pleasure of the unknown male's ministrations.

Given the cry she emitted, Bruges' earlier question was answered, and he fell still for a moment, allowing the unpleasant sensation to subside as he reached forward to lick  the tips of her ears which were turned back toward him. Reassuringly and perhaps a bit apologetically, he buried his muzzle in the fur of her ruff, and waited a moment, allowing her to adjust and relax, before he would begin moving again, watching her for signs that she was in pain. This was not the first time Bruges had taken someone's maidenhood, but fortunately for Alya, he was not an unforgiving lover at all. At least, not during the act. 

For her, he was gentle when she tensed, and read her for signs that she began to relax and become more comfortable with the situation. Still nagging him at the back of his mind was the fact she could easily turn on him, and after a certain point, he would not be able to use his swiftness to get away from her, as they'd be joined for some time following the act. He tended to his nameless lover with compassionate attention, until finally he found himself gasping for air, spent after a wave of cool, sheer pleasure washed over him. 

He remained silent, still tending to her while they remained together, gazing at her fondly, unwilling to pull himself from her side as he wanted to make sure that she was at peace with what had just happened.

So that was sex. Alya felt drained and satisfied, but above all, enlightened. The science of this act had long been a mystery to her, and she was not disappointed by the results of all her research and trials. This experiment had paid off rather well, and she turned her head back toward her test subject to shower his face in sweet, praising, probably-painful kisses.

Part of her did not want to break the spell, but she now felt a powerful urge to put a name to his beloved face. She could afford to lend him space in her heart - he'd occupy a special place there, now. One that no other could claim. "What's your name?" she asked him, her voice low and melodious. Oh, she'd leave him in a few short hours all the same, but she wanted to remember him as more than just a face, a sensation.