Emberwood he hides behind his cigarette, lets the smoke linger by his lips

@Kavik <3

One might never have known the Irathi's claim. 

Twas not a boisterous, prideful thing with scent screaming of her dominion over the land, harolding it as her sovereignty from its threshold of evergreen watchmen. Her ties to the peaceful glen were subtly placed, delicate roots curling into spring-softened loam to take hold in the very energy of the trees.

It had become her own gradually, slowly - as all the best things in life grew to be.

It started by piling leaves and needles of the season's shedding foliage in a heap, dragging them in to the small cavern the Hagisi had chosen for temporary shelter. Originally, Iär'e had intended to stay only long enough to heal and replenish - plans that had changed as destruction erupted over the Wilds and tragedy befell an onslaught of disaster. 

Change was inevitable. The Tipani could feel it, even now, in her bones; an imperceptible shift, an unseen tide of unraveling fates as packs fell and rose, herds migrated, and families fell apart. 

But, then, that was the way of nature. Even her own beloved homeland had been frought with strife, causing the warrioress to flee to this wilderness - a refugee amongst the suffering. 

The signs were there, if one took care to look closely: the odd bone or scrap littering the forest floor - the careful burial they'd undergone worn away by elements and scavengers alike. Tufts of calico agouti caught on the odd shrub, a frozen pawprint along the banks of the southbound stream. 

The most obvious though, was the cutwife's dwelling. 

Even from outside the tiny cave, the area had taken on the look of a spartan camp. The tattered grey pelt of a mule deer lay stretched on the sheetrock beyond her threshold, underside up as it dried in the sun - a lucky snag from a carcass that would keep her warm in the coming months. 

A few small, hard apples kept the tanning hide company, as well as a few other bits of plants - drying herbs. Fish bones, still arranged in esoteric positions from scrying, lay in the dirt, almost tucked from sight beneath an evergreen bramble - a deer tendon strung with vertebrae clacking as it danced in the wind, hung from the thorny branches of the shrubbery. 

In the midst of this otherworldly and somewhat occult display, Iär'e sat - working over her kill tactfully.

A variety of snake, the exact breed she was uncertain of, that had been disturbed from its hibernation as the shaman stepped on its nest. The shock and pain had made it sluggish as it attempted to slither away, not to mention that it had been sleeping for winter before she'd startled it, making for an easy kill. 

Tishinka could not skin it, its thin scales shredding far too easily, nor would she have cared to. Snake skin would not warm her den and there wasn't enough of it to do anything worthwhile with the material. Instead, the witchling tore at it - ripping the meat from the reptile's spine in neat chunks, piling them at her paws to break her fast.

Kavik had been looking closely. They sought to claim these woods, and he took his new responsibility seriously. So when he noticed the paw prints by the river, he had started to explore in the direction they pointed. A tuff of fur gave him the scent he was looking for, and he searched the forest floor for a trail that might lead him to whomever was here. When he finally found what he was looking for, he followed it for what felt like miles, stopping every so often to pause and look around when a noise pulled his attention from his search. Once refocused on the trail, he continued to follow it, weaving between trees and over a large, fallen tree. The longer he followed the trail, the fresher and more clear it became, and there was no way he would give up now. 

As he drew close to her camp, the scent of food hit him first. Deer was most notable, and his mouth watered in response; it had been so long since he had eaten anything more than a rabbit, bird, or vole, and the scent was almost intoxicating even if it didn't smell fresh. Another scent caught his attention: herbs. He knew that scent well, and wondered how successful this wolf had been in finding plants lately. Finally, he scented a woman—a stranger, and he entered her camp slowly, staying close to the outskirts as he watched her working on her kill. A low chuff left his chest, and then he waited for her to respond. She appeared to have made a small home here, and he wondered how much trouble she would give them when he told her of his pack's plans to move into this forest.

sorry about the delay! (had the flu and lost service :/)

It had been no ordinary retrograde. 

On autumn winds whispering of long-awaited change it had come, and with her kinds' New Year it had struck. A suspension of this world and next, a fortnight-long Samhain balanced between living and dead. The calico's range had snapped and flickered with shadows, demons of the past warring within - begging to be put to rest. 

He, she thinks as seawater rises to summer, could very well be one of those spectres. 

Start, flinch, she might - were she another. As it is, Iär'e's eyes widen a tic, tongue rasping across her  cinnamon-splotched chops nervously. 

There is something utterly abmysal reflected in the shatted bottleglass of his forest gaze, murmuring of unforgiving grief - a tormented shadow of these forsaken lands given flesh. 

These thoughts persist for but a moment, even the spiritualist is not so mad as to mistake him for a ghost (no matter how forlorn).

What's more is the glint of possession hiding in the depths of his jade jewels, an expression she recognizes only too well; it trails cruel talons along her flesh, burrowing beneath to twist in the pits of her being with razor-edged blades. 

Despite her anxiety, and identification as Tipani, old habits die hard. Her gaze flickers away, down, from his - glancing between the Gyakusa and the snake at her feet, almost guiltily. 

"Ezinisiri," Zuzuhakte lilts wiltingly on misused chords, chin lifting ever so delicately as the primitive word rasps from her - defiant, or prideful mayhaps, in the face of fear. A shining glimmer of the orphaned witchling clinging to the only way she'd ever known. 

"Peace be, Sadhi," she chirps musically in what she assumes to be his tongue, entreating the warrior with a faint bow of her head. Though obviously unnerved by his sudden appearance, Irathii ways are not so readily cast off; the shaman nimbles aside of her catch, shoulders hunched against the weight of his eyes. 

"You 're 'ungry, no?" The words are thick, soft with rust, entwining musically as the sounds tumble over one another. Aquamarine peers at him discreetly, carefully - waiting for his next move on trembling paws. 

If it's the wrong one, she'll bolt before he can blink.

no need to apologize <3

If he knew how obvious his internal suffering was to her, he would have tried harder to conceal it. He wasn't eager to let others see just how much pain he was in—how much he wished it would all just end. He feared his daughter would pick up on his desolation, so he tried to hide it from everyone. He wouldn't let her know just how much his soul hurt every second of every day; she needed to focus on getting better and growing up despite how he had let her down. He wouldn't let her down in this way, though. 

She appeared nervous at first: a flash of the white of her eyes and the pink of her tongue as it flicked out to move along her lips the first things to catch his attention. She averted her gaze, something he was used to, though he never actually expected that sort of thing from anyone. She spoke some foreign word, and then her body language shifted abruptly, her chin tilting up in defiance of his unspoken claim here. Kavik tensed; he hadn't come here to fight her, the woods were not officially claimed, after all. But he was intent on informing her of their plans so that she could pack up and leave, or join them if she wished to do that instead. 

When she spoke again, he understood the word. She wanted peace, same as him. At least she did now before she knew of his request. She moved aside, her kill more visible to him now. His stomach rumbled painfully at the sight. A snake wasn't something he would consider a meal usually, but with so little food around, any meat would do. She offered the meal to him, but he shook his head, unwilling to take her meal and her home in the same day. No, that is okay. It's your kill and I'm fine. He dipped his head in greeting. I'm Kavik. He glanced around once before resting his gaze on her face. My pack seeks to settle here for the winter, he added. It looks like that could be a problem for you. He proposed it as a simple fact, no aggression present in his voice or body. He didn't want to force her out; the thought made guilt swell in his chest. But he had to be honest with her.