Neverwinter Forest song-murder and the aspen

for @Makatza; sorry this took me so long to get up! <3

sometime over the morning that ingram had been making the trek from the mountain that ursus claimed to neverwinter forest ( though he knows not it's name ), a light snow had begun to fall. it dusts the hard ground, the frozen grasses that crunch under each step he takes.

it is the first time ingram has seen snow; finding that the chill that seeps into his flesh, nestling into the marrow of his bones is welcoming. it soothes the fires of his bloodlust, of his rage which always seems to seethe just beneath the surface like a volcano about to erupt ...and as equally as unpredictable.

it is these faucets of himself that the fragheda had long since embraced.

he weaves into the thrumming heart of the forest; following a random and chosen path, his intent one of selfish reasons. despite his desire to stop looking, he still searches for the shadow, something that could not be done within the confines of ursus' claim. so he prowls patrols the nearby neutral territories under the guise of patrols — for ursus' enemy still lives, having chosen cowardice over an honorable death ( as far as ingram cared to see it ) — reasoning that he could be entirely selfish while still contributing to ursus in some form or another ...even if he doubts he'd find nyra or her cronies this close to ursus' claim.

in fact, he doubts he'll find his missing shadow but hope was a insufferable thing, living and blossoming in the cavern of his chest, drawing from the poison in his heart and thriving despite it all.

Makatza's first winter was coming in close. The fall of the fine snow was a sight she had never seen before, and she was dreading it. It was cold, wet and unpleasant to her. She didn't care for it. She was all alone in this neutral area, she wandered between different terrains, but stayed within the wilderness. Not because it was close to home, in fact it was pretty far from home. But more so because other packs stayed nearby and she was beginning to wonder if she should join one of them. Staying alone at her age during the winter was probably not the smartest move, and she was realizing that even more as the cold bit her nose.

So when she found a large grey male patrolling the area, she shifted. She only barely saw him in the corner of her eyes and she wondered if she wanted to follow him or not. Ask him who he was, where he came from, all of that. So rather than acting like a normal person, Makatza began to stalk him. She kept downwind, stepped carefully behind him and watched him with curious eyes. He seemed almost as if he was searching for something.

He walked pretty far and for rather long, and she getting bored of him. She had pretty much decided to turn around and leave, and then, only then did she make a mistake. She stepped on a large twig that broke with an almost deafening sound to her ears. "Fuck!" She froze. She slowly turned her head to look at the male and then turned her body toward him. She wasn't afraid, more so embarrassed being caught red-handed in stalking him so closely.

the lack of knowledge that he was being skillfully stalked — a spell startled and shattering with the unfortunate snap of a twig and the explicit word falling from her lips — burns in ingram's chest. that he hadn't known manifests with embarrassment of his own that roils beneath the surface, bubbling up his throat and lingering like a melody of spices upon his tongue as he turns quick, preparing to spew venom —

words are stolen from him and a ragged breath is drawn in ...immediately mistaking her for the shadow upon first, too-quick glimpse.

it is only as seaglass gaze rakes over her hungrily and a ghost of a step is taken that he realizes everything about her is all ...wrong. not the shadow. no mis-matched eyes, the dark pelage broken by browns and cinnamons that did not besmirch the shadow's pelt.

ingram's posture shifts again, every flick of emotion that might've crossed his face then shutting off; turning stony and ice-cold.

his lips twist into a scowl then, a low warning growl rumbling in his chest; his annoyance making itself known without any effort of tempering on his part. what do you want? he snaps; surly as ever.

"what do you want?"

She didn't reply right away. She just watched him. She didn't know what she wanted. Not from him or anyone else. She just - followed someone because she wondered if he was going to be amusing. But instead he just patrolled around the area. Looking, searching. For trouble?

She sighed and shrugged. "I don't know." Honestly. She was probably search herself, but she didn't know what for. She was far too young to be out here wandering by herself during the winter, that much should have been obvious. But here she was, making the best of it. She knew she should be searching for some kind of shelter, home, a pack. But the thought just didn't appeal to her right now.

"What do you want?" It wasn't a challenge, there was only curiosity in her voice. She walked a little closer, her ears perked toward him. Listening.

her response to his surly snapping question was unexpected, ingram suspects. it is enough to disarm him for the barest and brief of moments. a twitch of his ears follows, a small shift of his weight upon the cold grasses and snow dusted ground. but he lines of his scarred muzzle twist into another scowl; a quick reclaiming of himself. in truth, he hadn't known what to expect when it dawned upon him that he was being stalked ...but i don't know felt lackluster.

which then made him suspicious.

then why are you following me? he forms the question more in line with a demand.

the question then is turned to him; and ingram hears the curiosity in her voice, takes note of it in her steps as she draws nearer.

the answer was as complex and as simple as: everything; despite that it holds firm ties to the true reason he was out here searching: the shadow.

he does not wish to admit that to a stranger.

i'm not the one stalking about. ingram deflects; drawing in her scent with a soft inhale. she does not appear to belong to any pack ... and was about his own age; and in the plight for companionship that understands him he loosens his tight grip upon his defenses, wondering what her story was despite himself.

i want many things. a demand, perhaps, too great for a teenager to be making of the world.