Redtail Rise the landscape garden

for @Mori!

it's this gently sloping part of the Rise that worries her most. trees and rocks and towering mountains shield more than half of their claim, and even the less ragged borders still present challenges. but here, this strip of land that oozes into the surrounding taiga. . .

Avicus has urinated here frequently, hardly leaving an inch for doubt. she's doing so today, or at least as much as she can, alternating between furious trickles and stalking hares.

she takes a breather, standing tall beside a lone, barren cedar, its late-evening shadow casting her into darkness.

their numbers are swelling, but not enough to protect this stretch from whatever—whoever—awaited them beyond.

Silence walks in the steps of her own front paws, drifting like a low hanging fog across the taiga. Shadows cling to her pitch coat, a drapery of finite darkness that would vanish should the sun find her.

It never seemed to. Mori was good at avoidance of light. So on the revenant went, low and lurching, a Frankensteinian creature of twitching, rolling joints, stitched together. She walked. And she walked.

Until her eyes found a shadow, a shade, the color of old, rusty blood. Mori raised her head, only an inch or two, to peer at the wolf. The smell of urine filled their nose, but did not get more than a single twitch of skin beneath thick black fur.

She nodded, slightly, an acknowledgement and a greeting all in one.

the appearance of a dark, hulking figure on the horizon sent a growl simmering at the base of her throat, like a volcano ready to erupt. she stares hard at the approaching wolf until they give her a nod, and even then, she doesn't let down her guard, only gestures for the figure to come closer.

you are? she barks—the echo of her greeting to the big pale man, but more pointed, imperious.

this wolf reminds her of some creature from Ursus, gangly and savage, something pulled from the earth. she inhales deeply at the thought, looking for traces of her father or brother on the pelt, but finds nothing.

You are?

Interesting question, that. Might as well be truthful.

Mori. The response is said, voice choking, the syllables grating like metal on a whetstone. She hasn’t spoken in days, and even the last time she did, it was to give an answer much like the one she just handed over. She came closer, face remaining impassive, sharp and defined. There’s something to be found in kinship with the sharp way the rust blood woman spoke.

Mori inclined her head, trying to indicate that her question was the same, in reverse.

Avi, she returns. now that the wolf is closer, Avicus notices she's a woman—well, she thinks. something's off, but perhaps they're both made from the same mold—rough, haggard creatures, carved from the land rather than something soft or gentle.

the antithesis of the binary "woman." and she likes her for it.

you alone? Avicus continues, nostrils flaring to pick up Mori's scent. nothing there of substance; nothing she recognizes, anyway. no Nyra. no Moonwoman. no Ursus, or Sapphique. . .

a lanky lump of clay, ready to be molded. you hunhh'? she queries. fighh'?

Mori didn’t typically like people. 

But this “Avi” at least got a thumbs up of approval.

A nod, simple, to her first question. Mori is alone. As the silence is. As shadow, as night, as moon. Alone. 

Then comes the second question, and one of Mori’s eyebrows ticked up a scant centimeter. She gave a sharp double nod, flicking her ear twice in case the nodding hadn’t been enough. Fight, she believed was the word used. Mori couldn’t exactly fault Avi for her speech, when Mori didn’t exactly do it at all. But fighting? That she could do.

the multiple nods put her at ease. though. . .she supposes she ought to test the woman. Avicus takes a step forward, then another, then dips low into a crouch, lips lifted above her teeth in a snarl.

what now? her indigo gaze asks, burning into the other's dark countenance. 

her back legs pedal slightly, moving her against the ground, as if she's preparing herself to leap forward. but she will stay put, and wait for Mori to make a move.

We can either dice roll this or just go with the flow, depends on which you’d prefer <3

A sudden flash of ivory teeth, but Mori’s face does not change. There is, perhaps, an internal sigh, as if expecting this.

The silence rocked back, dipping her massive body low, deep eyes glittering and raw in their sockets. The silence lowered their skull, and gave a single nod, before lunging forward like a battering ram, neck pulled in, shoulders lurched forward.

I usually just flow for friendly spars, but if you prefer dice let me know!

she had underestimated the woman; her tall stature makes up for the scant bit of flesh upon her bones, and Avicus finds a veritable tornado rolling her way. she takes a blow to the shoulder and careens sideways, scrambling to right herself.

she's automatically on worse ground. the ruddy girl lunges to seize a leg, as she had with Prophet, but the woman is leaner and quicker than his bulky frame.

jaws snapping, paws skittering against the snow and ice.

Im good with just the flow!

The rust blood girl had grabbed hold of Mori’s leg, struggling to keep her balance. Even with the teeth now encasing part of her leg, Mori did not flinch. Instead, she swiveled, neck stretching out like that of some great bird to wind down.

She went for something harder to grasp. If she could get the back of the head, perhaps, this spar wouldn’t take long. So, Mori does, peeling her lips back from her teeth to go for the grab, not the pierce, to simply hold the skin between her teeth.

the breather doesn't last long. just as she seizes a leg and begins to tug—hard—she feels teeth upon her scruff and she's pulled back, head flying into the air.

said head starts to lurch backward, trying to bash the woman's muzzle, not to harm but at least into letting her go.

and then Avicus jerks and squirms in the grasp, attempting to free herself. like a fish on the line, except this fish has limbs, and those limbs are punching every which way looking for purchase.

she's lost, but she's won. this is a warrior.

The head of Avi bashed backwards, and Mori released almost immediately, the sting traveling up her nasal cavities and making her face finally, finally twitch into a facsimile of a frown, before falling back into blankness. She reached up to rub at her nose, pleased to find it wasn’t bleeding.

She is watchful, wary, but gives the girl space to stand.

breathing hard, she finds she's free and able to slowly stand, and spins to look at the lanky woman, eyes still blazing—but with approval, now, instead of wariness.

Mori, Avicus announces, after a deep inhale to steady herself. you fighh'. you be here.

she nods toward the heart of the Rise, and glances backward, in question. you hhh'shtay?

after all, the spar has proven nothing but Mori's competence in battle. whether she—

oh. she's forgotten the most important portion of her place here. Mori, she says again. big whihh' woman, kill my ma. i kill her—we kill her. you come?

Oh.

There’s purpose here.

The silence is allowed a task, a job to oversee, something that can consume her once more in work. A white woman, big, a death warrant over her head. Were Mori a more expressive person, she might have started shivering with the excitement that twisted in her veins.

As it was, she gave a sharp nod, eyes blazing beneath the white highlights above them, her mouth going from uninterested blankness to almost, almost rising.

She would stay. She would do as she was told. As it had always been, and as it always would be.

all she needs is the nod before she turns inward, toward the center of the Rise once more. goodh, she says. come.

the two of them will trot together, working toward the makeshift rendezvous.

Mori is one of them, now.

time will tell whether the loyalty proves advantageous, but Avicus has a good feeling about this one.