Neverwinter Forest lxviii. bring it on back, bring it on back

AW but perhaps @Muttn, @Dionysus, @Themis, or @Makan (lots of tags for reference, pls let me know if anything needs to be edited!)

 

Though she occasionally chose to stay close to home and help keep watch over the younglings, there were others within the village whom guarded the new children. Lótë thought her efforts might be better served filling in the gaps -- patrolling with @Inutsuk or on her own as the new parents tended to their son, hunting with a variety of packmates (though @Qadira had proved to be a viable asset in this) to help keep the caches full. This often led her from the low mountains of Ouroboros, ranging afield for game. Whatever time she had left over was spent in Neverwinter Forest -- preparing for the future and the expansion of their clan. 

Midmorning found the doe clearing the old hides and debris from the burrows of what had once been a communal denning location, burying them in the heart of the woods as she had once done with her own belongings at @Kigipigak's side. 

The dove reasoned she had enough time to work on such a task and could hunt something for the nursing mothers later in the afternoon before returning to Moonglow. 

her breath came out in a thick, odorous mist as she stood shadowed by the thick, low evergreen canopy, watching the wolf from a distance.

the scent of others had baited her into coming so near what was obviously packland. her coat had grow out into a shaggy thing of rusty fawn, but it offered no protection against the harsh western winter. the deserter missed the warmth of the barracks, as stale and filled with cocksmell as they were.

out her throat came a sound that would be a howl, had her facial anatomy allowed for such a thing to be produced by her flattened features.

her call sounded a garbled mockery of her cousins'.

The cloudberry straightened at the strange, muffled call, head swivelling as she turned to scan the forest for the source. Her emerald gaze landed on the most peculiar looking woman that she'd ever seen in her entire life. 

Even so, the dove was not unaccustomed to wolfdogs -- though she had yet to meet a purebred dog such as the woman in the distance. Silently, Lótë marvelled at her folded face and the wrinkles of her short fur and loose skin. 

Remembering her manners and forgetting the pelts she had been tidying up, the doe called out in return -- beckoning the she-dog closer with friendly tones and an amicable wag of her tail. 

sorry for the late response! in a thread chronologically preceding this one (26th february) diesel suffered severe facial trauma, but as i wrote my initial reply to this scene before that occurred, any mention of them is absent in her internal dialogue. going forward i will refer to them as if they were always present, and you can handle this retcon any way you want, including editing your reply to include this information! for reference, this is how she's supposed to look now (note the lower lip is naturally loose and not a wound, i marked it incorrectly);

the friendliness of the wolf - she-wolf, her nose told her - was enough to lure the mastiff past the treeline. she trotted closer, loose skin swaying, cold wind nipping at the sensitive, bared flesh on the left side of her face, cutting her to the teeth.

she stopped a few leaps away from the female. without words and only a bark, she bent into a playful bow, inviting the other into the first game every pup learns to play.

Lótë blinked in surprise as the she-dog pattered closer on broad paws, struggling not to let her shock show upon her face as the shadows shifted to reveal the wounds that littered her face and neck. The cloudberry swallowed her horror at who might've done such a thing and yipped playfully in return, dipping low in a bow as her tail swayed happily. 

Dancing towards the woman on energetic, hopping steps -- she bounded closer and pawed gently at the mastiff. Her movements were slower, more tactful, than they might usually be. She feared accidentally tugging on the wounds and causing further injury to the stranger. 

After a moment, she straightened half way and cocked her head curiously. "Lótë," she dipped her head, attempting to gesture towards herself, wondering if the woman spoke the common tongue. 

when the woman came close diesel got a lungful of her scent, so herbal, wolfish and pleasant. it made her feel dizzy, like a man did in the presence of a much more potent fragrance. 

the game she played softer than usual, hopping back and forward, only once attempting to nip at the other's neck, teeth clicking shut only inches away from the plush winter fur. she knew the state of her own wounds, and besides, it would do no good to scare away this pretty, gentle thing by being too rough.

when the she-wolf raised herself, the she-dog only panted. she seated herself and with a hind leg scratched at her neck, the chain about it clicking. she lowered the limb.

"dieshel." her own name was now unpronounceable by her mangled lips. the dogue smiled with an open mouth, despite the impediment. then, she lowered her head. "-hat'sh a 'ooman like you doing out here all alone?"

It was a bit difficult to understand the other's speech upon first hearing it but the herd-stalker managed well enough to decipher it. "A pleasure to meet you, Diesel," the three-year murmured upon realizing she could speak in spite of the wounds inflicted upon her face, inclining her head graciously. 

"I intend to build a village here with my children and those who will come with us," Lótë answered, not yet realizing it was meant flirtatiously. She might've offered Diesel a place amongst her kin but the smell of other wolves clung to her heavily. "What brings you here?" 

haven't written in days, 'scuse me while i stretch m'fingers

her attentions were entrapped by the appeal of the other woman, the small, charming gestures and the loveliness of her voice. 

there was no feminine envy within the dog. she'd always felt a comforting sense of superiority in her own way of being, from her looks to her mannerisms. cuties like this lótë were a different breed altogether. soft, lovely, pleasant - there was only one thing they could offer the mastiff, and she'd grown accustomed to receiving it.

her hazy gaze sharpened a moment after the wolfwoman spoke, the bitch realising she'd been told something. 

"ha? hh. 'ell, i 'ander. gha there, gha aver there." her large front swayed side to side, as if gesturing at all the wast wildernesses surrounding them. "-ere'er the 'ind 'lowsh." the brute smiled. 

as long as it's far, far from that scarfaced cunt.

"yeu shay children, 'ut ish the, uh, child-'aker in the 'icture?" are you single?

no worries!

Lótë's cheeks warmed beneath the cover of fallowskin fur, only just then reading the intentions hidden between the lines. While it was true that her inclinations occasionally tended towards the fairer sex, the painter was more of a reserved and traditional type -- casual flings and the like just weren't in her nature. 

"I - ah, no," she stammered, somewhat embarrassed. Her ears dipped back to rest against her skull as her gaze slid to the side nervously -- an awkward chuckle escaping beneath her breath. "My former husband is no more. But I am happily married to another now." It did not matter if Aiolos did not share her bedfurs. It was not a lie that she had found contentment in her marriage to him. 

"What of you?" she attempted to redirect the conversation. "Is there a husband -- or wife -- at home?" She had known wolves in her homeland who did not restrict their appetites to their spouses, perhaps Diesel was one such canid. 

the way she turned flustered and bashful once it struck her what diesel was after - it just made the wolfess more endearing to her. the mastiff leaned slightly forward, engrossed in the other's reactions.

"no, no hus'nd, no 'aih either." there was a glimmer in her hazel gaze, and a loopsided smile on her muzzle. "i 'live in free lovin'." 

it was becoming obvious that the she-wolf, trapped by matrimony, would not fall easily for diesel's wrinkled charms. fuck. scarface was purely to blame for that. were her face still intact, sweet little beauty mark wouldn't be able to resist her butch appeal.

fuck, again.

but it would be best not to scare her away.

the mastiff leaned backwards. "-hat's your 'illage's name?" it would be a good place to mark on her mental map. if the mother was this pretty, just imagine the children.

Lótë breathed a little easier when it became clear that Diesel wasn't the type to press on when another was unreceptive. She chuckled lightly at the desperado's words, finding such a lifestyle slightly admirable but it just wasn't in the cards for Lótë. 

"Our village is called Moonglow. Yours is the one along the sea -- yes? I met a girl named Marina who carried much the same scent as you." The mother couldn't quite be certain it was exactly the same pack nor if Marina still resided with the Druids, as she hadn't gleaned much information in their brief interaction. Still, it might be worthwhile to keep tabs on the various packs within Teekon. If only as a precaution. 

moonglow. she marked the place as being somewhere between fuckshit mountains and rugmuncher woods.

"er- yeah!" a laugh to cover up that fact she
had no earthly idea what the chick was talking about. "yeah, 'ai 'em, uh, a 'it, eheh, 'ar hron hon." her brain started sputtering, as it had already had to dedicate some energy to building a different lie.

she got up on her paws at once.

"lishten, i, uh, should 'ee on 'ai 'ey. gotta get hon." the dog could tell she'd let something bad slip if she continued chatting with the lovely miss beauty mark.

"tanks hor the con'ersation." her gaze softened a moment while taking another good look at the woman's lovely body, before snapping away to focus on the quickest way to exit the area.

Lótë had hoped to learn more about the Druids -- perhaps even spark up a conversation regarding an alliance with the islanders -- but it seemed such was not to be in the cards. Diesel seemed quick to make a hasty retreat, which the cloudberry thought might have something to do with the sisters that had a bad experience with Moonglow, presuming Marina's sisters also resided with the coastal pack.

The doe didn't try to stall the isabella she-dog, nor persist in her line of questioning. She let the other go gracefully, "It was nice to meet you," she murmured into the conifer forest, watching the mastiff go with a slight furrowing of consternation upon her brow.