Blackfeather Woods Like summer storms, the skies as grey as leaves.

Set around June 20th.

He'd crossed the mountains. For one night he lingered in the mossy ruins of a home that once belonged to his bloodline, but bad dreams plagued him there. He slept for some hours and moved on, climbing down in to the next valley where he would find a sprawling meadow as far as he could see from the hillside.

Mesa stopped to drink at a river and followed that until the urge to avoid the summer heat drove him beneath the cover of trees. The forest that he now inhabited felt as if it were sighing around him; it was mild but not cold, and the wind made the branches groan.

It felt like a lonely place.

She knew here.

Her soul sung and wept. Her bones ached with something ancient and primordial that went beyond her understanding of anything.

She dared not vocalize such things. Instead she remained deathly silent, plagued by her own mind for once. Somewhere up ahead was something pale.

Her heart lurched and she gave chase.

He did not hear the drum-beat of her steps until she was practically upon him, and the sound was as trapped among the dark crevasses as he was; spinning, electrified, snapping his teeth at shadows — but she was faster, and perhaps did not hold the intent to harm that Mesa anticipated. He missed with his teeth.

Between fight or flight he'd already chosen maim and failed, so he hurried his limbs in to a churning canter.

She realized all at once her grand mistake.

A flash of teeth on a body too different. A man, younger. She narrowly missed teeth that had surely sought to rightfully punish her. She yelped from fear alone like some sort of frenzied hyena. He sought to already move into action once more.

She would not move for a heart beat or two before she followed his trail.

Now a prowling beast instead of a charging bull.

He swept away from the shape as swiftly as he could. Mesa did not know these woods; his path was irregular, jolting from place to place while an eye was kept to his surroundings. He knew soon enough that he could not see his attacker and would have to employ other senses.

By the time he'd slowed for a breath, he'd found his way to a meadow near the forest's heart. There was a single oak-like tree standing tall with a crown of branches, and the air tasted almost thick. He blamed the humidity (it was not the humidity, but the pollen that filled the air).

Wheeling first one way and then another, he hoped to hear the stranger coming, or by chance catch a real glimpse in this open space; but all he saw was a slim silhouette bracketed by shadows, enough to distort.

The grand oak.

Jakoul knew it and it sunk her heart deep into the pit of her stomach. She prowled on the edges between the other trees, hoping to asses him further before either made a move.

Except with each prowling step she grew in closeness and soon enough visibility. She crept into the clearing with a movement and posture that was nearly feline in nature. Vulpine, perhaps.

The air prodded at her lungs with its weight.

Soon the creature was exposed. He thought it was a skunk at first — which was stupid, it was much larger and did not have the characteristic streak; this thing was long and lean and all dark, almost like a manifestation of the forest come alive.

He took a deep breath to try and affix their scent in his nose, and only gathered pollen. It was enough to make him sneeze loudly. The shift of his head up-to-down-to-up gave the stranger time to close the distance, and when Mesa looked again through a watery gaze, he saw her much closer.

A woman? He was curious but also wary, warring between the two.

A man of muscles, of pale colors. An opposite to her in near every way. Save for the pale of each of their eyes.

He may have greeted her with teeth but he had been right in doing so. She held no ill will to him now, more just a deep curiosity of him.

Why had he come to this place? Why had he both fought and fled?

Enchanted in a complex way. Jakoul aimed to breathe in his scent and instead found herself also afflicted with a sneeze. The thick air testing the capability of her sinuses.

Closer closer, closer, and each step made him scrutinize her more.

She did not move with ill-intent this time; there was humility there for a few steps, a wild look that he knew well, and then — a sneeze to rival his own.

He looked towards the tree where much of the pollen roosted, then back to her, to run his nose along her spine as closely as he could; searching for scents with more care. He did not like the feeling that came with sneezing and wanted to avoid it.

She held smells like dust, and earth, and was in no way at-home here in the forest. What had drawn her here?

She did not deny him the trail of her spine. She leaned to smell the earthen scents of his legs. Well traveled, no scents that stirred a memory or that belong explicitly to here.

A sound rumbled in her chest, something intended to be apologetic.

Her gaze did not return to the great mysterious tree yet. Too fascinated and perplexed by the strange man.

She was a sinuous shadow. A narrow panther with moons for eyes, and when she turned them his way Mesa was unnerved as well as defiant; he was not used to this kind of attention. He was glad, too, that she was not talkative like many of the lone wolves he'd crossed with. This was the kind of interaction he enjoyed (coveted, almost). It was somehow simpler. More natural for him.

Her sound pulled at something deeply primal within him. His head raised upon a rigid spine, as he stepped back but with a bold posture, as if he might own these woods. In fact Mesa felt powerful with her attention. He murmured a low note in the back of his throat which was rough but warm, like an invitation.

She could stay, he'd decided.

She wondered if perhaps he was a ghost.

So powerful in these woods, the stance of a man with a claim. Yet she did not feel threatened by his stance. The rumbling of him proved such a feeling and she felt her own kind of power.

She rumbled an invitation back to him and padded a few steps away, before she tossed a look over slim shoulder. She wished to lead him somewhere prettier. A place of flowers, long since overgrown with no skilled wolves tending to them.

Somewhere the air may not be so thick.

From his point of view the woman was slipping away. Had he been too forthright? He thought they spoke the same language (in a way), and watched her. His eye traced her figure without thinking too long about it; lingering on curves, but feeling nothing one way or the other until she looked over to him again.

She waited a moment and so Mesa followed.

The woman led him away from the broad reaching oak to a place where the pollen was lighter. He could take deeper breaths. The meadow was behind them somewhere, but here was a small grove where flowers had overtaken the soil.

He bent his head to sniff at some, warily, as if they might reach out and snap.

She found she deeply enjoyed the sight of him here.

A pale centerpiece in the spread of flowers. She watched closely as he sniffed at them all. Her heart kicked feverishly, a wildfire down her spine. This was evident by the soft shiver and the soft frenzy in her gaze.

All at once she looked away from him, crouching down low into a bed of flowers. Finding comfort in their gentle touches.

It struck him as he investigated, that she had led him here on purpose. That she knew this forest after all.

When she turned and crouched in to the flower bed, he advanced to where she lingered and inspected her coat all over again — brazen with his attention. Uncaring if he invaded her space too quickly or for too long.

She did not smell of the woods yet she knew the woods. The affection she held for these flowers went right over Mesa's head; he thought, maybe, she was trying to trick him after all.

Once mine,

She croaked like the ravens above. The only words she dared to both with with no elaboration. He would either understand or he would not.

She rolled in the flowers for the moment, carefree in his presence now. Perhaps eager to show off more and prove her worth as a living creature.

She spoke; then rolling before him, exposed herself in a way that again drew pleasure from his basic mind.

She trusted him so quickly that he was stunned, and confused, and proud of himself all at once. Mesa did not often feel superiority around other wolves — and never considered it as an option around women — but he felt powerful while he watched her.

Once mine. She meant the flowers? The forest.

He thought something similar of her, boyish and possessive.

Mesa moved to join her among the flowers by sliding on his belly, reaching his limbs through the stalks and buds and dirt and grass, muddying himself beyond what he usually carried.

Maybe ruining the abundance of foliage at the same time, he didn't really care. He stared after her though, and reached to wiffle a breath across the fur of her breastbone.

She hummed a sound of delight as he found his way into the flowers with her. And she would reward him with the touch of her breastbone. The scents rich of Akashingo herbs and earth.

She wondered if he enjoyed it.

Without thought, she rolled onto her side and extended her neck. A reach out towards him where she hoped to be allowed a touch, wherever he might grant permission. Her nose eager to dig through his furs.

She wondered what such a handsome man did here, all alone without clue.

Where would he go when all was said and done?

She didn't stop him.

They gathered information from one another.

He found other things beyond the smells of dust and earth; men's scents, women's, something like sunbaked-leaves, and a spice note which was quite strong but otherwise unfamiliar.

The man chuffs to clear his sinuses. Then he shuffles towards her on his belly and reaches to plunge his face against her scruff; but it isn't just to search and study, but to lightly comb at the fur, and then to grab and —

He tried to climb across her; playful, dangerous, and unaware of his strength. Feeding a need which she had inspired.

She found a soothing in the rising danger.

This place had always been so dark and grim, only lightened by the family that had lived here before. Now everything was cursed and ruined.

If he shed her blood here, she would not find any surprise it in.

Perhaps that was why she encouraged him onward with warming rumbles. Her tail swept the plants behind her. He was strong, far stronger than she had originally thought him to be.

This pleased her.

She would welcome his company for as long as he would stay.