Sun Mote Copse but you're holding me like water in your hands
Riverclan
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#1
Private 
continuation of this thread!!

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Like a willing pet, Wren had followed @Colt well into the early hours of the morning. Padding beside him in relative quiet, the occasional song of small talk uttered from her lips. The sun was beginning to peek over the treetops by the time they had reached their destination, dappling the pair with a faint blush of pinks and oranges.
She had walked among these trees before, but with him, it felt new.
Wren comes to a stop beneath a secluded canopy. Quiet, save for the sway of leaves with the winds and the morning birds that spoke amongst each other. She presses her back against the trunk of a tree, and with one long forelimb, reels him closer. 
She starts with a lone kiss to the tip of his nose, followed by a plea for his lips to part, should he allow it. Torn ears press to the sides of her dust-colored head, and her tail sways between reedy legs. The only sound to come from her lips is a small, vulnerable whine. She would be slow; careful.
If she was to pretend to be his for now, she would make it worth his time. She only had so much of it. 
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wren touched him and colt allowed it, the slowness of it. 
perhaps it was her complete devotion to the moment, perhaps it was the velveteen allure of her wwarm breath, but lips parted to touch tonguetip and colt grinned a lazy ragged smile at the sound wren offered to his wanting ears.
they had time, he and she. time enough for the sun to pour through the slanting branches like buttercoin offerings, streaking and spotting them between the green leaves with the golden light for which this place was known.
colt knew nothing in the way of love; he offered only his physicality entire, the heat of him roving in teeth that tugged fur to skin, the brush and bump of their muzzles, the growls of his own he meant to vibrate her flesh entire.
his; for now.
Riverclan
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Wren revelled in it. The roughness of his touch that lit her skin ablaze, his throaty growls that would bounce off of the treetops. The power she had at her hands, how willing he was to bow at her feet and give himself to her. Slowly, until it was all at once. 
And she would do the same for him, worship his name and cry it out for no one but them to hear. It was criminal, the way she feverishly begged for him, on and on until her throat grew hoarse and her cheeks had flushed a pleasant, indicative scarlet. She could only hope God would cover his eyes. 

**

She was shivering, the heat having drained from her body, now delivered to her via her lover's gaunt figure pressed against her own. Perhaps in another life, she would have lit a cigarette for them to pass back and forth, but all she could do was exhale with a content, shaky sigh. 
The afterglow could only last for so long. She shuffles away after a moment, keeping close proximity, though her eyes avoided his. She needed to think. 
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some cowpokes wrote poetry on the trail, but colt had never been one of those. he forged his signature in fire that scorched the belly, in the hard indomitable drive of both himself and his flesh; briggs was ruled by what was tangible, and that had always suited him fine.
the reality of what wren gave now was the burn of moonshine in parched throats while loons cried on the lake's darkness.

***

colt exhaled as she parted a short ways. he put a larger space between them, slumping down bonelessly in the shadow of a nearby tree, to preen the matting of sweat from his fur and flick a watchful red gaze up at wren. but he spoke nothing.
Riverclan
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One thing Wren was growing increasingly aware of was that the song and dance of physical intimacy left behind an achingly dark feeling. Cold, lonely, and unforgiving, climbing up her spine and implanting itself in the back of her mind. The desire had burned so bright and taken so much from her that she had little more left to give. 
She and Colt had not an emotional connection. She wanted nothing more from him, in that moment. Their transaction was complete, until the tension thickened between them once more and they were no longer caught in the satisfactory haze. On quivering legs she rises, wobbling and unsteady, slowly padding towards the edge of the copse. Her teeth itch for pressure, for the hot blood of a creature smaller than her to drip down to her chin. Surely, that would fix it.


There's a snap of a twig and a crunch of bones as four thunderous paws meet the earth. All was silent otherwise. The unsuspecting mockingbird lodged between Wren's teeth had met a quiet, quick end. A huff leaves her nostrils, a pat on her own back for a successful, albeit small hunt. Small birds were mostly bones, but with shaky legs and breath that was still catching up to her, it was all she could muster. Colt didn't seem the type to complain, anyway. 
G'ho ah p'esen' pf'o y'hah, She's careful to place the carcass next to his nose as she comes down to a sit. Sorry it's not much.
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"shouldn't yew be th'one t'eat it?" colt grunted warmly, though he did not move to take wren's offering. the meat was for her consumption. brash and crude he might be, briggs understood if she was to grow fat with pups from all this, her body would be ravenous day in and out.
"matter fact," the cowboy grinned, gathering himself to his paws and winking before he slid into a stretch, "why don't yew let me do the huntin' while we're hemmed up?"
taking something from her meant more than colt wanted it to be. but a man hunting for his brief bedfellow was a gender role briggs understood. "eat," he smirked lazily, eyes open with his desire as her scent continued to buffet the air around them both.
wren suited him fine. if —
Riverclan
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No, Wren's eyebrows grow firm in a display of something like mild annoyance. you eat. What, I can't do somethin' nice? Mouth curving downward into a frown, she leans further back on her haunches in a slouch. Bringing one forepaw towards her mouth, she runs her tongue over a cracked pawpad. 
She studies him, now, following crimson eyes with her own, the yellowed smirk on his face growing with pride as if he'd won something. It unnerved her, though she only expresses such with a mild-mannered scoff. I can handle my own hunts, y'know. You don't gotta flex your muscles to impress me or some shit. With her now dampened paw, she shoves the bird further towards him. 
Men and their audacity. Why is everything always a game?
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colt was annoyed to find that they'd come to a quarrel so soon, but he figured that was why he wasn't cut out for any of this. wasn't it nice of him to offer the hunting, in return for keeping him too blissfully exhausted to think about the isle?
"never was in doubt." entranced by the curve of her hips, colt plucked the bird, spat feathers opposite both of them, and cracked the small bones in efficient bites.
doing something nice felt a lot like making you feel obligated. but briggs could leave anytime he wanted, and right now he wanted to stay.
he passed his tongue over his lips, the flavor of blood piquing his other hungers as his crimson eyes moved over wren with admiration.
Riverclan
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#9

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Her frown curls back up into a crooked display of triumph. She had won, this time. 
Wren watches him eat in silence with a little puff to her chest. She knows where his eyes are going, and she mirrors it herself, wandering from the point of his shoulders and down the length of rangy legs, watching where his paws go as he spares the carcass no mercy. For a moment, she imagines herself as that bird, the warmth of his tongue caressing her as she is consumed entirely. 
But she is no bird, not for the moment. Even still, when she sits back against the sloping trunk of an aspen, she is careful to keep her legs spread open. 
I've got a question, she chirps, breaking into the thick air of silence that had begun to surround them. how do you like being in a pack? Not that I'd join yours. She pauses, careful to gauge his reaction, and whether or not he would even be willing to indulge her with such an inquiry. I'm thinkin' a' going east.
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she knew what she was doing, keeping his eyes on her. but the small talk rankled colt; if it had been anyone else, he might have snapped 'who the hell cares?' briggs lived in the here and now; her mention of his pack and her quicksave explanation had him suspicious now. damn him for being a fool; they always did this when he came to them in season.
but colt felt padded by the contract of 'no fathers, no seeking' they'd laid out between them. "only joined fer another cowpoke. not much for packs. git along jest fine alone."
his scarlet eyes leered; little by little he glided closer, running his tongue along the ankle of one hindpaw. 
did wren want him to ask what was east? colt chose not to comment, assuming that next she'd invite him along.
instead he blew warm breath over her instep and kept up his caress, hoping to definitely shift their discourse to something different.
Riverclan
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Hm, was Wren's immediate answer, followed up with a tilt of her head. I don't know. S'a little boring being alone, sometimes. Could maybe find some people to keep me in check. 
She wasn't entirely sure why she was still talking. Evidently, Colt did not care much for listening to her, which she supposed was well within his right. The discussion of life plans was not something that was previously agreed upon. 
She accepts the warm press of kisses to her leg, though she is careful about where he goes. It was always a risk, but the last thing she needed was to wander up to a new pack with a growing belly and hormonal imbalances, reformed by mutants that had made a home out of her. The possibility of it was something she would rather not worry about; it was starting to make her blood grow cold with anxiety, and that was not particularly conducive to the notion Colt was implying. 
You think you'll live long enough to see me again, if I go? She knew the answer, but she asks anyway with a flash of teeth and a dimpled grin. She could pretend, for a moment, that her body was a temple and not just meat.
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see her again? see her again, belly filled with pups he didn't want? what was wren after. maybe in the end she'd get them off someone else. "shore," colt told her anyway, deciding it was what she wanted to hear. and he was good at that.
he had no aspirations of being a temple, unless it was a ruined one covered with inedible flowers and creeping with snakes. colt was meat, and that was how he lived, and that was how he liked it.
"ain't borin' if yew travel with a gang," colt uttered, but enough on that. he kissed her limbs again, looked up toward her thighs and then higher, crimson eyes lingering on her pretty face.
his life wasn't for her, and yet in this second colt imagined what it might be like to gather her and iseul and sadey and get gone.
could only imagine the infighting. briggs let the idea go and grinned teasingly at wren.
Riverclan
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Warm brown melts into deep scarlet, stares meeting for a brief moment before Wren's is lost and transfixed on the visibly bony spine of her lover. She is lukewarm, and for a minute, she thinks of the sweet boy from the woods to the East. How he looked at her with calmness and innocence, patient hunger over the ravenous kind. 
Colt was good in a different way. Or maybe he wasn't so good at all. 
What he had said was not an invitation, and she wouldn't take it as such. Not that she wanted it to be. She laughs, the kind of sad laugh that one would let out to lighten a mood, and she isn't smiling. I've done enough runnin', for now, I think. 
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the moment was gone.
colt cleared his throat and sat back on his haunches. "east of here is th'risin' sun valley. good pickin' fer deer or small game. lakes fer fishin'. catamounts that way, so keep a weather eye. keep headin' east an' yer gonna come to th'sunspire. little pack, tucked into a vale. kind folk. will tend yew if yer injured. keep east, eventually yew reach the taiga and the glaciers. can't go east forever. head due north from here, yer gonna hit the sea. can follow it as far as y'like."
why was he telling her this?
and why did he care, now, where she went? some wanderlust part of him? cuz it weren't romantic in nature, colt felt. 
loneliness was not something briggs often let himself contemplate. "th'teekons are huge. life can be here what yew make of it."
Riverclan
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Rising Sun Valley. 
Wren liked the sound of that. 
Do yah think that Sunspire pack would take on a litter of pups if I dropped 'em at their door? Her comment is in jest, dripping with sardonicism; her voice rises by an octave, a giggle fluttering out from deep in her chest. y'know, just in case. I'm here for fun, not for a bunch a' crotch goblins. Although cruel in nature, part of her wondered if she would actually ever do such a thing. If I ever walk around with saggy tits, I want someone to just kill me.
For the time being, Colt had stopped with his preening, and she was admittedly thankful for a moment's respite from it. He'd have to wait a little longer for her to be ready again, should he decide to stick around long enough. 
I hope I do see you again, if I move. She knew she wouldn't, but she says it anyway. 
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faced with the admitting of a woman who did not want her young, colt felt plumb flustered. why had she sought him out then? now he felt a little put out, confused, but not deterred by the dire twist their conversation had taken.
"got a lady healer up there," he grunted, alluding to the women's secrets that he'd seen shrink a belly or two in his time. hell, he'd slung enough bastards between here and the still to know by now not all of those ladies had kept along in the family way.
but colt had also seen hard women turned soft by newborns, knife-mouthed wenches and rogues and killers who gave it all up for a warm den and a settled life. 
and he did not feel it was safe for him to stick around in discovery of what wren decided.
"well, maybe i'll come east," colt drawled, "seein' as how there's fixin' t'be a reason fer me to go back." and this he meant in truth, watching her for a moment in the air of a man who'd tipped his hat back and let the sun touch his forehead.
Riverclan
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fading here! this was so fun thank you so much <3333
 
A lady healer. He didn't need to explain more than that. They both knew very well what he was referring to, and she offers a silent thanks with a shrug of her shoulders, a thin whisper of a smile. She mumbles an I'll keep that in mind, the back of her head pressed against rough bark, digging at her skin with its ridges and splinters. 
Maybe you should, the songbird hums, a simple tune that rang from tired, sore lips. come East, I mean. Maybe it'd be good for yah. And the song comes to a stop, fizzling into a comfortable silence between them. 
She would remain there as long as he would allow, be swallowed and spit back out; his arms around her hips, a tousle to mousy fur and a mouth that tasted of him. And in due time, they would part with pleasantly sore bodies, and as shaky as her legs may be, they carried her Eastward. 
Her home would not be with him.