Larksong Grotto peace is attainable

let @Satori post first and then @Ayovi and @Skorpa welcome :D!

the journey was slow, but faust did not rush it.
the weight upon his back was nothing he could not bear—a few hides, an ox calf, herbs bundled together for some purpose only satori understood. he carried them without question, his focus set on the path ahead, each step counted.
larksong grotto loomed in the distance, a place neither his nor winsook’s. neutral ground, if such a thing even existed anymore.
he exhaled through his nose, letting the cold air ground him as they reached the edge of the clearing. the burden upon his back shifted as he lowered himself, shaking free the weight. the herbs tumbled first.
faust turned to satori then, green eyes sharp, searching.
are you sure about all this?
his voice was even, but there was something beneath it—not doubt, but caution.
because once they crossed this line, there was no turning back.

The Baskaan brought lavish offerings, none of which Satori was convinced would sway the meeting in their favour nor make up for the actions of Svalla. Feeling his gaze on her, she stooped to rearrange the gifts and turned to him once she was done.

"It's worth a try," her voice was quiet but confident, resolute now she knew what was on the line. There was a chance now to back out, to return to the glacier with Winsook none the wiser; Satori shook her head. "If an agreement cannot be reached, then so be it. But we will offer what we can." Hopefully, without loss to their members.

A final glance to Faust was all she needed to confirm her decision as her muzzle tipped to call for the mountain wolves' audience.

---

"jeg har bevaret freden for dig, faust." idle. sarcastic. silentsnow woman was right to have chased the pale one from darukaal, and skorpa had not interfered.

he spat into the snow.

northman stood above the pair on an alpine ridge, the picture of a warrior rubbing calloused thumb thoughtfully along the blade of an axe which had not tasted blood for some while.

and then the bearfang descended. he knew gifts when he saw them, lacking the trait of diplomacy. silent he stood before the glacier wolves, peaceful, swathed in his bruinskin.

the burning eyes bid speak.

---

Ayovi flanks her husband, but she does not descend. There is no reason to. She had made herself clear, and so had Faust. There was nothing more to say.
A woman is by him, bright eyed, seemingly full of hope. Perhaps if she’d seen the truth of how her baskaan treated women she would not sidle so calmly.
The huntress folds herself along a snow-clad ledge, watching Skorpa’s descent and only just making sense of the quick-spoken north tongue. She could tell from his measured gait he was still making up his own mind, as if he wasn't sure whether to humor or drive them wounded and bloody back to the glacier. That made sense to the woman bound in ice. If her husband desired violence, he would make it.
Her eyes slide over the bounty at the alpha’s back: a consolation she did not want.
Ayovi was silent.

faust exhaled, slow, controlled.
his breath curled in the cold, though the tension in his shoulders did little to ward off the heat rising beneath his fur. his green eyes swept over skorpa first, watching as the northman idled on the ridge, axe in hand, mouth full of sarcasm.
his furs bristled.
he wanted to bare his teeth, wanted to spit back that skorpa hadn't done shit but stand around smelling like it. but he bit it down, swallowed the sharp words and held his tongue.
because this was not a war he would win with bared fangs.
he shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders beneath the weight of what he carried. offerings, gifts—consolation for a mistake that was not his own. and yet, he was the one cleaning it up.
his gaze flicked to ayovi, perched above, still as stone, the same unreadable frost in her expression. watching. waiting.
she did not want what he had brought. he knew that before he had even set foot on the mountain.
his jaw clenched, but his voice remained even.
what was done is not enough.
his words were for skorpa, but his eyes drifted to satori, giving her space to step forward.
this was her chance to prove her skill.
if she had any.

Faust stood on edge, but Satori did not go to him. Instead, the placed all four paws on solid ground, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her cheek to hide the pain of her healing leg. If Winsook sought weakness, they would find only strength here.

The Baskaan had relayed any information of importance on their descent, and it was now that Satori watched a ragged man approach. "Skorpa," she greeted, concealing the way her nose wrinkled at his stench with a bow of her head. The words of both leaders acknowledged, the druid stepped forward, looking wildly for Ayovi and finding her perched above, listening, judging. 

"I am Satori, of Darukaal," her voice was level, betraying none of the uncertainty she felt. "I understand one of our own has broken truce. Has stepped foot on your mountain without permission. Rest assured, she will be dealt with accordingly." A glance to Faust then, an unreadable fire in her eyes.

Her mind drifts to the caribou hunters, the rogue woman who also disobeyed their treaty. "There is no telling when more enemies will rise, when the north will be tested. We would be stronger together, don't you think?" For this to work, they would need an incentive. Satori wracked her brains. "I propose more than just tentative peace. I propose an alliance."

She let the words hang in the frigid air for a moment. "Warriors, food, healing," she gestured to each of the gifts in turn. "Darukaal would be at your side should you need it, and you would do the same for us." This would be the first time her idea was voiced to Faust as well. A lump formed in her throat; how would he feel about it?

---

"jeg er glad for, at du ser det." had skorpa a beard he would have scratched it now as he turned to the pale woman at the other northman's side.

faust liked what he liked, skorpa decided, though he did not seek to rib the man of darukaal again. instead quietly he listened to what satori would share in words.

pretty words. ones diplomatic and speaking beyond peace. but skorpa did not think satori knew what had transpired between he and ayovi and faust. it precluded any further intimacy between them.

he studied her. he looked to faust. his senses reached for watching ayovi. "thank you, satori. we will say no." he shifted in the snow. "if we take gift, then mountain have to fight your fighting. i do not like that way."

a slow, ugly smile. "many lot of times the north test me. gods not find us with weak." skorpa stood straight. "so. we keep peace. you keep peace. that is all."

---

It was insulting.
The woman Satori brokers a deal for kinship,  the same one already set forth by Ayovi at the gathering. And how had Darukaal responded?
“No trade. We owe nothing. Keep your tongues. Keep your peace,”  the ivory speaks, bridging the gap until she stands in line with the bear.
The huntress had been willing to set everything aside. She’s been willing to bury her pride. But goodwill had meant nothing to them. It seemed fear was their motivator now— and here the glacial wolves sought to instill it also within the mountain. They took them for fools.
Her husband had spoken, and what he offered was far more polished than the steel waiting to be loosed from Ayovi's own tongue.

we don't want soldiers.
his voice cut through the cold air, steady and low. faust did not flinch beneath the weight of skorpa’s rejection, nor did he bristle at ayovi’s disdain. he had expected it—welcomed it, even. there was no love between them, only the necessity of what had to be done.
healing, food, and... he let the words settle, measuring their weight before continuing, a safeguard. that darukaal will protect winsook borders when the pups are born.
his green eyes flickered to ayovi, meeting her cold stare without hesitation.
none of darukaal’s women are carrying. we have soldiers, so...he can be there.
why was he being so...nice? fucking satori. you are capable enough, skorpa, i know this.
the statement hung between them, neither offering nor demand, but something else entirely. something measured. something careful. but time with your family... it was unbeatable. if skorpa could have what faust could not, then at least offer him the pity of kicking rocks like a little boy at the edges with a sword at his side.
then, a pause. a flicker of something unguarded, rare in the kaan’s weathered features.
i do not want any child to fear the north. their home.
it was as close as he would ever come to admitting what he truly wanted—what he had always wanted. peace. for darukaal, for the glacier, for those who came after them.
but peace was a fragile thing. and he had learned long ago that it did not come without a price.