Dawnlark Plains tender like a dove

kaelith is filled, above all, with the need to make his brother proud. he will not rely on blood alone to solidify his place within darukaal, although he knows faust would offer him lenience.

but kaelith is a man now, with the height and build to show for it. albeit he still lacks the coordination of an older, experienced individual. the flick of a rabbit's ear catches his keen eye, and the wolf feels his heart race. this is his moment, his chance to feed the collective.

he creeps forward, tail held aloft, just as his father once painstakingly taught him to do (and at the time, kaelith had been fiercely disinterested). he keeps his gaze fixed upon his target, jaws parted to scent the air, and soon he is less than a tail length from it.

its eyes are wide and dark, and from so close kae can see its whiskers twitch, smell the milk scent clinging to its belly. a mother with kits nearby, no doubt, and guilt worms its way into the pit of his stomach. squirming little things, so similar to wolf pups. so tender and so untainted.

that moment of hesitation costs him his meal, for the rabbit stomps a footprint into the snow and flees to its burrow, deep underground.

"damn." he's lucky faust didn't see that.

silatuyok had been watching.
her pale shape lay flat beneath the winter brush, a frostbitten ghost to the naked eye. ribs rose in slow intervals beneath her thin coat, breath shallow and controlled. there was no need for speech—she had never needed it. only her eyes followed him, unblinking, like a predator appraising the worth of another hunter.
she had seen the hare. had seen the boy, tall but not yet honed, creep forward like a stag too long on trembling legs. the rabbit had smelled his doubt before his jaws ever neared its fur.
when it scattered, she did not move. not until the snow settled, not until his soft curse hung in the air like steam.
then, slowly, she lifted her head. ears turned forward, breath fogging.
she did not growl. she did not bare her teeth. instead, her tail gave a small wag—an acknowledgment of his effort, maybe. or a cruel amusement.
her nose wrinkled, lips twitching with the faintest sound—a low chuff. not laughter. not quite mockery. something in between.
then she returned to silence, melting back into the frost. she would catch the next one.

a woman rose from the earth like a ghost, watching him with still gaze and lifted head. curious, cautious.

her demeanor swayed somewhere between friendly and afraid, hesitant and swift wags of her tail bidding him to respond in kind. but his own body language was excitable, boyish. he moved no closer for fear of startling the woman, mimicking her steps backward with a few of his own. she would hunt next, and he would watch. he would learn.

she was meek, but not inept. soft but far from fragile, for he could see the muscles flex beneath her thin coat. for a moment, she reminded him of a swan.

silatuyok moved like a shadow unhooked from the body that cast it—fluid and low to the earth, her limbs stretching long and quiet over the snow-packed plain.
the hare did not know she was there.
[indent[the wind was in her favor. breath shallow, belly brushing ice. her ears barely twitched, her golden eyes fixed ahead. behind her, the boy shifted—but she did not falter. he was not her concern. not now.
one beat. two.
then she struck.
a single lunge, full-bodied and lightning-quick. her jaws snapped tight around the base of the hare’s neck. no sound. no flailing. just silence, then stillness. snow displaced beneath her paws, then settled again.
she lifted her head slowly, fur dusted white at the muzzle, and turned to him.
no gloating. no smile.
just a steady stare, ears forward, breath smooth. an offering in her eyes, not her teeth.
come. eat.

she moved quickly, smooth like river water, too quickly for the hare to flee, and kaelith observed her with keen interest. she was a survivor, hunter of few words. perhaps as connected to the land as he was, perhaps moreso.

she invited him, without speaking, to share her meal. he hesitated, took a step forward, but she did not bare her teeth. still he remained low to the ground, posture submissive, and began to eat at a distance from her.

he tried not to stare, really, but snuck a glance here and there as he ate, curious. he sat back after a moment, swallowing his morsel, to observe her with tilted head. she didn't carry darukaal's scent.

"what is your name?"

she did not answer at first, only watched him with the wariness of a creature that had been hunted more than it had been held.
but he did not snap or posture. he asked.
so she pointed, gently, to her chest with the edge of her paw.
silatuyok, she said, the syllables thick with accent, snow-dipped and wind-worn. her voice was gravel-soft, shaped by silence more than speech.
then she tilted her head, the fur along her neck rustling as she motioned toward him next.
err... you? a pause. brow furrowing. da’?
she did not know if the word meant the same here—“name,” “soul,” “how are you called?”—but it was the closest she could reach, and so she reached.
she waited then, still as snow on stone, but her yellow eyes were bright with curiosity.

"silatuyok," he stumbled over the woman's name, clumsy like a fawn on new legs, and offered her a smile of apology. he would learn it, and he would speak it well. she gestured toward him then with a paw, head tilted, and spoke a word he did not understand. but her eyes were inquisitive, and they spoke to him instead.

"...ah. kaelith!" he placed a paw over his own chest, tail sweeping the ground behind him in a gesture of good will. she stumbled over his native tongue as he did hers, and thus he resigned himself more to body language than to speech, peppering in words paired with gestures when necessary.

kaelith, she echoed softly after him, the sound shaped carefully in her throat. it was clumsy at first, catching awkward on her tongue. her lips pressed together, amused. she tried again—kah-leeth. better? her tail gave a low flick, a quiet rhythm of approval.
his attempt at her name had not gone unnoticed. silatuyok, she repeated gently, slower now. and when he stumbled again, she laughed—a short, breathy sound like wind skipping over snow. not mocking, but shared. the kind that curled into the silence and warmed it.
she nudged the hare toward him once more, insistently this time, the scrape of her paw sliding it across the ground. eat, her motion said. her gaze remained firm until he resumed.
when he would finish, she’d begin her work—placing one steady paw on the hare’s hind and drawing her teeth along the back, careful, precise. not a butcher’s work, but a tanner’s. the pelt, she knew, would be used again.
as she worked, she hummed low in her throat—something wordless. not a song, but a memory.

blood on the snow. something which once frightened him so deeply now intrigues him. she does not cut the rabbit violently. there is a precision to it, an art, and when she laughs, breathy, he feels his heart skip a pace or two.

her attempt at his name, likewise, is met with a warm smile. no irritation behind it, only pleasant humor. he shakes his head, taps his mouth with a paw. watch my lips.

"kae-lith." he speaks slowly, clearly. then, he tries her name again, unsteady but stumbling less.

"silatuyok." and it is warm, like an old hymn, because to share a name is to share a piece of himself. he is curious, equally cautious and eager to know her.

watched him carefully, her eyes flicking to the glacier before she turned back to him, her expression soft but serious. she was not yet comfortable with the idea of home—but the glacier was familiar, it was unyielding. it was everything she had known since her birth, and that sense of permanence held a certain pull.
is... home? she asked again, the question lingering on her breath, her voice quieter this time, almost unsure. she looked out at the vast, white landscape, the snow swirling in the distance, feeling the weight of it settle in her chest. this place... it was her life. but it had no warmth, no fire beyond the cold. and so she sought warmth in him now.
as kaelith spoke her name, she tilted her head slightly, listening intently, her body still. the rhythm of his words, the careful pacing, settled into her bones. something inside her softened with each attempt, something that had long been frozen under layers of mistrust.
kae-lith, she repeated, her voice rough with the unfamiliarity of it, but she mirrored him, careful. she felt it in her chest, the sound vibrating like a new discovery.
and then, when he spoke her name, the warmth of it settled in the air between them. silatuyok. her name, said gently, not as a question but as a gift. something shared.