Duskfire Glacier I am the cut that ends foes—

Her blood still ran hot, liquid-fire in her veins. @Faust remained with her, and as they ranged back to Darukaal, flanks still stained red with oldblood, Tikigâk caught scent again of something that caused her to become still. 

The cougar. 

She bristled, noting recent tracks—it had crossed through not too long ago. A more recent trail told Tikigâk many things: the thing was in its juvenile year (which meant she considered it more as prey then as adversary, and explained its recklessness), in good health, and male. 

Tikigâk looked to her mate, her gaze sharp as she thinks of what is to be done. Just because it was young did not mean it would be easy, and yet, her mind had come to its answer. Tikigâk would not be doing this alone, after all—and he, like herself, was battle-hardened and warcrafted. If they allowed this beast to overstay its welcome, Darukaal might well become a part of its range.

We kill it, she thinks bluntly aloud to him. 

Another fur to line the floors.

<33

he appeared beside her without a sound, the way only men like him could—cut from stone and shadow both. his chin dipped, resting just over her shoulder for a beat, a quiet press that spoke more than any word. a claiming gesture, if not gentle, then firm. his breath stirred her fur.
then the scent hit him too—faint, but sharp beneath the damp of melting snow. cougar.
he grunted, low and gravelled. a good pelt for your den, came the murmur, tone flat but tinged with approval. already his body was shifting, readying.
we kill it, he agreed simply. a shared thought. their path was chosen.

He knows her mind—this is met with a rumble of appreciation and her own approval. A story to be told to their cubs, someday. 

Tikigâk found her body responding in kind. Her muscles flexed, and she stretched briefly before Tikigâk set into motion, beginning to trail the beast. She pushed their pace, but it would not be difficult for Faust to step in time with her. They had some ground to cover—better to get to the beast before it caused any trouble, as young cubs so often could when testing their strength. 

The scent is strong and easy to follow—Tikigâk knows they will see it in minutes, unless it had caught wind of them. She slowed enough to look around them, knowing the cougars to be ambush predators. They two would not be caught unawares—she had his back, now until death. 

With the wind in their favor, the cougar did not note them to have the wisdom to draw around—but the wilderness had become quiet. It was close.

his steps slowed, weight shifting low into a quiet stalk. the silence of the wilds told him all he needed to know before his eyes landed on it—sleek, tawny, crouched over a half-frozen carcass veiled by snow.
he chuffed, low and sharp, drawing tikigâk’s eye to the shape in the drift ahead. one ear twisted back toward her, signaling her to hold. he studied the terrain, muscles tense beneath a cloak of stillness. the cat was young. bold, maybe foolish.
he didn’t speak—there was no need. with a flick of his tail, he began to circle, silent as shadow. this would end quickly.

sorry for short!

never be sorry! ur posts are always wonderful in content and quality!

 

His quiet alert caused her gaze to shift, to land upon the creature. Good, not in the trees then—it would make this that much “easier”. Tikigâk did not pretend to think that this would be a task that would be effortless—the claws of a puma were much more worrisome than that of their own ilk. 

But it was distracted. Arrogant. Tikigâk circled opposite of her mate, so that they might close in on it together. Step by silent step, her gaze watched the animal to look for any indication of being noted.

Not yet. 

In her peripheral was her mate. Any minuet movement she would know—move with it, in quiet tandem.

he saw the opening just as she moved to flank—silent, calculated. the beast’s head turned, ears flicking toward something distant. not them. not yet.
that was enough.
with a burst from his haunches, faust closed the gap in a flash. stone beneath his paws gave way to the weight of his charge. he struck like a hammer, his body slamming into the cat’s flank with brutal force. his jaws sought the shoulder, aiming to cripple first, to unbalance.
the puma shrieked.
and in the sound, he called her forward with a low, guttural growl—now.

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His blow landed true, and the yowl of the cougar shattered the silence. Tikigâk surged ahead, seeking the muscle ripple in the shoulder of the cougar, the lift of its foreleg—

Tikigâk grabbed it by the opposite wrist, the weight of her mate now doing the very thing he had sought to, feeling the weight shift as the cougar gave beneath Faust, sufficiently unbalanced. 

She saw its throat stretch out, vulnerable, but to release the limb meant he would grip Faust in an effort to regain himself. 

And her trust in her mate was so implicit that she had faith that he would see the same thing she had—that he would know to grab, to hold. Her pressure doubled on the limb, the sickening sounds of a bone breaking beneath her grip in her ears, louder than its screams.

the cougar’s struggle was fierce, but faust felt its strength waning. his teeth sunk deeper into its neck, but the puma fought back, a desperate, wild energy coursing through it. tikigâk’s grip on its limb was unyielding, snapping with a crack that echoed in the stillness, but the cougar fought on, thrashing in a final attempt to escape. faust growled low, pressing his weight down harder, feeling the animal’s muscles twitch beneath him. the blood from his shoulder dripped onto the ground, warm against the cold stone beneath them.
the cougar’s eyes were wide, desperate. faust could feel the pulse of its heart under his paws, erratic, frantic. but it couldn’t keep up. the fight was leaving it—slowly, but surely.
he shifted his position, locking his jaws further around its throat, pinning its body to the ground as tikigâk held fast, her strength adding to his, ensuring there would be no escape.
it was only a matter of time. just a little longer.
his breathing was steady, measured now, as he waited for the moment when the cougar would finally surrender. his eyes flicked to tikigâk, meeting hers in that brief, unspoken exchange of trust—of knowing. they were close now. so close.

Snap. 

Bone broke beneath her teeth as it gave entirely, its other limb pinned beneath its body weight and the weight of her mate. Tikigâk felt the desperation of the beast who clung to the pulse of its life. She felt the shift in its own body, saw the dexterous beast make one last ditch effort at survival. 

Its hind claws were just as effective as its front. As Faust readjusted, the cougar saw its last opportunity—it did not account for Tikigâk’s own experience, could not, so mindless in its last ditch effort to survive this. 

The arm in her mouth was limp, useless—Tikigâk encouraged her mate to hold fast as she turned as its hips lifted, as one hind leg shot to claw at the vulnerable underbelly of her mate—

Tikigâk caught this leg, too, coming to grip the tibula—just in time. Any later and his groin might have been effected. Fausts weight was perfectly distributed otherwise, and its other hind leg was caught in a position that rendered it as useless as his broken leg. She felt it resist, felt the strength of this limb and of its fight as every neuron firing in its brain demanded it fight until its very last. Despite detesting the species, Tikigâk could appreciate the spirited attempt… perhaps because she suspected the outcome would remain in their favor. 

But she too felt the strength dwindling, the life fade. Futile kicks became twitches, and her gaze upon Faust comprehended the look. Tikigâk would not release until the thing was dead—this thing would lay no claw upon him.

the cougar’s fight was fierce, but faltering. its frantic struggle slowed, its wild thrashes weakening as tikigâk held its leg in her grasp with iron-clad strength. the puma’s claws scraped against faust’s side, but his hold was firm, unyielding, as if the beast were already fading.
he could feel the last vestiges of life draining from the creature beneath him. its breaths became shallow, desperate gasps, its body straining against the relentless pressure of both him and tikigâk. faust’s teeth clenched tighter as the animal’s will to fight weakened.
the final moments were agonizingly slow, as the cougar’s body went rigid, then slack, its struggling halted entirely. tikigâk’s grip didn’t loosen until the last twitch of life left the animal, its limp form finally succumbing to the power of its predators.
the kill was theirs.
he shifted off the carcass and nodded to tikigâk, a silent acknowledgment of their victory, of the bond between them that had held fast through the fight. well done, he rumbled, his gaze softening for just a moment as he turned to face her.
they had done this together. and the puma’s fight had been no match for their teamwork.

Releasing it when she heard no more breaths and felt no more fight, Tikigâk moved to his side to inspect for any injuries. Any blood there was not his own, and her eyes flicked up toward his own.

What they two had managed was a rare feat indeed. Few walked away from a cougar fight without so much as a scratch, even if the animal was in its juvenile years—they were still a thing to be reckoned with. With their combined skillset and strength, they had both managed to protect Darukaal and leave with, at most, bruising. 

He continued to impress her—her gaze revealed as much. Well done, he had said. She rumbled in rejoinder, pressing her muzzle against his shoulder in a silent echoing of his sentiment. Our cubs will know this story, she rumbled, lowly of the great might of the Qaqqaq-qati that were not made to bleed by the beast, no soft and gentle folklore, but the truth—the tale of she and he, and the things they had killed and stood against.

he stood quietly beside tikigâk, his eyes still on the cougar's lifeless form. the air between them held a quiet weight, a sense of shared understanding. the battle had been fought and won, but neither of them sought to glorify it with words. instead, they stood as one, both recognizing the rare feat they had accomplished—surviving, unscathed, while protecting their own.
tikigâk’s press against his shoulder was the only acknowledgment they needed. it was a bond built in the heat of battle, silent but strong. he let his gaze fall to the ground, the fur of the cougar already fading into the snow as the wind whispered over them. the cubs would hear the story, no doubt, but it was not the killing that would matter. it was what they had built, together, with blood and sweat. the legacy they had forged.
with one last look at the fallen beast, faust began to cut the hide from it. a telling gift for her.

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Tikigâk watched him work in silence, reclining onto her hindquarters before sliding onto her stomach. She rest her chin upon her forelegs, observing. Tikigâk was still unused to this custom, but did grasp its importance to both Faust and Darukaal at least. That he did this for her—for them—meant something. While many things could be lost on her, this physical act of labor was not. 

The snow continued to fall as her mate worked. Tikigâk, however, did not feel the bite of the cold past her thick furs. Her body heat prevented the build up of the white stuff on her furs for a time until the snowfall was no longer gentle. 

Tikigâk would wait until he was finished before she rose to begin her own work. The Darukaal warrior took longer, this time, in her dismemberment of the creature. This work was not so meticulous, and rather brutal. She ate through meat to make the process a little easier, and from there it was all teeth and muscle. But before too long, Tikigâk had its bloodied skull between her teeth. Her own gift for him.

She delivered it to him with a wave of her plume. How it contrasted the smaller one of the fawn! But the message remained true: enemies within, enemies without—they will fall when against our fangs. 

Tikigâk would carry it for him, and aid him too in carrying the furs if he needed. But not before she again sated a more physical need, one she revealed to him with the flick of her plume. Again Tikigâk hungered—for him. Such was the way of her season. She pressed against him with a rumble before she drifted in front of the sightless eyes of the cougar. 

Here. Now. His strength and vigor breathed life to the flickering flame within her, and set it ablaze in a roar she could not then ignore.

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aust grunts as he watches her, his eyes narrowing with appreciation. the snow continued to fall, but it didn’t touch him as it did her. the way she moved, the way she worked—it was the same as everything else she did. purposeful. savage. unyielding.
when tikigâk finally presented him with the skull, her fur slick with blood, faust’s gaze flicks to the offering. his lip curls into a half-smile, though it’s brief, shadowed by the hunger that rises inside of him. he takes the skull from her, the weight of it in his mouth a reminder of the hunt, of their bond.
you never disappoint, he mutters, his voice rough, low like the growl in his chest.
his gaze flicks over her as she presses against him, his body instinctively responding, though his mind lingers on the work, the task at hand. yet the flicker of need in her eyes pulls him toward her, and he does not resist. the cold doesn’t matter here, not between them. the warmth she brings is enough to drown out everything else.
and he takes her as the full force of the kaan with paws straddling her hips. a ritual that would outlast him and these cubs that would soon be born. bloodied and hardened like their parents before. he has no need to be gentle with her. the plumes of anger rolling off of him with each joust of his hips. rewarded by the pleasures of her fattening belly.

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His great weight settles upon her, and Tikigâk is again taken by him. It is no gentle, delicate thing—no tenderness between them as his hips collide against her own, his shifting but unbreakable grip smearing the blood of their kill upon places it had not touched. 

The fire builds within her with every thrust, transformative—it climbs higher, and higher, clawing its way through her, extending its limitless reach. It does not hurt, even as it burns every conscious and coherent thought, even as it begins to leave her breathless. There is the desire to flee from it, as much as there again is that desire to fight for it, to keep moving in this same way that fanned this flame, the friction, the feral symphony they bodily orchestrated, all of it, became suddenly explosive—it burned hot and white against her eyes, senseless for a moment, pressing against him in some mute demand she had no words for, that felt like nothing she had ever known. 

And when she breathed again, the feeling ebbed but she remained suspended in its afterglow. A rumble of delight rolled through her as his hips pressed flush against her own, his verbal sentiment echoed by this sound, accompanied by a rare, vulnerable softness in her gaze that he had brought her to some space that had, before this, been entirely unchartered for her—the look candidly revealed her trust.

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faust feels the heat of it—the press of her body against his, the pulse of raw energy that ignites between them, setting the rhythm of their bodies to a deeper, primal beat. he moves with it, not out of hunger, but a quiet understanding, his hands finding purchase on her, feeling the quiver of vulnerability in the way she gives herself to him.
he pulls back for a moment, his breath ragged, only to look at her, catching that rare softness in her eyes. the intensity of the moment doesn't fade, but in that lingering silence, there's a shift. he sees it, something beneath the fierce exterior of the huntress, something delicate and powerful, all at once.
you trust me, he murmurs, voice low, nearly drowned by the intensity of the air between them. his hand brushes her cheek lightly, a tenderness that stands in contrast to the fierce nature of their bond.
it is enough for him. for the squalor of his hips to dissipate and the two are plunged beside one another. atop the cougar hide he rests them, intertwined. he breathes heavily, encouraging her with soft nips to remain unmoved. while he ravished in her bloodborne nature, this softness she portrayed fueled the testosterone within him, pumping blood to the fixtures that which he couldn't fully comprehend.
he praised her for it. with laps of his tongue to her cheek. he'd like to see more of it between the two of them.

She is spent, and well satisfied—Tikigâk settles with him, rumbling in content. His question was answered as she leaned into his touch, affirming. Yes. She heeds his nips, lowering her head to rest against his scarred forelegs.

His touch was soothing, she found. Tikigâk still felt herself in some sort of gauzy, amber haze—it made her much more amenable, and far less ornery than she could typically be. And so she lifted her head to return the gesture, and to press her nose slowly, though solidly should he not withdraw, against his own. 

Her gaze was not so stern as she looked within his eyes. Tikigâk was still entirely herself—ever the harsh and savage beast—only, Faust had begun to bring out something within her no other had access to, through believing him an equal and their tie together. Undiscovered, even by Tikigâk—a thorny garden only Faust could manage. Not a pretty thing, no—nor even a soft one. 

Make me bleed, he had asked of her—and as he drove his arm against rough stone and through those thorns to begin this labor, they both did. This cultivation would make neither of them softer, for the shade of her gaze did not mean she had become such a thing. 

It made her fiercer. This was something to protect. 

Something worth bleeding for. 

She lowered her head again to rest upon his forelegs once more, allowing him room to lean upon her so they two could rest.

fade!

her, the amber haze in her eyes only deepening the warmth that had already begun to spread through his chest. the roughness of her nature, the untamed wild that had drawn him to her, was there still, sharp and unyielding. but beneath it—beneath the fierce exterior—there was a vulnerability that she only allowed him to see, and that truth stirred something in him that he had no name for.
he lowered his head, his rough touch pressing against hers as he leaned into the comfort of her presence. there was an ease in the way she accepted him, as though she had found something to fight for, something worth defending. he could feel her pulse against him, the heat of her body grounding him, anchoring him in the moment.
this was not the world of blood and battle alone. this was something deeper, something both harder and softer in equal measure. the bond between them was forged in fire, and it would burn for as long as they chose to stoke it.
with a low, steady rumble of contentment, faust rested fully against her, letting the weight of the day slip from his shoulders. his body relaxed, but his mind remained sharp. there was more to this—more to them—than either of them had yet understood, but for now, in this moment, he would allow himself to rest, to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his own.
he didn't speak, but the silence between them was heavy with the understanding of what they had become to each other. neither softer nor weaker, but undeniably stronger in their connection.