[slaking his thirst upon valley rivers, the sun clan wolf walked alone. soon — soon sivaak would call for him and they would at last and forever bind the muradoii to the lanzadoii. perhaps his single eye searched for the weak valley-wolves, wanting to see what strength was guided among them. to see what he was able to take. they had killed, and he idly toyed with the idea of giving its pelt to the sharadoii.]

slaking his thirst upon valley rivers, the sun clan wolf walked alone.

soon — soon sivaak would call for him and they would at last and forever bind the muradoii to the lanzadoii.

perhaps his single eye searched for the weak valley-wolves, wanting to see what strength was guided among them. to see what he was able to take. they had killed, and he idly toyed with the idea of giving its pelt to the sharadoii.

---

today, he is especially nervous. after a harrowing encounter with the blood-drinker lurking around their haven, the sharadoii princeling moves upon long, winded legs. skirting between trees surrounding the open lands with a haste, gathering a bundle of sticks, and filling a skin-sling pouch with mushrooms he knew to be good.

his mind presses heavily with thoughts.

he wishes to keep Elk Charm close—as close as possible. he does not like to let her out of his sight much these days. he does not like the hovering of lingering eyes—those who come to witness what the sharadoii women have to offer.

it is not a crime to want only the best for her!

and so indulged in his thoughts of brooding and contemplation, he nearly runs into the dark legs of a devil. lanzadoii pride, gleaming upon emerald eyes that swipe upwards to glean upon that one glaring, icy grimace. clay shrinks back, sticks fumbling from his toothy grasp and his hackles bristling with stark annoyance.

w- the sharadoii hunter flusters, what are you doing?

---

cloud lash to the rescue

---

she was not pleased.
Naltagh whispered. angered. the lanzadoii had come unannounced. loud. verbose.
cloud lash was at his side before the sticks hit the ground.
the snap of her approach was not by mistake. no— she wanted the chieftain to hear her coming. to feel it in the dirt. her ears were high, body stiff with the indignation of a woman who saw. saw how he prowled. how he stared. how his presence bled into the soil like something spoiled.
too close.
her crimson eyes cut toward the lanzadoii’s hulking form, and though she did not bare her teeth, the weight of her silence burned. she said nothing.
she shifted, just enough to place herself slightly in front of elk charm's brother, her hip brushing his. protection, yes— but also warning. they were sharadoii, and their women would not be taken as spoils.
not by blood-drinkers. not by sun-cloaked ghosts.

[as if drawn by his own thought, a dark young wolf narrowly avoided collision with kusaxasaa's rangy limbs. lip curled; he pulled aside, away in the dewed viridian, catching sight of the rock-gem eyes that now widened on his figure. a demand, and of course it was in sharadoii. before the chieftain could decide upon a proper choice of response, he was momentarily tongue-twisted by the crushingly familiar sight of pale fur and red eyes. it did not matter that his own gaze immediately saw she was not red leaf; all he could see was his erstwhile wife. hatred and a fierce lust for how yielding she had been encircled any voice, and he merely stared in hot confusion at the woman who wore a face he had left behind. kusaxasaa was experienced with sharadoii words, having learned it to win gheli. it bittered him that the first woman ever loved had not been lanzadoii, and that he had continued to make its mistake. but he could not help but soften with the woman so close, and this he resented outright. you have a ceremony happening. it was a challenge, spoken in affable voice. why not also choose a man from among the saatsine? we are all caribou hunters. she had not raised her teeth to their staying. was it because of his warriors or a grudging welcome? kusaxasaa meant to know.]

as if drawn by his own thought, a dark young wolf narrowly avoided collision with kusaxasaa's rangy limbs. lip curled; he pulled aside, away in the dewed viridian, catching sight of the rock-gem eyes that now widened on his figure. a demand, and of course it was in sharadoii.

before the chieftain could decide upon a proper choice of response, he was momentarily tongue-twisted by the crushingly familiar sight of pale fur and red eyes. it did not matter that his own gaze immediately saw she was not red leaf; all he could see was his erstwhile wife. hatred and a fierce lust for how yielding she had been encircled any voice, and he merely stared in hot confusion at the woman who wore a face he had left behind.

kusaxasaa was experienced with sharadoii words, having learned it to win gheli. it bittered him that the first woman ever loved had not been lanzadoii, and that he had continued to make its mistake. but he could not help but soften with the woman so close, and this he resented outright.

you have a ceremony happening. it was a challenge, spoken in affable voice. why not also choose a man from among the saatsine? we are all caribou hunters. she had not raised her teeth to their staying. was it because of his warriors or a grudging welcome? kusaxasaa meant to know.

clay tightens.

the pale fur down his spine bristles like quills, the dropped bundle of sticks forgotten as his eyes snap between the lanzadoii brute and cloud lash.

he does not meet the lanzadoii’s gaze. not because he cannot, but because the weight of it feels cheap. gaudy. a one-eyed leer carried in a body that reeked of entitlement, cloaked in the sun and drunk on the idea that all lesser things belonged to him. clay doesn’t bother dignifying it with a full look.

cloud lash’s nearness steadies him. her silence is not empty—it is thunder held behind teeth. he says nothing to her, but leans just slightly into the brush of her flank.

is this how weak he had become?

is this how terrified he had become?

no.

it is timid but brave all the same—the way clay straightens himself, like wire forcefully bent. his ears flick at the mention of saatsine, and a low scoff escapes him.

you think just because you chase caribou, you’re one of us? his lips curl. we are having a ceremony, yes! and lanzadoii rangers are not welcome.

she did not move at first. not when the lanzadoii brute slithered through the brush like something uninvited. not when he spoke her mother’s tongue— her tongue— with the air of a man who had earned it. her breath stilled as his voice, too soft to be humble, rolled over her in familiar cadence.
sharadoii. in the mouth of a man. a man who knew.
the indignation burned behind her eyes before her lips ever moved. this was improper. no lanzadoii man, not even a chief, had place at a wetu without invitation. and certainly not one who brought no gift. no feather. no offering of good wind. only questions. only demand!
you speak as if your tongue belongs here, cloud lash said, her voice low but tight, pulled like sinew from bone. do you not remember the old rites, chieftain? or do lanzadoii chiefs forget manners when they take wives who are not their own?
she did not let her gaze waver, even as the grey wolf at her side shifted with tension.
your stay was not warranted. no invitation serves you, she continued. you will leave soon. your kind always does. ours remains like stone. the wind in the cliffs.
and then— softer,
you will feast. there is nothing to stop you, a breath, as she knew it was true. elk charm's body guard and luke lingered, sure, but it was not enough for his band.

[now that he had irritated the sharadoii, kusaxasaa grinned widely, not letting his eye lose its appreciation for the look of the caribou woman. you will not take the strong blood of my warriors? he asked in faux irritation, though that gaze danced, danced. he was castigated by the red-eyed one. she was correct, of course; he should have brought gifts and offered more hunting. but kusaxasaa had learned that few would stand against him; he had learned through his own blood and his own torn hide that few might offer him fight. we are caribou hunters, yes, he told to the pair. staying weakens you. he straightened. we will not stay forever. this is true. come to the lanzadoii camp. you will be well-treated. a dark shoulder, shrugged. it is not without power to have the chieftain in your bed, he challenged teasingly of the scarlet-gazed woman, though his eyes returned with vague interest to the sharadoii man as well.]

now that he had irritated the sharadoii, kusaxasaa grinned widely, not letting his eye lose its appreciation for the look of the caribou woman. you will not take the strong blood of my warriors? he asked in faux irritation, though that gaze danced, danced. he was castigated by the red-eyed one. she was correct, of course; he should have brought gifts and offered more hunting.

but kusaxasaa had learned that few would stand against him; he had learned through his own blood and his own torn hide that few might offer him fight. we are caribou hunters, yes, he told to the pair. staying weakens you.

he straightened. we will not stay forever. this is true. come to the lanzadoii camp. you will be well-treated. a dark shoulder, shrugged. it is not without power to have the chieftain in your bed, he challenged teasingly of the scarlet-gazed woman, though his eyes returned with vague interest to the sharadoii man as well.

clay’s jaw tightens at the audacity!

the lanzadoii chieftain’s grin is heavy in his chest, and the words that follow stink of pride dressed as generosity. it is disgusting, deplorable, arrogant—

this man speaks as if he is some prize, and that earns the agitated gleaning of two smoldering emerald eyes. as if this long-legged, dark-furred man is any more suited to lay with the women of the sharadoii band than the mutts who followed them.

clay disliked all of them! this chieftain, the ignorant beast who stalked his sister, and the brown one.

clay looks down to cloud lash, and then separates himself from her. interjecting himself pointedly witj a chin tilting high, allowing himself once to rise to his matured height. he is willowy, brazen with hunter’s muscle where ashen pelt pulls taut across him. you should be lucky if any sharadoii woman wastes breath upon you,

clay says.

or your warriors. and he should take the tongue from his throat for speaking words he had not been born to!