[mature] a wind full of infinite space; Longclaw

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

Ah, if he had known. (If he only had a fresh pelt for every time he’s thought that) If it were anyone but Femur.

If, if, if.

He should’ve slept in. Guard duty be damned, he should’ve slept in and spent the morning comforting her, (his spirit girl had shivered in her sleep, even murmured wordless pleas in her dreams) but instead he had adhered to the life they’d both come to see as normal. He, early to rise and head off for his duty, had found that these days, wearing the wolfskin and patrolling the shores only reminded him of the warm, golden mate he’d left behind. It was becoming increasingly harder for Longclaw to not hurry along the edge of Tephra only to skitter back to Femur and this day proves much the same.

Still, the sun is broiling and the humidity of the land is rising steadily when he deems his work finished. Fast as he might like to be and crafty as he might have become in speeding even that process along, (ah, the fire was as good as second sight for him) he still manages to miss her leaving by the time he returns to their cozy grove. “It’s enough to make a sane animal rabid.” Claw mutters aloud, filtering the stale perfume of her wanton body through converted nostrils. “What was that she-devil up to now?”

He can only imagine. It’s fuel enough for him to occupy himself in other matters; He hunts, for the first time in quite a while, and satiates an ancient hunger with healthy red meat. Wild pigs have mastered the art of swimming and some have ended up here over time. Longclaw considers it a personal obligation to keep their population in check. “Not to mention they’re delicious.” He mulls with a wicked grin, pink tongue rolling over bloodied whiskers.

Half the morning spent and belly full, his attention flickers back to Femur and, with an irritated shake of his head, Claw rises on paws to pad through the forest and down to the beach for a swim. He trades appearances, eases slowly into the warm currents, lets the salt and the brine clean all traces of mess or fat from his coat and then, wades back to shore with the intention of hunting her down.

But something stops him. The closer he edges to the woodland of his favorite little island the more her scent begins to wash over him. Tipping fanged lips up, Longclaw flares his nostrils and jerks aside to make tracks for where she’s hiding. Common paths get him there the fastest, (how many times have their hooves passed over these hills and valleys?) and yet he finds himself breathless at the sight of her disguised by low-hanging branches; a playful nymph who always keeps him on his toes. “Feeemuuurrrrr” Claw calls, the sound somwhere between a lustful purr and a playful song.

It takes him only a moment to be at her side, to be upon her, plush lips hungrily roaming her silken fur for any scratch or hint of stranger. “Stranger,” He thinks again as his mouth roves down to the arch of her belly.

His head snaps up, vibrant green eyes narrowing in suspicion as his own form becomes suddenly motionless. “Where have you been?”

@[Femur] it's amazing, hush you <3