[open]

[lightningcurse]

The first frost was two nights ago, and Mabon has changed beautifully for the season: his hair is the pure-white of an ermine or a hare, to blend in with what snows will come. His already dark eyes have turned black, and his skin is mottled darks and browns, like leaf mould on the ground

Comments

[ofthewildwolves]

Firekeeper comes padding out of the woods, blood on her muzzle, with another offering for her One, that of a hare. She drops it at his feet, whines, and wags her tail, ignoring the raccoons for the time being.

[lightningcurse]

Mabon smiles and licks off a little of the blood, washing her nose. Dirty.

[ofthewildwolves]

She looks embarrassed and thumps her tail on a step. Sorry. Didn't have time to wash off.

[lightningcurse]

A bark of a laugh. Thank you.

[ofthewildwolves]

She licks his face generously. You're welcome.

[lightningcurse]

Share with me.

[ofthewildwolves]

She nudges the offering toward him. It's for you, she says, hesitantly.

[lightningcurse]

Share, generously.

[ofthewildwolves]

She licks his chin. You are very generous, she says humbly.

[lightningcurse]

You are mine. He licks back and then cuffs her, lightly.

[ofthewildwolves]

She growls playfully at him and mock snaps at his legs.

[lightningcurse]

He pulls them out of the way, and the raccoons wisely scatter.

[ofthewildwolves]

She moves up onto the steps and rests her chin on his leg, giving him a wolfy grin. Raccoons?

[lightningcurse]

They came. A lithe shrug.

[ofthewildwolves]

Are you their One too?

[lightningcurse]

Of everything that hunts or is hunted.