The Bear and the Doe

@"Lorcan Altaire"

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Her mind was peaceful. The weather was good, she was seemingly safe and thriving in the foreign and enchanting world she was brought to. A copper pelt glistened beneath an evergreen cover, mist gliding off delicate fur. The air was humid and the ground damp, soft between her toes. Gwyndolyn was ever-fascinated by the woodlands and since dawn, she had been padding eagerly through the grove without signs of stopping.

Shuffling through the thick foliage, Gwyndolyn leaped onto a fallen log, getting a better view of the scenery. It was beautiful. From the cliffs' peaks to the lake below, it was filled with a beauty she could only dream of being. Craning her head, Gwyn leaped from the log and jogged to the aquamarine lake she had seen just a half-hour before. The water gleamed, reflecting herself in the water.

As she dipped her head into the waters, something rustled behind her. I'm sure it's fine.

Rustle.

She must've been imagining things, it was just the wind- probably.

Rustle.

It's only the wind; there's nothing to worry about...

Rustle.

Easily unnerved, Gwyn turned to face the shadows that lingered on the edge of the forest.

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Embellished into the forest surrounding the lake, Lorcan would watch his prey closely. Yes, the copper and ivory tones reflected nicely against his golden hues. Aimlessly, the woman who stood in the bay hadn't bothered to turn her head once to look back at him. Not a single time, no matter how many tree branches he'd crush between his feet. 

Until he got closer. The echoed sound of the creaking branches had finally caught wind of her hearing, causing her to freeze, ears to twitch, and tail to swipe back and forth. He was frightening her, wasn't he? Yeah, it appeared that he was. A bombastic feeling grew in his chest, blooming into something deeper and richer. 

A smirk began to grow on his face, an idea blooming. He chuckled lowly before jumping out of the bush, a crude laugh coming from him. "My, my..." he would coo, eyes narrowing on her lithe figure that was grown on a grapevine. 

"Now what do we have here..." he'd approach her nonchalantly, figure pristine and broad, eyes fixating on every asset. The man would circle her, feet swamped into the aquamarine water as he did so. He'd wonder what she'd do, and wondered if that expression would grow.

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Gwyndolyn stared at the bush intently, golden gaze lingering on the greenery until a flash of russet jumped from it. She had braced herself for an unexpected attack- but that wasn't it. Her head reared inward toward her chest as the figure stood ahead of her. He was colorful combination of rich browns, tinged with a slight amber hue. She froze still, stunned momentarily as she took all of him in before bouncing back to reality. "Don't you know better than to stalk people? Not only is it unsettling, but ill-mannered of you." She replied; his amusement was at a lose to her. Gwyn, nervous as she was had always felt uncomfortable under the judging gaze of others.

"What is it you want from me?" Taking time to study the male, he was significantly superior to her in stature and, likely, strength. He carried a certain glint in his eye that reminded her of her own curiosity, bearing a dark, curly pelt and sharp features. But appearances were often deceiving things and weren't to be trusted.
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Lorcan's ears flattened to his head, a toothy grin shining on his features, "Ah...she speaks, yeah?" Lorcan would tease, his voice a soft coo above a rippling growl, deep and enthralling. 

The man would continue to circle her, grazing the aptitude of the water as he did so; it was rather warm for this time of year to his surprise. The climate these past seasons have been rapidly rising, much to his distaste. Lorcan didn't appreciate the warmer climates, tending to have a habit of staying away from the planer temperatures. 

 "What do I want?" Lorcan would pretend to be stumped, to be lost in thought.  "What I want, princess, is to have a little bit of fun." The proximity between them lessened as he approached her, face almost align with hers. "Would you care to join me?" Lorcan beckoned to the body of water that called his name; the brightness of the aquamarine daunted in the fear of his reflection, ragged and full of playfulness. 

As she would contemplate, he'd let his dangerous, molten, gaze lavish upon her figure. Lorcan was often considered to have a staring problem of sorts, but he considered himself to...have good eye contact. He was never afraid to see through them.

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Gwyndolyn dropped her head slightly, letting it hang around her chest region, imposing a passive stance. Her walls stood tall, yet to place faith into the he-wolf's paws. Gwyndolyn paused, eyes diverting from his for a mere moment.
 
Her lack of dominance made her a willful and docile being, though she had her underlying strengths. "Awful strange of you to follow me around for something so simple." She retorted, golden eyes raising again to hazel ones.
 
The dark male stepped into the vibrant waters, water brushing his pelt as he sunk further into the depths. It rippled beneath the stranger's weight, dancing against his legs. The beast waded into the lake, requesting the crimson pelted huntress to his side. She raised an inquisitive brow at the male, reluctant to trail after him. 
 
But he had made his intentions clear, simple as they were. Gwyn would not deny such a harmless task. "Perhaps I will." Flicking a single ear, the maiden played a gentle, faint smile and approached. A pleasant surprise, the liquid lacked the cold that she had expected. "Tell me, sir, what would you like me to call you?" She mused, though her mind was occupied with what lay beneath the surface.

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The man continued to smirk, it now distending, "Something like that," he would purr, watching as her brow would raise, but evidently succumb to his will. She would trail after him into the water for a little bit of a swim, just as he asked of her. She listened. 

"Good," he would praise, watching her nimble frame displace the water with the smallest of ripples. The man himself would walk up to his shoulders, the water soothing the rising heat in his chest. 

Lorcan would lower his head into the water, dipping it under, then bringing it back up. Droplets seeped from the lapels of his fur, dripping from the whiskers on his muzzle. He shook out his mane, reeling back to his rugged appearance. 

"Sir? Please, Princess, quite the posh lady aren't you?" A deep laugh rumbled in his chest, rough and hearty as he turned to look her in the eyes. "Lore, darling. What do they call you?"

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The warm waters licked welcomingly at her legs, following up to her shoulders. Raising her head higher, she approached him gingerly, keeping a heedful watch on her surroundings. Water clung to her stomach as she rest at his side, the scent of cedar and clove mixed in close proximity, earthy and fresh. He whispered sweet praises to the ginger maiden for her compliance, albeit hesitant.

 

He was charming, though not in the conventional sense. The dame watched as the man sunk his head beneath the water's surface briefly before drawing it upward, water clinging to the fur of his cheeks, drawing down to his neck. Her tail flicked behind her, half in amusement and half in confusion. When the male rose his drenched head, he shook it free of the water, showering her with a liquid splatter on her pelt. She looked over at the man, stifling a laugh at his soaked appearance.

 

"How else was I meant to refer you?" She mused, an affectionate grin gracing her features. Lifting a leg, Gwyndolyn swiped a wet paw at him, splashing his pelt. "Gwyn is fine," She stated, tongue glided over her fangs. "How did you come to find this place then, Lore? How'd you get here?" As far as she knew, no wolf was ever born here unless they were conceived to a wolf already here.

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So, then, her name was Gwyn. How innocent it sounded in his head, almost appearing to be untouched and relishing under the light of a deity. The woman decided that it was appropriate then to splash him with water; he did not take it very lightly.

"Yeah?" the man would purr tauntingly, seeing if that's how she wanted to play it. Truthfully, Lorcan came here to bathe alone, but he never minded an alteration to the company. The water was by no means his, and the lands permitted to anyone who dared to enter. 

He'd move to dive his head beneath the surface, swishing it quickly before thrusting forward. A mini wave created around the helm of his head and when he emerged, he splashed it across her face. A satisfied smirk crossed his features, a toothy one at that. He would shake out his pelt, purposely getting her wet then, too. 

"You know...I walked." he'd joke, a deep laugh cutting edge in the air. "Joking, Princess. I bathe here often." The man would stand tall; the water relaxed him substantially. The dirt and grime seamlessly washed away then, too. He was spiffy. 

"And you? You're out here alone?"

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The maiden watched the liquid soak into his coat with a snide expression, satisfied with her temporary revenge. "What, not fond of the water?" Gwyn cooed, nose scrunched as she shook her face free of water like a wet dog.

The man dipped his head under the lake again, only to tear it out moments later, forcing a wave in her face. Whipping her head to the side, Gwyndolyn attempted to shield herself with the delicate fur of her cheeks, to no avail. Water flashed her features, especially drenching the side of her snout and mane.

The huntress snorted, bursting into a spirited laugh as she recovered from his assault and he began to rid himself of the lingering water on his upper-half. Inhaling sharply, Gwyn dipped herself beneath the water, bathing her coat in pristine waters before resurfacing. Lore stated he came to the lake often to cleanse his coat, "I can see why, the lake is quite spectacular." The woman remarked.

Filth seeped from Lore's pelt, clearing patches of muddied fur. Large tufts of hair wisped from his mane curled from the base of his flesh where she had splashed him. "I thought I was before you showed up, but before you.. I was."

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To his dismay, she had appeared to be alone. Interesting. Lorcan would only wonder why. Most females didn't prefer to be alone, at least from his experience, so as she lingered amongst the forest tree-line and danced with him in the lake-bend, he couldn't help but be surprised. 

"You don't strike me as a type to enjoy being alone." He'd admit, eyes trailing along with her sleek figure. "No family then, I presume?" He'd almost make it sound intimidating like she had something to be fearful of. Maybe she did, seeing as he would step closer to her, towering above. 

His nose would brace past the curve of her ear if she let him, "With no one to run to?" A devilish break in his demure would cause him to chuckle deeply in response. Her scent encapsulated him, clove intertwined with petals of lavender that caused a heavy blanket of delirium. He was drunk on it. 

There was a moment when a bolt of electricity throttled through his chest; something closely related to adrenaline or exhilaration. He got that thrill from women usually. Tantalized, he'd keep his face close to hers undoubtedly rejoicing in the feeling of standing above her. Maybe it was sick and twisted, but what was so wrong with that?

"A princess dancing with a rogue...how intriguing indeed." The man would whisper, the mere sound oozing from his tongue like hot, liquid gold. Lorcan liked the way she reacted to him— so sensitive indeed.

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---

The man's gaze glazed over her figure, refined and delicate, a creeping grin pulled across his face. Gwyn wasn't necessarily easily intimidated per se, but a wolf of a passive nature such as herself would not refuse him if it meant her own safety. The maiden did not feel at risk in his presence, despite his dominant personality.

"Not particularly, but I move around a lot, and not everyone is in a position to leave alongside me." Gwyn longed for adventure and chanced it frequently, with or without companions. She shook her head at his mention of family; they were likely still among her old pack.

Lore drew close, warmth emanating from his body, his mouth just grazing a plush ear. Heat flushed rushed through her body at the intimacy of his touch. "— Foolish is the dove that blindly follows the bear." And she was no dove. Gwyndolyn was a capable wolf, she did not often need protection from others, nor would she seek after it— not now, not yet.

Gwyndolyn's head nestled comfortably just to the side of his own, wispy tufts of fur from his cheek tickling her snout. The ear twisted listen to his breath, studying them and matching them with a steady breath. She could almost hear his heart thump, perhaps a bit faster than usual.

Hot breath graced her ear as the man spoke once more, voice rasping just so. It sent a shiver down her spine, though she could not decide if it was a good or bad thing. He was enchanting, and his words more so, despite his perhaps sinister intentions. "Well, how could I refuse such an auspicious offer?"

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