I believe in one God,

   Rain pattered on the ground as Neytiri bounced from log to log, a scimpering wraith dancing just above the grass and foliage. She whisked through the trees, back and forth, back and forth. Her stomach grumbled with anticipation. Hunger plagued her. Rabbit and voles would surely be in an abundance— it was much warmer today than it has been in previous ones.

  They should be scurrying about looking for food, desperate to fill their dens. Neytiri almost salivated at the thought of them. She hasn't seen much of the prelude to Elkshire...she much more preferred to do things on her own. At her own speed. She hasn't done anything to exactly prove her worth towards them, either, except the occasional drops of food in the piles.

  It's not that she didn't want to socialize. Was it? No. She couldn't exactly put her paw on it. Neytiri knew she was from something greater, and she wished to serve her Queen the best that she could. But she just needed the right time.

anyone in elkshire welcome!

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Here was a face he did not know.

Godbrand approached respectfully as possible, keeping his pace and stance neutral. "Greetings," he rumbled to the woman. She had an interesting sort of color to her, dressed in a combination of grey and auburn. It was not like anything he had seen before in contrast. Her scent was Elkshirian, so he relaxed mentally. A packmate, not a rival or a foe "forgive me, we have not met before now. I cannot say if you are new or not."

He had not met some still, which stood to reason. Elkshire was twenty-plus strong. He would not be able to meet everyone in a month, and he had kept himself secluded a bit for a week or so. Reminiscing about the world he had left behind, and the only family he had left behind. But that was long before he came to this realm. "I am Godbrand," he added to the woman with a nod of his head "you may call me Bran, if you prefer."

He noticed the scent of rabbit in the air not for the first time. He had spoken quietly as to not scare potential food sources away.

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  The huntress would prowl quietly, barely above a hymn of sound, looking scarcely for a taste of food. She heard the scurry of a rabbit in the distance, her ears flickering at the sounds. But her attention was brought away. Footsteps. These forests have been her home for quite some time now, and she had— unknowingly— done her best to avoid interactions. So when a voice called out to her— a real one, her fur stood straight up on her back, and she'd turn.

  Her eyes would bulge wide, almost unbelieving that someone was talking to her. Neytiri took an athletic stance, surveilling the male with caution. He smelled so enchantingly of the forest— of the trees, the moss on the ground. It was such a enveloping scent. He also reeked of the others from Elkshire, so she had nothing to worry about on that front. She study the male. Curiously. Intensely. In a low, bowed motion, she would circle him. Looking at how his body was crafted. How the muscles made up the structure of his bones. Nonetheless, he was a stranger to her. She had the right to be curious. To observe.

  When she completed her full circle, she made a soft humming sound. "Not new." She'd say, her voice accented in the common tongue. She sounded foreign from the moment that she was found stuck under that tree. She is foreign. The male introduced himself. Neytiri's eyes squinted almost as if she didn't believe him, but she hesitantly replied with her own. "Neytiri." Godbrand. What a silly name. "Silly name." She felt the need to voice it.

"Bran," She'd say it over her own foreign lips. The 'r's' mushed together only slightly, her cadence delivering for softer sounding vocals. "Hungry?" The huntress would ask— a test. Her eyes glinted.  If he was an incompetent hunter, they could clearly not be friends.

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He felt like prey under her gaze. He was not sure he liked it but retained neutrality as she stalked toward him, slinking by like a cat over a canine. "Strange and silly it may be to you," he replied "as your name is exotic to my tongue, Neytiri." He had never heard anything like that word, which begged the question; where had she come from? She surely was not born in Elkshire, though could have come from another pack. Their queen was the only one to his knowledge that had given birth.

He shakes his head. "I am not hungry," Though "but I would be foolish to not accept a chance to hone my skills further and feed our pack at the same time" And if he grew hungry in the pursuit of the rabbits, he could probably take the smaller and weaker one for himself. He gave an incline of his head for her to lead the way " and, I suppose, looking like a lazy fool in front of you." He could not help but add, his blackened lips curling subtly. If she wanted to trick him or test him - she'd need to do better than that.

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 Neytiri's head would shrill to the side out of straight inquisitiveness. She, herself, has never been called foreign before. But she supposed...supposed that she hasn't exactly made a name for herself here. Not yet at least. Soon enough, Neytiri's name would not be simply foreign. It would be known.

  The huntress was almost disappointed as he said he wasn't hungry, but that wouldn't stop her from getting herself a fresh breakfast at this hour. If he wanted to be baggage, he might as well leave— but he didn't. He stood tall on his well muscled legs, offering a rebuttal of his purpose. From her hunched over position, Neytiri finally stood tall, almost matching his height. While he was athletic and fit in his build, she was far more lithe and nimble than he was. Nì’it — Skinny. her mother would call her, scolding her for her lack of appetite as a child. Yet Neytiri could never quite understand how she was supposed to gain weight— always rushing around, jumping through the thick foliage of the forest. It boggled her mind.

  Godbrand's inclination, his desire to serve struck a string of familiarity in her heart. She knew the feeling. She wore it with pride. The pupils in her eyes noticeably shifted, expanding with a slight, distant admiration. She'd hum in response, cocking her head to the side. A slight curl of her lip was the response Godbrand would get at his amusing comment. So, he wasn't as incompetent as she initially thought. "Laziness will not serve our Queen well," her foreign accent curling her intonation. "I could not disappoint her." With the turn of his head, motioning her to move, she would.

  Through the forest she'd trot. Carefully on the tips of her paws, not a single sound gracing the ground. If Godbrand had made a single sound, she would've turned around and snapped her teeth at him with disapproval, but continue on. Through gritted teeth, she'd make a soft clicking sound in the back of her throat. A mixture between a chirp and a vibration through the air. Her pace would slow, ears flexing forward and backward. Waiting. Listening.

 Then,
   she heard it.

  A chitter. The softest of sounds that swept past her ears. But she caught it. She caught it and began her hunt. Her real hunt. A singular suave coil of her head towards Godbrand for them to move, and then she was off. Towards the sound. Further and further. Her feet carried her like she was flying. Sempul. — Faster. And she was.

  The scent of the rabbit was closer. Quickly approaching. She could feel its presence. it swallowed her whole. It was right here. With the quickest of blind pounces, she darted through the brush. Her jaw snapped, and she felt it come in contact with a rodent. The rabbit. She felt it die in her mouth, and she'd drop it. "Oeru txoa livu, ma oeyä tsmukan.  Hu nawma sa'nok tivul ngeyä tirea." — Forgive me, my brother.  May your spirit run with the great mother. Her prayer was quick and fast before she looked back towards Godbrand.

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He had the feeling she was sizing him up, deciding his worth. Bran's ego was not as large as some men, and so he took little offense. He always assumed that he would prove his worth to others with time and dedication. If they still did not believe in his worthiness, that was their fault. He owed them no loyalty if they refused to see his loyalty in return. To Elkshire, to the queen, to anyone who was truly something to him. Sadly, that was not a lot of people. While his own ego was small, his standards of others were high. He truly took to others who were hardworking and dedicated.

So, while she decided if he was worth anything, he stood there. Stood tall. He did not move from his position, awaiting some sort of reply. She appeared to have the capacity for humor, at least. His little tease weaseled its way in a bit. There was hope for his skills as an entertainer yet. I could not disappoint her. The auburn woman proclaimed. He blinked once, and wondered where such loyalty came from. However, it was not his place to ask. At least not like this. "Nor would I." Neytiri would turn and lead on, with Bran following after her. Thankfully, he was skilled in the hunt and made no noise despite his body type.

Many nimble wolves could blend in, stalk without fuss, and brush against no foliage. Godbrand was tall and muscular, which didn't suit many hunting skills. He had honed his skills early, as a child and on the road. Eventually, he grew too much. It had been a shame that he also grew into. And he managed to not look like a fool after all when Neytiri lunged at the rabbit. A second one burst through the dense woodland, and he snatched it in his jaws. His crunch silenced the herald of a squeal, effectively retaining the silence of the hunt. However, his partner would utter a word of prayer to her kill. He assumed she wanted to hunt more than one rabbit.

"Is that a prayer?" He recalled asking another this upon a time. Noble had spoken in a tongue Bran had never heard before as well "would it be insulting to you, if I asked you to repeat it slower, so I may echo it to my kill as well?" He felt differences in culture and religion could be bridged if one or two had an understanding of others. Neytiri was indeed exotic in her language and mannerisms, and like any bard he wished to know more about another's customs.

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 Neytiri made the final blow to her kill after her uttered prayer. The death was fast and smooth, and Neytiri knew that the Mother would forgive her.  Godbrand had asked her about her customs, to her surprise. Asked her if it was a prayer. She'd nod her head in response. Neytiri would shift her attention towards him, giving them a moment of silence before giving him an actual answer.

   "Not an insult," she'd say,  "but difficult for those who don't know the Na'vi culture." She'd look to him and his fresh kill, approaching him with a cautious stance.  "But I will repeat. Only once. You repeat after me." She emphasized 'only once' because she really meant it. Only once. It would be disrespectful in itself to do it more than one time over a kill.

 Neytiri took a deep breath in.  "Oeru txoa livu, ma oeyä tsmukan," She'd repeat much slower this time.  "Forgive me, my brother— ma oeyä tsmuke, if it is a female." She'd offer him the kind courtesy of a translation, too. Her nose stroked the fur of the rabbit, her tongue lightly coming out to lick at the blood.  "Hu nawma sa'nok tivul ngeyä tirea," Slower, pronouncing every syllable that she could. If he did it properly, her eyes would sparkle. Only a bit.  "May your spirit run with the great mother." Neytiri looked to the sky at the end, then back towards Godbrand. A nod of approval followed shortly after, letting him know that it was finished.

   "There are other variations." Her shoulders shrugged in a distant manner.  "A gratitude towards the maker of nature for her gift."

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Only once.

"Oeru txoa livu, ma oeyä tsmukan," Godbrand replied, having paused briefly to sniff and drawn in the scent of the rabbit's gender. Male. Though he did tuck the other translation away for later use if there would be one. He doubted he would echo the words again without prompt, but he did not wish to insult any culture unless he knew their customs personally. There was no point in slapping a coat of paint onto a mural, for instance. "Hu nawma sa'nok tivul ngeyä tirea."

His eyes flickered upward when she looked. Ah, so the 'Great Mother' was the sky then? He fell silent for a brief moment before his gaze dropped, back to the rabbit. The first time he had echoed the words, the... Na'vi? Yes, that had been it. He had echoed them in order to pronounce them. His mother's skald teachings had done him some good in this department. He was able to recite other languages and stories near perfectly. Thankfully, he hadn't messed up. He was quite sure he hadn't.

Either way, he repeated the Na'vi back to the rabbit's corpse. A proper prayer now. His eyes closed as was the custom in his own old culture, bent head hovering over the body of the fallen. If it was a fallen comrade, fire. But this was a hunt, and they would thank the High Elk for this bounty. Or, at least, he would. He had a feeling Neytiri had her own revered deities. Queen Celnes gave the impression they could worship what they liked, as long as no sacrilege was given to the High Elk and His Apostles.

His eyes flickered back open, focusing on the woman. Wondering if he had done that right.

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 Neytiri would watch him with heavy focus. At certain points of hesitancy, she'd encourage him by clicking her tongue or humming with enthusiasm. The huntress couldn't lie— she was rather impressed with his vernacular. The pronunciation of the prayer sounded foreign on his tongue, but it flowed. Her expectations were far lower than what he delivered for her.

  When he finished the prayer, he'd bend down and do a ritual of his own. Neytiri would turn to her own rabbit. The spirit of the High Elk was not lost on her, but she said her own internal prayer at its beset pedestal. But the Na'vi is the only gospel she'd ever repeat aloud. It was hazy, her arrival to these lands, but she could remember what her life once was. As she bathed in the blessings of the Na'vi and the warrior treatment she endured. It was the norm. Hard work was the norm.

  Godbrand looked to Neytiri for praise. Approval, maybe. She gave him an emotionless stare, sizing him up once more.  "Impressive." is all she'd say. A moment of silence passed, and all Neytiri embraced was the whistling of the wind that graced the trees.  "We should go back." The woman suggested, rearing her jaw near the fresh kill she had made.  "Put the food into the pile. Then perhaps get some more." She grabbed the rabbit by the scruff, and waited for him to follow her.

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She seemed content.

Neytiri - at least - gave him approval at this moment. He could slip up, for all he knew, down the line with her. She appeared to be a hard woman to please, which differed from the others he had encountered thus far. He could cautiously respect she held her own beliefs in a sea of Deorwine culture and religion as well. Had he been too quick to give up his mother's beliefs? No, he had three years of devotion to back that up. It had not been for him. 

However, they would add to the cache. Her words were not lost on him, he would go to pluck the rabbit up only to pause halfway. Add to the cache, yes but she had the intention to go out for more than one rabbit. "Ah," He mused, his eyes sparking to light with some obvious amusement before flickering back to deadpan "You intend to work me to the bone." Which was fine. He had nothing else to do in the Crown as of right now. He nodded to show his approval to her.

Then plucked the rabbit and followed after the woman, drifting over the woodlands and to the cache of food.

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