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When he returned to his hut, bag full of clothing, soap, basic provisions, a new knife, and a few other small things, the sun had just started to approach the horizon and tint the sky in its myriad of lovely pale colors. As the lynx approached, the house seemed quiet, and dark as well; he paused at the edge of the clearing outside the front, where werewolf Sulla had leaned over and taken a sniff at him that one night, and perked his naked ear to listen for any sound. That thought had stirred in his head since he had first left his father's - what if I come home and he's gone? I've been away for the whole day, and when I return he's nowhere to be found? What if he doesn't actually understand me, and he thinks I abandoned him now that I've turned him back? What if, what if...

_ _

A little scuffle and thump from inside near the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Lannon frowned, tilted his head, listened a little more closely, then trudged up towards the door. That little instinct, the itch inside of his awareness told him that Sulla would be in this direction, though with everything else going on it was hard to grab onto and track down, but - as soon as he opened the door he realized that yet again this instinct was right.

The big, broad wolf jumped at the noise and looked over at him from where he was, hunched over the counter with a knife in one paw. Lannon glanced from his muzzle to the knife to his other paw, haphazardly wrapped in a mess of bandages welling deep brownish-red at the center. Sulla looked at him sheepishly.

Lannon blinked. "What-" And in another moment he had dropped everything to push his way up beside the wolf, undoing the bandages and peering at the wound, fussing over the oozing pus and half-formed scabs. "What did you do? Why didn't you wait until I was back home? Gods, I wish I could..." Even though he knew what would happen he still reached for the threads of magic that surged and pumped there, the fat cords of Spirit so deeply entwined with all living things pulsing and fraying out from the wound. As always, they held for a moment and then slipped right from his grasp, teasing for a moment and then falling free. Sulla's paw twitched when Lannon tried to seize the strands, as though he could feel it.

"Aah. Goodness. Here. I have some - herbs... can you - fetch the mortar, from the shelf up there? No, the one next to that. Good. Thank you. Here..."

It took a bit of time, as he hadn't really ever had to rely on more conventional methods for this sort of thing, but soon he had the wolf's paw salved and bandaged properly, tied around the back. He rolled his eyes at Sulla's little whimpers and complaints - "oh come on, you've lived with worse" - and then after ensuring he was alright, went back over to his bag and started showing the hunter the things he had brought with him.

"A knife - this one's for you... oh, that's for me, don't... worry about that... here's some - ah..." He stood up and motioned at himself, gesturing over the cloak and things he had on underneath. An image flashed into his head, one of Sulaya with her frost-white fur bared from the waist up, and most of her sleek legs showing save for what was covered by a hanging loincloth. Lannon swallowed. "Um. Until we get you into some more - _proper_attire for your culture, you can wear these, and... I..."

He trailed off. Sulla had reached forward and rested his paw, the one without the wound, over Lannon's while he was spreading the things out on the table. Lannon wet his lips and swallowed; Sulla brought his paw in over the back of the lynx's, fingers spread. Not only was his wider, but his fingers stretched out further as well - though that wasn't a surprise. Having completely forgotten what he was saying, Lannon shifted his weight, leaned sideways against the wolf's bare body, bumped his head against his chest, and for a moment just stood there, eyes closed and breathing slowly.

It felt right. All of the unsureness and anxiety from his first day in the forest, to encountering Sulla as a wild, slavering beast, to studying and reading and practicing, and... everything he had already thought about before. That was all in the past. He could leave it there and move on, yet never forget about it, as it had taught and would continue to teach him vital lessons going forward.

The lynx shifted his paw to the side a bit, letting Sulla's longer, thicker fingers settle into the gaps between his own. It was the wolf's unwounded paw, over the lynx's which had felt that odd sharp sting back at his father's house this morning. Sulla tightened his paw over Lannon's and brought his fingers in, the squeeze warm and comfortable.

He looked up again, then, into those pleasant mossy-green eyes, flicking back and forth between his own. Or - Lannon reached up with his other paw, ran his fingers in along the little puff of fur along Sulla's cheek, and tilted the wolf's muzzle. There at the outer rim of his right eye, where the rich verdant green mixed and muddled with deeper olive-brown like the fertile soil at the edge of the pond, Lannon noticed a little gemstone fleck of... blue, it looked like. The lynx straightened up onto his tiptoes to get a better look, his other paw coming up to rest along the other side of Sulla's muzzle. A flash of bright blue sky, reflected in the still surface of the water through the shadows of the trees.

A little puff of warm breath across his whisker shook him back to the present and he blushed, realizing what he was doing. Lannon turned his head, coughed, and began to extricate himself from the wolf, muttering some nonsense under his breath about the clothes on the table - only for Sulla to grip his shoulders again and then bring his larger paws in over the lynx's muzzle, thumbs sliding along the hanging tufts of fur at his cheeks. The sensation made him shiver.

"Sulla..."

The big wolf smiled and started to lean in. Lannon's heart jumped into his throat - he remembered a flash of foggy, hazy _something_from the night they performed the ritual, all of that fierce, peaking energy thrumming through his body, the tongue over his muzzle and against his lips and in his throat - but Sulla continued up and over. At first he wondered what he was doing, until his breath then tickled at his sensitive ear, made even more so by the piercings. A sigh, a sniff, another little sniff at the metal studs, and then he closed the distance and touched his nose along each one in turn.

Gold at the bottom, electrum in the middle, silver on top. Lannon had to grip onto the wolf's sides to keep himself from buckling at the legs.

"I - that's..." He swallowed and shivered again, feeling each and every one of Sulla's little breaths as he nosed and explored. "Haven't I told you why I have those? In m-my culture, they're... signs of reaching certain milestones in life, like..." Then another, sharper tickle, the fine metal chain of the next one swinging back and forth along the fur of his inner ear. "Growing up, coming of age, leaving th-the... ah... that one's - since I'm a... Fire mage, primarily, and..."

Then up along the other side of his ear, the wolf's lips slightly parted, nose following the sideline of the edge. It came up and over the vertical cuff, metal smooth and cool hanging in place there.

His heart leapt again. Suddenly for a moment this warmth trickling down over his ear and muzzle was not the breath of a wolf, but rather that of a pleasant morning at the academy, the dry sting of desert air carrying the faint cloying humidity of the city's oasis. There was a burbling spring in the heart of the palace at Maldeth, feeding the huge, twisted tree around with the structure had been built, and into which sat the glorious throne of the City of Glass Pillars.

Then he opened his eyes and he was back here, in this little hut out in the woods in central-north Loria. Scuffed, battered, wounded, and still unable to reach his magic, with this strange wild tribal wolf with one paw on his waist and the other entwined with his own, nosing and nuzzling at his so-sensitive ear, making him twitch and shiver and gasp and lean in against him, and...

"That one's..." Lannon swallowed, bracing his other paw against Sulla's chest. He could feel his heartbeat there, strong and steady, nearly mirroring his own. "It represents... what... ah-..."

The brushing of lips over his ear turned into a small, gentle nip, first of just those lips tightening, then of the teeth underneath. That time Lannon actually did buckle forward against Sulla's body, though as soon as he did those strong arms wrapped around and swept him up, holding him firm and warm against the wolf's superior strength. Then another nip, another gasp, another squirm; then his back pressed against the mattress underneath him, and then it bent and creaked with Sulla's added weight, and then what little light filtered in through the window over the bed disappeared behind the wolf's form.

Then it was a tongue coming down and across his ear, slow and gentle, catching along the dangling chain and giving it a tug; the teeth followed again, coming up towards the base of one of the root piercings, nowhere near hard enough to pierce or cause pain, but just enough to alert him to their presence. Sulla breathed through his parted lips, tickling and sighing in at the lynx's ear and making him squirm and wriggle beneath him, caught in place under the wolf's body. One paw on his wrist, holding it above his head, and then the other along his muzzle - then his chin and throat - then his chest - then his belly - then...

He turned his head and let out a shivering, needy sigh, though before he could finish it Sulla's other paw came down, angled him forward again, and held him there for a kiss. Lannon expected the wet lips and heavy tongue of the werewolf before, though this time received, at first, a sweet, gentle touch, as though testing the waters of their intimacy. It must have been the desire in his body or the shivering in his breath, though, since within another second the tongue then made its way in there as well, seeking and swirling in past Lannon's own, sliding up behind his fangs, trailing over the roof of his mouth. He shivered and arched his back, pressing himself against the wolf's body and reaching his arms around, trying to pull his weight down on top of him. From there Lannon's paws trailed down and around, following the lines of ribs, the taut curves of muscle, the softer sections of flesh along his sides, then down and in front, down a little further.

The desire and need that he had felt in that kiss, and that he felt vibrating in his own body, pulsed and throbbed in Sulla's as well. The mouth on his pulled back for a second, a soft grunt puffing out across his muzzle when he wrapped his fingers around and gave a squeeze, a tug, a push. Sulla lapped his tongue up and into Lannon's mouth again, pulling up and out along his upper lip before diving back in for a third kiss, and a fourth and fifth right after, his hips working slowly yet steadily, forward and back, smearing the lynx's fingers in thick slickness. Already he could smell his need, hot and rich, dizzying and so intoxicating. He wondered - he wanted...

This time when Sulla kissed him he sucked at the lynx's mouth, pulling his tongue into his own, running it between his fangs and over his own broader tongue. He pulled back with it still between his lips, then let his own drag out along the underside as well - but instead of dive back in for another one he nuzzled up beneath Lannon's chin, tilting his head back, and nipped and kissed there as well. Large paws came in along his front to find and work at the fastenings of his shirt from top to bottom, clumsy at first but then quickly getting the hang of the buttons. The further down he worked, the further down his kisses trailed, each one hungry and wet, leaving a smear of drippy saliva matting down the lynx's soft fur; he tilted his head to the side, still able to both taste and feel that saliva in his own mouth, and reached to help him out.

His cloak went first followed by his shirt, but instead of tossing them completely off he just let them hang limp off his body, chest bared to the wolf over him. His trousers were fastened with a simple rope-tie, and while Lannon worked at that Sulla came in for another kiss, this time with more teeth than tongue. When he descended his body again Lannon poked his tongue at those places along his lip and cheek, tingling with the pinprick memory of sharp fangs digging gently into soft skin and flesh.

Sulla didn't bother removing his pants all the way, either. Lannon wasn't sure what to expect at first but soon found himself gripping the mattress underneath him, upper body tugged downwards as his legs were hoisted and pushed up, up into the air with his trousers halfway to his knees, rump lifting up a bit with them, little nub-tail suddenly freed from underneath him. He gasped, chuckled, squirmed, tried to a find a comfortable spot for the odd position - and then gasped again, and again, and let those breaths out in a slow, shuddering sigh.

The wolf treated his tailhole nearly as he had his mouth, lips coming in and settling into place, tongue tapping, swirling, digging. Lannon gripped at the blanket, breath coming and going in little shaky puffs - Sulla's paws were so big that with his thumbs close to the pucker of his tailhole, his fingers still nearly wrapped all the way around to his front, jaw working and tongue dragging up and over, soaking him in hungry, sticky saliva, slipping and pressing in.

This was like a dream he had had...

One paw across his muzzle and the other over his chest, Lannon nearly lost track of how long Sulla spent between his legs. It felt at once so long and then nowhere near long enough when the wolf finally lifted himself away, a thick strand of that same drippy drool hanging between his lip and Lannon's rump, breaking naturally a second later as he came up and positioned himself over the lynx again. Still he left his pants on, forcing Lannon to bend halfway over himself with his legs up and footpaws near his head; Sulla gripped the lynx's bare thigh with one paw, balanced himself against him for a moment, angled forward and in with the other, and then slowly, carefully, gave a push at his hips.

Lannon shuddered and sighed again, eyes fluttering shut. He widened his legs as far as he could with his pants still halfway down, lifted up, pressed forward and down, shivered again... sighed and moaned as Sulla sank deeper into him, the wolf using his weight to aid his entry, sliding steadily further. He kept a slow rhythm at first, the wolf's entire body jittering with the tension and pleasure, though he kept an eye on Lannon to ensure that he was still comfortable as well - and as he hilted to the knot inside the smaller lynx, his paw came down, found Lannon's, and entwined again. He felt the surface of the bandages there, soft and tight, holding in place.

This time Sulla was the one in control, no bindings of Earth around his arms, no magical ritual buzzing around him, no feral vibrancy of rage and anguish pumping through his body. He worked his hips steadily against Lannon's body, back and forth, rocking the lynx forward and back beneath their shared pleasure; Lannon swallowed and sighed and squirmed, letting the sensations bounce and reverberate through him, until he realized he had a dripping pool of pre soaked into his bellyfur just like the smaller puddles of saliva along his muzzle, his neck, his shoulder, and his chest. Running his paw down his body, he could feel these sections of sticky, matted fur.

Sulla steadily picked up his pace, at one point needing to adjust his posture so he could slam more forcefully down and forward into the lynx, his hips slapping against Lannon's rump again and again. Heavy balls pounded against the base of his tail, desire and need pulsed through his loins; he barely had enough room to stroke at himself with his legs pinned against his body like this, but the feeling and pressure and closeness almost served well enough on their own.

Eyes closed, head to the side, mouth hanging open, body lurching steadily back and forth... feline flexibility meant that Sulla could bend him almost double over himself, close enough that Lannon started to feel the wolf's hungry, impatient breaths puffing down across his face. When he opened his eyes again he looked up to see Sulla's closed as well, tight with effort, lips pulled back in a snarl of need; Lannon wiggled an arm out and reached up to caress that muzzle, briefly bringing out a little startled jump before Sulla met his gaze, smiled a bit, and turned to nuzzle into his paw.

Then everything was lost again beneath the rhythm, the sensation, the intimacy. Lannon's little grunting and moaning mixed with Sulla's panting, and the shifting of the bed underneath them, and the thump of the frame against the wall, and the sound of hips against rump. The pace quickened, the urgency intensified, a little growl rumbled in Sulla's throat and chest; Lannon gasped, jerked, bucked, wrapped his legs around the wolf's upper chest as much as he could, tugged him in - and then gasped again, shuddered, bucked again, again.

Sulla came soon after him, nose flaring with the burst of scent and musk from the lynx wrapped up beneath him, body hot and tight with the effort. Through slitted eyes Lannon watched him grit his teeth, throw his head back, tighten all over, push forward and down... and then shake all over, thick knot pressed tight against the lynx's tailhole as it swelled and pulsed and throbbed, again dumping everything he had deep into him.

For a few moments longer he remained buried, hot humid breath trickling down across Lannon's contorted and squished body - before he jumped a little bit, looked down at the smaller male beneath him, and moved to slip out and let him unfold. Lannon pulled in a breath, lungs finally able to again fill all the way up, and relaxed where he lay; for a moment there he had completely forgotten about his aching body and muscle twinges, about the exhaustion that had ingrained itself so deeply into his being following the ritual. For a moment all of that was gone, and now that he basked in the lingering warmth of that intimacy, all of that pain... stayed mostly distant, he found. A little bit of it lingered, but mostly that came from his sides where he had bent over, the undersides of his legs where the muscles had stretched and pulled, and then of course right underneath his little tail, where he could still feel the sting and throb and heat.

Sulla's paws came lightly down over his chest, the wolf settling in beside him. Worry racked his muzzle, short whiskers down and ears back, brow wrinkled - did I hurt you? Are you okay? His concern was palpable in his touch, sweet and gentle, and then especially in his eyes, warm soft green with that sparkle of blue.

Lannon couldn't help but laugh quietly, a deep, drawling rumble, satisfaction and exhaustion rippling through his body. In response he draped his arms over Sulla's larger form and buried his muzzle into the wolf's chestfur, drawing deep of his scent and letting his exhaustion puff out between his lips and into that fur.

"I was wondering..." he began, voice muffled, "when..." but from there lost his track and trailed off, instead nuzzling deeper into Sulla's presence. It didn't take long for the wolf's arms to come up around him and squeeze him back. Whatever else he had planned to do tonight could wait; his things still lay where he had first set them on the table.

For some reason it felt as though he had been gone for much longer than one day.

~ ~ ~

Day 40

Morning

_ _

Sulla kept busy in the time I was with my father. He trimmed off the portions of my stag that had started to decay due to improper preservation - I'm out of practice; needless to say, we did not have to hunt for our own food at the academy - and set up some snares of his own, which meant that we enjoyed a rabbit stew for breakfast. The slash on his palm came from a mishap in setting up one of those snares.

_ _

Every day I can feel my strength returning to me, though still my grasp of magic is tenuous and uncertain, and gives out nearly before it can settle. Every time I reach for it some of that hope remains, that this will be the time, but I have started to consider the awful alternative. I have not done enough research into this kind of thing, though I suppose firsthand experience should be the best way to learn.

_ _

Today we go hunting. It will be a good chance to test the limits of my recovering body, and to help reintroduce him into being who he is.

_ _

~ ~ ~

Lannon kept his eye on the wolf beside him as they trudged through the woods, sounds of nature all around them from the rustling of trees in the breeze, the overlapping songs and calls of the birds, the chittering of insects, the rhythm of the lovely cicadas, and everything in between. Every time he looked away, though, the lynx kept his sensitive ears perked and awareness focused towards Sulla, and still often lost track of him: he would pause to stand still and look around the verdant browns and greens around him, blooming and deepening with the onset of summer, and then would look back to see the wolf's earthen tones, blending and melding into his surroundings, a good stone's toss away from where he had last looked.

The change in him was stunning. At home Sulla seemed like a quiet, somewhat shy, awkward individual, still getting used to the feeling of his own body, learning how to use his paws and his muscles all over again, yet out here in the heart of the forest he moved as he had before, graceful and steady, practiced and... relaxed wouldn't be the right word. Lannon watched as Sulla crouched in the rush, legs bending beneath him, tail back and out through the hole in the back of the pants he now wore, the shirt which he had expected to be a bit loose clinging and molding to the twisting, shifting lines of muscle in his upper back and lower sides.

Though Lannon had dressed him in the relatively austere style of his home village, Sulla still remained wild. He prowled like any other predator of the woods, tattered ears perked, green eyes sharp, nose constantly twitching with hints and imprints of new scents, whiskers forward, entire being following the trail of some prey unseen to Lannon. Occasionally Sulla dropped down into a deep crouch and held an arm out, keeping the clumsier lynx back; he hadn't had to bring his walking stick today, but could still feel the stiffness in his joints and protests of his limbs, and no doubt Sulla could sense these in him as well.

Lannon had the bow; Sulla had his new knife at his belt, and the lynx noticed he kept on reaching for and patting at it as if to ensure it was still there. At one point, sun high in the sky, he abruptly paused behind a tree, crouched down, rested his paw along the trunk, and then reached out to lightly grasp Lannon's shoulder.

Then, a short series of charades: a meeting of the eyes, a nod over to the next clearing, a single finger against his mouth, a pantomime of aiming and drawing a bow. It took Lannon a moment, but before long he was working with the limb and string, pulling it over his shoulder, tugging out an arrow, peering around through the leaves - before those green eyes settled on him once more, then flicked back to the clearing.

He could hardly see the thing, a lovely cinnamon doe dappled in false sun spots across the back of her pelt. Lannon had to stand up straight to get a good line of sight, and once there he went through the litany of exercises his father had taught him as a child, as the only one left in the house who could wield a bow. Draw a breath, line up the target, don't close your eyes. Not even one of them. Hold steady, but not too long. Feel the wind. You're one with the world around you, as is your target. Ready? Hold. And... release.

_ _

Narrow miss. Lannon bit his lip for the split second the arrow was in the air, silent in its flight - until it _thwock_ed against the tree nearby, giving the doe a start and sending it off through the bushes. Lannon huffed and sighed, bow falling to his side with an apology already on his lips.

Sulla wasn't about to hear it, though. Here came the finger again, this time to Lannon's lips instead of his own. Sulla waited for his half-formed apology to finish dying out, then tilted his head, smiled, and leaned in to plant a gentle kiss to the lynx's cheek.

And then they were off again through the woods, Sulla somehow tracking the doe's path through the brush and debris. That was something Lannon had never been able to get the hang of, and once he had discovered the usefulness of his magic, he had never needed to. The efficiency of Sulla's tracking made him feel the loss, however temporary, even stronger than before.

Before much longer at all Sulla was making the same signs as before, over there, quiet, still. This time, though, he motioned for Lannon to hand him the bow. The lynx obliged without a second thought or complaint. Sulla's form deviated from his own a bit, with the straighter back, wider shoulders, slightly angled posture of his body; he tested and tried the draw a few times, ran a fingerpad up and down the string, peered closely at a few of the arrows from head to fletching and back, all the while the doe cropped and nipped at the long grass at the floor of the forest.

He stayed slow and careful in his setup, though did not second guess himself once he had settled into position. Lannon watched for the inhalation, then the held breath, then... Sulla's shoulders did not budge at the release, though the shock of the bow firing bounced briefly up his arms and through his back. The arrow flew straight and true, more forcefully, it seemed, than when Lannon had done it - straight forward and deep into flesh between bones. The doe made a choked sound, the air forced out of its body from the impact, then staggered, tried to run, could not. In another few seconds Sulla had crossed the distance to it, knife in his paw, and finished the job. He motioned for Lannon to come over, then; the lynx noticed him wipe the stained blade off on the hem of his shirt.

He bit his lip again. I suppose it makes sense he still needs some housetraining.

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

Day 41

Evening

_ _

There are some things he does not remember. This much is clear to me. I can tell he relies heavily on instinct, especially when we are out in the wild: he is a born tracker and survivor, all of these skills long since pummeled into him from so many years in his previous form. Some of that still comes out, sometimes: the growling, the snarling, the vivid and animalistic ferocity.

_ _

It is not always hostile, of course. He still drools like a wild animal, under certain circumstances.

_ _

Today he joined me for my daily bath, and even though I am again capable of holding myself up and washing, he still did it for me. It was quite pleasant. I sang Mother's song while we were there even though the water was cold, and I could tell he wanted to sing along as well; he has likely learned the words from me. Or, I have realized, he knew it already: Sulaya said Father learned it from her grandmother. It at once makes me smile and wounds my heart to see his lips and tongue moving, to see his throat tightening and straining, and to hear no sound come out.

_ _

As soon as my abilities return I intend to take a closer look there. I did the impossible in restoring him to a previous form, and if not healing his spiritual injury, then I at least bound and melded it for a while. What could stop me from restoring a much simpler injury as this?

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

Day 43

Midday

_ _

Sulaya visited again.

_ _

Lannon shivered in the water, arms tight around his naked form while the cold fingers of the stream rushed past his thighs and waist, bubbles and oil of the soap carried away to wherever it might lead. Sulla had opted to sleep in today, nudged partially awake by Lannon on two separate occasions - once earlier in the morning when the lynx had stirred from a particularly enticing dream, and then again just before he himself rose.

Things had been pleasant since his return the other day, though already he felt the instinctive pressure of needing to do something else, of needing to advance further. That was the scholar in him, and it had served quite efficiently to raise him up in the eyes of his tutors in Solm - especially_as a rare use of Spirit magic. Fire first and foremost, but the important part, the _interesting part, was that meager, mediocre grasp of Spirit.

Meager. Standing there in the river, everything about him tight and tense and shivering, Lannon peered down at his paw, fingers spread, rounded claws poking out. Enough to change a life in a way thought to be impossible. Enough to, likely, change history, once I return and tell the Archmage about it. My job, my research, is technically done. I achieved what I came out here to do. I'm done. I can go... go home.

_ _

The thought gave him pause. A faint splashing issued from the water behind him, towards the bank; he half-turned his head, vaguely saw the familiar form of an approaching wolf mirrored in the river's surface, smiled, closed his eyes. The scent came to him a second later, also familiar, slightly changed. The musty grip of wood and plantlife and nature, a touch of acrid sweat, the distinct musk of sharp, brutal lupine, and then something...

Then the touch: warm paws, gentle and careful, one along his waist just above the water and the other coming up underneath his arm. Sulla had become surprisingly deft in his handling of the lynx over these past few days, quite quickly learning where to touch and how in order to make him squirm, or gasp, or shiver, or sigh, or all of these in one. These touches in particular were specifically targeted to make him melt in the hunter's grasp, especially when the paw on his waist tightened and came in a little bit, fingers pushing through the thick, soft fur there matted and dampened with river water, and then when the other slipped up from beneath his underarm and along his shoulder blade, then came in towards the front. Fingers spread down along his collar, over his neck, around his throat.

He shivered again, this time from the touch itself rather than the chill of the water, and swallowed; the palm pressed in against the pulse, though Lannon noticed that this one was not bandaged. Neither was the other. His eyes fluttered open, but the paws on his body held surprisingly tight at his slightest movement. Warm breath puffed against his naked right ear, making it flick and twitch.

"Aren't you home already?"

Her familiar voice, warm and smooth, sent a small startle through his body when he first realized this was not Sulla behind and around him, but still he did not push her away. Lannon sighed and tilted his head back a bit, looking up to the morning sky.

"Maybe not here specifically_..."_ she went on, trailing her paw down from his throat over his chest. Despite himself, the sensation still made him shiver. "But still here. You were born in that village, within view of the forest. And now you have him, don't you?"

"Sulaya."

"Mm."

"Why do you always have to find me when I'm naked?"

A small bark of a laugh puffed out across his ear. It flicked again; the wolfess's paws retreated from his body for a moment, only for her to reach down towards his and take the bar of soap. He could feel the warmth of her body behind his own.

"Why are you always naked?" She bent down to work a thick, frothy lather between her paws, the soap and river water tinting it slightly off-grey.

He sighed again. "Why are you here?"

The paws came back in again, one coming up around his side and chest and the other beginning along his belly. She used her claws to work the soap into his fur; he lifted his arms and held them out at his sides. "You wanted to see me."

"I did not."

"Didn't you?" Sulaya paused for a moment. "Then let's just say I'm here to check up on you. Seems like you're feeling better."

"I am. Th-" She hit a spot that sent another shiver vibrating up his back, paws working their way down his body towards his waist, then back up again. "Though can't you always see what I'm doing? As a... forest guardian spirit, was it?"

She laughed again. Her fingers worked through his fur up and back, following the line of his waist in a way that kept him right at the edge of a tickle.

"In a way," she went on, "but not precisely. Besides, I thought you enjoyed my company."

"In a - way." Lannon turned his head to the other side to watch her. Snow-white fur flickered just out of his line of sight. "But not precisely."

Sulaya scoffed again but said nothing, instead busying herself with working the soap and her claws into and through his fur. It felt quite nice; Sulla had done this yesterday with Lannon guiding him around, and naturally that closeness had led to the lynx braced forward against the wolf's larger body, one paw on his middle back and the other reaching beneath his tail, knuckles and fingers working...

He coughed again. Wasn't she able to read his mind? "Um - couldn't you have just healed me, though? After the ritual?"

She slowed in her pace again. Lannon's ears remained perked to the sound of the river and the trees on either bank, though nearly lost her behind him; it took him turning again, and her reaching forward to rest her paws on his waist and her chin on his other shoulder for him to realize she hadn't abruptly disappeared again. The longer, thinner wolf's muzzle stuck out beside his own, her short whiskers tickling at his. She had closed her eyes.

"I'd give you the same answer."

This time it was Lannon who scoffed. "In a way, but n-"

"But not precisely." Bright gold flicked open and over. "It _was_within my power, yes, but I've told you already, Lannon. I deal with what _should_be."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Her paws close in around his front again, fingers interlacing before his belly. "And you should have died, doing what you did."

For a second everything fell away - the sounds of the river and forest, the feeling of her warm breath on his cheek and ear, the touch of her paws and body, surprisingly soft and gentle, against him. It was just him for a moment, naked to the bone, standing on his own with the swirling currents of an icy chill around his legs.

"Why didn't I?" Lannon heard himself say. He remembered the exhaustion building up and closing in, the all-over body ache, the feeling of his limbs filling with molten lead, at once blindingly hot and painful yet cold and distant.

He remembered hearing that voice, cool and soft, welcoming yet so, so tired. "You will not fail," it told him. "You cannot."

Sulaya's paws had made their way back up again, the one with the soap settling in the center of his chest while the other returned to his throat. She rolled her fingers over his neck and gave a squeeze, just enough to bring him back to her.

"Someone else died in your place."

With that she released him, yet did not retreat. After another moment he felt her bend down behind him to work with the soap again. Lannon looked up to the sky, cool blue with summer's heat just starting to grow as the sun poked its way through the thick treetops. While he stood there, just letting the sensations and feelings of the world and his existence wash around and over him, something in the back of his head pinged - as though a thought or memory had just pushed itself back into his awareness, like the did I finish my studies? or did I remember to lock the door? back in Solm. This one felt a bit different, though, like so many others he had gotten since the ritual.

Sulla's awake, he thought. There was nothing that really led him to this conclusion other than that little feeling, that small assumption. He's wondering where I am. But, now he's realizing - I'm at the river, as I am every morning.

Still her paws wandered his body, up towards his arms and shoulders, working the lather in, letting it settle, and then rinsing it off. Lannon tilted his head back with his eyes closed to let her at his throat and neck; her breath trickling down his shoulders with the cool water made him shiver and twitch, and then he did so again when she pushed back down, down further, past his waist and along his thighs.

"You know," he said finally, "you're very touchy for a goddess."

"Touchy?" Her breath puffed out against his side.

"Yeah. Like - physically. Reading about deities, I always thought... that..."

"Mm." The sound turned into a little giggle, her fingers pushing and poking and exploring right there. "I've told you, what, twice now, that I am what you make of me. Besides - part of you tells me you don't mind."

He wished she hadn't focused so closely on his lower half. At least he was still facing mostly away from her, so she couldn't quite see _which_part of him. Lannon shivered again, but then Sulaya had washed her paws in the water and straightened back up again. Her paw found his, fingers spreading; they clasped for a moment, and then when she brought hers away, he was left with the bar of soap in his palm.

Still she hadn't finished with him, though. The lynx felt her breath against his ear, with her fingers following a moment later. Already his ears were one of his most sensitive spots, and the addition of the many piercings there had just accentuated and brought out that sensitivity.

"Tell me about these."

So he did. A smile touched his muzzle as he did so - he could remember when Emnis had asked the same question, running his broad nose and smooth lips over each and every one, the three studs and each end of the chain. Then Sariya as well, with her gentle fingerpads instead. And then Sulla, he recalled, just the other day.

"What about amber?"

Lannon blinked. He had gotten so caught up in his explanation that he hadn't noticed she was no longer touching him. "Amber?"

Sulaya strode through the water to face him, and for the first time today he looked down over her body - and then right back up again. Soft, smoky white like distant gathering rainclouds, little patches of that same stone grey and earthy tan encroaching along her back and legs, fur bared to the air just like Lannon's own. There were the little pinpoints of pink flesh up her body, one, two, three, up to six, angling up towards her chest...

She smiled. "Does amber represent anything, in your culture?"

"Well..." He looked away, partially to think and partially so he wouldn't get distracted again. "Yes, but since it's a natural gemstone - for lack of a better word - it needs to be pure and sharp, with no inclusions. In a stud at the base of the ear, it means the bearer's spouse, lover, partner, whatever, passed away to unknown causes; suspended in a free hanging chain from a ring through the top, it shows that the bearer is a weaponsmaster of some sort or another. Carved into a spiral and inserted along the helix, it's-"

"What about suspended from a hoop, through the side?"

"From..." Lannon frowned. "I don't recall. Why w-"

Suddenly, Sulaya's paws settled on his shoulders, and she leaned in. Gods, she smells so much like him. He could feel the weight of her presence and personality, so close to and bearing down over him. His words died in his throat; the wolfess grinned, leaned in, and then ran her nose and lips up along the side of his naked ear, the slight shift in balance causing him to adjust his posture and splash in the river a bit.

"Right here, maybe..." she murmured, quite voice coming through quite clearly to him. Warm breath dripped down over that ear and made it flick; her tongue came out a second later, drew up along the side and exterior, and made him shiver and buckle against her, though her paws on his shoulders kept him forcibly upright. Once steadied, though, one of them fell away.

Lannon's eyes followed it, and the flash of golden-orange in the sunlight. She held it between forefinger and thumb for a moment, a small, carved bone ring with two beads of pure amber along its length, then a third larger lump in the middle, suspended from another small ring of yellow-white bone, with a tiny iridescent beetle caught perfectly in the center. Hanging free from that ring, the beetle amber swung and then was gone inside her palm, that same paw coming up to grip behind his neck and hold him in place even as he tried to squirm away.

"Wait." He pressed his paws against her chest, then realized what he was doing, blushed, and pulled them away. "What are you-"

"You already bear the mark of the wolf, Lannon Asaros." Gods, but she was strong. Sulaya nipped his sensitive ear between her front teeth, making him jerk and freeze. "You know I'd mark you myself," said with a smirk, "but this will have to do instead." Then her tongue flicked out, yet again sending a shiver vibrating down his body. "This will hurt, but after everything you've been through, it won't be much..."

He barely had enough time to brace himself before her grip tightened on his shoulders, she lifted up a bit, turned her head - and bit down, the two largest of her fangs lined up in just the right spot. There was the initial pressure, the sharp, quickly growing pain, the audible _crunch_of the flesh parting, the remnant sting... Lannon wobbled where he stood. A wave of slight nausea washed over him; there was the trickle of blood down his inner ear and the throbbing, lingering sting of the pierce, followed by a second pressure and pain as Sulaya worked the piercing into the fresh hole, hers bearing not a metal clasp like his others, but rather a simple junction of the two ends of the ring around one another.

"There." Then she stood before him again, just in time for Lannon to see her broad pink tongue flick out to lap off the small splash of crimson red that had stained the greyish fur of her muzzle. "Was that so bad? Although I suppose I could..."

"Gods, woman, that w - ah..."

This time when she stood up and wrapped around him it was a much more tender embrace, one paw settling behind his head and drawing her in towards his shoulder, the other resting along his center back. Lannon felt her lips against his ear again, playing painfully against the fresh piercing - then she licked her lips and his ear, swallowed, and exhaled, and the pain throbbed away into nothing.

The wolfess's paws slid down from his shoulders when she stepped away this time. Lannon reached up and touched at the new piercing and fresh wound - or he would have, were that wound still there. Smooth, secure flesh, soft, healed without a scar. He looked to Sulaya, who smirked and nodded at the water; he blinked, bent a bit, and peered down, watching as the surface cleared and settled to a mirror finish, reflecting himself and the sky above him in sharp clarity.

His left ear hung heavy with the marks of his childhood and upbringing in the village, all metal and precious stones, and now his right ear bore the single brutal sign of his time and experience out here in the embrace of the forest, bone and amber and beetle. It swung forward as he leaned in, then back when he straightened up again. There was no jingle like he had grown used to hearing in his other ear; just a small clink, as if of a stone against dry wood.

"It's good on you," Sulaya said, her smile reduced to one full of warmth and appreciation. Lannon realized he had never seen one so genuine on her. "I always thought you would look good in yellow, little cat."

"I..." A hundred things worked through his head. He wet his lips and swallowed. "Thank you."

Sulaya's ears perked, and she looked over his shoulder. "Sulla's looking for you."

Lannon looked behind himself. He could see nothing there, yet could still feel the other wolf's approach. "I know."

"Go to him."

When he turned back she was gone, as she tended to do. The lynx remained where he stood for a moment, soap held forgotten in one paw while his other came up to touch at the new piercing. The water remained clean and sharp before him; he leaned in again to look at it and then paused, gaze falling on his own eyes.

His ears swung back at the sound of Sulla's footpaws coming across the gravel bank. There in his reflection, his own familiar face and fur and markings, his slightly lopsided smile, his broad nose, the little whisker-dots along his snout... and his eyes, one the same bright blue as the clear sky, the other with a flash of warm green, as of the canopy of a tree viewed from underneath.

Mossy green with a sparkle of sapphire along the surface in Sulla, and clear sky-blue with a spark of rich emerald in himself. The water rippled, tore, and then broke into its original current; he turned once more, and couldn't help but grin as the larger male waded through the river towards him.