Thick limbs had carried the man across an ice bridge far to the north. It was the first time in the mans existence that he'd seen such a bridge. The unwillingness to stay in his homeland sent the giant out into the swirling snow and mist. He hoped that the bridge would lead him somewhere and not just end out in the middle of the icy, grey ocean. Luck had been with him this day and, after a long and treacherous trek, the redwood brute had arrived in a new land.

He traveled a bit, attempting to sniff out other wolves, but as of yet he'd had no luck. An autumn storm was brewing. He could smell it on the wind. Getting  caught in storms where he came from was as good as a death sentence, and so the man sought out shelter.

Sparhawk found his way into a strange cave system. There were odd markings on the walls that didn't mean anything to him, but he inspected them anyway. Nosing around, he found bits of wood and debris. Piling them in the center of the cave, the man started a fire with flint and stone that he kept on him at all times. A bit of coaxing sent the flames rising and soon the cave was toasty. Well...as toasty as a stone room could get in the middle of the north. Settling himself close enough to be comfortable, but not too warm, the brute lay down his tired bones. Rest would do him well after his recent expedition. A blocky skull rested upon one thick foreleg and red eyes stared out into the land that was growing darker with the arrival of night.

Words

It was hard for the female to focus. So much was going on… her heat, the memories, the nightmares… it was enough to drive anyone mad, Whiskers had said. Surely they would understand that she had needed some time alone when Bellamy had stolen away that afternoon. Night would be upon them soon enough but if there was one thing Bellamy was not afraid of it was coming face to face with a stranger… or former enemy. Ears and Whiskers told her not to worry about the Empire whose Empress she killed in gaining her freedom… but Bells was no fool. Someone would seek retribution. Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but someday those Kedieo scum would find their way into Boreas to seek her.

The female had ended up wandering further than she meant to when the telltale signs of a storm on the breeze began to stir. She sighed softly, head lifting to the heavens as she longingly waited to hear the boom of thunder or see the crack of lightning. It was too early, however, and with nightfall it would only get colder… without somewhere to shelter from the storm she could catch her death out here… or at least catch an illness and that meant dealing with Drifa again…

She shivered at the thought, embarrassment making her ears burn.

She had been afraid… felt weak…

She wouldn’t let that happen again.

The female kept going until she found a cave… only to snort in surprise when she smelled something quite curious within.

Fire.

Her father, she remembered, had been a weaponsmith within Lyenne. He had worked with the stuff… and so, with the flicker of his face rising in her memory curiosity drew Bellamy like a moth to the source of the flames.

Of course she should have realized… fire didn’t just come from nowhere in a cave.

She realized too late there was a stranger there and the female bristled in the cloak she wore, not growling but certainly on guard as her green gaze found the flames. Just beyond she could make out a figure… and rather than speak she froze, body tense, to see what sort of nature the stranger held.

It wasn't long into his rest that a form blocked out the muted light of the cave entrance. Head lifting from his paws, red eyes narrowed through the flickering flames. He didn't exactly see her first, but he smelled her. The breeze that brought the oncoming storm also brought her scent to him. It was thick and pungent as only the scent of a woman in heat could be. Nostrils flared momentarily, but he wasn't a base beast, despite his giant size and his sometimes lewd behavior. Sparhawk could control himself.

Thickly accented tones in a deep, growling baritone crossed the distance between them. "Come. Join. It will be cold and wet outside very soon." The cave was definitely large enough for the pair of them. He didn't make a move to rise or anything of that nature. He simply placed his head back upon his foreleg for maximum comfort. Besides, his feet hurt from walking so far. Rising wouldn't help either of them.

He silently waited for the woman to decide whether or not she would settle herself. The decision was hers entirely. The invitation had been given. He'd done his part. He had to admit, he was intrigued though. Why was a lone woman out wandering around in the wilderness so late at night?

Words

The voice that reached her was harder in nature though not necessarily unkind. The growling baritone had Bellamy’s hackles rise at first, processing the words actually spoken, however, the female let her fur flatten. She shifted on her paws and exhaled breathily through her nose as she tried to decide if his offer was some sort of trap. Bellamy wasn’t afraid to fight if it came down to it… but she’d rather not. Emotionally she was drained and it had her motivation for such actions lowered… plus he was right; it was only a matter of time before the heavens opened up and let down the rain.

“Far too cold.” The woman complained, edging just a bit closer to the fire. She didn’t slip into a resting position yet though, gaze trailing around at the strangely marked walls as her nostrils flared. Her body language, while being more relaxed than she was initially, showed signs of unrest.

“Do you live here?” Bellamy asked suddenly, gaze shifting back to him. “...and the fire… who taught you how to do that? I thought only those of the mountains knew the tricks of making a blaze.” While she wasn’t relaxed at least Bells was attempting a conversation. Curiosity burned at her… could this man have hailed from the same homeland as her father?

The woman agreed with him about the temperature. Lascivious thoughts flared through the mans mind and he chuckled to himself. They could very well keep one another warm. She was in her heat, so he doubted she'd complain too much. Alas... he was a gentleman. Sort of. Maybe?

The fae came closer to the fire and expressed her surprise at it. A rumble reverberated through the brutes wide chest. "Where I come from, if you can't make fire, you die." His lands were much colder than these. Ice and snow year round. Since she was curious, he would show her.

Rising from his place, the striped man padded forward around the edge of the fire. Seating himself again, he took flint and stone in paw from the braided rope around his neck. Clacking them together produced a spark which petered out quickly, but the demonstration was made. "Flint and steel. Makes fire easy." Rather than move back to where he was, the man stayed, staring at the dark woman before him. "Out late for a lone woman. These parts must not be too dangerous?" He was letting her know that he wasn't from around here although she might have guessed it since his accent was so thick.

Words

His accent was curious and Bells couldn't help but wonder where the man hailed from. It was somewhere different than Lyenne for sure. She gathered the gist of his words at least… and the female couldn't imagine living somewhere so cold. Truthfully she wasn’t particularly fond of the Northern parts of Boreas either but… it was better than risking being found by those Kedieo scum. She missed the fire mountain she lived in though… even if… she pushed the memory aside as her lips curled in frustration.

Cammie shouldn’t have died like that that…

When he made the display Bellamy bristled, gaze fixing on him as another memory, like a flash of lightning, shot through her mind.

Her father, striking red hot steel with a fire roaring behind him in his workshop…

Bellamy exhaled, desperate to dismiss the memory as she tried to instead focus on the stranger.

“So I see… I knew someone who worked with weapons… he must have had a method for starting fire like that.” Her words had grown quiet. At least until he spoke again.

Bellamy scoffed, eying him curiously as her ears flicked back some.

“Where I come from, if a woman isn’t strong enough to be by herself she is already dead.” The female bristled. “...or a slave.” Bitterness had crept into her voice as she practically spat those words out of her mouth.

“No idea if this area is really considered dangerous or not though. Though I know a way I can find the fuck out.” Bellamy tried to reign in her aggressive presentation. Whiskers was already chiding her within Bells memory. She had to watch her tongue if she was to avoid fights and potentially have someone put up with her for more than a few minutes.

“I haven’t… exactly been here long.” Bells shifted, still standing, as she glanced back at him. “You don’t sound like anyone from back in Winterfell either so… I doubt you’re from these lands at all.” Bellamy frowned deeply.

“Just watch yourself.” She shrugged. “Winterfell is not bad but the badger I pal around with says others wouldn’t be so understanding.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. “I could give a damn though. Someone would have to be pretty fucking stupid to try claiming me. They’ll lose more than just the fight, of that I can promise you.” She let her gaze flick back to him.

“...Why are you worried about a woman being out and about alone anyway?” Surprisingly her words weren’t hostile… at least not directed at him. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

She was a hostile one, that was for sure. She didn't seem comfortable in her own skin and every little thing seemed to get a reaction from her, including the spark. He noted the bristling of her coat but paid it no mind. He wouldn't address it unless she wanted to. The woman mentioned having known someone that made weapons and they used something similar. "Ahh, a forge master. I have these same skills." He had been forced to run a forge during his time of slavery. He could craft weapons, armor, you name it.

Another of his remarks fanned the flames of the woman's ire and Sparhawk smirked, the corners of his maw pulling upwards. "You have temper. Is good until it's not good." Yeah, there was a bit of a language barrier, but he believed he was getting his point across. He enjoyed firey females quite a bit. Most women were boring, honestly. "Where I come from, " he started just like she had, "a woman alone gets sold to slavers. Or worse. Fed to fighting bears." Surely she could see why he had been concerned.

She decided that he wasn't from around here and again he smirked. "No. Not from here. From far away across ice bridge. Chpolksyev." The big brute gave his head a shake. "Bad place. Glad to be gone." His homeland had been one of the originators of slavery. Flesh was traded as easily as a basket of eggs.

When the woman warned him of a nearby pack, he nodded. No doubt he would have smelled them as he drew near. She then asked why he cared about a woman alone. The man wrinkled his nose to the point that his teeth flashed below blackened lips. "The world is dangerous and I've seen many terrible things. Many, many terrible things." He'd done terrible things as well, but that was in the past. He was no longer that puppet. He forged his own path now.

Deciding that he couldn't keep calling her 'the woman' in his head, the man introduced himself. "I am Sparhawk. I do not live here. Only temporary. You can stay too. Fire is warm and there is space enough for all." There. He'd given her an invitation. Hopefully she'd stay. It had been a long time since he'd spoken with or even shared space with another, let alone a pretty woman.

Bellamy let his mention of having those same skills pass by, at least for now. It was information that she felt she wanted to keep in mind… maybe he could help her craft something in the future. Acere had already helped her with making a cloak out of the snow leopard she had slain in the defense of a packmate and his son. Sadly it had been too late for the ancient, blind wolf… but he had held on longer than Bells would have thought possible. At least he had been able to say a goodbye… not all were that fortunate.

His next comment though had Bells shake her head. “Whiskers says the same sort of shit. Says my temper is going to bite me in the ass.” At the mention of slavers a low yet deep growl rumbled in Bellamy’s chest. “I’d take my chance with the bears. I bet they’d make a nice cloak too.” The female narrowed her eyes and glared off towards the rocks. She had been a slave already… had fought and killed for her way out. She wouldn’t go back to that. No matter what it took… she would kill again if she had to.

“Doesn’t sound great.” She grumbled. “Just like Lyenne.” Her memories were stirring again.

“We lived in the mountains, a forest down beyond the base.” Bells drew a bit closer to the fire and let her eyes shift to that instead as she listened to him mention how the world was dangerous.

“The world fucking sucks.” Her words were bitter again.

“Cruel hearts thrive on the pain and suffering of innocents… their blood.” Bellamy had tensed. “...and sometimes the innocent become twisted, shaped by cold hands of circumstance.” Bellamy’s words started to sound more frustrated.

He gave his name… as well as a bit more information and an invitation to stay. Bells was about to decline the offer, take her chance on trying to beat the storm so she could attempt to run from the memories and feelings their conversation had brought on… but the boom of thunder and sudden downpour that began seconds after had her cluck her tongue in frustration.

She had little choice if she didn’t want to fall in.

“Yeah err… thanks.” She shifted awkwardly and at long last finally sat.

“Sparhawk huh? Your name sounds even more foreign than how you speak.” She frowned a little, focusing on Sparhawk now.

“I am Bellamy Of Foi.” For the first time since giving her name in the traditional method of slaves, giving their religion in place of a surname stripped from them, the female felt a pang of pain.

Shame.

“In Lyenne those of the Empire had taken to calling me Hells Bells.” She averted her gaze once more to look back into the fire.

“...Fucking bastards…” Bells grumbled.

“Do yourself a favor and avoid Lyenne. I’d place bets it would be about as great as the place you came from if slavery and feeding women to agressive bears is the sort of pasttimes you can expect.” The female closed her eyes.

“Killing parents, stealing children away to be war fodder… yeah, it’s a mother fucking paradise alright.” Bitter sarcasm and venom laced her words. “The gateway to Hell more like.” She grumbled, almost like an afterthought as she opened her eyes to a half lidded state.

The woman spat curses here and there. She was an angry creature, that was certain. She spoke of someone named Whiskers telling her that her mouth would get her in trouble and he had to agree. She went on and on about the topics that he'd broached and still, she never seemed to calm. With a chuckle, the big man rose and went back around to the far side of the fire to rummage in a bear skin sack.

From the other side of the fire, the woman gave her name, but only after commenting on the strangeness of his own. "Where I come from, my name is strange too. Don't know what my parents were thinking." 'Thinking' somehow had a K on the end and turned into 'thinkink', but that was just the way he spoke. 'What' was 'Vhat.' 'Is' was 'ees.' He knew that his way of speaking would be different from the wolves around here, but it didn't bother him one bit. He was what he was and if you didn't like it, you could take a long walk off a short cliff.

Bellamy spoke of the injustices in the world and spoke of a place in particular called Lyenne and the things that had been done there. A dark look crossed over the man's face as he turned to her and his tones were low. "Worse things have happened. Much worse. The world is full of injustice. It's easy to be bad and so very much harder to be good. You cannot let the bad of the world consume you or the bad ones are winning." He had been a bad one, and then the bad ones had chewed him up and spit him out. Now he was a good one. Or so he thought.

Finding what he was looking for, Sparhawk moved back around the flickering fire and handed the woman a flask. "Much too tense. Drink." Inside was some of his favorite mead. A few drinks and Bellamy should be feeling much more at ease. That was, if she decided to let herself go, which he hoped she did.

Bellamy could feel it… her thoughts and feelings bubbling inside of her like a fire flickering before it became a roaring flame. Every so often, when her anger spiked, that flame would flare only to die down again when it shifted again. Her hormones weren’t helping… it felt like she might as well be going mad. She didn’t know how to handle any of it and thus out it came, uncensored and unfiltered as bursts of anger and frustration… it wasn’t what she wanted to feel at all. She had forgotten what it was like to truly feel well enough to laugh and have fun. She supposed the last time she had done that was when she was a child.

When he spoke Bells tensed. Her eyes squeezed shut and she heaved a sigh. “Trust me… I know.” She’d been one of the ones who had done worse. Her fate, compared to some, was merciful. “I know how bad the world can be. I don’t know how to stop from remembering it.” Her ears were pinned back flat against her skull as she growled low in her chest. “I don’t want to remember that shit.” As much as she claimed to have embraced what they made her… she didn’t, really.

Bellamy hated how she enjoyed fighting.

She hated the memories of innocents she hurt…

She hadn’t noticed Sparhawk turn away, struggling to reign herself in, and it was only when he spoke again, passing her a flask, that she looked to see what he’d done.

She quirked a brow in confusion. The flask wasn’t something she was used to and the female sniffed at the substance within.

“A… drink…?” Her anger had seemed to falter for the moment, the confusion and uncertainty on her face reigning instead. “How am I supposed to know this isn’t something that will cause harm? Poison, or a sleep drink…” The female’s body remained tense as her gut warned her to not drink the stuff yet.

“If it’s not bad… You drink some first. Prove that it won’t be bad for me.” There was a certain edge in her words now as the anger faded… and, to a trained ear, one might be able to detect the most subtle hint of fear. The worry at the back of her mind that he could try to drug her, or anyone for that matter, gnawed at her mind like a ravenous rat. The greatest fear she had… was being made into a slave again. It brought out an aggressive side, a defense mechanism, to shield her from being considered an easy target.

Yet… when she started to feel vulnerable those walls crumbled.

Just like when she had needed to rely on Drifa to heal her leg after Incendio had slashed it with his antler.

Deep down… Bellamy was still the scared child she was when the Kedieo soldier stole her away from her home and her family's bodies were left for the crows…

He could still see her warring with herself in her mind. Whatever had happened to her in the past had broken her. She would likely deny it, but she was indeed broken. She was a slave to her past, so to speak. They all were to an extent, but she was letting hers rule her. Sparhawk wondered how she could live like that. Most likely, it was making her lose her mind. Her twitchiness and random expressions made that bit a little obvious. She didn't believe that he was doing something out of the kindness of his heart and insisted that he drink from the flask first. With a shrug, Sparhawk uncorked the container and took a draw of the liquid. "You have to trust someone at some point. The world is a lonely place, Ms. Bellamy." Sitting the flask before her so she could decide whether or not to drink, Sparhawk went to tend to the fire. Taking up the rest of the spare wood chunks, he added them to the flames, which quickly began to consume them. Pulling a rope on the bearskin pouch, opened the skin, allowing him to lay it flat so that it would be a barrier between himself and the cold cave floor. He shoved his belongings aside and settled upon the thick fur. The grolar bear had been huge and so the whitish gold fur was massive and stretched from one side of the cave to the other. It was large enough for several wolves, but with two of them, they would have ample room. "When that drink is gone, you can share the big fur. The ground is cold. I promise to behave." He doubted she would agree without the help of the mead. Whether she did or not though, that was on her. He had offered and performed his gentlemanly obligation. "Speech"

Bellamy frowned at how Sparhawk reacted to her wariness. He didn’t show hurt… but how he responded, his words, were enough to have Bellamy question her own response to his offer. Was it wrong to be so cautious? The woman felt her gut churn…

The fact he mentioned the world was a lonely place was something Bells knew all too well. Even among those at Winterfell Bellamy found it hard to bond and open up to those there. Bells was even finding it harder to talk to Ears and Whiskers as she struggled with her emotions and memories… maybe he had a point… even if Bellamy didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“...” Instead a soft sigh passed her lips and she glanced down at the flask of liquid he had drank from. The smell was… odd. Strong enough that it had her nose twitching curiously… whatever it was it at least seemed interesting. She could still feel that fear and worry… a nagging voice telling her that this was all some elaborate trap… but Bellamy’s frantic mind was countered with a good point.

Drifa could have taken advantage of her. All of Winterfell could have. Ace could have gone against his word… but she was still a free woman.

Not all were bad…

Bells took a breath and went for the flask… and, so she wouldn’t have any second guesses, the woman chugged the contents.

The taste was stronger than the smell. It had a burning feeling in her throat and felt warm as it slid down her throat. The taste was… odd. She both liked it and, at the same time, wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Once the liquid was gone Bells stood there for a good moment. The warmth was flooding through her face and her ears… she felt odd almost immediately after drinking the stuff but not necessarily in a bad way. She felt… lighter? The warmth was nice too… both radiating from within and from the fire.

Bellamy lifted her gaze at last to find Sparhawk on the fur. It looked soft… inviting. Slow pawsteps brought her over to it… but Bells didn’t lay down with space between herself and Sparhawk. No, instead the woman flopped next to him, so close their fur was touching, and set her head on her forelegs as she looked at the flames.

Her head was swimming… but she decided she didn’t care.

If it was a drug… then oh well…

“I’m tired of feeling alone.” Bells said softly. The swimming feeling in her head was still going.

“I have Ears and Whiskers… but they are not wolves. I adore them, don’t get me wrong, but…” She was frowning deeply.

“Even the Winterfell wolves. I… I struggle to really get close to them.” She confessed. Why to a stranger…? Maybe it had something to do to him being different too. Foreign to this land. There was a sort of connection in how he spoke… and Bells needed this off her chest.

The female decided to look at the man beside her now.

“The way you speak… I can connect to it.” When he spoke of the negative things… Bells felt like she understood. It was hard to explain but, even without going into detail, it was as if she could feel something about the words he spoke.

“Life has not been kind. I… I’m afraid to trust others.” She shook her head and felt that swimming feeling intensify. She closed her eyes to counteract it.

“...those kind enough to be trusted back then didn’t tend to make it.” It felt like everything was spinning and she shifted a little, making sure her head was on her forelegs as she opened her eyes to a half lidded self.

“What the hell was that stuff? I feel weird…” She felt a small twinge in her gut. “...warm… my face especially…” She smiled slightly. “At least I’m not cold…”

Bellamy seemed to think about the flask for a long time, her dark face furrowed in consternation. She really did think too much. The mind was a dangerous place to live. In your mind, you were the predator and the prey. If you weren't strong and cunning, your mind would get you. It would be a pity to see this specimen of a woman succumb to her own mental machinations. Finally, she gave it and drank from the flask. However, instead of sipping, she down the whole thing in one go. The wrinkling of her muzzle when she caught the taste was comical and the big man released a hearty laugh. "Oh, you in for veeery good times now, Miss Bellamy. Usually mead is for sipping." It wouldn't harm her at all. Most likely she would feel a little woozy at worst. At best, she would forget her troubles for a time and would relax. That had been his intent. It was a good thing that he knew how to make mead on his own because he was almost out. He would need a place to brew, however. Brewing wasn't a task for a wolf without a place to rest his head. The striped woman eventually rose and made her way to his side of the fire. Unceremoniously, she crumpled onto the fur. She was much closer than he assumed she would place herself, but he didn't mind one bit. The warmth pouring off of her was welcome. Besides, Sparhawk embraced who he was. He was a man. She was a woman. It was futile to deny his attraction, and so he wouldn't. Ignoring what was was a waste of effort. Whatever moment took him in life, he rode it. After laying there for a time, Bellamy spoke. He had to admit that her words surprised him. She must have been holding her thoughts back for a long, long time. The mead had simply loosened her mind and her tongue enough to finally express herself. She was lonely. She couldn't connect with anyone. Yet she somehow felt a connection with him; with his words. Suddenly she looked like a small, vulnerable woman to the brutes red eyes. He could feel her need for closeness and understanding. Lifting one powerful foreleg, Sparhawk scooped the woman in against his chest in a partial embrace. He could feel her heartbeat and could smell her rich scent so much more clearly now that she was right beneath his nose. Her words about the mead brought a soft chuckle from the man. "Honey mead. The drink of my homeland. You will be okay in the morning." He gave her a little squeeze, quite comfortable with her form pressed against him. "Tonight you are not alone, Bellamy." It was as simple as that. He would be a gentleman, but he sensed that she needed physical contact. Needed some grounding to the world outside of her mind. He was happy to provide that with his simple embrace. "Speech"

Bellamy let out a startled gasp as she was scooped closer. At first her body tensed, a reaction to such a movement that was instinctually, but then, once she realized what it really was, she relaxed. Bells let her eyes close and shet let her body rest against Sparhawk’s own, heart starting to race some. An embrace, partial or not, was startling and yet, at the same time, such a welcome feeling. She hadn’t realized how much she had craved such a simple action, and it was something that helped lower the walls she had built up haphazardly over the years. She was tired of being alone… she yearned for acceptance, to feel happy again. She had been as a kid… surely there was hope.

The name of the drink he gave her was honey mead… something she had never heard of prior but… she didn’t mind it. The taste was strong but it warmed her bones. Made her feel odd but not necessarily in a bad way… It would be something she wouldn’t mind taking again.

Bells breathed out slowly, not moving to get away from Sparhawk but rather letting her head rest against his chest below his head. She felt… oddly content. The crackling of the fire and the warmth flooding through her veins because of the alcohol were welcome. His words caused her to shift a little, snuggling against him.

“Then don’t let the night end…” Her words were soft.

Alcohol or not that was the truth.

“Whiskers and Ears kept me going. A badger and a devil… Ears is like my brother and Whiskers is a guardian for us.” She explained. “I lost my family when I was a little girl. Dad… he worked with fire. I’m only just starting to remember bits and pieces of everything. He had this workshop in the mountains.” She opened her eyes slightly, watching the flames flicker.

“My sisters and I would sneak in there sometimes to play. Dad told us not to but we liked the warmth. The mountain base could get cold, especially at night.” She spoke easily, telling him of what she knew, what she could remember.

“Before the soldiers of the Empire came… there was an accident.” She frowned. “A cave like this… the fire burning… the Earth began to shake. I had been playing with Cammie. I got too rough… I had made her bleed.” Her voice became quiet.

“She didn’t make it out.”

Bells sighed softly.

Then the soldiers came.

“When they came… they killed my parents. The one male used the same sort of weapons my dad made. Maybe even ones he had made.” Bellamy’s voice was thoughtful.

“We tried to run… but they chased us. My sister was small, meek… grabbed too harshly.” The female whined softly. “She was a kid… WE were kids…” Her voice was quiet. “Losing my family was hard… but what came after was harder…” Bells let out a heavier sigh now.

“My life didn’t matter.” She said. “I was a living, breathing weapon… but I was disposable. The things that I’ve had to do make me want to be sick. Not just because I had to do them… but because sometimes… I learned to like it.” Her ears flicked back. “Fighting… tearing into flesh… I like the feeling it gives me. A drive, a sense of being able to survive…” She squeezed her eyes closed.

“I’ve been so scared of being taken again… after I managed to gain my freedom. It makes me scared… not certain of trusting… Even when I was injured and needed help to avoid infection I was terrified of letting Winterfell’s healer treat me. I was afraid of being drugged… being held against my will.” Bellamy explained. “What if they had been like those in Lyenne? In the Empire? I couldn’t bear the thought of living like that again.” Bellamy shook her head and nestled against Sparhawk, getting comfortable.

“I don’t want to be the monster they created…” The female whimpered.

“I just don't know how to change responses that are so deeply ingrained… especially when I’m afraid… How can I judge when it’s okay to trust or not? What if I do get claimed again? I’d rather die than live on my knees again…”

With the striped woman pulled close against his chest, the big man closed his blood red eyes, purely content. Her words though, a confession that she wished the night wouldn't end, brought one eye cracking open again to look down upon her. He felt that she was a sad, lonely soul. Maybe the night wouldn't end if she wished hard enough. If anything he could push a boulder in front of the door and block out the light. Then it could be night for as long as they wanted. Bellamy then began to speak. She shared her past with him. The joy. The love. The pain. Her past shared similarities with his own, though in different ways. While her family was killed and she was enslaved, he had been the one killing and enslaving. The brutes brow furrowed. He regretted his beginning. The only consolation was that he was no longer that person. He had learned and he had grown. He had lived the life of those that he had formerly enslaved. Now wasn't the time to share such thoughts with the woman nestled against him. This night was for her release. She would work through her thoughts and feelings tonight. Besides, Sparhawk didn't tell others about his past. Ever. It was a pity that the woman had such a rough life. She was too pretty to feel so badly all of the time. He wished that there was something that he could do for her, but there wasn't. Nothing more than what he was doing now. She needed someone to listen. A friendly ear. Someone to let her release without judgement. Right now, he was that person. As she spoke, spilling the dramatic tale of her past, he simply held her close and stayed quiet. Outside the rain hammered down and lightning lit the sky here and there. He didn't hear any thunder though which was odd. Thankfully the fire held the cold of the storm at bay. They had enough wood to last for a time and when the fire was gone, the fur was large enough to cover them. When she spoke of never wanting to be a slave again, Sparhawk tucked his ears back against his skull for a moment. "No doubt you are stronger now than you were then. You will not be taken again." She then spoke of being a monster and Sparhawk lifted one paw, tapping the woman lightly on the top of her head right between the eyes. "You are your own master. You control you. You just have to make your mind let you be who you need to be." He lowered his paw. "Just because you did bad things doesn't make you a bad woman. You just have things to sort out in your brain. No big deal. Takes time. We all have bad to overcome." He surely did. Perhaps he was like her once. These days, Sparhawk was as easy going as they came. Would he fight to the death if someone tried to take him captive? You bet. Would he let the possibility rule the rest of his days? Absolutely not. "Speech"

Sparhawk didn't complain as Bellamy kept close to him; and admittedly she was grateful for the contact. He was warm… a different sort of warmth than the fire and the snow leopard coat she wore. She felt happy for the first time in ages. It wasn't that energetic, jump for joy happy… but that sort of happiness you felt knowing someone was there and listening. Where you felt like your thoughts, feelings, and experiences mattered.

His responses mattered even more. Bellamy was startled when he tapped her. She blinked and looked at him, listening to the best of her ability. His words were a flicker of hope… and Bells was drawn to them like a moth to an open flame. She waited until he had finished speaking and nosed his lower jaw gratefully. It was a clumsy movement, but the intent and sincerity were there.

"Thank you." The words were barely a whisper as she let her head rest on his body again. "I don't want to be remembered for those days." Bells smiled a little. "My dad… I can't remember exactly what he told us but… we would hear stories. Stories of kingdoms and knights and all these good guys. I do remember him saying that just because they do good things doesn't mean they were always like that. Kings were not always Kings... I think… I think that's what he meant.." Bellamy snuggled against Sparhawk; they were well past the point of boundaries.

"Mmnnn…" She gave a content sigh. "The storm is a good thing… we met…" Her voice was lighter now. "I'm glad." She flicked an ear as the fire crackled.

"You… do you know where you are going here yet? The land… Boreas… this is the Northern bit of it." It was harder to focus on what she was asking him. "There is Auster in the far south… maybe you could stay nearby?" She yawned. "You could show me how you make mead... Or we can fight a bear." Bellamy let out a giggle. "...and make you a cape like mine."

It seemed as though his tap had brought her out of her shell of self doubt. The woman opened up, speaking freely and giving little affections here and there. It was good. It felt nice. It had been a long time since he'd felt the touch of another, let alone a woman. So, for as long as she wished to hold her body against his, he would allow and enjoy. Her tension eased, but he had been at ease this whole time. There was no need to get riled up. His disposition rarely changed from what it was now. His past was one of anger and fury. His present was one of peace.

Bellamy spoke of pasts and of kings being something before they were kings. "We all were something different once upon a time." He certainly was. His past was in the past for a reason. Never again would he be the creature that he once was. Sparhawk had evolved so far beyond what he was. The wolf from back then was a stranger to him, but a stranger that he would never forget.

Commenting on the storm and being glad that they met, the red man nodded. "I too find happiness in this. You seem like good woman, Miss Bellamy." Despite her doubts and anxieties, she seemed overall good. Some day she would break away from those negative feelings and she would evolve as well. Or, she would let the feelings and emotions consume her. Not everyone came out of their mind alive. He hoped for the best, however.

When asked if he knew the land, the brute simply gave his thick skull a shake. "Everything here is new." He gave a little stretch, the action pulling at his voice. "I figure I just walk around. Find a place that feels good." When Bellamy suggested that they fight a bear, Sparhawk laughed aloud. It was a deep, hearty laugh. "I will fight a bear if it fights me first." He was a peaceful man. He was always game to hunt prey, but he had a respect for predators like himself. "I could stay here for a while." She certainly seemed to want him to.

Bellamy was doing her best to focus on him again. It was hard to not just get comfortable and want to sleep curled up with him. But for the first time since she was a child she was talking to someone about things she didn’t think she’d ever be able to talk about again once she was taken. His presence was a flicker of hope… and Bells, like a moth to flame, was drawn to it. The effects of the mead helped loosen her tongue and gave her confidence to speak instead of holding it in. She even played with the idea of herself being a queen one day. Heh, there was a thought!

His words caused her smile to slip though and her words got quiet. “I want to be good.” She shivered a little, though not from cold, and drew closer to him. “...but… I’m not… not really.” Through the haze of alcohol more memories tried to stir. They couldn’t quite hold any consistency though… a blessing. She didn’t want to remember the faces and words of those who had hurt her since she was a child.

“I…” She whimpered and let the words die on her lips and let him keep talking instead.

At the mention of him staying around here though she perked a little. “Stay!” She whined. Bells opened her eyes and went to draw back to look at him… at least til her head felt like she was swaying and she laid it back down on his body instead.

“...You make sense…” Bells said softly. “Everything else is crazy and upside down. Please don’t leave right away…” Her loneliness, and frustrations with the world, were obvious.

“Sparhawk… I like fighting…” She decided to confess. “I don’t like that I like it. But it’s familiar. Easy.” She furrowed her brow. “Also not… I get… scared… kill or be killed…” She buried her face against him.

“I don’t… want… that.” Her voice slurred a bit as her ears pinned against her skull.

She didn’t want to be the monster they made her.

Sparhawk pulled her close, one big paw stroking her side gently back and forth slowly and rhythmically. She was so worried about not being good. "Good takes time." He continued to stroke her side. His voice was low since they were so close. "I was not always good. I was actually verrry bad." He drew out the word to emphasize his point. "I used to do many bad things." He had seen the error of his ways. "I do good things now... but if we meet gods when we die, I will go to the place where there is painful, freezing ice, but there is no fire." There was no making up for what he had done, though he was trying.

Bellamy piped up, begging him to stay. She explained that he made sense to her and Sparhawk nodded. He could understand that. Sometimes it took someone damaged to understand someone damaged. "Maybe I stay here for a while. The cold is home to me. Will need to find more firewood, but looking will keep me busy." He could spend his days stacking wood and his nights nestled up in this little cave with the wall drawings.

When she said that she liked to fight, the man chuckled lightly and gave his skull a shake. "Nothing wrong with fighting. Nothing wrong with liking to fight. You fight for whats important and the fighting stops being bad, yes?" It seemed as though she was afraid of losing control when she fought. Control was acquired with practice. She was still very young. That control would come if she worked at it. "In time, things unravel as they should. Must be patient, Miss Bellamy. Time, practice and dedication. You will be what you are meant to be." He was firm believer in that.

He drew her closer and Bellamy let her face press against his body. Before, the thought of anyone holding her like this would have terrified her. But now Bells clung to it, needed it desperately, and she was thankful for him. Sparhawk was helping ground her troubled mind. She listened to his confession and gave a whine.

“If the Gods and Divine are... as good as they say… they will offer... mercy... for those who try...” She didn’t want to believe that those who had lived a bad past were condemned to only ever being in the bad place. “Celeste will fight her husband Nox... for children who try to fight the light… give them a chance…” It was the first time she had spoken to anyone about the Divinities of her homeland. “Erebos and Celeste know too… you won’t… suffer alone.”

She managed to relax a little more as he said he might stay. Her tail began to wag some, and she let out a little laugh. “Me too…!” If helping him with firewood would convince Sparhawk to stay then Bells would help.

His next words had Bellamy grow quiet for a time. She focused on her breathing, swimming in what thoughts she could form, before she spoke again.

“Freedom.” She spoke the single word suddenly.

“Freedom… for all…” She yawned.

“What I want… to fight… for…” She snuggled against him again and got comfortable.

“Morning though…” She was sleepy.

“Ni’... Sparhawk…”