The weather was warm enough he couldn't see any mist gathered around his maw every time he breathed out now. That was nice. That being said, Iarlaith huffed softly, an ear flicking in irritation. No sign of him. He was still down… every family member. A grim smile replaced his scowl; how long was a guy supposed to go on before giving up altogether?

He wouldn't want me to give up.

He wouldn't give up.

Iarlaith shook himself and pressed forward until he reached a small clearing. He'd been through soulless woods and haunting, war-torn fields unlike anything he'd seen. Now he stepped between strange trees with long, slender branches. Willows. He'd only seen them once or twice in his life. They didn't grow in the snow-bound lands he'd come from. His step slowed as he ended up beneath one of the graceful trees. Fronds swayed in the calm evening breeze, delicate green leaves tickling his nose and ears, beckoning him to be at peace.

There was something strange and pensive about them. Maybe that was why he kept thinking about–

He snorted, nosing the long branches out of his field of vision with a rough jerk of his snout. No. Not now.

Besides. There was a trail to find. He pressed his nose to the dirt. Deer. He could smell deer. And water.

If it was small enough, maybe he could bring it down? He doubted it, but the idea of having fresh deer was appealing enough he couldn't help but meander after the scent for a few paces. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had it fresh.

Ultimately he stopped, however, head raised, a wistful glimmer in his eye.

…water was easier to catch.

As a night-bird called—too early—he thought, he rounded toward the soft burble. The sky was still gray, though night was well on its way. Padding down a gently-sloping bank, Iarlaith approached the stream. It babbled up at him as he lowered his snout to drink… only for his nose to scrunch as his tongue met the tepid water. He twitched, froze, tongue hanging from his gaping maw, and pulled his head back again.

It was warm.

But it tasted clean, and water was water. He blinked, recovered himself with a swipe of his pink tongue over his chops, and, expecting it this time, took a tentative drink.

White and grey paws flew as though wings were attached. The slowly melting snow made the ground soggy and the roots of the willows made traversing the terrain treacherous. It was no problem for the cream and grey woman, however. She grew up here. She was used to this. Though the Armada hadn't officially claimed this land, they may as well have. The willows were basically a playground for pups. She and her brothers... As she ran, Asla gave her head a shake. She wouldn't think about that. She had a task to complete. As the young woman thundered across the willows, her prey thundered even more loudly. A young buck flew along on spindly legs. It was thin and half starved and that was just find with the young Fatalis. She would take this deer out and leave more food for the other starving ungulates. They were all a little thin after the long winter. She was doing them a service by taking one of their number. Food wasn't the only reason that she was hunting. Sure, she could eat, but really, Asla was angry. When she was angry, she liked to kill things. Simple as that. On the heels of the buck, the woman tried more than once to swipe a leg out from beneath it. One swipe, two, three... Four was her lucky number. Retractable cat claws slid out of their sheaths and slid into the flesh of one hind leg. That little bit of pressure was enough to make the deer falter. The deer and the wolf flew through the air and the world seemed to slow. Crashing to the earth, the deer gave a squeal of pain. Rightly so. Aslatiel landed atop it, her teeth instantly sinking into its throat. Claws ripped into flesh, allowing her to hold tight and not be bucked off by the thrashing beast. Whipping her head back and forth, her teeth pulled flesh, rending large rivets in the bucks neck. Blood flowed and, after a time, the flailing ceased. Gods... Settling back, the cream and grey fae lay next to the dead body. Blood coated her face and chest. She could taste it heavily on her panting tongue. The woman's galactic eyes opened and only then did she see the form of the drinking man across the stream. Though she hadn't yet caught her breath, Aslatiel couldn't help but laugh. She rested her head back against the side of the deer, amusement clear on her scarred features. What an entrance, eh? "Speech"

The first sound he might have dismissed… but the second he couldn't. By the time he looked up, two shapes blurred through the trees; the first, tawny, small. DEER. The second, fleet, fast—faster—was paler, and altogether more wolf-shaped. Iarlaith watched as the woman collided with her prey, took it down with… uh, he'd call it remarkable ferocity, since grace didn't seem quite the right word, then fell to the earth beside her… victim. After brutally tearing its throat out.

By the time it'd come to an end, his maw hung open for altogether different reasons than a little tepid water. He was almost glad he was on the other side of the stream. And also, not a deer. He liked having pointy teeth, thank-you-very-much. And claws. Much less likely to get his throat torn out.

Then she noticed him. His brow raised. First one, then the other as she began to laugh, as if she found it all very much amusing. Should I tell her about all that blood in her fur…?

Nah.

"That was one hell of an entrance," he called over the water's soft burble, tail offering a half-wave before he plopped down on his hind end, head slouched and eyes forward. "Ten out of ten for style," he continued, half-smile smile widening into a cheeky grin. He was serious, somewhere under the vague, tongue-in-cheek delivery, of course. She'd done a nice job to take it down on her own. Was he impressed? Well, not in a way he'd let anyone else see. "And I guess you oughta get a few points for, uh, that take-down, too." Bloody hell, woman.

"Speech"