Thick vegetation and moss-covered forest floor, a common landscape for hunting. Aristaios prowls with purpose, his senses attuned to the subtlest of clues. A sound, a scent, a sight to behold. The eerie silence of his surroundings only heightened his focus as he moved, each step leaving barely a whisper against the damp earth. Big as he was, he was not enough of an oaf to go lumbering around scaring away all the prey while hunting. Though his particular quarry today would hardly be frightened off.

There was a fog that accompanied him in these woods, dancing around him like spectral tendrils, swirling and shifting in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the dense canopy above. He stalked seamlessly in the shadowed undergrowth, his charcoal fur blending with the muted hues of the forest. And with each passing moment, the scent of the bear he was hunting grew stronger, a musky aroma that lingered in the air like a warning. Which it was. Aristaios followed the trail with determination, his senses sharp and his instincts honed by years of survival in the wild.

It was not that an ambush was of much use when fighting a bear, but you could get a few good hits in before it reacted, wasn’t that better than facing it off head first? He closed in on his target, the tension in the air crackled like static electricity. With a final, silent step brimming with anticipation, Aristaios emerged from the dense underbrush, his eyes locked onto the massive form of the bear looming before a berry bush it was feasting upon.

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The manhunter steps into the forest, her next step in learning the land. Head low, hackles up. Gaze keen and honed, sharp as a knife. At least the trees serve as a windbreak, lending to the stillness of the world around her. Iscariot slips among the dappled light, nose low to the ground. Teeming with life, despite the eerie silence that dampened the world around her. Strangers. Predators. Prey. There's more overlap in these things than you'd think, and Iscariot was well-wise to that fact. Bear musk and sweet berries, she's come too close to the grizzly's home. The great brown beast knows, she knows. Standing stiff in the mist and fog, mouth going dry. Before she can map out her escape plan, a shift in the breeze reveals something else. The man. Riot's eyes go wide... she's too small to take the beast on alone, but with help? As the grizzly's gaze locks onto her, Iscariot dashes toward the man with a little yelp. All she can hope is that he's just as down to clown.

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The small wolf’s (girl? woman?) sudden appearance gives Aristaios pause, her yelp a clear call for help as the grizzly reared up to release a thunderous roar. Her eyes were wild, like a plea for help. His ears flattened in response, mismatched eyes shifting from her to lock coldly onto the great ursine. Well, he wanted to fight a fucking bear, so here it was. His tail lashed, teeth revealed as the massive brute shot forward, not for the small wolf’s sake but because bear blood was what he was here for in the first place. A smirk split his jaws as he wasted no time in throwing himself into the bear’s solar plexus.

Knock the breath out of it, right? Wasn’t that what the beasty was asking for doing its fancy footwork?

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The massive man comes to life with a measure of violence that's everything Riot can hope for. Thank fuck, she's been hung out to dry... at least not yet. Ears flattening to her skull as she rounds on the beast, watching it stagger, hearing it wheeze as it tries to regain its breath. She won't allow the grizzly a moment of reprieve, instead launching herself at his face. Reckless? Yeah, but that's the brand. The bear swipes with a large paw, and she feels claws glance her shoulder. Adrenaline too high to feel it now, though she can only assume it'll feel like ass tomorrow. Snarling, Iscariot's teeth sink into the side of the beast's face before harrying back. Distract. She'll distract, let the big man do the damage-- should work out alright, as long as he gets the memo. Riot can hope.

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Aristaios barked out a rough laugh as he watched the small woman hurl herself at the grizzly's face. Reckless, yes, but her ferocity was undeniable. He admired her spirit, even if it bordered on suicidal.

“Hang tight!” He growled, his eyes never leaving the bear as he regained his balance from his previous attack. “You're doing good. Keep it busy, won’t ya!” Didn’t women like to be talked through it? She was awfully small though, but he supposed by her scent she was an adult. That or his nose was shit.

As the bear roared in frustration, swiping at her with its massive claws, Aristaios seized the opening she created. Her bite had drawn the beast's attention, and now it was his turn to strike. With a powerful leap, he closed the distance, aiming to bring the grizzly down for good.

His teeth sank into the bear's neck, muscles straining as he used every ounce of his strength to wrestle it to the ground. The bear struggled, but Aristaios was relentless, driven by the thrill of the fight and the need to kill.

With a final, decisive twist, he brought the bear crashing down, its massive form hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Aristaios held on until he was sure the fight had left it, then released his grip, stepping back to assess the damage.

Blood stained his fur, and his breath came in heavy pants, but they had done it. He turned to her then, nodding his approval with a wicked smile plastered across his maw “Not bad, not your first rodeo.” Statement of fact, not a question.

He glanced at her shoulder, noting the fresh wound. “You alright? Looks like you'll have a hell of a story to tell, though.” Launching yourself at a bears face with such a small body, like a little furry missle— it was a compliment.


""

He's got directions for her, and Iscariot's expression remains drawn. Snarling and snapping at the problem on hand, vicious as she gnashes her teeth. Distraction, and an annoying one at that. Dancing on the edge of the beast's range, flirting with disaster. Flirting with destruction. There's a gleeful laugh that builds in her throat, alongside the scarier sounds. Keep the grizzly's attention, keep him distracted, don't get hit-- that's it, right? As a last ditch effort, the beast's head snaps around to hers as he stumbles. Teeth make contact with her muzzle, though the bludgeoning damage is far worse than the slashing. Iscariot stumbles in the same breath, head beginning to spin. One step, then two, at least she's out from under the bear as she crumples after a moment. Catching her cheek in her own teeth, blood filling her mouth. "Bears are cunty," she offers a bloody smile before spitting on the patchy snow beside her, bright red. "Been worse," though as she pulls herself to her feet, the world around Iscariot swims. Slips, slides from one direction to the other. Planting her ass back firmly on the ground, she can wait a minute. "You 'n me both." She pauses, catching her breath. Not her first rodeo, but it's also wild to think about knowing what she did on her... second rodeo. Don't get stuck on the turn of phrase, dumbass. They'd done alright together, and the bear is suitably disarmed. Death before disarming, or something like that. The right to bear arms? Ha. "Thanks for bailing me out." Perhaps a rare moment of appreciation, but Iscariot recognized well the gravity of what she'd stepped into.

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The fight was brutal, but quick.

Panting, Aristaios turned to see her crumple to the ground out of the way to avoid being crushed, a bloody smile gracing her lips as she spoke. ‘Bears are cunty,’ The small woman spat, bright red staining the snow beside her. Well, that was a new one. He appreciated the originality.

He moved to her side as she attempted to stand, watching her tilt and sway with a grin. Did she need help? He was more than capable, and not in the market for blatant acts of evil on weakened, tiny women. “Easy there,” He rumbled with a drawn out tone, his voice surprisingly gentle through the thick greek accent he possessed. Maybe she’d find comfort in that. “You took a hell of a hit.” You know. For her size. His dual colored orbs scanned over her narrow body, taking in her visible injuries – sure. But he’s no healer, just a man.

When she planted her rear firmly on the ground, he could see the effort it took for her to catch her breath, her body trembling from the fight. They had done alright together, more than alright. The bear lay disarmed, and they were both alive. So, good.

Aristaios nodded at her words of thanks, chuffing as he moved to see what state the hide was in once she was steady looking. It was salvageable, save for the nape and face they’d utterly ruined. “You fight like a damn wolverine.” The massive brute’s tail flicked as he spoke over his shoulder, humorously rolling the tension out of his shoulders. Then, his attention was stolen by her talking again.

“I was going to kill it anyway, so no need for thanks. But – You need a minute? Rest for a spell. Don't want you passing out on me. Besides – I hate to have debts.” There was a hint of a smile on his maw, a blend of amusement and returned appreciation for a well done hunt. He took a brief scan of their surroundings, wondering if there was a place to rest, maybe start a fire, eat some bear while he collects items off its body.

""

Little, with an extra helping of mean. Pound for pound, probably worse than most. Probably why she has the gall to rush a bear, straight to the face, but that's not to be underestimated. Gaze sharp on his face, harsh, as she takes the man in. Was he a threat to her, now that the original one had been neutralized? Processing, taking in what he had to offer. Tone gentle, gaze less predatory... while Iscariot doesn't let herself truly relax, she'll settle into his presence for now. "I'm alright just... yeah, give me a second." Still spitting blood, coming back to herself. Feeling the world come back into focus, though she couldn't wipe the coppery taste from her lips. Gaze flickering to the bear for a moment, then back to the man before her. It's dead. They're not dead. Best possible outcome, if she had to say it. "Gotta, when you're this big against the world." Grin impish, but she'll take her flowers on this one. Overhead, the clouds growing denser, thicker. Sky churning and threatening, as her gaze flickers to the greater forest around them. Wind, too, picking up Iscariot's fur and tugging at the edges. "Kill it anyway? What're you, some kind of monster hunter?" Curious, as she tips her chin to the wind, letting the breeze wash over her face. Maybe she should be worried. Monsters are as monsters do, after all.

Aristaios watched her carefully, noting the sharpness in her gaze, the way she seemed to size him up even now. He admired that kind of vigilance. It kept people alive.

“Take your time,” He said softly, allowing her the space she needed to gather herself. As she spat out more blood and steadied her breath, he busied himself with tearing into the bear's hide, a knife producing from somewhere to slice up some good meat while giving her a semblance of privacy but remaining within reach.

Her words pulled a chuckle from him. “I can see why you’d need to fight like that,” He acknowledged, glancing up at the darkening sky. The weather was turning, and fast. He needed to get moving soon, or find better shelter. That included her right now, since he owed her for the assist.

“Monster hunter?” The brute echoed, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Something like that. It’s a living, someone always needs the viscera.” He leaned back, watching her reaction carefully. “You could say I’ve made a habit of dealing with threats. Makes it easier to handle whatever comes my way.”

The wind picked up, tugging at his own fur and sending a shiver through his massive frame. “We should find better cover before the storm hits,” He suggested, nodding towards the thicker part of the forest. “There’s a cave not far from here. We can take shelter there, wait out the worst of it.” He’d clocked it before his hunt began, but didn’t know if would come in handy like this.


He paused, meeting her gaze again. “I’m not a threat to you. Not unless you give me a reason to be. For now, we’re on the same side.” Fair warning, right? With that, he stood, offering a shoulder to help her up, he could come back for the meat after. “Let’s move before the weather turns us into popsicles.” A storm in winter was a terrible thing, even if the south was nothing compared to the north.



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