Skaþa wasn’t usually the one to fret of over the other’s absents, but tonight, here she was. Azairan had left earlier in the day, his goal to further scout their combined territory, and hunt something to eat. On any other day, she wouldn’t be worried, knowing well that the legiana could take care of himself just as well as she could. Today however, the weather was on the rise, the normally calm skies now shrouded in threatening clouds ready to visit upon them a blizzard.

Trusting he would eventually return, Skaþa decided to turn her focus to the half made nest at her feet. Slowly and meticulously weaving together branches and hides, she wanted nothing more than the perfect bedding for her partner and herself. As unlikely a pair as they were, she could think of no other still alive she’d rather be with. With countless years of practice behind her, she knew just how to manipulate the materials to make the perfect nest. Even as she worked however, she’d keep an ear pointed to the den entrance, listening for any signs of her mate’s return.
As the minutes turned to hours, her worry would grow, her thoughts flooding with the possibilities. While the region wasn’t marked by the Hunter’s Guild as a hunting zone, hunters still frequented this portion of the tundra. It would be these hunters that give her the most concern, each one more than capable of besting even the strongest of monsters if given the chance to gear up and practice. In a blizzard, these dangers were all the greater, the region becoming hostile to even the most sturdy of inhabitants. When the first flakes of snow fell past the den opening, Skaþa began counting to herself, tracking time in an attempt to calm her.


One….
Two….
Three…
………..
………
…….
….
Twenty……..
Twenty one….
Twenty two…
……
….
..

Having passed out from her own counting, Skaþa would wake many hours later. Looking around to collect herself, she’d start off calm, slowly growing panicked as Azairan remained unseen. Before she could go into a full blown panic attack however, she’d perk up at the sound of wings. Whispering a prayer to her runes, the stones lit up like a beacon, shining bright in the dark blizzard winds. Stepping outside, she’d see him, the legiana battling against winds and burden to bring home his catch. Landing with a heavy thud, Aziran quickly landed, only to be tackled by Skaþa.

With their separate duties finished, the pair would settle into the nest, Skaþa waiting for Azairan to enter first before taking up the remaining space in the nest. Curled together, they began one last nightly ritual, each starting to groom the others. Simple in affect and function, it was a bonding activity for them, each able to ensure the other was free of debris and parasites. Before long, the grooming would be interrupted by a yawn from Azairan, soon after triggering one from Skaþa as well. With this as their cue, they tucked their heads against each other before drifting off to sleep. Remaining conscious a moment longer, Skaþa would pear outside, closing her eyes to mutter one last prayer before she too joined her partner in slumber.


“Whatever comes…. Whatever goes.… I will remain…. May we have a life worth living…”

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Art by the wonderful  Elvche

Didn't think to strike on muse with this one, but I do hope the little story is as pleasant as the art.