RP:Send her Back, Cinderback

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Location: East Frostmaw, outside the Animal Shop.

Summary: Tracking the fleeing beast down, Krice and his equally mysterious dark-haired brother manage to stop Cinderback at the edge of town, where the intelligent animal instinctively heads for better conditions and necessary snacks. Leo and Lita soon catch up, along with the animal’s keeper, Gorehilt, eventually. It is after the crisis is seemingly averted that it becomes apparent Loravelle has been in the cold too long.

[ Part 3/5 ]

Leo had meant to put some space between them and the town for the night, but given the situation and the direction he tracked the steed that he could smell like smoke and sulfur, he wound up traversing the torn up terrain around the edge of the crater to get right back into the thick of it. As sure footed as he was, the rogue was trying not to panic as he moved as fast as he could around the widening crater toward the east side of the city, squinting against the icy wind in his eyes and forfeiting his usual stealthy nature to call out once or twice for Lita or Loravelle. Eventually, the simmering flicker of flame that silhouetted Cinderback’s form was glimpsed at the end of a poorly lit street in the distance, miraculously stopped somehow, just outside the animal shop tent. He was not likely to accept the pair of strangers on his back any longer, and for that Leo rushed his pace to close the distance, slowing just before his approach, trying not to spook the animal, as he was unaware of the hidden intelligence of the elemental equine. His panted, heated exhales were visible in the cold night air even with his mask hiding some of his expression, but there was still definitely obvious anger in the wolf’s reflective gaze.

Krice and his darker-haired twin, Lav, had the exact same epiphany at exactly the same time; it was so sudden and so specific that they shared a perplexed glance a moment later. If the strange firehorse was running so fast as to agitate its owner, Gorehilt, then it must be even wilder than it looked - with a wild rider atop it. Poor Loravelle. Across the distance, the twins pursued the group; silent, swift, and agile, they moved effortlessly over damaged terrain. The path they took was slightly different from Leoxander’s just by the nature of where they started from, a few paces further west and a bit north, but they were no less successful in their pursuit. If Lita was capable of looking outward beyond the horse’s fiery mane and the potential panic of keeping her human travelling companion safe, she might catch a glimpse of silver in the night, a shadow of black close behind it, sprinting in from the left and the rear. Leoxander, if not singularly focused on ensuring that Loravelle was secured and unharmed, might also catch a glimpse of the twins as they came in from the north almost perpendicular to him. The raven-haired twin kicked up fragments of snow as he initiated a quick-step, a sudden boost of speed that to normal eyes would make it appear that he disappeared. But supernatural eyes could likely track him, covering metres in just a breath, to land at the point of Cinderback’s shoulder, ice and sleet spraying the stone pathway in his wake. The horse’s momentum had been arrested by–Lora might think this man was also a wolf–an arm outstretched, hand pressing the muscle between the equine’s shoulders. Loravelle and Lita would feel not a sudden jolt, but a significant depression of speed as the force of Lav’s strength arrested Cinderback’s momentum across the space of a few metres. With the animal store at his back, potentially distracting the equine after it realized he had stopped it, the raven-haired twin stepped away with a glance sent over the women to check their safety, his eyes lingering on Lita’s, before he pivoted to approach the place where Krice came to a stop. The warrior’s gaze followed his brother, who crouched at the edge of the snow to press his forearm against the cold, flesh burned by Cinderback’s wild, fiery mane. The enigma’s frown was subtle but present, passed from Lav to the women, and then to Leoxander to scrutinize the entire scene.

Lita had seen this going fairly differently in her head. She gave up trying to rein in the hellfire steed and dropped the bridle entirely in favor of wrapping both arms around Loravelle to keep her secured against her chest as she hunkered over the girl, silently praying she wouldn't wake up mid-ride. Silently praying Leo wouldn't kill her for this. Frostmaw hadn't been a usual haunt for her even before the primal's destruction of the city. In the aftermath of it, everything has shifted and changed and she can only hope the horse has better senses and can tell where they're going through the snow. Or at least might run out of steam soon so she could find some sort of safety. Lita scarcely notices Lav come up beside them to try and help though she won't be surprised to find him keeping up with the animal. With Cinderback seeming to slow down, Lita shifts her left leg over the steed and slips to the ground, landing shakily on one knee with Lora still clutched in her arms. She adjusts the girl in her arms with an exhaled breath, managing to keep her off the ground and out of the snow as she stands again, backing away from Gorehilt's mount cautiously. So much for helpful. She's still trying to process what's just unfolded, scarcely registering the figure of Krice nearby or the fact that they're actually on the outskirts of what is left of part of the town.

Loravelle is more likely unconscious than asleep, given she hasn't stirred between being carried by Leo, then transferred over to being on horseback with Lita. She's still out cold even during that run. Maybe a few more layers might've helped to shield her better from Frostmaw's frigid temperatures, but it's clear that she's cold. Very cold and oddly not shivering, but Cinderback's heat is helping her not entirely turn into a popsicle. With Lita supporting her, she doesn't slump over, and Lora owes that woman a massive apology when she finally comes to, and a thank-you too if she finds out about her brand new face tattoo. If she were awake and the circumstances were much more different, taking a ride on Cinderback would have been a joy, minus the fire. Horses are great. When she finally does wake, it's safe to say that Lora looks absolutely disoriented and utterly confused, taking in her surroundings with half-lidded eyes. Where's Leo? When did that silver-haired wolf-man change his hair color? What happened? Why are they still in Frostmaw? What's up with the horse? Did she do something wrong? Why's Lita holding her? Her limbs are too stiff to move much, but she tries a feeble wiggle to get free while she tries to apologize to the vampire for whatever she must have done wrong. Just as she opens her mouth to ask all of those thought out questions, she turns to try coughing into her elbow, and that cough is quickly followed by a sneeze. She's a little too stuff to successfully cough or sneeze into her elbow though, so that limb drops to her side, useless. “I-it's c-c-cold,” she says through chattering teeth.

Leoxander had only witnessed part of what happened that resulted in the end of the road, literally, for the horse. But he arrived just seconds later and was in time to see the cause of Cinderback’s pause, stare fixed toward Krice and Lav for only the moment he could spare. Oh, if looks could maim, Lita might be living her immortal existence without a limb for the way the pirate shifted his attention toward her. He hastily pushed through the iced over snow in the broken city street toward the vampire and his fiance as they backed away from Cinder’ and reached to claim the latter from Lita’s arms. It wasn’t that he wasn’t concerned for his friend, too, but Lora’s human status was far more susceptible to injury, coma, death, and considering she was forfeit to his arms, he immediately felt how cold her body was, even wrapped up in all those layers. “G’damnit, Ace…” He muttered low as he claimed the book keeper against him and moved toward a less snowy section of street partly shielded by a stable or building awning, and Krice, his brother and Lita would all see the rogue in rare form with worry in his eyes, struggling to keep his tone level and not quivering with fear or rage. “I know, Dove… I know…” He crouched to set Loravelle into a seat with some wood backing for her to lean on, be it the side of the building next to the tent or the stable fencing, hastily removing his jacket and gloves before he began to unfasten the front of the Mouse’s blizzard attire. Steam rising off the lycanthrope’s shoulders, his bared, inked arms slid into the opening of her own fur lined coat as he rested his weight on his knees and drew Loravelle in against his body to try to warm her up. “Yer a’right…” Only after she was resting against his chest did he lift his eyes in Krice and Lav’s direction, no verbal gratitude announced, but there was a significant look that might register similar in Leo’s glinting eyes.

Krice looked over his crouched brother, whose heated forearm singed in the snow, melting it to a cool liquid. Lav grimaced slightly, uncomfortable as a result of the injury, but it was not so severe that he couldn’t take in the details of his surroundings - the horse’s distraction with the stock in the animal store, Lita’s shakiness from the sudden, wild journey through Frostmaw, Leoxander’s arrival and subsequent retrieval of the cold Loravelle into his arms. Krice took one step forward, noting the wolf’s anger toward Lita - muted though it may be - in an old, instinctive urge to protect her, even though she didn’t need it. He halted himself, but it coincided with Leoxander’s use of the name ‘Ace’, as if that unfamiliar word was a trigger back to the present. He observed quietly while his brother calmly moved his burned forearm to a fresh patch of snow, features schooled, and he thought no less of the wolf for showing compassion and concern toward Loravelle. Two reserved, stoic men, each bonded to a woman more susceptible to damage than they were, each devoted. He understood it. By the time Leoxander gazed at them, clearly reflecting his gratitude, Lav had found his feet and turned to face the group, keeping his left arm down. The sleeve of his shirt had been seared off to the elbow, so obviously he’d need to get another one - a trivial concern in light of Loravelle’s ailment. The brothers spoke at the same time, Krice to Leoxander, “ She alright?” Sokolav to Lita. “Are you okay?” The enigma spared the raven-haired wanderer a side glance with minimal emotion conveyed, a simple of acknowledgment of the fact that he had spoken as well. Gold-freckled eyes shifted to the vampire, scanning her for sign of injury or stress, his expression softening. Given the fact that he had asked Leoxander a question, his attention shifted to the wolf shortly after.

Lita didn't have enough words of apology for Leo. Or any, really, as he took Lora from her and moved a few feet away to help warm the girl further. There were few times when interactions with Leo, or anyone really, had rendered her silent, even without a snarky comment or witty retort. She'd add this moment to those handful of times. Dark eyes flicker from the pirate to Lav, back and forth a few times, not entirely sure where those apologies should start exactly. Krice beats her to the punch, asking if Lora was alright and she waits to hear the answer, nodding vaguely at Lav's question of her own wellbeing, trying to hide her worry and embarrassment in what little bravado she might have left.

Loravelle is still thoroughly confused, but her body changes hands again and there isn't much she can do to protest it. But she's sitting down now, and that has to be good, right? It doesn't feel good or right when she feels her winter clothes getting unfastened. Blame the brain fog. Suddenly she's met with a wave of much-needed heat from Leo's arms and Lora's body tips forward into him for more warmth. Her head lands on his shoulder, and it's from that vantage point that she thinks she can see the others. In her confusion of what happened, Lora is very much under the impression that whatever went on might've caused Lita a bunch of trouble and she wants to apologize and see what's wrong and try to fix it. It doesn't help that she thinks she hears Krice and Lav ask about someone being okay, and she's certain they're both referring to Lita. “I-is sh-s-she okay?” Can she get up and check on her? What if that horse hurt her with its fiery mane? Lora tries, but attempting to stand up is difficult with her frigid limbs and Leo most likely holding her so she couldn't step away even if she had the strength enough to try.

Leo answered at a delay, teeth clenched so hard he wasn’t sure he’d even manage coherent words. But eventually he responded in a tone as deep and graveled as the crater in the center of Frostmaw. “I think so…” How much he wanted to reassure Krice she was fine, that she was stronger than she looked, that she was a survivor, but he just didn’t know. That time he took to just hold Lora’ and regulate her body heat with the feverish temperature of his own gave him a few moments to consider his aggravation toward Lita. If he hadn't dragged them here into the high altitude of a land already dangerous long before Xicotl woke, if he hadn’t assumed Lora would be fine and that nothing would happen to her, they wouldn’t be in such a predicament now. It was easy to pass judgment and blame, not so easy for the stubborn wolf to take responsibility for his choices. Regardless of what their plans might have been, there would be no more investigating the area that night. “We need to get her out’a here…” He really didn’t trust risking the night in the tavern, particularly when the crash and topple of more falling stones sounded in the distance toward the heart of the city at that precise moment. One thing Leo would never be was a man to waste time, and so he dropped the pack off his shoulder in order to fish out that length of rope he’d brought along for the steep climb, stuffing his jacket into the leather bag in turn. “I’munna have to shift to get down the ledge quicker. You’re gonna have to latch her to my back.” Although it was common knowledge of what the rogue was, he didn’t often mention it, let alone display it in front of people he’d just met. Lora’s question was left for someone else to answer, as Leo was hastily pulling the laces of his boots to avoid the ache of clawing through them, but he really had no time to worry about the rest of what would be torn and ruined when the transformation came. He hadn’t done this since his wolf-therapy on the island with Mahri…

Krice leveled his attentive stare on Loravelle. With no answer forthcoming, he turned to his instincts, observing her behaviour and noting her condition for illumination as to her well-being. Lav looked down at his burned forearm, skin singed from the back of his hand halfway to his elbow, a second-degree burn that kept tension in his brow but little else; these twins may have seemed impervious to everything, pain and temperature, but it was a result of decades of training and inherent self-control. As Leoxander spoke of needing to carry Lora via wolf-back down the mountain, the silver-haired enigma turned from his brother to approach Lita. Assuming she didn't pull away, he'd take hold of her wrist in a gentle but secure grip and lead her just a few steps away to snare her focus, turning to face her with his hold still present. " Hey, you alright?" It would only be a few seconds, the exchange if she allowed it, so Leoxander would not wait long. Even so, if Lita kept Krice, Lav would step forward to assist once the wolf had transformed.

Lita exhales a sigh of relief at hearing Lora speaking and Leo answering Krice that she seems to be okay. At least there was that. It had been a long time since Lita had had to worry about someone in her circle being squishy and breakable. She was used to her impulsiveness getting her into trouble. She was even used to dragging others into the mess of her decisions. She wasn't used to them getting injured because of her. Her fight-or-flight instincts have always been weighted heavily towards flight and while she's done far better about that in the last year, right now every instinct is telling her to run. Let Leo see Lora to safety, let Krice and Lav get back to their life and let Gorehilt's demon horse find its way back home maybe. And just run until the snow melted into the more familiar plains of Venturil. She's a little lost in the temptation of that thought, staring towards Leo and Lora when he mentions shifting to his wolf form to get to safer ground quicker. She nods absently, as if he'd been talking to her, taking a half step towards him but Krice's hand on her wrist makes her stop and she follows him a few steps instead, glancing over her shoulder when Lav steps forward to help Leo instead. Dark eyes flicker to Krice's fingers around her wrist. "I think she's okay?" She meant Lora, glancing over her shoulder again towards the pair as if the ensure the girl was still breathing. "I got Lav hurt though." She says softly, apologetic. "I didn't mean to, I was trying to help."

Loravelle doesn't know what Leo is doing and doesn't quite understand what he has in mind, but she can't say that she enjoys not having his body heat nearby. The shift in temperature isn't an immediate, drastic transition when he pulls away from her, but she gradually starts feeling colder again, and begins to shiver. Her limbs are thawed enough to allow for a wider range of movement than earlier, so she hugs herself to keep some of that warmth trapped close to her, then looks toward Lita in some effort to try discerning what's wrong. Looking toward Cinderback, her brain pieces something entirely incorrect together, but in her currently foggy mind, it made the most sense. That horse hurt Lita somehow with its fire. Isn't fire bad for vampires? Admittedly she didn't know much about them. “Mean pony,” she murmurs, followed by some stammered swear words about it being rude for hurting Lita and how it needs to chill out. She tries laughing then, but it's more of a wheeze and a cough combined. Chill out. Ha ha. If Lav reaches for her and begins roping her to Leo's back once he's transformed, Lora is left utterly confused and lost yet again, but she won't complain. Likely she can't, really. But soon she'll be on the back of something furry to keep her warm, and it's her favorite tawny color for fur or hair, which makes it even better. Perhaps it's a new horse.

There Leo was, stripping his shirt off again, a multitude of faded and fresh tattoos covering from knuckles to shoulder, upper back, ribs and stomach exposed while he hastened to stuff belt and fabric into the bag and looked between Lita and Krice. “Grab my stuff.” Maybe it came across as a demand, and he seemed to be pinpointing it at the vampire, but not only did he not wish to leave his belongings behind to be possibly forever lost, it also gave Lita reason not to run away when they finally got through that snowy path. The compound bow and quiver that were the first to be removed laid across the duffel before his attention shifted to Loravelle’s dazed comments and his tension increased, silently praying to no particular god that she was just exhausted from the day and half asleep, but with the state she was in, he feared worse. “Can at least one’a you stick with Ace?” He glanced back over his shoulder at Krice, then his dark haired brother, frowning deeper at the injury of his arm which was visible now that the lycan had removed his mask. Maybe Sokolav wouldn’t vanish as quickly as he’d arrived. The twins might have their own means of recovery and mending but as he was planning to get his human mate to a healer, it wouldn’t entirely hurt if a severely burned arm could be checked out, too. One last look landed toward Loravelle’s grey, likely dilated eyes and he cupped her face with both work-worn hands. “You jus’ close your eyes an’ hang on tight for me, a’right Dove?” Hoping for a nod, Leo stood up and stepped back a few paces with a wary look at the horse, who seemed calm enough now setting tiny fires to the bits of straw or wood it fed upon, which would smolder out in the air that was far below freezing, now. “Watch that thing doesn’t spook an’ trample somebody…” The last coherent words he would speak for now until those sickening pops of bones began, becoming more frequent before winding down like corn kernels in a heated pan. It only took a matter of seconds and he managed to muffle the groan of pain as muscles stretched, joints dislocated and reformed at different angles, spiny wheat colored fur splitting through his pores to thicken on his arms, legs, spilling down the center of his spine. Until the hybrid creature stuck between a humanoid and beast shook off the ache with flecks from a thick coat that was ironically in the state of thinning out for warmer seasons. Fortunately, he seemed more or less in control, even if anger was not a wise emotion to carry with him into that abomination of predatory form.

Krice’s fingers flexed around Lita’s wrist when she glanced at them, a subconscious response to the attention they were given. His eyes remained on her face, studying her expression, seeking non-verbal explanation as to what she was feeling. As she glanced over at Leoxander and Loravelle, the warrior lifted his hand to her elbow, a gentle hold meant to remind her to focus. The wolf’s request that his pack be carried by - likely - Lita did not come across to Krice as pushy or demanding; the man was in a rush, focused on caring for his mate; he understood it to be urgency in the other’s voice not impatience or arrogance. In a way, he had a similar focus for Lita in that moment; she was shaken, distant, in her own thoughts and maybe even held by regret, and he intended to help her out of it. The fire-maned horse was given only a peripheral glance, as it was relatively calm now, seemingly interested in the items stored in the animal tent. Krice was not concerned about it destroying anything, at least in that moment. He murmured Lita’s name, the one she’d given him last time, while Leoxander shifted to his animal form - less likely to hear in case she wasn’t of a mind to share it. “ He’ll be fine,” the enigma said, referencing the vampire’s apology that ‘she’ had hurt his twin. “ I’m asking about you.” Lav, in the meantime, glanced briefly at his brother and the vampire, his expression softening but unreadable, before Leoxander’s shift from human to animal form drew his focus. Krice looked as well, drawn by the cracking bones and stretching skin, a sight - and cacophony - that furrowed his brow. What a thing to experience. Neither one of them had ever seen a wolf’s transformation, as reflected in the perplexed frown on Lav’s face, the tempered one on Krice’s. Only seconds after its completion, Lav approached to crouch by Loravelle, curling an arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees; if he was in pain from the burn, he didn’t express it. To Loravelle, he murmured a tender, “Hey, look. You have a little ducky on your face.” He nodded to the tattoo that - unbeknownst to him - Lita had pressed there during earlier travel. The twins ran warmer than most, especially given the chill of Frostmaw, so hopefully Lora would have some measure of comfort as Lav lifted her onto Leoxander’s furry back - a being much warmer than him. Tucking her between the wolf’s shoulder blades, face forward, he ensured that she was comfortable before retrieving the rope to tie a series of knots interweaving under her rear and around her shoulder, a sort of pseudo-basket that hopefully wouldn’t dig into her, especially through her layers, while they travelled. “Talyara - she’s”--Krice was going to say ‘a healer’, but the woman was so much more than that–”My mate, she’s a healer currently in Sage. She’s probably the closest one off the mountain.” There may have been others, but he was unaware. The thought of strangers arriving to request help of his emerald-eyed companion didn’t set well with him, even though she helped strangers every day, so he said to Leoxander, from Lita’s proximity, “ Go. I’ll catch up.” Then to his brother, who turned to glance his way, “ Lav, stay here.” He didn’t need to ask about the wound; he knew his brother would be fine. The raven-haired twin glanced at Lita briefly but then nodded. Whatever history he had with the vampire, the important thing now was letting Leo get Lora to warmer climates and to care, while also keeping the vampire from chasing herself away.

Lita turns her wrist against Krice's forearm, squeezing gently. She was okay, even if the words escape her just now. And she'll feel better when Lora is back home and safe and warm and not dead. The name Krice uses draws her attention almost entirely, mix of warning and apology in her eyes. She's only distracted again when Leo begins his transformation to wolf. She's only seen it once before and only from afar. She's grateful that Lav moves to help the pair and she follows slowly after, avoiding meeting the pirate's gaze to gather his bow and his pack from the snow, slipping them over her shoulder, withdrawing a few steps away from them again after. She had half a mind to argue about Lav staying with her, but she doubted Krice would listen to what she'd consider sound reasoning. Instead she glances back to Krice, "Thank you. Can you help make sure they get out of the city okay?" Distance would be an alright thing, probably.

Loravelle's eyelids were growing heavy again, but before they can shut all the way she forces them open. Sleep sounded great now, and the snow, while cold, looked like it just might be comfy enough to lay in for a little bit...But hands are cupping her face now, and she forces her focus on the face in front of her. Leo. She's getting a piggyback ride? Well that's enough to elicit a grin despite chattering teeth, and she nods slowly. Maybe he needed her to close her eyes because something that helped cause that crater is nearby, and Leo didn't want her to spook. Her eyes close, but not before she looks to Lita one last time. “Yer a'right,” a poor attempt at imitating Leo's slang, but maybe it gets a laugh or a smile from the vampire. At least one, just so Lora knows she'll be okay. Those popping noises are faint but familiar enough that her eyes leap from Lita to the lycan in the midst of his shifting form, and there's some more confusion. Maybe he's cold too is the best reasoning her brain could conjure up, and before she can ask, Lora finds herself being lifted up again by one of those other lycans. What's this about a ducky on her face? Initially, she looks alarmed, but then looks at Lita. She asked for baby animal stickers once. Lita made them, didn't she?! Her skin is too numb to feel what she's convinced is a ducky sticker on her face, and now she's consumed with worry once Lav has her safely secured to Leo's back, that the precious ducky sticker might fall off in the wind somehow. She doesn't know what side of her face that sticker is on, so she alternates between pressing one side of her face to Leo's furry back, then the other, before settling on the wrong side without realizing. This is probably for the best because she'd be devastated once she's more coherent and actually looks in a mirror to see a partially worn away ducky tattoo instead of an in tact one on her face. Lora relaxes and eventually stops all of her fidgeting, finally, with her scattered mind settling down enough to focus much more on keeping warm than anything else.

Leoxander remained on hands and hind-paws with a step or two forward as Lav assisted Loravelle to her booted feet, watching cautiously, though his tufted ears were rotated forward with concern or interest rather than pinned back in warning. Collective spikes of fur shifted like wind through tall grass as he flexed his clawed, fur covered fingers and digitigrade back feet, stretching his shoulder blades before the Mouse was mounted up. His eyes were now spun in bronze and gold, the faintest hint of blue ring around bursted pupils only evident if one were as close as Sokolav happened to be as he finished the favor and secured cordage. From Lav’s perspective, Leo’s closer eye could be seen fixed upon the dark haired twin, his black-brown leathern nose flaring at the scent of burnt flesh, surrounded by a generous spread of prickled whiskers that flattened back as his ears swiveled to aim toward Lita and Krice, gaze following, once more. A chuff of breath and a drop of skull like a false sneeze acknowledged the silver-haired male’s words, head raising to level his stare of the vampire who had collected his things, and once again his ears tipped and lowered backward at the idea of his friend lingering behind and not staying at their side… wherever he was headed. First things first, out of the cold and the higher grounds that squeezed for every breath. Whether he made that fork in the road toward Gualon or into Sage would be determined when he got that far. Not another second sacrificed to chance, he hustled into a partial run to test the ropes, but eventually graduated into a smooth loping sprint on fours that carried them quickly into the distance where the darkness swallowed them up.

Gorehilt was, in a predictable twist, the one who actually needed the brandy all along. While it is commonly pointed out that alcohol speeds hypothermia by pulling heat outward from out from the body’s core to the surface an extremities, conversely, and far less frequently pointed out, this also makes it a useful agent against *frostbite.* Eager not to lose any of his limbs or extremities, and eager not to develop lesions where bare skin might brush metal armor, Gorehilt has helped himself liberally to the cask. Cinderback straightens up from its meal of splintered wood and scattered pine thatch. The horse’s nostrils flare, shooting a pair of incandescent smoke rings spinning through the air. It’s front hooves paw agitatedly, and the fires that lick its jet-black body flare higher in agitation, radiating welcome warmth to those nearby. Should one follow the horse’s line of attention, they might spot Gorehilt crunching up through the rubble and snow toward the group. The orc is poorly bundled against the cold and has had to make up for this unfortunate lack by other means. Too proud to pray against the cold, he’s resorted to drinking and cursing for warmth. Still many yards off yet, it’s doubtful he knows the others are there. More likely, he’s attracted by the thin lines of smoke coming up from Cinderback’s lunch.

Krice was a little reassured when Lita reciprocated his touch and squeezed his arm, denoting a higher level of consciousness in the present than he thought. When she glanced at him, it was the warning in Lita’s eyes that held his focus; it didn’t come as a surprise, as he’d been expecting it. Using her other name around those who might not know it was a bit of a no-no; if anything would get her attention, that was it. When she pulled free of his hold, he didn’t insist that she stay close and relinquished his grip, leaving her to retrieve Leoxander’s items. In that time, both twins regarded the wolf in such a form. Krice could see that his eyes were different, even some of the details a few metres away as he was, but Lav was the one close -enough- to catch the intricacies of gold with blue. Leoxander definitely seemed wilder in this form, but whether by training or the urgency of caring for his mate, he was in control. As the wolf retreated with Loravelle, Lav reached up to squeeze the elbow of his burned arm, pain referred from the wound itself. Krice’s attention was drawn by Lita’s voice in his direction. Crimson eyes locked on darker counterparts and he hoped to communicate in that glance alone that things would be fine, before a nod confirmed his decision. The warrior turned abruptly and broke into a swift sprint, mostly light on his feet though occasionally kicking up small tufts of snow and stone. He needed to be swift to catch up to Leoxander; once he had, he would run fluidly with the wolf down the mountain, checking Loravelle intermittently to ensure that she was still secure and comfortable among her mate’s fur, leading them to the medical care of his own. The agitation of the nearby horse was met with only brief glanced by the twins, enough to register that Cinderback was not rearing to attack, but rather sharing its warmth - intentionally or otherwise. Lav angled away from those flames to keep his burned arm clear of the added heat, taking a couple of casual steps in the opposite direction - consequently away from Lita - to find colder space.

[ Part 2/5: Journey to the Center of Frostmaw ] [ Part 4/5: Crackers & Brandy ]