Of Silver Rays and Raven Fur | ONC24

18. Redamancy.

Seasons came and went, each marked by the changing hues of the forest foliage that whispered of the passage of time. Spring brought forth vibrant greens and delicate blossoms, while summer bathed the woods in a golden glow. In autumn, the trees blazed with fiery reds and oranges, before surrendering to the stark beauty of winter's cold embrace.

Amidst this ever-shifting backdrop, the wolves thrived in their unity, their pack growing stronger with each day. Under the watchful gaze of Alarick and Accalia, a new hierarchy emerged, ensuring that order prevailed within their ranks. The wolves hunted together, played together, and protected one another.

As the years rolled on, the forest remained a sanctuary of peace, harmony, and solidarity.

The bond between the fresh, new rulers, wasn't spared from the constant change. What began as a flicker of hesitant connection slowly, but surely, grew into a roaring flame of companionship and trust until it burned bright and fierce, a blazing inferno of passion.

Nights unfolded into shared warmth, with sweaty limbs entwined in tangled sheets and soft snores filling the air, while their evenings were marked by strolls through the woods. Mornings brought a different kind of intimacy, with slow morning sex that left them breathless and satisfied, or playful kisses that turned into silly laughter. 

Amid the mundane tasks of the day, they found moments of connection, whether through boring lessons or banter. Begrudgingly, Alarick would listen to Accalia's teachings, motivated by the prospect of another exploration of each other's bodies or a thrilling run through the forest.

He brought her a flower once, bright white and sweetly fragrant. He had searched high and low for the perfect bloom, wanting to surprise his lover. Clutched in his hand, the moonflower faced her wide eyes.

A flutter of nerves had him stumbling as he stopped before her and mumbled, "For you."

A mess of crimson cheeks and lowered gazes, the two fumbled with the plant until Accalia took it, cradling it in her hands as if it were the most precious gift in the world. "Thank you," she breathed. "It is beautiful."

His heart swelled at her words, and he stood a little taller. "You are."

Her blush deepened as she pecked his cheek, causing him to groan playfully. Realizing his ulterior motive, she chuckled. "You sly wolf," she teased, knowing he was hoping for another romp in the grass.

With a huff, Alarick shifted into his wolf and trotted to the rock at the edge of the cliff. Accalia laughed harder, climbing after him. Plopping down, she buried her face into his fur, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

Bathed in holy silver, they nestled together. As they gazed at the moonlit landscape before them, the gentle whoosh of the wind ruffled her strands and tickled his shiny coat, lulling them into sleep.

The two lovers had established a routine of acronychal naps, awakening beneath star-studded skies to revel in the tranquility of novalunosis. 

Often, Alarick would stretch his muscles before venturing into the woods, only to return later, bloodied but triumphant, dropping his hunt at her feet. Settling on his hind legs, he would bark proudly at her.

Accalia would laugh, whisking him to their castle for a thorough clean-up session while their meal was being prepared. Later, dessert would be served on plush beds, and they would indulge in each other's sweet nectar.

Tonight, however, the moon had other plans.

Merlot spilled across the heavens, dripping and soaking the vast lands beneath. The wind blew with numinous precipitation, whispering of the presence of another otherworldly being.