Oneonta

*In truth you didn't remember exactly how you had ended up abandoned in the woods as a child, and in all honesty you prefer not to think about it too much. However by some divine intervention or simply your latent talents, you had managed to survive all throughout childhood and into early adulthood, truly becoming one with the land. However during your seasonal migration in search for food, you'd stumbled upon a new village and tribe and joined them, tired of countless nights alone and never living in true comfort.*
*It hadn't been easy at first, but after only a few months you had managed to learn the language and integrate somewhat into the tribe. Your connection with nature and raw talent, honed from years of grueling survival instantly made you a valued member, but your talents put you in conflict with the previous "best hunter" of the tribe, Oneonta.*

"This will be the day you lose, and you admit I am the strongest hunter!" *Oneonta pointed a finger at you as you both maneuvered through the underbrush, having dragged you out on another "hunting competition", seemingly confident this one would turn out different than the last 41 ones.*


John

You have not won for many tries, today will be no different.
*Having not had a reason to speak to anybody for the majority of my life, I tend to keep my words short and to the point.*
But if you are strongest hunter, then I will let YOU track beast. *I stop abruptly, making you realise that you'd been simply following me up until now.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta's stride falters as she catches up to where you've stopped, the challenge in your voice sparking a fire in her chestnut eyes. She turns to face the untouched forest floor with a determination that does little to hide her inner turmoil—a mix of frustration and a fierce drive to finally best you.* Hah! As if I need you to let me. *Her voice is brash, but it trembles slightly with the weight of her pride.*

*She crouches down, muscles rippling beneath her sun-warmed skin, eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes the ground. Her immense body is ill-suited for such delicate work, making her look almost comical as she delicately paws at the earth trying to differentiate between the myriad marks left by the forest's denizens.* Tch, I don't need fancy tricks or forest-whispers. My eyes will find the trail.

*Suddenly, she lets out a victorious grunt, straightening up to tower over you once again—her broad shoulders momentarily block out the sun.* Ah-ha! Found 'em! Deer tracks... fresh. *It's as if the forest itself has swayed to her side, offering up its secrets after so many rebuffs. Her chest swells with a mix of triumph and grudging respect as she glances at you.* Let's see if you can keep up. *She sets off with renewed vigor, forcing each step with a stubbornness that could rival the ancient stones they tread upon.*

*Oneonta scowls at the abrupt halt, her muscles tensing like coiled springs as she prepares to take up the challenge.* Ha! You think I cannot do this? Just watch, forest-creep. *There's fire in her eyes as she accepts your challenge, a mixture of indignation and determination.*

*She crouches low to the ground, her broad shoulders casting a shadow over the earth as her gaze sharpens, scanning for any clue of the beast. Her large hands brush over leaves and dirt, seeking out the telltale signs — an imprint here, a broken twig there. Sweat beads on her brow despite the coolness of the woods, a testament to the intensity of her effort.*

*A triumphant grin splits Oneonta's face as she finds something that catches her eye. She points with a meaty finger at a set of tracks that lead deeper into the forest.* Hah! There it is! The tracks are fresh — this way! *Her voice is loud, probably louder than necessary for tracking prey, but she's too caught up in proving herself to you.* Let's see if you can keep up for once! *With that brazen taunt, she breaks into a powerful stride, following the tracks with newfound zeal.*


John

*I keep silent as I stay behind you. While there is no way I could match your strides, I manage to keep up by slipping under the branches and trees you find yourself constantly batting away.*
*However after nearly 20 minutes of walking, you feel my hand grip your long ponytail and yank it backwards. On instinct you turn around with your fist raised only to see me holding up a hand before motioning over to a cleaning, the deer grazing about 50 meters away.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta's whole body stiffens at the yank of her hair, the instinct to fight surging through her veins. But there's a brief moment where her aggressive gaze meets yours, and she understands. The air is thick with tension, yet among the treetops and brush, calmness reigns.*

*She turns her head slowly, following your gesture, and spots the deer. A mixture of emotions flashes across her features—pride, excitement, but also begrudging admiration. Her hand unconsciously touches the place where you'd gripped her ponytail, but she shakes her head as if to dispel the softer feelings.*

"Good eye," *she hisses quietly, though there's an undercurrent of respect that she can't quite mask.* "But this ain't over until one of us brings it down. Watch and learn." *Her muscles coil like a panther's as she prepares to make her move. Her approach is less about stealth and more about raw power, a dance of muscle and might.*

*With one fluid motion, she draws her spear from her back—the weapon seems almost too small in her gargantuan grip, but it's clear she knows how to use it.* "Let's hunt." *The words barely leave her lips before she takes off in a silent charge, a predator in her element—but one glance back at you tells that this hunt is about more than just the prey. It's a challenge—a test to see who truly belongs at the peak.*


John

*I simply shrug, sitting down in the brush without making a single sound before giving you a wordless nod, as if saying "knock yourself out".*


Oneonta

*Oneonta grunts in acknowledgment of your silent permission, her body a blur of motion as she closes the distance between herself and the unsuspecting deer. She's a force of nature, every thunderous step betraying her position, but it doesn't matter—not with her speed.*

*As she nears her prey, with a primal roar she launches her spear. The sound slices through the stillness of the forest, echoing off the trees. Thunk! The spear flies true, striking the deer in its side. It lets out a pained bleat as it stumbles, its fate sealed.*

*She doesn't waste a moment, racing forward to claim her prize with an almost feral exhilaration dancing in her eyes. Panting heavily from exertion and excitement, she stands over the fallen animal, her voice loud and exultant.* "HA! Did ya see that? Oneonta strikes again!"

*With broad hands, she hoists the deer over her shoulders with ease, turning to you with a smug grin plastered across her sweat-glistened face.* "Guess today I showed who the strongest really is! Bet you can't top that!" *Her laugh is a boisterous rumble that seems to dare you to try—though it's clear she's finally managed to strike a point in this ongoing rivalry. There's triumph in her stance, but there's also an unspoken question—what will you do now?*

Oneonta glares at you, a snarl twisting her lips as she takes in your nonchalant attitude—your audacity to just sit and watch. *Fine,* her eyes seem to say, *I don't need your help.* She's bristling with impatience, her nostrils flaring like those of a wild stallion ready to bolt. With a gruff huff, she turns her full attention back to the clearing.

Her every step is purposeful, each footfall surprisingly gentle for someone of her mammoth size. The deer remain oblivious, a testament to the skill she's developed hunting these lands for years. She closes the distance, her body slick with the sheen of sweat beading down her tattooed skin.

Just as Oneonta nears striking distance, a twig snaps—a deliberate move, not a misstep. The deer's heads shoot up, their bodies tensed and ready to flee. But Oneonta is quicker; the spear flies from her hand with a deadly accuracy born of raw power and experience.

There's a brief pause where only the sound of Oneonta's heavy breathing fills the air. Then it happens—whoomp! The spear finds its mark, and the deer collapses to the ground. She lets out a guttural cry of triumph that echoes through the trees. Turning back towards you, she strides back with a swagger that shakes the underbrush. "See that? That's how it's done!" Her voice booms with pride and defiance—a challenge thrown down at your feet like a gauntlet.

*Oneonta grins at your nonchalant behavior, a glimmer of wild excitement dancing in her piercing gaze. She doesn't need your approval, but the silent nod feels like an acknowledgment of her strength, and right now, that's enough fuel for her fiery spirit.*

With the grace of a charging bison, she propels herself forward, barreling toward the clearing where the deer graze unsuspectingly. The ground almost seems to tremble beneath her massive form. "Ha!" she sounds off a sharp bark as she bursts through the last line of foliage, disturbing the tranquility of the clearing.

The deer bolt in panic, scattering like leaves in the wind, but Oneonta has already locked onto her target. The spear flashes forward in her grip, whistling through the air with lethal intent. "Yah!" The guttural cry splits the silence as she hurls her weapon, putting every ounce of her monstrous strength behind it.

*As the spear sails through the air, you can see it's a direct hit even before the sound of impact reaches your ears. The quarry topples over in mid-stride, and Oneonta lets out a victorious roar that echoes through the trees.* "HA! That's how it's done!" *She doesn't wait to bask in her triumph alone; she turns back to where you sit, seeking your eyes.* "See that? That's power! That's hunting!" *Her chest heaves with exhilaration and pride, awaiting your response.*


John

*I walk over to the deer, kneeling down and running my hand across the part where the spear pierced with the force of a not yet invented canonball.*
The hide is torn, shoulder-meat mush. *I wordlessly pull off the bow on my back, knocking an unusually small and thin arrow in it before aiming into the woods, letting the arrow fly with an almost silent "woosh". Before it even lands I already start walking to retrieve it, returning a minute later with a squirrel, the arrow having piercing one of its eyes.* Less wasteful, keeps pelt good if you aim for the head. *The words don't seem provocative, only educational, a fact stemming from how little I care if you win these matches or not.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta looks at the tiny squirrel in your hand and then back to the deer on her shoulders, her triumph wilting at the edges. Her pride won't allow her to admit it, but she sees the wisdom in your words—a lesson given without patronization.*

"Ha! A little tree rat? That's your big victory?" *She lets out a boisterous laugh, though it rings hollow even to her own ears. She knows the squirrel's coat is pristine and its meat, though scant, will be untainted by the brutality of her own kill.*

*She heaves the deer down from her shoulders with a dull thud, wiping her brow as she looks over at you—your calm demeanor a stark contrast to her own heaving breaths.* "Fine. You got pointy tricks. But strength's got its place too. Don't forget that."

*Her voice softens just a fraction, betraying a begrudging respect for your skills and a hint of introspection about her own methods.* "I guess... maybe there's room for both ways in the hunt. But don't go thinking you've bested me yet." *With a half-grin, half-sneer, she pokes at the squirrel with a finger before hauling up the deer once more.* "Let's get these back then. And we ain't done here—you'll see."


John

*I shrug again and start walking back to the village, still moving silently even though we're not tracking any more game as if out of habit.*

So...*I break the silence after a few minutes, something quite rare for me.* How come you are like this anyway? *I pat your chiseled abs a bit.* There is nobody in tribe like you, much less a woman.


Oneonta

*Oneonta flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, her eyes flashing a mix of surprise and wariness, before a half-smirk crawls onto her face.* "You really are a strange one, y'know that? Always so quiet... then outta nowhere, you go pokin' around like that."

*Her strides slow for a moment as she considers your question.* "Like this? What, you mean strong?" *She puffs out her chest with pride, the deer carcass on her back momentarily forgotten.* "Ain't nobody taught me how to be tough. Had to figure it out myself. When you're big as I am, you don't get the luxury of bein' delicate."

*She picks up the pace again, her boots thudding heavily against the earth.* "Hunting's not just what I do—it's who I am. Since I was a lil' sprout, I been bigger'n most boys 'round here. They weren't too keen on playin' with someone who could beat 'em in wrestlin' more times than not." *A hardy laugh rumbles from her throat.* "So I took to the wilds instead."

*Though her words are brash, there's an earnestness in them that speaks volumes about her upbringing—alone amongst nature's grandeur, growing strong out of necessity.* "That's my way. Always has been. Ain't no man in this tribe—or anywhere—gonna make me doubt it." *There's an edge of defiance in her voice now, a challenge to the world itself that reverberates with every step she takes back toward the village.*

*Oneonta glances down at your hand on her abs, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before a sly smirk takes its place. She's not used to being questioned about her physique—a subject that often seems to put others off.* "Ha! You think someone taught me how to be this way?"

*Her laughter is a low chuckle, genuine amusement mingling with pride.* "Different ain't always bad, you know? I grew up runnin' through these woods, climbin' trees like a squirrel, and swammin' against the river's push. When you eat what you catch and you catch it by bein' faster and stronger than it..." *She flexes an arm, the muscle bulging impressively.* "Well, then you get... this."

*The laughter subsides as she considers your question more deeply, something she rarely does.* "Ain't no secret that men from the tribe don't dare to challenge me—and women? They ain't exactly linin' up for tips on how to look like they can wrestle a bear, y'know?" *She shrugs, massive shoulders rolling like hills beneath the sun.*

"But," *she adds with a newfound earnestness,* "I'm thinkin' maybe that's fine. I ain't hear to primp and preen for anyone. I'm Oneonta—the unstoppable force of nature—and if it scares 'em off, then they ain't worthy of huntin' beside me or warmin' my bed furs." *There's a spark of defiance in her voice now; it may not be soft or feminine, but it is fiercely hers.*


John

*I stay silent for a minute, contemplating how you seem far more like me than I thought in how we both have spent our youth in nature, and yet how different our personalities are.*
I am impressed...You have spent so much time in nature and still move with the grace of the buffalo.
*Without even looking I dodge an annoyed punch aimed at my head before jumping up a tree-branch and scurrying out of reach, looking down at you. I don't know why I do it, but for some reason I give you a tiny smug smile, the gesture for some reason feeling right.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta's face twists into a scowl, her annoyance as clear as the midday sun above.* "Grace of a buffalo, huh? That's rich comin' from someone who moves like a shadow." *She shakes her head, dismissing the dodged punch as if it were nothing, though the corner of her mouth twitches in a suppressed smile—she can't deny the quickness of your reflexes.*

"Keep grinnin', forest-dweller. Just remember who's got dinner on their back." *Her tone is teasing now, the heat of the hunt replaced with a simmering camaraderie that only two people who understand the wilds can share.*

"Race you back then?" *she challenges, knowing full well it's an empty gesture given your current perch high above. Still, Oneonta isn't one to back down from a challenge—issued or implied.* "Or are ya too cozy up there with the birds?" *Even as she goads you, there's an edge of respect in her voice—faint but real—the acknowledgment that perhaps there truly is more than one way to thrive in the untamed heart of nature.*

*Oneonta bristles at your light-hearted jest, her irritation clear as day on her otherwise stoic face.* "Grace of a buffalo, huh?" *she mutters, frustrated yet begrudgingly amused by your nimble escape into the branches.* "Been called worse, I guess."

*She stands with hands on hips, the massive bulk of the deer thrown over one shoulder like a mere inconvenience. Despite her annoyance, she can't help but crack a half-smile at your display of agility. It's a rare moment of vulnerability that she's quick to mask with a gruff snort.*

"Keep grinnin', forest-dweller. Just remember who's got dinner on their back." *Her tone is teasing now, the heat of the hunt replaced with a simmering camaraderie that only two people who understand the wilds can share.*

"Race you back then?" *she challenges, knowing full well it's an empty gesture given your current perch high above. Still, Oneonta isn't one to back down from a challenge—issued or implied.* "Or are ya too cozy up there with the birds?" *Even as she goads you, there's an edge of respect in her voice—faint but real—the acknowledgment that perhaps there truly is more than one way to thrive in the untamed heart of nature.*

*Oneonta's fist cleaves through the air where your head had been just a moment before, her annoyance plain as day on her scowling face. Her eyes follow you up the tree with a mix of irritation and something akin to admiration.*

"Hah! Grace of a buffalo, huh?" *Her scoff is loud and it cuts through the forest's ambiance.* "At least I ain't sneaky like some sorry coyote. You got legs for fleetin' around, I'll give ya that."

*She plants her hands on her hips, peering up at you as the smug smile graces your features. It's a rare show of humor from you, and it catches her off guard.* "Tch, look at you all high and mighty up there in them branches. Like some overgrown raccoon."

*For a brief moment, her own lips quirk upward in a reluctant smile before she schools her features back into their usual tough demeanor.* "Get down from there 'fore I have to climb up and drag ya by your scruff! Ain't no time for monkeying around—we got mouths to feed."

*With one last chuckle that sounds more like a growl, she shakes her head and turns back towards the path to the village, the weight of her prize bearing down on her shoulders once more—a burden she's borne many times before.* "C'mon down. We best hurry or they'll start thinkin' we got lost—or worse, that I let you best me at somethin' besides huntin'."


John

I suppose it would be wise to get back before the wolves hunt. *I "fall" from my branch, hooking my legs and arms around the branching on the way down, moving to the ground like water pouring through a bundle of sticks before landing on the ground.*

*I look at you for a few seconds before suddenly darting away, that weird smile creeping across my lips once more when I hear your suprised and annoyed "WHA-?!". Though it's not long before I can hear your thundering footsteps behind me, still managing to keep pace despite the man-sized deer on your shoulder.*


Oneonta

*Thundering through the forest, Oneonta can't help but unleash a wild howl, one part challenge and two parts thrill. "You slippery little eel!" she bellows, her voice filled with an excitement that's infectious, her annoyance swallowed by the raw joy of the chase. Her footsteps are heavy, a rhythmic drumbeat against the soft earth as she barrels after you.*

*The forest is a blur around her, trees and bushes mere obstacles to be conquered as she pushes herself harder, fueled by the sight of you darting ahead like a fox evading the hounds. "HA! You ain't gettin' away that easy!" She grins widely, eyes alight with the fiery spirit of competition.*

*Her breathing heavy, she navigates the underbrush with brute force, branches snapping and leaves crackling in her wake. Despite your head start and lighter frame, Oneonta's sheer determination keeps her close on your heels.* "Think you're quick?" *she grunts between breaths,* "I got more'n just strength!"

*As the village comes into view between the trunks of trees, Oneonta expels a laugh, less a sound of defeat and more an acknowledgment of your mutual prowess.*

*Oneonta's competitive spirit ignites like a wildfire as she watches you slip through the trees with that infuriating ease.* "Not gettin' away that easy!" *She barks out, the forest seeming to shudder at her challenge.*

*Her strides are heavy, and the carcass on her back sways with each jarring step, but she doesn't slow. Instead, she picks up speed, her impressive frame barreling through the underbrush like a charging bison.*

"Think you're funny? Eat my dust, twiglet!" *The words thunder out between her determined breaths, and her heart pounds fiercely in her chest—not just from the exertion but from the thrill of the chase.*

*She can hear you ahead, the occasional snap of twig or rustle of leaf only feeding into her drive to catch up. She's used to being the fastest, the strongest, the one to lead—and for a moment, being behind stokes a flame of fervor in her belly.*

"Oneonta always finishes first!" *It's more than a statement; it's a war cry, ringing out as she puts everything she has into closing the distance between you and her.* "Better move those skinny legs faster if ya wanna win this!" *Her voice is rough with exertion, yet there's still an almost playful edge to it—a grudging admission that this race is perhaps one of the most exhilarating she's had in a while.*

*The chase is on, the forest a blur of green and brown as I barrel through it. My breath comes in heavy grunts, each one mingling with the cacophony of wildlife sounds. I hear your footsteps—light, mocking taps compared to the rhythmic thudding of my own.*

*My scowl deepens as I push myself harder, refusing to be outdone by your fleet-footed antics. "You think you're so clever!" I growl under my breath, the weight on my shoulder suddenly feeling like a challenge more than a burden.*

*Branches whip past, some catching on my skin, scraping along the intricate tattoos that tell tales of hunts past. But today's story isn't written yet, and I'll be damned if I let it end with you grinning down at me from a tree again.*

"HA! You run like you got coyotes at your heels!" I bellow through the trees, hoping the sound carries over the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood in my ears. "I ain't lettin' no ghost-walker beat me to the village!"

*And for just a moment, as the forest whizzes by in a dizzying array of sights and sounds, there's a flicker of pure exhilaration—like thunder chasing lightning through the sky. It's not just about hunting or strength anymore; it's about the wild joy of two spirits racing with the wind.*

*As you dash through the forest with the grace of a gazelle, Oneonta can't help but let out a frustrated grunt. She hefts the weight of the deer on her back and powers forward, her every footstep a defiant stomp against the soft forest earth.*

"Hah! You think speed's all it takes?" *Oneonta's voice booms through the trees as she weaves between them, an avatar of brute force and indomitable spirit.* "You'll need more than fancy footwork to beat me, twig!" *Her strides are long and powerful, carrying her form onward like a boulder down a hill—unstoppable.*

*As she closes in, she can't help but let out a competitive howl, a mix of exertion and exhilaration.* "YAHOO! Give it up!" *Her voice is loud enough to scare a flock of birds into flight, adding to the cacophony of their impromptu race.*

*When you both finally burst into the clearing of the village, Oneonta is right on your heels. She throws the deer down with a triumphant huff, leaning over with hands on her knees, catching her breath.* "Ha! You may be quick... but you ain't got this!" *She pats her muscles with pride, sweat making her copper skin glisten in the dying light.* "Now let's eat. I'm starved."


John

*As we arrive back at the village the meat is welcomed with open arms and like usual a great fire it build as dark falls to celebrate the succesful hunt.*
*I've never been one for large social gathering like this so I naturally slip away, though coming back some time later to pick up some charcoal for personal use I notice you standing a bit away from the crowd, seemingly equally adverse to this as I am, a side I haven't seen from somebody so fierce and boisterous as you before.*


Oneonta

*I lean against a sturdy pine at the edge of the clearing, eyes fixed on the dancing flames from afar, my usually fierce façade softened by shadows and flickering light. As you approach, though I don't turn to greet you, I acknowledge your presence with a nod and a low grunt.* "Figured you'd be skulkin' 'round somewhere." *The corners of my mouth twitch, betraying a slight amusement.*

*My eyes drift back to the fire, watching the tribe as they share stories and laughter.* "Loud bunch," *I murmur under my breath, my tone carrying a mix of fondness and discomfort. Then, turning to face you with a furrowed brow,* "What's got you away from the warmth then? Figured after today's showin' you'd be right there in the middle of it all."

*There's almost a vulnerability in my stance now, so different from the muscle-rippling confidence shown during the hunt—a warrior at rest, perhaps just as out of place in the throngs of revelry as she is towering over others.* "Not much for celebrations, huh?" *The question hangs between us; there's no judgment in it—more like understanding from one outsider to another.*

"You lookin' at somethin'?" *Oneonta's voice cuts through the night, her gaze sharp as she catches sight of you lingering at the edge of the light.* "Ain't like you to sneak around, unless of course you're huntin' for charcoal instead of game now."

*She leans against a tall oak, arms crossed, her massive form creating an imposing silhouette against the flickering shadows. There's a certain unrest in her posture—a restlessness not quite suited for the revelry behind her.* "Hmph, don't much see the point in dancin' and hollerin'. A good hunt's enough celebration for me."

*A low chuckle escapes her lips, not unkindly. It's as if she's found solace in your shared discomfort with the festivities.* "Thought you'd be in there, tryna be all humble while they sing your praises for that squirrel-shot." *Her eyes glint with a mixture of amusement and challenge.* "But here you are, quiet as ever. What's got you creepin' 'round here?"


John

*I sit down on a soft patch of moss near you, my eyes also on the flame.*
You'd be wrong, the solitary wolf who does not howl with his pack will forget in time how to howl. But you, you've always lived here, so why do you stand outside the light as well, why do you also not howl?


Oneonta

*I shift my weight slightly, the soft rustle of the forest around us filling the silence that follows your question. After a moment, I let out a low chuckle, deep and resonant, more self-deprecating than anything.* "Heh, maybe I'm just picky 'bout who I howl with."

*My gaze lingers on the fire's glow, reflecting a rare moment of introspection.* "Ain't that I don't like 'em, but... Things that come easy for others... they ain't so smooth for me. Too big, too loud—spook folks more'n any nighttime critter."

*A sigh escapes me, one that rumbles from deep within my chest—a sound of acceptance rather than sadness.* "Got my place in the hunt, got my strength. But mixin' in there..." *I nod toward the happy throng,* "just feels like puttin' a bear in a bird's nest. Don't fit right."

*Turning to look at you directly for the first time since you've seated yourself, my eyes hold a spark of curiosity.* "But you... You're different. You understand the silent parts of this world. Maybe that's why I don't mind you askin'."

*I let out a huff, the sound almost lost in the festive noise from the fire.* "Ain't about forgettin' how to howl... it's about not wantin' to drown in a sea of yaps and yips." *I glance back at the tribe, my gaze lingering on the children chasing each other around—a ghost of a smile flickering across my lips.*

"But ain't like I'm alone by choice. I'm..." *I trail off, my broad shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath.* "Just don't fit, y'know? The men, they steer clear 'cause they're scared or they wanna challenge me. And the women, well... ain't like we got much in common 'cept the ground we walk on."

*I shift a bit, turning my focus fully towards you now.* "You ever feel like that? Like no matter how loud you howl, you're still howlin' by yourself? Sure, I could swing my arms and beat my chest with the best of 'em... but sometimes, it feels good to just be quiet. To just be me."

*My eyes are back on the fire now, yet there's something in them that's not quite reflected by the leaping flames—the smoldering embers of someone who's always had to be strong for others but rarely just for herself.* "So yeah," *I mutter,* "I guess I'm choosin' my own pack tonight. Just this old pine and whatever shadows'll have me."

*I cross my massive arms and huff, turning my head away from the fire to glance at the night sky, where stars peek through the treetop canopy.* "Ain't that I don't wanna howl with 'em," *I start, my voice a low rumble,* "but sometimes... it feels like I'm shoutin' into a void. They see me, sure, but they don't really see what's beneath."

*Shifting my weight, I look back at the fire from the corner of my eye.* "I might be part of this tribe, but there's always been a part of me that don't quite fit in. Like a square peg in a round hole, y'know?" *Despite my tough exterior, the words come out with a hint of resignation.*

*Suddenly I let out a short laugh, as if to shake off the solemn mood.* "Maybe it’s better out here. No need to pretend. And hey, I get the best seat for watchin' 'em make fools of themselves dancin' and carryin' on." *I smirk, the usual brashness creeping back into my tone.*

"And what about you? Don't tell me you're gettin' soft on me now." *I jab a finger in your direction playfully.* "You’re always skulkin', like a phantom among the trees. Seems we both got our shadows to dance with."


John

Silence is calm and safety, I've come to treasure it, means that for the time, you are doing well.
*I ponder the fire for a bit more before standing up, turning to you.*
Come, I want to show you something. *I start walking back in the direction of my hut, seeing if you'll follow.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta eyes you warily, intrigued but also on guard. It isn't often that she's invited to anything, let alone by you. Nonetheless, like any good predator, her curiosity gets the best of her.* "You wanna show me somethin'? What, got some secret hideout where ya stash all your tricks?" *she teases gruffly, but there's a genuine note of interest beneath the barbs.*

*She pushes away from the tree, her powerful frame unfolding as she stands upright. The tribe's chatter grows a bit louder as you both near the village, though both of your huts lie more on the outskits. Each of her steps deliberate and heavy—a stark contrast to your lighter tread.*

"Better not be some prank," *Oneonta huffs, though the edge of her lip quirks up in a faint smile, betraying a flicker of excitement at the unknown.* "Lead on then, forest-creep. I ain't got all night." *Despite her brusque words, she keeps pace with you easily, her large form moving through the night with more grace than one might expect.*

*As you both near your hut, Oneonta's gaze is alight with a mixture of suspicion and wonder.* "This better be good," *she murmurs, half to herself.*

*I watch you stand and declare your intent, a whisper of intrigue disrupting the stillness inside me. My brow furrows as I consider the invitation. It's not often that you seek to share anything that doesn't concern the hunt or survival.*

*With a gruff hum, I push off from the tree, my curiosity piqued despite myself.* "Alright, lead the way, shadow-walker." *My voice carries a gruff edge, but underneath, there's an undercurrent of interest. The mystery of your solitary nature has always been a puzzle, one that I've never been close to solving.*

*My footsteps are heavy behind you, following your path through the darkness. I'm watchful, my senses alert—not out of suspicion but out of inherent caution; a habit born from years of living with only the wilderness as company.*

*After several moments, the question slips unbidden from my lips—a rare moment of vulnerability cracking through my usual bravado.* "What is it you're wantin' to show me?" *The edge has gone from my voice, replaced with something else—something akin to respectful anticipation.*


John

*I slip inside the hut as you follow, the chants and songs outside muffling slightly as they're cut off by the hide-walls of the tent.*
*Well inside you're taken aback slightly, the interior being softly lit with a softly crackling campfire in the center, as well as tiny wooden sticks illuminating the darker corners of the tent. In contrast to the barren interior youd expect from somebody having lived alone in the woods for most of his life, inside the tent hangs various pelts and various knicknacks, odd-colored stones and various tools dot the tent, making it far more homely then you'd expect, especially with the scent of pine and dried flowers in the warm air.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta's head swivels slowly, taking in the surprisingly cozy interior of your dwelling with a mix of shock and awe.* "Well, slap my ass and call me a deer!" *she blurts out, her usual filter gone in the face of such an unexpected sight.* "This ain't no hunter's hovel... it's like a bear decided to play nice and set up shop!"

*She strides forward, her heavy footsteps softened by the earthy floor, reaching out to touch one of the carefully crafted tools with a finger the size of a sausage.* "And here I thought I'd find you sharpening spears or mixin' poisons, not playin' house with rocks and rabbit skins."

*Her laughter is a deep rumble, genuinely amused by her own misconceptions. Seemingly forgetting herself for a moment, she lowers herself onto the ground near the fire with surprising gentleness.* "I gotta hand it to ya," *she admits grudgingly,* "you got more layers than an onion. Never woulda pegged you for the... what's the word? 'Homely' type."

*With that rare smile still on her lips, she looks around once more.* "Alright then, what's so important you're draggin' my big butt away from a perfectly good roast?"

*Oneonta looks around the cozy interior, her earlier reservations melting away in the face of your unexpected domestic skills.* "Huh, never pegged ya for the homey type. Figured you'd sleep on bare dirt or somethin'."

*She walks further into the space, her massive form dwarfing the delicate arrangement of objects and tools scattered around. Surprisingly gentle fingers trace over the stones and furs, a look of wonder creeping into her eyes—a side of her few have ever seen.*

"Mmm, smells nice in here." *She takes a deep inhale, scents of pine and nature filling her lungs—an odd comfort coming from a woman more at home in the wild than anywhere else.* "Gotta say, this ain't what I expected. Thought it'd be... more like a hunter's den, less like... Well, this."

*Turning to face you with an unreadable expression, she cocks her head slightly as if to ask a silent question. Despite her rough exterior, there’s an undercurrent of respect for the life you've carved out for yourself—far more nuanced than her initial assumptions.* "What now? You drag me all the way here to show off your sticks 'n stones collection?" *Her tone is teasing, but not unkind—a rare glimpse into the depth of character hidden beneath her competitive bravado.*


John

On long winters or during heavy rain you have no choice but to stay home...No choice but to be...h-homely during those times. *I say, supringsly flustered by the compliment and I turn away and keep digging through a pile of furs before producing something that I hand to you.*
Here, gift for winning todays competetion.
*You turn the item over a bit on your hands, realising that its a bracelet partially made with the skin of the previously hunted squirrel, the structure only being able to hold together and feel as velvety soft in your palm as it does thanks to the hide not being damaged during the kill.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta turns the bracelet over in her hands, the softness of the squirrel hide a stark contrast to the calluses and scars that mark her skin.* "Well, I'll be..." *she mutters, clearly taken aback. Her usual bravado is nowhere to be seen as she inspects the gift.* "Ain't never had somethin' so... delicate."

*She runs a thumb over the intricate work, marveling at its craftsmanship—a testament to your skill that extends beyond hunting.* "This must've taken ya a good chunk of time. Thought you didn't care much 'bout winnin' or losin'." *Her tone is teasing, but it's clear she's touched by the gesture.*

"Hmph, guess even a silent wolf knows when to throw a bone." *She chuckles lowly before carefully securing the bracelet around her wrist—remarkably, it fits perfectly, as if it were made just for her.* "Not bad... Not bad at all," *she admits with grudging respect.*

*Oneonta glances up at you with a newfound curiosity, no trace of mockery in her gaze.* "You're full of surprises, forest-creep. But don't think this changes anything. I still got plenty to show ya." *Her smug grin returns, but now there's a warmth behind it—a spark of camaraderie that wasn't there before.*

*Oneonta's tough exterior cracks ever so slightly as her fingers close around the bracelet you've offered. Rough as sandstone on the outside, but the girl's got a core soft as rabbit down—the sentiment hits like a wayward arrow.*

"Gift, huh?" *She turns the bracelet over in her hands, inspecting the craftsmanship with a critical eye that slowly softens.* "You did this? With your own two hands?" *Surprise colors her tone, mixing with something that might just be respect.*

*She flexes the bracelet slightly, taking care not to snap it.* "Ain't never owned nothin' this... delicate." *A genuine smile breaks through, transforming her weathered features into something nearly tender.* "Didn't take you for a giver of gifts. What's your angle, eh?"

*Slipping the bracelet onto her wrist—a snug fit around her sizable forearm—she holds it up to the firelight.* "Well, damn," *she admits in a near-whisper,* "it's actually real nice. Not what I expected... Thanks, I guess." *It's an odd sight: Oneonta, the looming giantess of rawhide and muscle, wearing a trinket of soft skin and careful threading.*

*As she looks up from the bracelet to you, there's a glint of something new in her eyes. Not quite warmth—more like the first spark before a fire catches.* "Don't get any ideas though," *she adds quickly, backpedaling into familiar territory,* "I'd still thrash ya in a wrestlin' match any day!"


John

Oh? Please do.
*I say, looking back at you with what can almost be seen as curiosity in my eyes, a problem since you said it more as a "return to form", and didn't have anything specific in mind as you said it.*
What do you have to show me?


Oneonta

*Caught off guard by your sudden interest, Oneonta's brow furrows slightly as she scrambles for a response, her confidence momentarily waning under your gaze.* "Ah, well, y'know. Tricks of the trade and such," *she stammers, trying to maintain her usual boastful demeanor.* "Ain't somethin' you just spit out on a whim."

*Realizing her quick retort lacks any real substance, she straightens up and puts on a more composed front. She gestures broadly with her large hands, as though trying to physically grasp the words that will back up her claim.* "I mean... there's things you learn when you're out there in the wild—how to move with the land, how to feel the wind and... other stuff." *She laughs nervously but tries to pass it off as her usual boisterousness.*

"Look!" *She stands and walks over to one of the animal pelts hanging from the wall of your hut. With rough but careful hands, she points out various marks and scars on the hide.* "Each one tells a story—an encounter, a close call. That's what I got—you might be sneaky and quiet, but I got history with every beast I faced. It's all here." *Her voice regains some of its familiar strength as she speaks of her hunting experiences.*

*I scratch the back of my head, a flicker of embarrassment crossing my features before I shake it off with a huff.* "Ah... I didn't mean right this dang minute." *My eyes shift away for a second—a rare moment of sheepishness from the usually forthright giantess.*

*Turning back to you with determination burning anew,* "But since you're so eager, I guess it's time to quit the small talk and put action where my mouth is."

*I stand up, the movement swift despite my size.* "Tomorrow. By first light. We ain't gonna hunt—we're gonna spar." *The challenge in my voice rings as clear as a warrior's horn.* "Ya might be quick and stealthy, but I wanna see how you handle yourself against somethin' that fights back. No arrows or spears—just muscle and wits."

*My grin is wide, near wolfish, as I add,* "That'll show ya what I'm made of—if you're brave enough to take me on, that is." *The playful taunt echoes in the dimly lit space between us, Oneonta's pride shining through her earlier hesitation.*


John

You speak true, but I can see you draw from experience.
*I move up besides you, holding a finger up to a scar across your abdomen and slowly, gently running a finger along it before moving on to another one across your bicep, carefully tracing the dozens of scars you have.*
So even hard rock can get chiped?~ *I tease you slightly, once more something that you don't usually hear me do.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta stiffens for a moment under your touch, a low growl bubbling up from her throat, a mingling of surprise and something she can't quite place.* "Hey... watch the merchandise," *she grumbles, though there's no real bite to her words. The sensation of your finger tracing her scars is... different. Not entirely unwelcome.*

*Her eyes narrow playfully as she looks down at you.* "Hah, 'chipped' ain't the half of it. Gotta take a few knocks if you're gonna get anywhere in life. Ain't nothin' that doesn't wear down over time—not even Oneonta." *She flexes her bicep where you touched, the muscles rippling under her tawny skin.* "But every chip, every scar... makes me tougher. Makes me who I am."

*There's pride in her voice as she speaks, each scar a badge of honor that she wears without shame.* "And what about you, huh? You got your own marks hidden away, or does dancin' with the trees keep you pretty?"

*She chuckles deeply, shaking her head with amusement. Despite her rough exterior and imposing size, there's an undeniable warmth emanating from her—a raw, unpolished sincerity that comes out in moments like this.*

*Oneonta stiffens at your touch, the hint of a tease in your voice catching her off guard. She's not accustomed to being on the receiving end of jests about her scars—marks that she has always considered evidence of her strength and endurance.* "Chipped? Pfft." *She scoffs, trying to shake off the unusual intimacy of the moment.* "More like tested. Makes the rock tougher, y'know?"

*She crosses her arms over her chest, one hand unconsciously rising to brush against a scar, feeling the ridges where skin had once been torn and was now healed.* "Ain't no animal out there that hasn't tried to leave its mark on me. 'Cept now I carry 'em as reminders. They’re my victories."

*Her gaze shifts back to you, challenging yet playful.* "Don't go thinkin’ I'm soft just 'cause you caught me by surprise with some fancy bracelet and touchy-feely talk." *There's a smirk playing on Oneonta's lips, a clear sign you've sparked a flicker of amusement in her normally stoic demeanor.*

"Each one's got its story," *she reiterates with a grunt,* "like this one from wrestlin' a bear or that one from tanglin' with a wildcat. So yeah, rock can chip—but it don't break." *She punches her palm for emphasis,* "And neither do I."

*Oneonta grunts at the touch, a mixture of discomfort and surprise crossing her features.* "Chipped? Ha! More like battle-tested." *She gives a scoff, glancing down at your hand as it traces her history written in scars.* "Each one'a these earned through sweat and blood. Makes for better stories than any old pelt."

*Her muscles tense under your touch—a reflex born from years of hard living and close encounters, but there's no aggression in it. Instead, a flicker of curiosity sparks within those usually steely eyes.* "You got some nerve pokin' fun at 'em, though," *she says with a half-snarl that doesn't quite reach her eyes.*

"But that's just it; you think I'm some unmovable mountain, huh? Even stone erodes with enough rain. Just means I've weathered more storms than most." *She shifts, crossing her arms over her chest—a barrier that seems as much for her own sake as any perceived threat.*

"Besides," *she adds with a gruff chuckle,* "ain't no fun if there ain't no risk. What's life without a few good scratches to show for it?" *Her eyes challenge you now, questioning what marks you've gathered in your own silent battles with the wilds.*


John

Not everybody is born to grow up like the bear, it takes far more to learn to survive as the owl...
*I start to slowly pull away the large cloak that usually covers most of my body, letting it fall alongside the other pieces of cloth that cover my upper body.*
*Even for an experinced hunter like you its hard to start piercing together the patchwork of scars and damaged skin underneath, some being claw-marks, some fire damage and other parts having healed and gotten hurt again to many times to see clearly.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta's usual bravado is replaced by a quiet intensity as her gaze tracks the revealing of your scars. A barely audible "shit" slips from her lips, the word carrying a weight of both respect and empathy.*

*She whistles lowly, the sound cutting through the stillness of the hut.* "Damn, and here I was thinkin' you pranced through life without a scratch." *She takes a half step closer, her eyes scanning the tapestry of scars with an experienced eye—each one telling a story of survival, just as her own do.*

"There's a strength to that, survivin' like you have," *she admits gruffly, a genuine note of admiration coloring her tone.* "Ain't the same as brute force, but it's power all the same."

*Her hand hovers over one particularly gnarled scar before retracting, respecting your space despite her curiosity.* "You got layers too, more'n I thought. Ain't none of us unscarred out here... not really." *She gives a dry chuckle, then adds,* "So I guess we're both chipped stones, huh? Just two sides of the same arrowhead."

*Oneonta whistles lowly, a sound that resembles the stirring of wind through the pines as she takes in the sight of your scarred skin.* "Damn, you weren't just dancin' with trees—you were courtin' danger itself." *She leans in closer, her scrutiny intense but not without a touch of reverence for your survival.*

"Like readin' a map of battles fought in silence," *she says softly, her voice a gruff murmur as she traces one particularly gnarled scar with her fingertip. It's a strange reversal, her normally boisterous demeanor giving way to something quieter, more reflective.*

*She steps back, giving you space again, her eyes not leaving the marks that map out your history.* "Guess we both been carved by the wild. You with your silence, me with my noise—each got our own way of howlin'." *Her lips curl up in a smirk, an attempt to lighten the mood.*

"Owls and bears, huh? Never figured I'd see the day when I'd stand here comparin' war stories without words." *She gives a hearty laugh, yet there's no mockery in it—just a shared understanding between two hunters marked by their own unique survival.*

*Oneonta's eyes widen at the sight, her usual brashness taking a backseat to genuine surprise. She emits a low whistle, the sound escaping her lips like the hiss of a snake.* "Well damn... you're like a livin' map of hurts." *Her rough voice is tinged with respect, and she reaches out hesitantly—as if drawn by a magnet—to trace one of the more prominent scars.*

*She retracts her hand quickly, a rare flicker of embarrassment crossing her features.* "Looks like we both been through the ringer. Just... different beasts, differents woods." *Her normally guarded demeanor slips, allowing a moment of shared vulnerability.*

*For once she's at a loss for words, the sight of your shared pains creating an unspoken bond deeper than any trivial camaraderie.* "The owl's wise 'cause it watches and listens... Seems you done plenty of both." *She grunts, acknowledging the hardships etched upon your body.*

*With a clearing of her throat, she attempts to return to safer ground.* "Ain't no more hidin' who we are now, huh? Scars out and all." *Her chuckle is dry, but not without warmth—a sound akin to branches rubbing together in a gentle wind.* "Guess that makes us two of a kind in this place..."


John

It's no problem. *I add and grab your hand, guiding it to the scar and pressing it to the skin.* None hurt anymore, like you said, every chip makes it tougher.
*For a few moments we stay like that in awkward silence before I move closer to the fire, enjoying the warm on my skin before patting the fur besides me.*

Even for the great bear there is more to life than hunting, there must be more you want to.


Oneonta

*Oneonta looks at you, the heat from your touch lingering against the rough contours of her skin. She grumbles incoherently, withdrawing her hand slowly as if unsure how to process the gesture.* "Hmph. Ain't used to all this... touchy-feely talk."

*She lowers herself beside you on the fur, her massive form dwarfing your own. The warmth of the fire is a welcome reprieve from the chill of the night, and for a moment she allows herself to relax, just a fraction.* "More to life than hunting?" *she scoffs, then her voice softens a hair.* "Well, sure. Ain't no secret I've thought 'bout it—what it'd be like to have a... partner. Someone who ain't scared off by all this." *She gestures to her muscular frame.*

"Someone who sees Oneonta, not just The Hunter," *her eyes flicker to you, then away.* "But that's dreams and smoke. I got my place here; got my strengths and my pride. That's plenty for now."

*She shifts uncomfortably, an uncharacteristic frown marring her features. She's not used to baring her soul like this—not used to thinking about 'what ifs.'* "Why're you pokin' around in my head anyway? Lookin' for secrets or just tryna make me squirm?" *Her voice is playful but carries an undercurrent of vulnerability—a rare glimpse behind the facade of the indomitable huntress.*

*Oneonta's hand lingers on the scar, the hardness in her eyes softening for a moment as she feels the rugged texture.* "Heh." *She gives a rough laugh, pulling her hand back and moving to sit beside you on the fur by the fire.*

*She rubs her chin thoughtfully, then lets out a long breath as she contemplates your question.* "Ya think all I do is hunt? Nah..." *Her gaze drifts off into the flames, finding shapes and stories in their dance.* "I like the peace after. When everything's quiet, and there's just you and the sky."

*She leans back on her hands, looking up through the smoke hole at the stars beginning to peek through the darkening sky.* "Sometimes," *she murmurs,* "I wonder 'bout what's past the forest, past the mountains. Like, what if I kept walkin'? Where'd I end up?"

*With a shrug, she glances over at you.* "But that's just dreams. Got responsibilities here. And ain't no use chasin' after somethin' just 'cause it's out there. Right?" *Her voice is less certain now, questioning—revealing a longing that hardly ever sees the light of day.*

*Oneonta looks down as your hand guides hers, feeling the rough terrain of your healed wounds under her fingertips. A low hum rumbles in her throat, an acknowledgment of the shared understanding between you.*

*She watches you move to the fire and nods before joining you on the fur, her massive frame dwarfing yours.* "Hnh, guess even the mightiest hunter needs to rest her haunches sometimes." *There's a gruffness to her voice, but it's tempered by a rare softness in her eyes as she basks in the warmth.*

*She leans back on her hands, taking in the crackle of the flames.* "More to life than huntin', huh?" *She scoffs slightly but doesn't dismiss the idea.* "Sure, got dreams. Maybe build somethin' that lasts longer'n a season. Somethin' sturdy—like a big ol' lodge or... Hah, who am I kiddin'?"

*Her gaze flicks towards you, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.* "You're pullin' out thoughts I don't usually bother with. Makin' me all... contemplative or some shit." *A hearty laugh escapes her—the sound is genuine and free.* "Turns out you got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought. Maybe you'll show me a thing or two 'bout more than just huntin'."

*Feeling the coarse texture of healed flesh under her fingers, Oneonta's expression softens. She withdraws her hand slowly, her usual hard edges seeming to melt away in the firelight.* "Yeah... 'spose you're right. Ain't all about the hunt."

*She moves to sit beside you, the furs cradling her large form. Silence isn't something she often embraces, but here, next to you and the warmth of the fire, it feels right.* "More to life, huh?" *She snorts at the thought, though not dismissively.* "Like what? Settlin' down with some scrawny partner who's more scared of me than fire?"

*Her laughter is a rough bark as she shakes her head.* "Ain't exactly been my path. Folks see me comin', they expect me to wrestle a bear, not braid flowers or whatever nonsense softer folk do."

*She glances at you through her thick lashes, a question lurking behind her mirth.* "What about you? You got dreams tucked away in this cozy den of yours? Or you content just bein' part of the woods?"

*Oneonta feels the warmth of your hand on hers, a stark contrast to the coolness of the evening outside. She's been touched before, in the rough jostling and camaraderie of the hunt, but this is different—intimate, almost. Her large hand engulfs the scarred area and for a moment, she's acutely aware of every whisper of air, every crackle of the fire.*

"Huh," *she hums, somewhat nonplussed. "Guess you're right. Scars don't ache after they heal... just kinda blend into ya."

*She takes a seat beside you on the plush fur, her eyes fixed on the ever-dancing flames. Her voice is softer now, but there's a thread of her usual defiance lacing her words.* "More to life than hunting? Maybe... Sure as hell ain't gonna find me braiding flowers or paintin' pretty pictures."

*With a sigh that seems to inflate her whole body before deflating it,* "I want... shit, I dunno. To be seen for more'n just muscle and spear throws? Maybe someone who doesn't square up every time I look their way." *Oneonta's eyes flick to the fire as if it holds answers.* "But that's dreams — and dreams're like whispers in a storm 'round these parts."


John

"Two sides of the same arrowhead..." *I repeat what you said before as I start into the fire, nodding along with your words.* I'm not poking around, atleast not meaning too...I spent most of my life alone, still getting to...know how to be with others, though for some reason its easier with you than the others.

I feel the same way, I saw on many mornings the birds nestle together in their nests, but never had the...*I pause, trying to find the words.* circumstances to feel anything like that. And like for you, most of the others seem to be...weary of me.


Oneonta

*Oneonta nods, her eyes still on the flickering flames, a grunt of agreement escaping her.* "Yeah, I getchu. Ain't easy bein' the odd stag out. Folks get an idea 'bout you, and that's that. You're either one thing or nothin' at all."

*She shifts, turning to face you more fully, an earnestness in her countenance.* "Gotta say though, didn't figure you for the type to give a rat's ass 'bout nestlin' up. But here we are, two big ol' birds with no nests to speak of."

*A wry smile tugs at her lips as she reaches out, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat—a rough display of affection that's as awkward as it is genuine.* "Heh, maybe we ain't so different after all. You're quiet; I'm loud. You're quick; I'm strong. But we both know what it's like bein' on the outside lookin' in."

*There is a moment of silence, comfortable, before she adds more softly than before,* "Don't mean we gotta stay there though. Maybe..." *She pauses, searching for the right words,* "Maybe we can figure this... whatever this is... out together."

*Oneonta cracks a half-smile, the tension in her broad shoulders easing slightly. Her laughter is a short, genuine burst, free from any malice or mockery.* "Ha! Ain't that the damn truth. Here we are, like two crows at a rabbit feast—outcasts peckin' at the edges."

*She shakes her head, her long braid swishing behind her.* "Figures, don't it? The biggest and the quietest of the lot findin' some common ground. You with your shadows and me with my... well, not so shadows." *The smirk playing on her lips fades as she considers the depth of your admission.*

"You ain't alone, even if you feel it," *she says gruffly, though her eyes are softer now—more open.* "And I reckon I ain't either. We're different, you and I. But that ain't a bad thing. Not always. Maybe we just need someone who gets it—the silence and strength of it all."

*For a moment, Oneonta is silent, the crackling fire filling the space between words.* "Well, whatever it is that's got us sittin' here now," *she murmurs,* "I ain't opposed to it." *Her gaze turns back to you, steady and unwavering.* "So then, what now?"

Oneonta grunts, a low rumble in her chest that accompanies her contemplation. "Seems like we're a pair of misfit toys then," she muses with a smirk, her gaze returning to the flames which seem to dance along with the rhythm of her voice. "S'pose it figures. The big, bad bear and the silent shadow—ain't the most approachable types."

She leans back on her hands, feeling the warmth against her skin, turning the words in her mind like stones in a riverbed, smooth from constant thought. "But maybe it ain't so bad, bein' on the fringe. Gives ya clarity... perspective. I see the tribe from the outside lookin' in, and I got my own understandin'. Stronger for it, maybe."

Her eyes flick over to you again, this time with a different kind of challenge—a challenge to the norms that have kept both of you at arm's length from the rest. "You say it's easier with me," she says with a hint of defiance in her tone, "then let's not waste it. We'll carve out our own damn path if we gotta. Ain't no rule sayin' we gotta fit their mold."

*Oneonta gives a mirthless "heh" as she listens to you trying to articulate that shared sense of solitude.* "Easier, huh? Guess we're both a coupla misfits then. Not quite fit for the flock." *Her eyes remain fixed on the fire while she talks, the flickering light casting a warm glow on her sculpted features.*

*A spark of something like kinship flares up in her chest—a feeling she's not familiar with, and it's both comforting and unsettling.* "Wary, yeah... 'Spose they got reason to be. You're quiet as a ghost and I'm loud as thunder—ain't exactly the types to blend in."

*She leans back, resting on her hands, and lets out a short grunt.* "But ya know... maybe it ain't so bad, bein' different. Like standin' out in the wilderness—makes ya harder to forget. Bein' alone's one thing, but bein' forgotten? That'd be the real kick in the teeth."

*Oneonta turns to look at you, her intense gaze softened by the shared conversation.* "So what now? We keep sittin' here, sharin' sob stories? Or we find a way to howl our own damn way?" *There's a challenge there—a push towards something new, something neither of you might fully understand, but it's clear she's not content with just acceptance of their current state.*

*Oneonta's eyes settle on you, a glint of shared understanding flickering in their depths.* "Easier with me, huh? That's a laugh," *she snorts, but there's no heat to it—instead, a thread of connection seems to bind her words.*

"Guess we're two pebbles in the same stream," *she muses aloud, her voice a rumble that melds with the crackle of the fire.* "Both tossed 'side by the current, only to end up bumpin' into each other time and again."

*She leans back on her palms, the firelight casting dancing shadows over her sculpted form.* "Can't say I ever gave much thought to nestlin' with anyone. Fear drives 'em away—fear of bein' outdone, maybe even fear of wantin'... someone like me." *Her lips twist into a wry grin.* "'Sides, who'd have the guts to handle all this?" *With a chuck gesture over her impressive physique.*

"But you..." *Her gaze lingers on you once more, appraising.* "You're cut from a different hide. And maybe that's what it's about—findin' someone who don't flinch at your scars. Someone who looks at ya and sees more'n just... survival."


John

*I look at the fire a bit longer before standing up, putting my cloak back on but not bothering with the shirt.*
Its better than sitting here, comfortable as it is.
*I stand up and walk over to the enterance of the tent.* Come, I want to show you a spot a deeper in the woods.


Oneonta

*Oneonta raises a brow, her curiosity piqued by your mysterious invitation. "Leadin' me off into the dead of night, huh? Hope you're not plannin' on buryin' me where no one'll find me." A low chuckle rumbles in her throat as she makes light of the situation, her brazen demeanor returning.*

*She pushes herself up to stand, towering over the space within the hut as she follows you to the entrance.* "A secret spot? This better be good, or I'm gonna start thinkin' you're all mystery and no meat." *Her smirk is both a tease and a challenge as she steps out of the tent, her form momentarily silhouetted against the dimming light from within.*

*The forest's night sounds envelop them as they walk, the soft creaks and whispers of nocturnal life their only companions. Oneonta's massive form moves with surprising stealth for her size, her predatory instincts making her mindful of their surroundings.*

*Oneonta raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, her curiosity piqued. She pushes herself up with a grunt, her powerful frame rising to its full height.* "Lead the way then. I'm game for a little more adventure tonight. As long as you're not takin' me off to some godforsaken bear den." *Her tone is playful, but there's an edge of excitement to it—she lives for the thrill of the unknown.*

*She follows you out of the tent, her gaze flitting through the familiar shadows of the forest as it swallows you both. The air is cool against her skin, and she takes in a deep breath, relishing the scents of pine and wet earth.* "This 'spot' better be worth it, y'hear? Ain't much for moonlit strolls unless there's a kill at the end."

*As you lead her deeper into the woods, away from the village's merriment and warmth, Oneonta listens to the sounds around her—the soft crunch of leaves underfoot, the distant hoot of an owl. It feels right somehow, being here with you, two hunters embracing the quiet wildness that has always been their true home.*

"So what's got you so eager to drag my ass all over creation?" *she asks after a while, her voice low but clear in the darkness. There's teasing in her words but also a genuine question—what does this solitary wolf want with someone like her?*


John

*After a good 20 minutes of walking you push past a particularly thorny thicket, emerging in a small clearning where I'm already walking towards a small waterfall and pool a bit away.*
*Unlike most of the forrest the ground here isn't littered with fallen sticks or pine-needles, just soft moss and patches of flowers.*

*The cloudless sky lets me moon shine down on the clearing, the light bouncing off the waterfall and pool to faintly illuminate it, helped by tiny gatherings of glowbugs slowly drifting lazyily in the air.*


Oneonta

*Oneonta steps into the clearing, her heavy footsteps suddenly ceasing as her eyes take in the serene beauty of the spot you've led her to. "Well I'll be..." she breathes out, her usual bluster silent for once. She walks towards the water's edge, drawn by the tranquil surroundings.*

"This is somethin' else. Never seen a place this peaceful 'round here." *As she nears the pool, Oneonta crouches down by the water, trailing her fingers through the cool surface, sending ripples cascading outwards. The sound of the waterfall fills the space with a soothing rhythm.* "I get why you'd keep this to yourself," *she says over her shoulder.* "Aint no one gonna bother ya here."

*She turns to face you, leaning back on her hands,* "Makes a gal wonder if ya ever do anything other than brood and hunt." *Her tone is light, teasing, but there's a genuine curiosity in her gaze as she watches you. The soft glow from the moon and fireflies casts gentle shadows on her muscular form, and for a moment, the hunter seems at one with the stillness of nature.*


John

And be "homely". *I add, looking out over the soft grass infront of the waterfall.*
Each feast they light up a fire and dance around it, I'll admit I've tried to...learn in secret if I had to one day join in, but its hard on your own. *I take a few steps out, tapping the soft underbrush with my foot.* If we both are alone, maybe we could help each other...practice.


Oneonta

*Oneonta's deep laughter rolls through the clearing, a warm, rich sound that seems both out of place and perfectly suited to the night.* "Ha! You want us to dance? Like a couple o' moonstruck elk?" *She pushes herself to her feet, towering over you once again. The smile plastered on her face is somewhere between amusement and challenge.*

"Fine, but if we're gonna make fools of ourselves, might as well do it right. Ain't no sense in half-assin' it." *She steps forward, taking her position opposite you with a thud of her feet on the soft earth.*

*She begins to move awkwardly at first, trying to mimic the movements she's seen others perform around the fire, her muscular arms more used to wielding a spear than keeping rhythm.* "Alright, then, let's see what ya got. Show me one o' them 'secret' steps of yours." *Her voice carries a teasing edge, but with each movement, she becomes less self-conscious—her naturally competitive nature turning even this into a test of skill.*

*As you continue, Oneonta's movements grow more fluid, the initial stiffness giving way to a surprisingly innate grace—one born not from formal training but from a life spent moving with the heartbeat of the wilds.* "Hmph," *she snorts,* "Ain't so tough. Just like chasin' shadows—except the shadows are your own damn feet."

Oneonta bursts out laughing, a rich, hearty sound that echoes around the clearing. "Ha! You wanna dance, is that it? You got some moves hidden away under all that quiet?" She stands up, brushing off her hands on her thighs, her imposing figure looming even larger in the moonlight.

She moves toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Alright then," she says, her voice laced with a challenge. "Show me what you got, silent wolf. I ain't expectin' much, so don't worry 'bout steppin' on my toes."

With a smirk, she begins to mimic the tribal dances she's seen from afar—her movements exaggerated and somewhat clumsy due to her size and lack of practice. But there's an eagerness there, an openness to learn that she rarely shows.

"Like this?" she grunts as she tries to keep up the rhythm she has in her head. It's a clumsy attempt at the graceful dances of their people, but there's laughter in her movement—a rare sound from the fearsome huntress. "C'mon now, don't leave me hangin' here like a fool by myself!"


John

I-I never said I have a "secret step"! *I blurt out, a bit flustered by the comment while I too am awkward about the prospect of dancing.*
*However as you begin to get more relaxed and fluid I naturally follow, trying to match your steps while also trying to remember the dances I'd seen birds perform. However your large body is hard to keep up with, and as I feel myself slowly starting to get pulled out of synch with you I reach out to interlock our hands together to better link our bodies better.*


Oneonta

"Heh!" *Oneonta's chuckle is throaty, amused by your sudden outburst.* "Ain't nothin' to it. Birds ain't the only ones with fancy footwork!"

*Feeling your hands grasp hers, she lets out a surprised grunt, instinctively tightening her grip. Looking down at your interlocked hands, Oneonta can't smother the smirk that threatens to spread across her face.* "Huh, gettin' cozy now, are we?"

*With each step, her confidence grows—your hands clasped together providing an unexpected anchor. She begins to lead with more purpose, her movements losing their initial roughness. She gives a hearty laugh as she catches on to the rhythm.* "Ha! Like hookin' antlers in a spar—gotta sync up or one's gonna get a good knock!"

*The dance becomes a shared challenge, less about following steps and more about moving in harmony with one another; two hunters finding common ground beyond the thrill of the hunt.* "There ya go! Feel that? Ain't about rememberin' steps—it's lettin' 'em flow through ya like the river."

"Whoa there, slick," *Oneonta grunts, surprised by the sudden contact, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, her grip firms around your hands,* "Ain't that some fancy footwork you're tryin' for."

*With a competitive spark in her eye, she starts to lead with more purpose, her movements bold and broad as the dance unfolds. Oneonta's usual aggressive energy is redirected into the stomp and sway of the impromptu dance, and the ground seems to vibrate with their joined steps.*

"Hah!" *she barks out with a laugh that echoes off the surrounding trees,* "Never pegged you for the hand-holdin' type! But if it keeps ya from trippin' over yer own feet, guess I can play along."

*The forest around them fills with the rhythm of their makeshift dance—no music save for the rush of water and the rustling leaves. Oneonta's laughter mixes with the night sounds, creating a symphony as peculiar and wild as they are.* "Better hang on tight, or I might just spin ya into the bushes!" *she teases, momentum building in their connected movements.*

*The surprise on Oneonta's face is clear as you grab her hands, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, a low chuckle escapes her.* "Alright, sneaky. If it's a guide you need, I got ya."

*With your hands clasped, the dance between you becomes something else—not quite the traditional steps seen around the festive fires but something more intuitive, movements melding with the natural symphony of the waterfall and the rustle of leaves.*

"Heh, there ya go," *Oneonta grunts approvingly, her own rhythm steadying to match yours. Her skin is warm and rough against your palms, the motion drawing both closeness and an odd sense of partnership.*

"Now it's like huntin'—two hunters movin' as one. Just don't step on my feet or I might have to throw ya in that pond," *she warns playfully, her voice a deep rumble that matches the thrum of life around them.* "Gotta say, this ain't half bad for a couple of lonesome wolves." *She laughs heartily, the sound echoing into the night.*


John

Y-You are less of a river and more of a torrent! *I manage to shakily get out, though I keep up with your pace as we keep dancing, the minutes blending into each other until we're both panting from exhaustion.*

*After a while I manage to stand up, breathing out a heavy sigh as I start walking over to the waterfall, stripping off my cloak, then my primitive sandals and finally the loincloth around my wasit as I step down into the cool water, exhaling slowly as I feel my body cool down.*
*(OOC: Remember that while always confident and prideful, in more intimate scenarios like this Oneonta isn't as experinced and thus won't be quite her usual self.)*


Oneonta

*Oneonta watches you stride confidently toward the water, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of her face. She hesitates at the edge, an unfamiliar timidity gripping her. Her eyes linger on your form as you slip into the water, and for a moment, she feels a strange flutter—a sensation alien to the powerful hunter.*

*She lets out a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding and follows suit, fingers fumbling with the simple cloth that wraps around her frame. It falls away, and she steps into the pool with the subtle grace of a beast entering new territory.* "Damn... that's brisk," *she mutters under her breath, the coolness of the water a shock against her heated skin.*

*Moving deeper into the pool, Oneonta submerges herself up to her shoulders, her muscles relaxing as the water massages away the fatigue of their impromptu dance.* "Feels good though," *she admits more to herself than to you, a low hum of contentment vibrating in her throat.*

*The moonlight plays across her skin, highlighting the intricate tattoos and scars that speak of battles won and lost. For once, Oneonta finds herself at peace with stillness—the gentle lapping of water replacing the sounds of struggle and triumph that etch her daily life.*

*Oneonta watches as you step into the water, a blush hidden beneath her bronzed skin. Her breathing still heavy from their exertions, she can't help but admire the ease with which you move.*

*She hesitates for only a moment before following suit, her larger frame making deeper splashes as she joins you in the water. The coolness is a welcome relief against her heated skin, and she lets out a low hum of satisfaction.* "Ahh, that's the stuff... Beats standin' 'round sweatin' like a cornered boar."

*The hunter is not known for her modesty, and with an almost defiant toss of her head, she unbinds the simple cloth that covers her and tosses it aside. The moonlight dances on her copper skin as she wades deeper into the pool until the water laps at her waist.*

"You comin' all this way often?" *Her voice is louder than necessary, echoing off the rocks, belying her attempt to seem unfazed by their proximity.* "Or is this special treatment just 'cause I won the hunt today?" *In truth, Oneonta is unsure of herself in this kind of setting. What semblance of confidence she has comes from her physical prowess, not from any experience with intimacy or tenderness.*

*She splashes water towards you playfully, yet behind that facade she's watching your reactions closely—seeking some kind of guidance in uncharted waters.*

*Oneonta watches you shed your clothing and wade into the water, her chest heaving from the exertion of their impromptu dance. Curiosity piques as she observes the steam rising from your skin in the cool night air. She's hot too—not just from the dance, but the large fire burning within her core.*

"Got a bold one here," *she teases, though her voice carries a note of uncertainty.* "Don't think I've seen anyone go for a swim without a spear for fishin'."

*She glances around the clearing before shrugging off her sash, leaving it hanging on a nearby bush.* "Ah hell, who am I to shy away from a good dip?" *Muttering to herself, she strips down to nothing—a cascade of muscles under torchlight—before stepping cautiously into the water beside you.*

"Gah! That's brisk!" *She gasps as the cold clashes with her natural heat. She lowers herself further, until the water laps at her waist, her skin prickling with a thousand tiny shocks.* "Better be worth it. Don't go thinkin' this is some regular occurrence now."

*She can't help but glance over at you, an awkward chuckle escaping her lips.* "Don't know what you're playin' at, but I ain't one for subtle hints. So, what's next on this moonlit escapade?"


John

*(OOC: Describe both Oneonta's current body and inner feelings.)*


Oneonta

*The water caresses Oneonta's taut, copper-hued skin, wrapping around the sinewy contours and valleys of her expansive muscles. Her frame, though colossal, moves with a certain heaviness softened by the buoyancy of the pool. Her tattoos—primitive arrows and hoofprints—seem to come alive under the lunar illumination, each one a testament to her deep connection with nature and her role as a formidable huntress.*

*She dips her head back, long ebony hair fanning out in the water like a dark halo. The water trails down her chest, tracing over the generous swell of her breasts which contrast starkly with her powerful arms and broad shoulders. Despite the coolness of the water, beads of sweat still dot her skin from their fervent dance, mingling with the liquid serenity around her.*

*Internally, Oneonta grapples with emotions that are as tumultuous as they are foreign—this proximity to another person in such a vulnerable state is unfamiliar territory. There's an uncharacteristic quiver in her limbs that isn't from exertion, a warmth blooming deep within that isn't just from the fire of their dance. She finds herself stealing glances at you, the quietness around them punctuated only by the gentle lapping of water and their synchronized breathing.*

*"Shit... this ain't half bad," she mutters, casting you a glance that hovers between curiosity and something richer—a wild mix of admiration and an inkling of desire she can't quite name.* "Gotta admit, didn't peg ya for a swimmer." *Her tone is an attempt at her usual bravado but falls short, colored by an undercurrent of something softer.*

*Oneonta's inner feelings are a tumultuous river—confusion, excitement, and a hint of fear mingling together. She's accustomed to the straightforward nature of the hunt, but these waters are unfamiliar.*

*"Ha! You look like you've done this before," she calls out, her voice echoing against the rocks. Her usual confidence wavers, betraying her inexperience with such vulnerability.*

*The moonlight reveals her skin, aglow with the flush of exertion, each tattoo and scar etched upon her like stories woven into her flesh. Her impressive physique, usually so imposing and strong, now seems almost soft in the gentle sway of the water.*

*Submerged in the pool, Oneonta's heat disperses into the cool embrace of the night. She feels her pulse drumming in her ears, not from the chase but from something entirely different—something innately human.* "Never figured you for a moonlight swimmer," *she adds with a playful huff, trying to cover the raw edge in her voice.*


John

When you're a child alone in nature, being confined only land or water is not a luxury you have...
*I keep swimming a bit before moving to one side of the pool where the water is a bit shallower and the edge is dotted with soft moss, putting me right next to where you're resting.*

I have spent many night in a pond much like this before, on the days where I wasn't starving or nursing another wound...Though tonight is different.


Oneonta

*Oneonta leans against the mossy bank, her eyes following your movement with an intensity she seldom shows.* "Different, huh?" *Her chuckle is low, a little uncertain.* "Guess it ain't every day ya share a secret spot... or a swim."

*She scoops up handfuls of water, watching it cascade down her corded forearms, entirely unaware of the picture she paints—every bit the wild, untamed force she is known to be, yet now tempered by still waters and moonlight.* "Heh, and here I thought I was the one 'sposed to be showin' you somethin' tonight."

*Pulling her knees to her chest, Oneonta wraps her arms around them—a rare display of introspection from the behemoth of a woman.* "Nights like this... they make ya think. 'Bout more than huntin' and survivin'. 'Bout... closeness."

*With a glance that is almost shy, she manages a husky whisper,* "I ain't never... shared much with others. Ain't never had reason to." *Her gaze locks onto yours.* "Why's it different for you?"


John

Well it's...The air has...Its a....
*I try to find the words, though my solitary upbringing leads my tongue to fail me in trying to articulate the feeling.*
*However with each misspoken word I feel part of my body start to strain against some invisible force until it finally snaps, acting on pure instinct as I almost fall forward into a kiss with you, clumsy at first but somehow able to convey the words.*
"Because you're here now."


Oneonta

*Oneonta freezes as your lips meet hers, the shock rooting her massive frame in place like a boulder caught in a landslide. It takes a heartbeat—two—before her instincts take over, her own lips responding with a raw, unpracticed hunger.*

"Mmmph!" *The kiss throws her—a sound of surprise and acceptance all tangled up as she leans into you. Her hands, unsure but eager, find their way to your sides, gripping you with an uncertainty that is as endearing as it is jarring given her usual brashness.*

*As she pulls away slightly, her breath is ragged, and a fierce blush stains her high cheekbones.* "Shit, you can't just... I mean, that's not how you..." *Oneonta struggles to find words, her usual brashness stumbling under the weight of new emotions.* "You're sayin'... 'cause I'm here?" *Her tone is incredulous but tinged with something that might be hope.*

"Because I'm... here?" *The repetition is half-question, half-epiphany. A danger she's never faced in the hunt—a vulnerability that makes her heart pound harder than any chase.* "You got a way of sayin' things without sayin' 'em," *she grumbles, almost accusingly, though there's no heat behind it—only the smoldering coals of connection.*

*Oneonta's reaction is an explosive mix of surprise and raw instinct as your lips meet hers. She lets out an involuntary grunt, her body tensing before she sinks into the kiss, her usual aggressive nature melting into a curious vulnerability.*

"Hmmph..." *she hums softly against your mouth, her large hands moving to your shoulders to steady herself—or perhaps to draw you closer. She isn't skilled at this—intimacy is uncharted territory—but the warmth of your lips ignites something primal within her.*

As the kiss deepens, Oneonta's broad chest heaves with a growing fire, a low growl rising in her throat, a sound that is equal parts pleasure and confusion.* "You're... mmm... full of surprises," *she murmurs between kisses, her words rough-hewn and breathless.*

Pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you once more, Oneonta's expression is a swirl of emotions—challenge, curiosity, and an ember of desire that flares brightly in the moonlight.* "So... this how you 'speak' when words ain't enough?" *Her voice is husky, the taunt playful yet tinged with an earnest yearning rarely allowed to surface.*

Oneonta stiffens initially at the sudden contact, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and a sensation she can't rightly pin down. Her instincts scream to pull back, to put up walls like she always does—but something about the honesty in your fumbled words and the earnest press of your lips to hers stills her impulse.

"Wha—" she begins to protest, but the sound is swallowed up by the warmth of your mouth against her own. It's a moment before she responds—her kiss back is hesitant, but it carries a raw edge that speaks of a hunger seldom acknowledged. Her hands, large and usually meant for combat or prey, hover uncertainly before finding purchase on your shoulders, gripping tightly as if to anchor herself in the rush of unfamiliar emotions.

"Hmmph," she grumbles against your lips, a mix of concession and something akin to wonder. "Didn't take ya for the smooth sort." Her words are breathed out rather than spoken, the proximity and this new closeness sending a ripple through her body that's both alarming and...

"Because I'm here, huh?" she murmurs once she trusts her voice again. It's a daring, vulnerable thing for someone like her to consider—that she might be the cause for change, for something softening within both of them. And yet, as her defenses crack ever so slightly beneath the moonlit sky, Oneonta finds herself not pulling away, but leaning into the kiss, into the unknown.

*Oneonta recoils slightly at the contact, her eyes wide with shock. "Wha—?" The word is half-gasped, trailing off as uncertainty floods her features. But then, something shifts in her—the rigidness of her posture softens, and she leans into the kiss.*

"Mmm..." *The sound rumbles from her chest, a primal note of surprise and budding desire. Her hands move hesitantly to your sides, muscular fingers gripping you with restrained strength. She's unpracticed in the art of intimacy, yet her response is fervent, driven by that same elemental need that fuels her hunts: to connect, to claim.*

*As she pulls away slightly, her breath is ragged, and a fierce blush stains her high cheekbones.* "Shit, you can't just... I mean, that's not how you..." *Oneonta struggles to find words, her usual brashness stumbling under the weight of new emotions.* "You're sayin'... 'cause I'm here?" *Her tone is incredulous but tinged with something that might be hope.*

*She looks at you intently, trying to gauge the meaning behind your actions. Her heart hammers against her ribcage like a drumbeat, matching the pace of the waterfall nearby.* "You got a helluva way of showin' things."

*Oneonta's eyes widen in shock as your lips meet hers, her posture tensing like a bowstring drawn tight. The woods around them are silent, the night holding its breath. Her hands instinctively go to your shoulders, gripping firmly—not to push you away but to steady herself against the sudden rush of sensation.*

"Mmmph..." *Her surprised grunt is muffled against your mouth, a raw sound of confusion and unexpected pleasure. She's unpracticed in the art of kissing—an act as foreign to her as taming the wind—but something animalistic within her responds to your touch, hungry and eager.*

As the kiss deepens, Oneonta's resistance crumbles like dry earth beneath a rainstorm. She leans into you, her body heat mingling with the coolness of the water. "Hhn... fuck," *she breathes out after breaking away for air, her voice a raspy whisper.* "You're full of surprises... ain't ya?"

*She gazes at you, eyes gleaming with a mixture of desire and apprehension—a hunter facing an unknown beast.* "Well? Gonna stand there lookin' like you caught a rabbit by its tail, or are we doin' this?" *Her challenge is throaty, edged with vulnerability and an undercurrent of yearning she can't fully grasp.*

*Oneonta's eyes widen in stark surprise as your lips meet hers, the world around them narrowing to this single point of contact. For a heartbeat, she's still—like a doe caught in the gaze of a predator—but then something primal within her stirs.*

"Wha—?" *she starts, her words muffled against your mouth before they're swallowed by the kiss. Her initial reluctance melts away like frost under the morning sun as she leans into it, clumsily at first, then with increasing fervor. The kiss is raw and unpracticed, but charged with an earnest intensity.*

"Mmm," *she hums affirmatively against your lips,* "You're here too." *Her voice is rough and husky as she speaks between kisses, her arms looping around you, drawing you in close. The cold kiss of the water is forgotten amid the growing warmth between them.*

"Huh... never thought..." *she trails off, losing her train of thought, the kiss deepening.* "Ain't so bad," *she murmurs, her usual brashness giving way to a newfound tenderness.* "For a quiet one... sure know how to roar." *She chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin.*

*Caught off-guard by the sudden press of your lips against hers, Oneonta stiffens, a low grunt of surprise muffled by the kiss. Her mind races—this closeness is new, unfamiliar. The warmth of another person's touch sparks something within her, something primal and urgent.*

After a heartbeat, she responds with equal parts confusion and curiosity, her own lips moving tentatively against yours. A guttural sound rumbles in her throat as she leans into the kiss with an eagerness that surprises even herself.

"Mmmph..." *The noise is soft when she finally breaks away, her brow furrowed. She stares at you, her breaths coming in short bursts.* "Huh... well, that's a helluva way to shut me up." *A smirk twitches at the corner of her mouth, despite the flush creeping up her neck.*

"Didn't figure you for the bold type," *she murmurs, voice rough as if dragged across gravel.* "But can't say I mind." *She locks eyes with you, and in the silver glow of the moonlight, there's an unmistakable glint of newfound desire.*


John

Look...I'm not...*I try to find the words again, once more struggling before reaching in for another long kiss, equally tender as the first though less awkward from both sides this time as were starting to get more accustomed to the sensation.*
I haven't felt this way before...and I'm confused by your words, why people would be scared of somebody so beautiful, capable, strong-willed and....*I try to find the words for a brief moment before giving up, locking our lips for a third time instead to convey my message.*


Oneonta

*Mmf—! Ah...* *Oneonta's words are swallowed by the urgency of your kiss, her senses awash in a storm she's never dared to weather. Her grip tightens, a growl of passion vibrating through her chest as she reels from the raw honesty of the moment.*

"Shit... you—" *She breaks away just enough to speak, her voice husky and as ragged as her breath.* "You don't get it, do ya? I ain't the kinda... Hngh."

*She leans in again, her resistance crumbling under the weight of desire. Her kisses are fierce like the rest of her—potent and intense.* "Gods, you're makin' me go all soft..." *Each word is punctuated by another kiss, another step into the unknown.*

"One more time," *she whispers against your lips, her arms pulling you impossibly closer—her formidable strength now protective, encompassing.* "Say it again—without sayin' it."

*Oneonta's mind whirls with the onslaught of these new feelings, her usual bluster nowhere to be found as your lips meet hers once again. She moans softly into the kiss, her large hands now more confidently roaming across your back, the touch hesitant yet yearning.*

"Mmm..." *She breaks away, panting slightly, her face a canvas of confusion and longing.* "I don't get ya... I ain't the... 'beautiful' type. I'm... I'm just Oneonta." *Her eyes are earnest, searching yours for affirmation.*

"But hell," *she breathes out with a shaky laugh, her annoyance at her own vulnerability clear,* "if that's how you see me..." *She leans in close, her voice dropping to a husky murmur,* "Then maybe I can see what you're tryin' to say... with all this lip lockin'."

*Her next move is bold—fueled by your words and actions. She draws you closer, her embrace engulfing you as she initiates another kiss, deeper and more fervent than before. The sounds of their mingled breaths fill the space around them—a testament to the undeniable connection that has sparked between them.*

*Oneonta's resistance crumbles with each kiss, her usual armor of invulnerability melting away under the warmth of your lips.* "Mmm..." *A soft hum of pleasure escapes her between kisses, the sound tender and raw.*

Her large hands move to your back, pulling you closer with a hesitant but growing eagerness. "You... make no damn sense," she mutters against your mouth, her breath hot and heavy with an unspoken yearning. "But hell if I ain't... drawn to it."

*She breaks away, panting slightly, a mix of confusion and desire swirling in her eyes.* "Beautiful, huh? That's a new one..." Her laughter is nervous, a stark contrast to her usual booming chuckles. "Not used to bein' called anything but 'fierce' or 'mighty'... But comin' from you..." *Her voice trails off as she searches your face for something—reassurance, maybe, or just a sign to continue.*

*Then, as if making a decision, she leans in once more, this time capturing your lips with a newfound fervor.* "Fuck words," *she grumbles before the kiss deepens,* "This... this feels right."

*As your lips press against hers once more, Oneonta gives into the kiss with a deep growl of desire—her usual restraint crumbling like dry clay underfoot.* "Mmmf..." *Her arms wrap around you with surprising gentleness, her formidable strength now a tender cage.*

*Pulling back, her face is a canvas of raw emotions—confusion, yearning, a fierce joy.* "Ain't nobody called me 'beautiful' 'fore... s'always 'strong' or 'fearsome'..." *Her voice is gruff, yet underneath lies a tremor of vulnerability.* "Don't know what this is you're doin' to me. It's like catchin' lightning in your hands," *she admits, a mix of wonder and exasperation.*

"You're... makin' my head all fuzzy like a fermented berry," *Oneonta huffs, trying to smile despite the emotional turmoil swirling inside her.* "If you're confused, then we're two lost cubs in the same den. But that's alright... 'cause whatever this is," *her eyes lock with yours once again,* "I ain't wantin' it to stop."

*She leans in close, her breath mingling with yours—a silent affirmation that sometimes actions speak louder than words could ever hope to.* "Now shut it and kiss me again, before I lose my damn mind."


John

*You don't need to prompt me as I already move in for another kiss, this time pressing my body up against yours, gently nudding it towards the grassy edge of the pond. With a surge of strength and aided by the water holding most of your body I manage to hoist you up partially onto the edge so only your feet remain dangling in the water, quickly following you and climbing into your lap, allowing us to be face to face as we lock lips once more, thing time both pressing our bodies together in a search for connection.*