Soren

Soren
Capable Romantic
Pair Bonded to Kima

-- Miss Me? -- 12/01/24
Soren was no stranger to long scouting runs—he liked the solitude, the wind tugging at his fur, the thrill of tracing unseen paths across unfamiliar terrain. But there was a particular satisfaction in returning, in feeling the first hints of home rolling on the breeze.

And in the small distraction he found on his way back.

He'd caught her scent—earthy, sharp, and unmistakable—well before he saw her. Kima. The fiery one. The one wolf in their territory who seemed perfectly content to exist on her own, with no time for nonsense or small talk. Which, naturally, meant Soren couldn't resist finding her.

Slipping through the undergrowth, he slowed when he spotted her in a small clearing, hunched over a patch of herbs. She was focused, her smoky eyes sharp as she worked, roots and stems tangled loosely around her neck. The faintest flickers of green—her strange and growing power—illuminated the earth near her paws.

Soren grinned. If she noticed him approaching like any normal wolf, she'd probably chase him off. So, with a bit of effort, he stalked to a nearby rock and sprawled atop it, waiting.

It didn't take long. Kima straightened, brow furrowed, and Soren made his move.

"Miss me?"

Her head snapped to him so fast he had to bite back a laugh. Gray eyes narrowed, blazing in that way he'd already grown to find highly enchanting. "Were you watching me?" she demanded.

"Scout's instinct," Soren replied smoothly, lounging across the branch as though he did this every day. "I've got to know where everyone is, don't I?"

Kima didn't look impressed. In fact, she looked ready to chase himself off. "You're supposed to report to Senua first."

"I did." Soren leapt down with an easy grace, though his paws slipped slightly in the loose earth. He recovered quickly, shaking his coat free of dust as if the stumble never happened. "I just happened to see you out here on my way back."

"Coincidence," Kima echoed flatly. She wasn't buying it. Not that Soren cared.

"I swear," he said, flicking his ears habitually. "What's more concerning is why you're all the way out here. Do you need help?"

Kima snorted, turning back to her task. "You wouldn't know the difference between an herb and a weed."

"Sure I would." Soren padded closer, glancing at the tangle of greens she'd collected. "Herbs are the ones you don't want me to step on."

That earned him a flicker of a look. Not a smile—not quite—but enough to make him feel victorious.

"I'm fine, I have a good teacher," she said, tugging a stubborn root free with an audible snap as she thought of Stark. "Shouldn't you be resting? You look like you crawled back through a thicket."

"I might've," Soren admitted, plopping down on his side in the soft sunlight like he belonged there. "Had a run-in with a very territorial bird. I think it liked me."

"Or it hated you."

"Same thing, really. I'm unforgettable."

Kima huffed softly, though he caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. She finished bundling the herbs and stood, shaking out her coat. "If you're so unforgettable, you won't mind helping me carry this back."

Soren blinked up at her, deliberately slow, before grinning as he climbed to his paws. "I knew you missed me."

"I don't," Kima said pointedly, tail flicking as she turned and strode away. "You're just useful."

Soren laughed, falling into step beside her. "You keep saying that, Kima, but I know you secretly enjoy my company."

"Keep talking, and I might change my mind."

Her words were sharp, but he didn't miss the way her ears angled slightly toward him as they walked. Soren grinned to himself, content to let the silence stretch—for now. After all, he'd just gotten back. There'd be plenty of time to test her patience later.

And he had a feeling Kima, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, wouldn't mind that either.

-- You Picked Me -- 12/18/24
Soren had always been light on his paws, but Kima still heard him coming.

"You're not sneaking up on me," she called over her shoulder, where she crouched at the edge of the riverbank. The water whispered as it flowed around smooth stones, and the sun cast dappled patterns across her fur.

"I wasn't sneaking," Soren replied, stepping into the clearing with a grin. "I was admiring. My mate, the picture of grace, surrounded by mud."

Kima snorted, flicking a splash of water toward him with a paw. It fell short, but Soren still jerked back dramatically as if he'd been struck. "What is it now? Shouldn't you be pestering some birds or claiming you're working?"

"I'm always working," Soren said, settling beside her with an easy flop. He stretched out, his fur brushing against hers—close enough to remind her of his constant, annoying warmth. "Just finished checking the eastern woods. Thought I'd stop and see what you were up to."

"Not much to see," Kima replied, but her tone softened in spite of herself. She shifted to lick the side of his face. "You don't have to follow me everywhere, you know."

"Technically, I don't." Soren's voice dropped, teasing. "I just choose to. Big difference."

Kima shot him a sharp look, but the spark of amusement in her dark eyes betrayed her. "You're insufferable."

"And yet you like having me around." Soren smirked, rolling onto his back so he could gaze lazily up at the sky. "You could've stayed a brooding loner or some stoic warrior, but no. You picked me."

"Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake."

"That's a lie, and you know it."

Kima let out a short, barking laugh. "You're lucky. Otherwise, I'd send you off just to get some peace."

Soren grinned, turning his head to look at her from his absurd position in the grass. "Admit it—you miss me."

Kima paused, fixing him with a long, thoughtful stare. "Maybe," she said at last, though her voice carried a rare gentleness. It wasn't much, but Soren's ears perked up like he'd won a battle.

"Ha! Knew it."

"Don't get used to it," she added quickly, returning to the task she'd been working on—untangling a stubborn root sticking out of the riverbank. Her vines twitched subtly, responding to her focus, but Soren's attention remained fixed on her.

It had been like this for moons now—this balance of teasing and closeness that no one else quite understood. Kima wasn't the type to wear her affection openly, but it was there in the way she let him linger close, in how she shared space without bristling, in the way her sharp words softened just for him.

Soren shifted, watching her work. "You know," he said slowly, as though the thought had just occurred to him, "I wonder how you never grow bored of these tasks."

Kima shot him another look, brow raised. "That's your great observation of the day?"

"Better than yesterday's."

"You claimed a rabbit was insulting you yesterday."

Soren grinned, unbothered. "It was. I stand by that."

Kima shook her head, but this time, the flicker of a smile stayed longer. "Sometimes I think the real reason I'm with you is because you keep things interesting."

"See? Now that's the truth." Soren pushed himself up, brushing dirt from his coat as he turned toward her. "And since I keep you so entertained, you won't mind me helping you with that."

Before Kima could stop him, he reached for the tangled root she'd been pulling at. "Soren—wait—"

Too late. With one strong tug, Soren yanked it free—only for the root to come loose with a splash of mud that splattered them both.

Kima froze. A glob of mud clung to the bridge of her nose. Soren blinked, trying to smother his grin. "Whoops."

"You're dead."

Soren didn't even wait. He bolted before the words finished leaving her mouth, laughter trailing behind him as Kima launched after him with a snarl.