Ranuk was very accustomed to being climbed on. He has been a father of nearly a hundred sons, raised nearly a hundred hatchlings, and every single one of them, no matter their shape or size, had always adored climbing their father like a mountain. He was used to grasping fingers tugging at his tails and his fur, to feet digging into his sides, and hands settling onto his horn. He adjusted accordingly so Tamlin could sit firmly on his back without falling. This was nothing new.<br/><br/>Except that it was.<br/><br/>Ranuk has never carried an elf before. He had never imagined a moment where such a thing could be possible. That he would even offer in the first place. That an elf could simply trust that he wouldnt be dropped...<br/><br/>It was momentous, this simple act between old enemies, but what stood out in Ranuk's mind the most was just how appallingly light Tamlin felt, but he did not have time to ruminate on such things. Perhaps later when they were not hanging off a cliff face with the sun setting behind them. For all his skill, Ranuk still needed the light to see where he was going.<br/><br/>Ranuk slowly crouched, the muscles of his back coiling underneath Tamlin's weight. His back legs shimmied in the same way a cat's did before a tremendous leap. It was the only warning Tamlin recieved before they were airborne.<br/><br/>Ranuk landed assuredly on his new perch but Tamlin would feel the harshness of the impact judder throughout Ranuk's body, could hear the scrape of the demon's claws against the stone and the billowing of his lungs as he exhaled, sides deflating under Tamlin's legs. He paused for a moment, giving the elf time to readjust his grip before doing it again.<br/><br/>It took five more tremendous leaps for them to get to their destination, each landing spot more perilous than the last. Only once did Ranuk slip but it was a minor thing, his back foot dislodging a loose stone. The rocks went tumbling down the cliffside with a clatter, but there was nothing to do about it. The snow cat would be alert or she wouldnt, they would only know once they reached the den.<br/><br/>The sun was still up when they finally came to its entrance. The cavern was dark and Ranuk's pupils expanded wide as he stared into the inky blackness, ears alert to any movement within. He could smell blood and the unmistakable stench of cat.<br/><br/>He let Tamlin dismount before entering, head low so that his horns did not scrape the roof of the den. Just a few feet within the tunnel laid the snow cat. The climb had killed her.<br/><br/>The arrow had been pushed deeper inside, piercing something more vital. She had died the moment she had slipped between the boulders. Further within, there was the faintest mewing cries, the cubs alerted by her scent or her blood or both.<br/><br/>Ranuk left the dead mother. There was barely room for him to maneuver but luckily the passage ballooned out into a more spacious cave. Cracks in the stone above let in the last of the dying light, bright enough for Ranuk to see the litter of 3 huddled together.<br/><br/>They were blots of fuzzy black and red, stumbling over one another in distress. Other than their mother, Ranuk was probably the first live creature that they've seen. He lowered himself to the cavern floor and laid on his belly, letting his body relax.<br/><br/>It was always a traumatizing thing for an animal to be separated from its mother, Ranuk would have to do his best not to scare them further. He wanted to nuture these cubs, not break them. Still, his tails could not stop they're pleased swaying, so very satisfied with his prize.