botany was the singular thing about his past upon which mahler allowed himself to dwell. he had practiced medicine in his younger days, but had given it up for some time now, and thus his knowledge had grown dull with disuse. but summer's warmth brought with it the growing of many green things, and as autumn loomed not far off, mahler knew he must settle into the creek as he had not yet.
and so he had gone traveling, and at dusk some miles from the creek he had found a dust-bitter place that wreathed with all manner of things. some names the musiker recognized; others he did not. and those he did the man muttered aloud, naming them, an adam of sentient plants.
it had become mahler's belief, one rigid and fixed, that swiftcurrent's punishment of chusi reflected a greater neglect of what he felt a pack's duty toward children should be. wölfe glauben solche dinge nicht! she — mahler refused to call her name into being — had hissed at him when he suggested the rule of their kind was flawed.
and yet he had, and yet he did. each mother deserved equal treatment, for it was through their effort and sacrifice that the pack continued. and so mahler did also, eyeing each leaf, each berry, each bud with assessment of how he might use it to achieve his aims.
Life had been full of adventures for the matron of the Blackthorn clan. Love, affairs, dramas and romances, thrillers and action - you just had to name a genre and Nanny Apple would come up with a story from her past that had - believe it or not - happened to her. And maybe because during her first six years in this world she had rushed like a turbulent mountain river, now to a person, who might not know her, she would seem twice as old as she really was. Four mates and fourteen children had something to do too with the white hairs interspersed in a coat that once had been in a rich gold color and the very experienced and slightly tired look in her eyes.
And while she had not had a single remote plan to exit this world just yet, after the fourteenth puppy (a son) she had looked at him and said - Now, I am done with this. When the time had been right, she had left him and his siblings in the capable paws of her older children and with parting words of you be good and I will know, when you won't be" she left them to enjoy the world and freedom it offered. It is difficult to say, who was more relieved or happy - the matron, who after years of being a wife and a mother in a perpetual circle of life wanted something different, or the already grown-up kids and their significant others, who were released from the amiable, lovely, demanding and capricious tyrant. Maybe the feelings were mutual and both sides were happy not to see each other again. As long as it lasted.
Anyway - this is the short prequel of, why Nanny Apple was, where she was now, and met a handsome dark stranger in her path. Never been the shy one, she approached him in the whimsical elegance her slightly rotund shape and old age allowed, and greeted him in a cheerful manner: "Hello, lovely fellow! What clouds are burdening your handsome complexion?"
she is so CUTE
deep-rooted in categorization and melancholy, mahler nevertheless registered the approach of another. the voice that sounded, however, was not one the man expected; balefully he fixed her with his lilac stare. handsome. a blink, followed by another; the musiker found himself sufficiently caught off guard and swept his charcoal ears toward her with a wonder pausing in his expression.
female, radiant with velveteen expanses of pale pelt, what caught the man's glance most was her motherly shape: almost perfectly round beneath her wizened features. mahler found himself inexplicably charmed by her warmth, and lowered his muzzle in a hunch that meant to convey he was of little harm. "botany," came his obnoxiously succinct answer, even as he studied the woman with growing intrigue.
"Botany... plants? What did they do - did they assault you?" Apple asked innocently, sweeping her gaze over the ground that was in the vicinity of the gray wolf and seeing nothing that would be remotely dangerous.
Apart from... here her eyes narrowed focusing on yellow flowers with an odd smell... marigolds. Yup, that was the name. "You are not allergic, are you?" she asked, because in her prime she had been pretty good with plants.
"My boy Darren could not go anywhere near marigolds,"she beckoned to the patch of the flowers mentioned earlier."Got all itchy and his face swelled up like a corpse on a hot day if he came anywhere near them. You don't feel like a corpse yet, do you?" she asked, now giving the man a more attentive look, searching for signs indicating that he was about to fall down and gasp for air.
not in the least put out by the gargoyle's succinct nature, the woman looked at him knowingly, her words floating through his consciousness as he sought to build replies. effortless she spoke to him, a perfect stranger, even mentioning her son as if mahler had ever known him. the wretch was rather charmed by her immediate familarity, and gave to the runde mutter more words than he usually did.
"not allergic. i vant to put by a store of medicine for the vinter." mahler paused, a wry tic that could almost be called a smile softening his implacable face. "no corpse here, frau." presently he glanced round and then back at his oddly affable companion. "from vhere did you come?"
"Good to know," Apple nodded, noticing the strange accent the man had and just at the same time he asked her question of her origins, she had come up with the very same thing in her mind. "Don't look much like a walking corpse either. You can usuall tell them apart by having a lisp, shuffling gait and odd smell. Not stench. But odd," she rambled on.
"From a land far far away, but I believe that there are enough Blackthorns between there and here that I can call any place home. Nearly," she mused. There were around hundred maybe a little less heads that could proudly call Apple as their origin, but, when the lady had left home, there had been still a pretty number of Blackthorn's left. Do a little math and multiply it by five years, and you would understand, why she was so confident that sooner or later she woul run into a Blackthorn.
"Name's Apple Blackthorn, but I am Nanny Apple for most of the folk," she introduced herself, doing a little wolfish curtsy as she did so. "What about you?"
blackthorns. nanny apple. the words and their sounds intrigued mahler; they were a colorful sort, without the throaty nature of his own mothertongue. filing away what the oma had said in regards to walking corpses, mahler turned his attention to her lineage, and her question.
"i have not met a blackthorn before," the gargoyle intoned. "mahler. swiftcurrent." he gestured vaguely in the direction of his packland, but offered no other information. why had she come? was she too searching for plants, or only conversation? the first he could offer, the second was something with which the creature struggled.
"have you been here for many years?" he inquired, opting for directness over a clumsy attempt to parse out a coherent sentence.
"In that case you are very lucky to meet me first," Apple said with a cryptic smile, as if implying that there were worse Blackthorns to run into. Of course, that did not apply to her own brood. No matter, how annoyed she was at times with them, no one was allowed to speak trash about them except for her, naturally.
"Mahler Swiftcurrent, my pleasure," Apple dipped her muzzle politely. "Well, it is not particularly gentleman-like to ask lady for her age. But - on that matter - I am not much of a lady anyway. So - I forgive you. Hmmm... quite a lot years, really, I am not sure. What about you? Are you at the age, when sand comes off you more than anything else?"
mahler did not know what to make of this woman. this apple. her voice did not match her clearly advanced years; there was a youthful glint in eyes that had not aged with the rest of her. altogether she was not unlike a jolly cloud come down to rest nearer the earth; mahler found himself interested in knowing the history of her clan.
he did not correct her in regards to his surname, for that coupled with her inquiry about his own age tugged a smile into existence on mahler's mouth. "old enough to be experienced, young enough to make mistakes." it was his own attempt at a dry humour, and after a pause he went on. "vhat is a blackthorn, frau?"
"A Blackthorn is the finest specimen a wolf kind can create," Apple replied with a cheeky grin. "I am a prime example of what a Blackthorn is and, if you meet a lesser wolf, who claims to belong to this noble family, do not believe him or her for a second. Hardly anyone has got better than me," all was bluff, of course, because the old lady was not so conceited to overlook her own flaws. And yet her colorful life experience let her say things she said now.
"And what mistakes you look forward to avoid? Perhaps, my book of wisdom has pages to share with you?" she asked in a friendly manner, happy to continue their playful banter.
deeper his fascination grew; a blackthorn was a sort of wolf then. a tribe, a family, a clan. and this nanny apple must be their matriarch. satisfied with what he had decided, mahler gave a rare chuckle, a momentary and bass sound that unfurled from his chest. "i am certain that you have much to share," the gargoyle intoned warmly.
who was this that he should be so off guard? mahler watched her for a quiet moment, and then gestured to his small pile of gathered herbs. "perhaps you could tell me vhat herbs are best for a nursink mother? i vill need them in the spring, i suspect." for he sought not only herbalism, but the regard of those most important to the pack: she-wolves who brought forth young.
"Well, depends, when you give birth," Apple replied, after a moment ruminating over the question that was a bit puzzling. In her career of a multigravida she had never had eaten plants. "I had all four litters, when the snow covered the ground still," she explained. "So - my advice, keep the mom well fed and she will fare well. Though I remember having a strong craving for chalk at one point... didn't have any, ate a lot of earth. Upset my digestion, but quenched the thirst," she mused.
"I don't know, if you have got a saying of, who gets with whom, but a word of advice and a before-hand warning. If the mother-to-be is way smaller than her companion, prepare for a difficult birth," she said and winced. "That was the issue with Harold - my last husband - tall and handsome, and carved from the raw force of nature. But giving birth to his little giants was awful - I thought that they would tear my behind apart."
"Anyway, I told him that the next season he will be the one bearing children," she finished the story on the brighter note. "The poor fool told that this was impossible, but I have always insisted that this is just the matter of will."
mahler committed all apple said to memory with nary a blink, watching her impassively as she spoke. as he had suspected, the woman's wealth of knowledge was of great importance to the gargoyle. there was gratitude now in his gaze as the elder began to speak of her last husband, an expression that turned to chagrin and an almost virginal shying. apple described her last encounter with birth in vivid terms that left mahler rather shaken.
it was not the aspect of childbear that scandalized the musiker, but rather the casual nature with which his loquacious companion inferred intimacy and even lust. such things had been kept firmly under wraps in the man's family; even his own marriage had engendered little interest in matters of the flesh. he had loved her, for her voice, her wit, the loving gaze, never for her body or her urges toward him.
attempting to emerge from beneath this uncomfortable cloak, mahler gave a firm nod to the woman, smiling a little at the end though he was still discomfitted. "i ask because i vant to become one of those who tends vomen in childbirth." he half expected that she would not judge; nanny apple had indeed proven herself a colorful and wordly sort.
"You? And how can you be a help, if you do not have a first-hand experience on what it's like?" Apple shot out the first thing that came to her mind and, though she had not intended to sound so, the question was a bit judgemental. Then she realized that she had been rather rude and the man should be admired for the choice of his path. After all... jobs should not be strictly divided by gender, should they?
"I am sorry for being inconsiderate, but it is rare - in my experience - that you find a man interested in a field that is... let's say so very female. None of my four husbands can boast with this kind of courage, choosing to run for the hills, before the actual mess began. Those hypocritical bastards," Apple said, though there was a certain level of tenderness and affection in the epiteth she had given to her former mates. After all - there were no regrets in Nanny's life and she had had a great time with each one of them.
"Well, I got on well on my own. The first time - I guess - is very tricky, but afterwards it's simple and quickly over," she said. "Though, if your mother-to-be has odd cravings before and after birth - I would advise to oblige. Body is no fool, when it comes to stuff it needs. Even if the lady wants to chomp down rocks and chalk - get the best you can."
perhaps he had been wrong, based on her rejoinder. mahler stiffened in surprise, immediately growing reticent in the face of her sharp inquiry, but held himself back from speaking. apple seemed to soften herself, apologizing, granting an explanation. and so the musiker remained wary, but only because she had regained her warmth in a matter of seconds. it was a shift that he did not understand, for he had never been so swift.
four husbands —! mahler wished to ask apple to elaborate on the manner of cravings, but his lilac eyes only blinked in no small amount of consternation as he swiftly categorized the information granted into their proper little mental boxes. "you must be a very special sort of voman that four men vanted you as a mate."
too late he realized how that might have been taken; he considered that nanny apple would mistake him for inviting her into a fifth mateship. or there was a chance he had overthought the entire interaction; at any rate, mahler lowered his head sheepishly and queried, "vhat sort of cravings did you have, frau?"
Nanny was rarely angry, her cheerful nature being the effortless status quo 90% of time. However, as she had shown in her interaction with Mahler, she was prone to have quick, sharp outbursts of blunt truths (as in this case) or expression of annoyment and discontent. But they were there for a second and were gone and forgotten in the next.
"Oh, that I was and still am," she replied with a mischievous smile and a wink. Some people might find it shocking or outrageous that a woman her age had had so many mates, when some people could not even boast with having a single one. But she had taken everything that life had had to offer and regretted nothing. On the contrary - find people, experiences or events to shock her. Not easy.
"Stones, earth right after my second litter was born. Just could not get enough, though it also meant that digestion got complicated. Let's leave it at that," she said with a wry smile, having enough tact not to describe, what did poop that consisted of stones looked. The guy would find out himself, if he ever encountered such a thing. "Oh, and flower-heads of dandelions. Tasted horrible, but had to nip all of them down."
the wink apple directed toward him made mahler regain what discomfort he had lost. it was not repulsion; he simply was unused to creatures of any sort expressing even humorous interest. only alarian had beheld mahler beyond that sort of discomfort, and it was clear the little cherub still wished for more from the stoic man. more of something mahler had no interest in giving.
it was ironic, then, his intrigue with midwifery, when he had no love for what it took to bring forth children. the affair in the past for him had been a biological urge, something to be rushed, a brief pleasure in his loins but not enough to seek it out. and here was apple, wife to four, mother of ...
he realized he had not asked. four litters, one for each mateship. and an eater of inedible things. "dandelions," he grunted with a wry smile. a blink, and mahler cleared his throat. "if i may, frau, how many children do you have?" she had been quite frank with him; he was clearly taken by her open nature, and hoped she would not grow reticent now.
"Fourteen that I know of," Apple replied with a proud smile and then added with a grin, "though that is never the problem for a woman, is it? She always knows she is the mother. Fathers are the ones that have to believe their wife's word."
She fell silent, reminiscing for a little while about all family members, who she had left at home, but with a quick shake of her head, she returned to the present moment and conversation she had with Mahler: "And how many can you boast with?"
"that is true," mahler rejoined gruffly, unable to pause a chuckle at her continued wit. fourteen children — he watched the elder as she paused for a series of moments. mother to many generations. the gargoyle found himself impressed.
their entire meeting had been marked by apple's engagement removing all of mahler's devised walls, and his own consistent recoil from such. but now, with a sunny expression, the oma struck true to the heart of his avoided pain. his expression tightened; the man let his gaze weigh upon the plants he had gathered. "three. i lost them to an illness."
it was not quite the truth, but it was all he would give.
"Hit you straight in your heart, didn't I?" Apple said softly, feeling sorry for the man, who had lost his children. She loved all her offspring dearly and would have been devastated, had she lost any of them during young age. Naturally, as they grew up and went off in their own lives, some had met the old Bony man sooner than the others. And even though Apple dealt with these losses with apparent lightness and good-humour (Serves him right. Or - I always knew he was destined for great things), it did not mean that she had not mourned and that there was not a bit of sadness for their fates. It was that her hands had always been so full, that being depressed or taking time to herself to figure things out had never been an option.
"I am sorry for your loss. Seeing your children go before you is hardly fair and makes one wonder, what kind of grand plan did the old bearded Heaven man have, when he decided to reap them young," she added with a rueful smile.
indeed, she had, but mahler was too proud and overcome to confirm it. and yet, nanny knew already. oh, but she did not know the half of it, did she? he asked himself in an inner tone low with despair. if this good-hearted creature saw his weakness, she would not think well of him.
and their names, burned indelibly into his mind, though mahler dared not utter them. "my vife was marigold," the musiker murmured in spite of himself, for he had come to a place where he allowed himself to say hers. "she fell ill first, and then our daughter." a muscle played in his cheek; how had he come to begin such a tale to a stranger?
"That is a beautiful name for a girl," Apple said with a rueful smile, toning down her easy-going banter to one that expressed both sympathy and offered a bridge from one part of the story to the next, "none of mine were ever suited for one of those. I bet she was lovely."
"How did that happen? What kind of disease?" she asked then.
she was easy to listen, to hear him; oh, he wished to tell her, and tell her now! "a fever," mahler murmured softly, clearing the threat of tears from his throat. "two sons vee had. the fever stole them all. even now, i do not know how vee did not see it comink." it had been swift, burning among them like wildfire — and he had not stayed. he had left them to die, saved only himself from a sickness his pragmatism told him would cost them all.
"I am so sorry for your loss," Apple repeated her condolences to the old man, thinking that in a way it was unfair, how harshly life challenged some people and how easily the others got by. She had had her share of turmoils in her life, but it had mostly been a joy-ride for her.
"Sometimes these things happen and there is really no way of avoiding them. Like a wave - you are either swept away with it or have to dive right through it to make to the other side," she said and really there was very little to add. Tragedies happened, but life went on regardless.
"You have not encountered a disease like this ever since?" she asked.
he nodded grimly at nanny apple's words. in truth, mahler was tired by the admissions he had made, wearied by questioning. but she had been nothing aside from kind to him, and the brute's awareness of social mores dictated that this be recognized by allowing their conversation to come to its natural end.
muzzle lowering, the man snipped herbal heads from their stems, lifting to refocus on the woman. "i have not. it was strange. violent. swift. they were healthy one day. they stumbled the next. dead the third."
so hot their foreheads had been.