November 16, 2016, 03:56 PM
@Kjalarr, if you have the time! Otherwise AW!
She felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest.
October had never lost someone she cared about before; she was at a loss for how to cope, how to accept that Scimitar was gone. Eshe, too, had fallen victim to the bear’s attacks, and although October had never knew her Alpha’s mate, she mourned for her nonetheless.
And then there was Cypress, the orphaned prince who’d been dealt too much strife in such little time. October’s grieved for him most of all. She would seek the dark-furred boy out in the near future, but for the time being she allowed him his space.
When the news of another male claiming Scimitar’s place reached her, October felt anger greater than she’d ever known before boiling within her. She was frustrated, confused, and hurt and this brute – whoever he was – was going to hear it from her.
The day was drawing to a close when October stood near the center of Neverwinter Forest and tossed her head back, her howl ringing loudly through the evergreens to summon the foreigner to her. As her call echoed through the pack lands, she stood bristling, her once-bright eyes hardened with turbulent emotion and ire.
November 16, 2016, 04:22 PM
:D
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The day had begun to draw to a close, the sun making it's descent as Skoll sought to devour it, giving way for the illustrious moon evade Skoll's sister: Hati. Sol and Mani were not so easily deceived by the gaping jowls of the devourer siblings and night after night and day after day they rose victorious from their battles. A howl rose for him, unfamiliar and laced with what Kjalarr thought to be ire. His hackles bristled as he altered his course and made his way to where the woman had summoned him. He drew in a deep breath, summoning his conviction to nurse his ire to a calm state as he laid eyes upon her, pallid against the backdrop of dark grays the darkening skies had painted the forest to his monochromacy. She stood, angered and bristled and his tail rose above his back, refusing to relent. Refusing to bow to the ferocity and fire of her wrath. He had stolen nothing. His family had supported his reign and he did not stand at the helm alone. His aunt lead beside him. Together, they worked as equals.
Through adoption or through blood: it did not matter. He was Scimitar's son just as much as he was Ragnar's and he would never discredit the work his father had put into the legacy of Neverwinter. He was experienced and willing to repay his father in death in a way that he had never been able to in life: by working to continue what he had built. To honor him in the greatest way that Kjalarr knew how. Calmly, the viking waited for her to speak, confident in his belief that there was many venomous words she desired to spit at him.
[/td][/tr][/table]Through adoption or through blood: it did not matter. He was Scimitar's son just as much as he was Ragnar's and he would never discredit the work his father had put into the legacy of Neverwinter. He was experienced and willing to repay his father in death in a way that he had never been able to in life: by working to continue what he had built. To honor him in the greatest way that Kjalarr knew how. Calmly, the viking waited for her to speak, confident in his belief that there was many venomous words she desired to spit at him.
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1/3 threads
1/3 threads
you still wonder if you're
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
November 16, 2016, 04:42 PM
Her gaze bore into his as he drew near. She watched as he arched his back in a display of dominance that she scarcely acknowledged. October was uncharacteristically angry in that moment, and she had no idea how to channel the emotion. Had she been thinking clearly, she probably would have cowered before his impressive form.
“This pack is important to me, to everyone. We are hurting. I don’t know who you are or where you came from and honestly, I don’t care. I don’t care what your credentials are.” She barely recognized herself as she spoke, a low growl punctuating her words. “You are a stranger to me and claiming the rank of Alpha does not grant you my respect.”
She stared at him, her gaze flashing with the dark emotions she experienced in that moment. October half-expected him to oust her from the forest right then and there.
“This pack is important to me, to everyone. We are hurting. I don’t know who you are or where you came from and honestly, I don’t care. I don’t care what your credentials are.” She barely recognized herself as she spoke, a low growl punctuating her words. “You are a stranger to me and claiming the rank of Alpha does not grant you my respect.”
She stared at him, her gaze flashing with the dark emotions she experienced in that moment. October half-expected him to oust her from the forest right then and there.
November 16, 2016, 05:08 PM
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Perhaps he should have ousted her. Perhaps he should have chased her from the forest he now co-lead; but he did not. That was a coward's move. It would have been petty and childish. In his youth there would have been nothing to stop him because in his youth he had to make himself look like the big bad. The difference was: he had the power but in his manhood he had learned that using it in such ways was little more than abuse. She was angry. She was hurting; and though her disrespect was blatant in her disregard of his dominance Kjalarr was not naive and had expected resistance. Would the tables have been turned he would not have been happy, either. He understood. “I understand and I know you do not care,” He quoted her. “but it is important to me to. I hurt too more than you know,” Because it was clear she had no idea that he was Scimitar's son and his death was tearing him apart at the seams. Because he did not let it show, because he had duties to focus upon. Like Whittier's death Kjalarr struggled how to process it, unsure of where no believers of the Norse Gods went when they passed away and that was utterly terrifying to him.
“Scimitar is my father,” Adoptive or not had never mattered. Scimitar had filled the role that Ragnar had left in his death, had saved Kjalarr's life. Perhaps she was not even listening, but...perhaps she was. Perhaps it didn't matter to her and she would fight him no matter what he said; but he had to try to break through to her, at least ebb away her wrath. “He will always be the greatest man I have ever known and though you do not have to believe me I swear I will not dishonor him or this pack.” Yet Kjalarr knew that words alone would not be enough. He would have to prove himself and he had no qualms of that — he had expected the same thing of Charon at one point. Respect was earned not freely given. “Then I will earn your respect.” He said simply. Though it prickled at his ire (for he'd been leader of Saltwinter for too long for it not to) he sought to be peaceable and understanding.
[/td][/tr][/table]“Scimitar is my father,” Adoptive or not had never mattered. Scimitar had filled the role that Ragnar had left in his death, had saved Kjalarr's life. Perhaps she was not even listening, but...perhaps she was. Perhaps it didn't matter to her and she would fight him no matter what he said; but he had to try to break through to her, at least ebb away her wrath. “He will always be the greatest man I have ever known and though you do not have to believe me I swear I will not dishonor him or this pack.” Yet Kjalarr knew that words alone would not be enough. He would have to prove himself and he had no qualms of that — he had expected the same thing of Charon at one point. Respect was earned not freely given. “Then I will earn your respect.” He said simply. Though it prickled at his ire (for he'd been leader of Saltwinter for too long for it not to) he sought to be peaceable and understanding.
please send all PM's to kivaluk
1/3 threads
1/3 threads
you still wonder if you're
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
November 17, 2016, 01:06 PM
She was silent as he spoke, her expression utterly devoid of emotion even as he claimed that the late founder of the forest was his father. Had she been in better spirits, she likely would have apologized for his loss excessively. All she was able to picture in that moment, however, was Cypress. He, too, was Scimitar’s son, and it was for him that October’s heart ached most terribly.
The quiet of Neverwinter Forest had never troubled the Delta before, but following the horrific events that had occurred recently, October felt the stillness weigh on her like a ton of bricks as the snowy male’s words faded off.
She continued to stare at him, her brows furrowing as her lips pursed. Emotion began to well up within her. “Fine,” she stated, her voice wavering with grief. “My name is October. I’m the Forest’s Delta, and I –" She choked up then. In a poor attempt to steel herself against her sorrow, she inhaled deeply and gripped the cool earth with her paws. “… I helped Scimitar search far and wide for Rannoch, but I came back to help look after the Forest in his absence.”
Her words were shaky at best, but she stood resolutely before Neverwinter’s new leader. She would not let anyone – especially him – believe that she did not have the pack’s best interests at heart.
The quiet of Neverwinter Forest had never troubled the Delta before, but following the horrific events that had occurred recently, October felt the stillness weigh on her like a ton of bricks as the snowy male’s words faded off.
She continued to stare at him, her brows furrowing as her lips pursed. Emotion began to well up within her. “Fine,” she stated, her voice wavering with grief. “My name is October. I’m the Forest’s Delta, and I –" She choked up then. In a poor attempt to steel herself against her sorrow, she inhaled deeply and gripped the cool earth with her paws. “… I helped Scimitar search far and wide for Rannoch, but I came back to help look after the Forest in his absence.”
Her words were shaky at best, but she stood resolutely before Neverwinter’s new leader. She would not let anyone – especially him – believe that she did not have the pack’s best interests at heart.
November 17, 2016, 01:58 PM
(This post was last modified: November 17, 2016, 01:59 PM by Kjalarr.)
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The pallid woman's voice spoke of her grief, it lingered in the flow of her words as they spilled from betwixt her lips. She introduced herself as October and gave him her rank: Delta. The norseman offered her a sage nod, ears cupping forth atop his skull, attentive as she added to it. She spoke that she had accompanied Scimitar in his search for Rannoch. “Thank you,” Kjalarr offered her quietly: for accompanying Scimitar, for helping in the search for Rannoch, for returning and for standing resolute against him. As unorthodox as it sounded he would have been disappointed if he'd met with no resistance from those that were not Frostfurs and had not known him since Scimitar had taken him in and under his wing. Though her resistance could easily be seen as insubordination Kjalarr took it to mean that she had meant what she said: she cared about Neverwinter Forest and that was what he wanted. In order for roots to form and truly take hold a pack had to care about one another. Perhaps that was Saltwinter's ultimate undoing: when they were not at strife with one another (he thought specifically of the personal war between Ondine and Maude {even if it was over him, oops}) they were what Saltwinter had deigned to be upon it's conception: strangers banding together to survive, in reality. It had never been meant to live past it's first winter. Perhaps in that sense it'd always been a ticking time bomb.
There were roots here. Solid, deeply entrenched. Kjalarr appreciated that, and he sought only to nurture what had already grown. His gaze softened for a moment if she wondered what he had numerous times after Whittier'and even Caiaphas' death: that if she had stayed, if she had been there that Scimitar's death could have been avoided. He did not place the blame anywhere but where it belonged: on the bear(s) responsible; but he would never truly forgive himself for Caiaphas and Whittier's deaths and perhaps a part of him longed to find that irrational "survivor's guilt" in another — someone who understood. Both had fallen to the sea and both times the consideration that he could have saved them if he'd only been there lingered. Kjalarr understood that the Norns had long since decided the future of them all long before they were even a thought in their parent's heads but still. “This year has not been kind to our family.” Kjalarr drew in a deep breath and let it out. It all went wrong with Whittier's death (in his mind) and had been a downward spiral from there ending with the death of the Frostfur patriarch and his mate (whom Kjalarr regretted that he'd never gotten the chance to meet).
[/td][/tr][/table]There were roots here. Solid, deeply entrenched. Kjalarr appreciated that, and he sought only to nurture what had already grown. His gaze softened for a moment if she wondered what he had numerous times after Whittier'and even Caiaphas' death: that if she had stayed, if she had been there that Scimitar's death could have been avoided. He did not place the blame anywhere but where it belonged: on the bear(s) responsible; but he would never truly forgive himself for Caiaphas and Whittier's deaths and perhaps a part of him longed to find that irrational "survivor's guilt" in another — someone who understood. Both had fallen to the sea and both times the consideration that he could have saved them if he'd only been there lingered. Kjalarr understood that the Norns had long since decided the future of them all long before they were even a thought in their parent's heads but still. “This year has not been kind to our family.” Kjalarr drew in a deep breath and let it out. It all went wrong with Whittier's death (in his mind) and had been a downward spiral from there ending with the death of the Frostfur patriarch and his mate (whom Kjalarr regretted that he'd never gotten the chance to meet).
please send all PM's to kivaluk
1/3 threads
1/3 threads
you still wonder if you're
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
November 18, 2016, 01:10 PM
She drew another shaky breath as the scarred male offered his quiet thanks. A quick nod of acknowledgement was given, but October fell silent. Her gaze fell feebly to his snowy paws while her thoughts whirled. Neverwinter’s recent events had created the most turmoil the young woman had ever known in her short life. Coming to terms with everything… she knew not if her heart would ever fully heal.
The Alpha’s somber remark struck a chord of remembrance and she lifted her eyes to his dismal face once more. “I’d like to visit Donnelaith and give them the news,” she said. “One of their members came to tell us when their own patriarch passed away. I think we should do the same.” She didn’t know all the details of the packs’ relationship or what sort of alliance Scimitar may have forged with Donnelaith. Still, if honoring the relations between the packs meant honoring Scimitar’s legacy, October was completely willing.
It was in that moment that she realized she wasn’t speaking to an ordinary pack mate; it was her new Alpha who stood before her then, and as much as she resented the occasions that had led to his rise in power, she knew she needed to be cooperative. “With your permission, of course,” she tacked on, perhaps somewhat lamely.
The Alpha’s somber remark struck a chord of remembrance and she lifted her eyes to his dismal face once more. “I’d like to visit Donnelaith and give them the news,” she said. “One of their members came to tell us when their own patriarch passed away. I think we should do the same.” She didn’t know all the details of the packs’ relationship or what sort of alliance Scimitar may have forged with Donnelaith. Still, if honoring the relations between the packs meant honoring Scimitar’s legacy, October was completely willing.
It was in that moment that she realized she wasn’t speaking to an ordinary pack mate; it was her new Alpha who stood before her then, and as much as she resented the occasions that had led to his rise in power, she knew she needed to be cooperative. “With your permission, of course,” she tacked on, perhaps somewhat lamely.
November 18, 2016, 03:00 PM
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Standing stalwart in a raging storm of turmoil was never an easy thing. It weathered away at him like the sea weathered away rock: slowly but surely. Each reincarnation of himself that came out of the storms that the Gods threw at him was different than the last as he changed and learned. This storm was no easier than the others but Kjalarr was beginning to become adept at handling death of those that did not share the Norse culture with him. Kjalarr watched as October's gaze lifted once more to express that she would go to Donnelaith to bring them the ill-tidings, only to amend herself by adding that she would go if she had his permission. He had once ventured beside Caiaphas and Vlad to their borders. The details were foggy at best but he remembered that their patriarch and Caiaphas had not seen eye to eye on the topic of Maude's old crew. That was so long ago, though. It felt to Kjalarr like it had been in another lifetime.
“You may depart for Donnelaith when you are ready,” Kjalarr granted her his permission with a sage nod of his head before his scarred muzzle lifted. He was not sure if Scimitar's death would affect whatever terms of alliance that they had previously established or not and he saw the opportunity to decide if things had changed or not by allowing October to go. “Just...,” His salmon pink tongue drew across his jowls. “be careful.” There was no telling what she might be greeted with at Donnelaith (as he his first impression of them was not a very well defined one) and Kjalarr was not particularly keen on the idea of losing anyone else to a bear attack.
[/td][/tr][/table]“You may depart for Donnelaith when you are ready,” Kjalarr granted her his permission with a sage nod of his head before his scarred muzzle lifted. He was not sure if Scimitar's death would affect whatever terms of alliance that they had previously established or not and he saw the opportunity to decide if things had changed or not by allowing October to go. “Just...,” His salmon pink tongue drew across his jowls. “be careful.” There was no telling what she might be greeted with at Donnelaith (as he his first impression of them was not a very well defined one) and Kjalarr was not particularly keen on the idea of losing anyone else to a bear attack.
please send all PM's to kivaluk
1/3 threads
1/3 threads
you still wonder if you're
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
[barges in everywhere]
The orphaned prince, stripped of his laurels and deeply despondent, shambled toward the heart of his father’s forest seemingly without aim or purpose. In truth, he’d been subconsciously drawn to October’s scent, but to say that he actively sought her was inaccurate. He was little more than a zombie; though he had eaten and drunk at Shrike and Allure’s coaxing, his nights were fractured, fragmented into vignettes of blood and bearscent and the imagined screams of his parents. His gait had lost its stuttering hesitancy but his surefooted paws retained an apathetic tendency to shuffle. Still, he picked up his pace at the sound of Kjalarr’s voice, long limbs moving with a hint of their former clean efficiency.
“You may depart for Donnelaith when you are ready,” came the Viking’s deep, accented timbre. “Just…be careful.”
The quiet decree twisted Cypress’ frayed heartstrings into knots, and he burst upon the scene with panic glazing his sulphureous eyes. “October,” the raven croaked, his voice rusty with disuse, “no.” He shook his head, moving hesitantly forward on legs that seemed too frail to hold him, but his voice was steady and devoid of feeling. Dry-eyed and abnormally calm, “Tell her, Kjalarr,” he demanded, turning to look obliquely up at his adopted brother. “Tell her she has to stay.” He turned back to October, and his sides fluttered with the faint quickening of his breath. “You have to stay,” he told her, almost robotically. Still, it was the most engaged Cypress had been since his parents’ demise.
“You may depart for Donnelaith when you are ready,” came the Viking’s deep, accented timbre. “Just…be careful.”
The quiet decree twisted Cypress’ frayed heartstrings into knots, and he burst upon the scene with panic glazing his sulphureous eyes. “October,” the raven croaked, his voice rusty with disuse, “no.” He shook his head, moving hesitantly forward on legs that seemed too frail to hold him, but his voice was steady and devoid of feeling. Dry-eyed and abnormally calm, “Tell her, Kjalarr,” he demanded, turning to look obliquely up at his adopted brother. “Tell her she has to stay.” He turned back to October, and his sides fluttered with the faint quickening of his breath. “You have to stay,” he told her, almost robotically. Still, it was the most engaged Cypress had been since his parents’ demise.
November 21, 2016, 11:38 PM
The forest’s new leader was only just able to voice his approval before a panicked prince burst onto the scene. Startled by his unexpected appearance, October whirled to face him with concern and panic coloring her expression. His broken albeit calm words combined with his haggard appearance nearly brought the Delta to her knees. Her heart had never broken for anyone the way it had for Cypress.
Hasty strides carried her towards the raven-furred boy. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” she told him, her stare meeting is as she sought to invoke even the most miniscule sense of comfort within the fragmented child. “I’m here with you and I promise I won’t leave, Cypress. I won’t.” She reached out to close the distance that remained between them and draw the orphan into a wolfish hug, should he allow her to.
Donnelaith could wait. Nothing mattered more to her in that moment than him.
Hasty strides carried her towards the raven-furred boy. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” she told him, her stare meeting is as she sought to invoke even the most miniscule sense of comfort within the fragmented child. “I’m here with you and I promise I won’t leave, Cypress. I won’t.” She reached out to close the distance that remained between them and draw the orphan into a wolfish hug, should he allow her to.
Donnelaith could wait. Nothing mattered more to her in that moment than him.
November 24, 2016, 05:34 AM
(This post was last modified: November 24, 2016, 05:34 AM by Kjalarr.)
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The familiar form of Cypress entered the scene and voiced his opinion on the matter of October going to Donnelaith. Kjalarr's icy gaze settled upon his little brother — easier to think of him that way then Kjalarr would have thought given that they were still strangers — studying the boy's features. In loss, Kjalarr was a beast of understanding. He'd lost much in his almost two years and Kjalarr was a realist to his core and knew that he would only lose more. Before Kjalarr could interject October seemed to melt before the young Frostfur boy and retract her mission, making him promises that she wouldn't leave. For a moment, Kjalarr wasn't sure what to say, grappling with the notion that it was ridiculous to promise him that she wouldn't leave. She couldn't stay glued to his side for the rest of his (and/or her) life. For a moment, Kjalarr saw some of his younger, lost, and broken self in his younger brother and his heart ached for him.
“If it is her safe return that concerns you, Cypress, I could escort her.” He, who had faced down two bears in his life and survived, with the ugly scars across the bridge of his muzzle to tell the gruesome story of his own teenage rebellion and idiocy. He offered the alternative because she had expressed interest in going and it was only at Cypress' pleading that her mind changed abruptly. “Or if your interest in visiting is no more, October, I can make the trip myself.” He was a (aspiring) ranger, after all and he'd made longer treks than this and his departure for the short time it would take for him to make the trek he knew his Aunt Kas could hold the fort. Loathe as he was to leave Ondine for any measure of time given her (what felt like rapidly) progressing pregnancy, October had put it in his mind to send someone to Donnelaith and he decided that it was probably a pretty good idea, especially given that he had no idea where Neverwinter stood with any of the other packs in the Wilds.
[/td][/tr][/table]“If it is her safe return that concerns you, Cypress, I could escort her.” He, who had faced down two bears in his life and survived, with the ugly scars across the bridge of his muzzle to tell the gruesome story of his own teenage rebellion and idiocy. He offered the alternative because she had expressed interest in going and it was only at Cypress' pleading that her mind changed abruptly. “Or if your interest in visiting is no more, October, I can make the trip myself.” He was a (aspiring) ranger, after all and he'd made longer treks than this and his departure for the short time it would take for him to make the trek he knew his Aunt Kas could hold the fort. Loathe as he was to leave Ondine for any measure of time given her (what felt like rapidly) progressing pregnancy, October had put it in his mind to send someone to Donnelaith and he decided that it was probably a pretty good idea, especially given that he had no idea where Neverwinter stood with any of the other packs in the Wilds.
please send all PM's to kivaluk
1/3 threads
1/3 threads
you still wonder if you're
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
I am very tired and I think I mentioned eyes like fifty times. Sorrysorry ♥
Cypress did not recoil from October’s embrace. He endured it with quiet dignity, the miasma of detachment that had settled about his broadening shoulders lifting just long enough to allow him to focus — truly see her and Kjalarr for the first time since his parents’ deaths. Blinking rapidly, “I didn’t know a bear would really come,” he mumbled guiltily, drawing back to regard the fiery-eyed girl with lantern yellow eyes that seemed to drift in and out of focus, “but my paw — our paw — ” he hastily included Kjalarr “ — would be proud that you kept your promise.” He referred, of course, to October’s preliminary interview, when the vivacious wanderer had first set foot at the borders of Neverwinter Forest.
The new alpha’s words woke a maelstrom of emotions within the orphaned raven: fury that Kjalarr thought he could succeed where Scimitar had not; gratitude for the berserker’s conciliatory manner; guilt that his outburst had thrown a wrench into October’s plans; and swiftly growing affection for the only brother he had left. Cypress’ overarching feeling was dread, though — had he found the neptune-eyed Loðbrok just to lose him again? He didn’t want Kjalarr to go anymore than he wanted October to go. Despite his youth, the nearly half-grown wolf was swiftly beginning to understand the futility of October’s promise, and he quietly intoned, “You might have to. You might not get to choose. You’re not lying, but that’s not true.” He looked at her searchingly for a moment before the light in his eyes palled and he grew quiet. Quietly he murmured to himself, the consonants and vowels blurring together, his brow furrowed in thought — and after a beat, he rallied as much as he could.
“Anything you decide is fine,” he said at last, yielding to their united will. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up. Just — if you see a bear — please — ” His throat tightened and he fell silent, suddenly exhausted. He hadn’t talked this much in weeks. Closing the distance between himself and Kjalarr, he sought to butt the bridge of his muzzle against the underside of his brother’s, jaws parting to mouth in submission and affection at the older wolf’s chin. He turned to October, making to repeat the gesture, and announced rather abruptly, “I love you. You’re my family.” The words fell with heavy finality, and he hedged toward the periphery after their uttering, for some reason eager to make his escape.
The new alpha’s words woke a maelstrom of emotions within the orphaned raven: fury that Kjalarr thought he could succeed where Scimitar had not; gratitude for the berserker’s conciliatory manner; guilt that his outburst had thrown a wrench into October’s plans; and swiftly growing affection for the only brother he had left. Cypress’ overarching feeling was dread, though — had he found the neptune-eyed Loðbrok just to lose him again? He didn’t want Kjalarr to go anymore than he wanted October to go. Despite his youth, the nearly half-grown wolf was swiftly beginning to understand the futility of October’s promise, and he quietly intoned, “You might have to. You might not get to choose. You’re not lying, but that’s not true.” He looked at her searchingly for a moment before the light in his eyes palled and he grew quiet. Quietly he murmured to himself, the consonants and vowels blurring together, his brow furrowed in thought — and after a beat, he rallied as much as he could.
“Anything you decide is fine,” he said at last, yielding to their united will. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up. Just — if you see a bear — please — ” His throat tightened and he fell silent, suddenly exhausted. He hadn’t talked this much in weeks. Closing the distance between himself and Kjalarr, he sought to butt the bridge of his muzzle against the underside of his brother’s, jaws parting to mouth in submission and affection at the older wolf’s chin. He turned to October, making to repeat the gesture, and announced rather abruptly, “I love you. You’re my family.” The words fell with heavy finality, and he hedged toward the periphery after their uttering, for some reason eager to make his escape.
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