Blackfeather Woods i'm coming home

maybe @Kove , or any of the fam? But AW! He has some wounds on his nose / ear/cheek/neck/scruff.

It was not with a lot of fervour that Cicero returned home this time. Not that he normally made a scene. This time, however, he did not draw attention at all. Did not even go to see Burke to say he was home, or debrief Kove about his -- or rather, Sheogorath's -- mission. Cicero arrived at night. He had travelled in the daytime alone throughout his journey, and had hidden away, afraid, in the nighttime, but after this past day he had been so close to home that he had trudged on.

With tail tucked between his legs, Cicero entered Blackfeather Woods, head low and feeling on edge. He wasn't even sure how the night with the white wolf had begun. If it had been... Mutual. The only thing he knew was that he wasn't yet ready to face Damien, even if nobody needed to know about the white wolf, and he could simply keep it a secret. Damien's scent was back along the borders, so Cicero guessed that he had returned from his own journey, too.

Once Cicero was in the territory, he laid down beside a tree and wrapped his tail around him under the comforting darkness of the forest. Tongue slipped from his mouth, causing the wounds along his muzzle to sting. With a weary sigh the scout closed his eyes, feeling safe for the first time since he had come back into consciousness in the white wolf's grasp.

It was with great anticipation that he had awaited the patchwork male's return, eager to hear the results of his mission. Whichever way the results had fallen, he would be pleased just to know of his daughters' safety. Little did he know, however, that it was only Desna who remained. Never would he know, perhaps, what had happened to his other children, or even learn of their departures at all. It all depended upon what information his remaining daughter would pass onto him once she arrived, whenever that might be. Of course, he hoped it would be soon, that Cicero would near the borders with her in tow, but hopes mattered little to the workings of the world.

Kove had been trekking along the borders when he'd caught wind of the younger's scent, and was rather disappointed by the fact that it was only his. This, however, did not phase him too much. He had not expected the girl to blindly follow someone she did not know, even if she did wish to see him again (which was a stretch in itself), but it had still been worth a shot. Interested in acquiring the details of the journey, the Inuit followed the trail until his eyes fell upon a battered body. Seeing as he was not up and moving, the man was quick to reach the other's side and attempt to gently nudge him awake, not wanting to further irritate his wounds. "Cicero," the elder barked, voice loud since he wished to awaken the other. "Cicero, what happened? Are you alright?"

Cicero was on his way to drift to sleep when he noticed the touch to his side. He startled, teeth bared in instinctive reflex as he remembered the night that he had gotten the wounds. When he looked up he saw the white wolf, and his head jerked forward, ready to grab the white wolf by the neck and render him harmless. Just in time did Cicero realise that it was Kove -- that he was home.

He withdrew his head with instant shame at his near-actions, and looked away. "Kove. Desna did not wish to come. Cicero offered her to follow him here, as she was interested to come here, but she refused. Desna will come... When she is ready." Cicero felt ashamed that he had failed, but truthfully the mission had been more Sheogorath's than Cicero's. The shame of what had happened with the white wolf was more present, however, than that of his mission; even more so because he had nearly attacked Kove.

The reaction he was met with nearly had the elder reeling, his own instinct driving him to remove himself from the immediate threat, assess, and then take action. In this case, the latter two steps were discarded, for he did not fear the younger male. He was taken aback, of course, as the actions seemed out of character—they didn't match the Cicero he knew—but not even for a moment did he consciously relate the patchwork boy to being anything worthy of an attack. In fact, he was sooner to assume it was his own fault he'd nearly been greeted by teeth, thinking he must have accidentally touched a sore spot. When Cicero drew back, however, he'd concluded there was more to the story. Whether or not he'd question it had yet to be decided.

The results of the mission were the less desirable sort, but even so he nodded, accepting the words. Still, he did not speak right away, working the words over instead. "I guess she will do whatever she wants," he commented eventually. "Thank you for at least trying, Cicero. Even if she refused to follow you, your effort is what matters." Kove was disappointed by the fact that he would have to wait longer to see his daughter, but he didn't hold that against the younger male. There was nothing he could have done, save for drag her to the woods kicking and screaming—an act that would have been far more displeasing than not seeing Desna.

Wrapped up in his own mind, the Inuit had just about forgotten of his pack mate's condition. Something reminded him after a minute or two had passed, however, which drew up a single question: "What happened to you out there?"

It made Cicero curious to think what would happen if Desna and Kove were to meet. Desna was not as light a child as her mother had been, and reminded Cicero more of Kove, as well as Xan. Perhaps children would simply be children, and the darkness inside of her was merely of the origin of her age. Kove thanked him for trying, and Cicero nodded. While he realised that things could have gone better, he did not feel regret for this particular endeavour.

Cicero did not wish to discuss the origins of his wounds with Kove, the encounter with the white wolf. He shook his head. "It does not matter. Cicero is here now." He looked away, feeling the shame drip over him, and quickly pushed the feeling away in favour of a question: "Has Damien yet returned?" Not that he wished to see his brother now, but it would be good to know that Damien was back, safe and sound. Eventually, he would have to face his brother, and his hope was that he could postpone that until the moment the shame of the sex he had had with the white male had faded. Damien did not need to know.

An answer to his question had not been given, which only made him wonder more. Was it the shame of a lost battle that kept him silent? An error on his part? He knew mountains stood between the woods and the valley, as well as that they could be troublesome in traversing if one was not careful enough. Rather than questioning it any further, Kove chose to drop the topic; even if he were to pursue it, the likelihood of him getting any answers seemed nonexistent. Still, his curiosity was not quelled entirely, simply pushed aside for the time being.

"He has," the Inuit responded. Despite having not seen the other boy in awhile, his scent was too recent around the woods to be from before his trip. "Do you want me to get him for you?" Or anyone, for that matter. The wounds didn't look serious, but they couldn't possibly be pleasant. Kove knew next to nothing when it came to treating injuries, but he was sure someone else in the woods did. Damien's skills in treating the wounded were doubted heavily, but the two were brothers. Perhaps the support alone could help. Little did he know the the darkened boy was, possibly, the last wolf Cicero wished to see.

Damien had returned, it appeared, but when Kove offered to retrieve his brother for him, Cicero found himself answering with a "No," that was a bit too rapid for a wolf who'd just returned home after several weeks. He was quick to recover and correct himself as he found himself say: "Cicero will find him later, when he is rested." Cicero was tired now, and he wanted to rest up before he would face Damien — that's what he told Kove, anyway, and also what he liked to tell himself. Soon, he would see Damien... Soon.

"Has Blackfeather been well?" asked Cicero then, hoping to find out how Kove as well as the pack had been in his absence.

The offer to find Damien was turned down, excused by the need to rest. The initial response had been quick, almost too quick, making the man somewhat suspicious. Rather than prying, however, he left it go, assuming the younger had his reasons. It was Cicero, after all, thereby eliminating any and all doubts the Inuit might have had. If he didn't feel like sharing everything, then there was most likely a valid reason behind it all. Whatever it was, Kove wasn't about to shove himself into the center of it all. If something was meant to be shared, it would eventually get out and make it's way around the woods. If not, then it would die with whomever held it—things were as simple as that.

With a change of topic, the pallid wolf was given something else to focus on, rather than letting his mind wander through the possibilities. "It has," he'd answered, no troubling situations coming to mind. "Though I'm sure the woods itself missed you in your absence."

A smile danced across Cicero's face for the first time since his arrival home when Kove said that the woods themselves had missed him. Cicero could appreciate the poetic value of the words that Kove spoke and found them hauntingly beautiful. He nodded in silent gratitude, the expression on his face enough to show that he was grateful to Kove.

"Cicero will rest now," he said, and he settled himself down upon the ground once more, figuring that Kove would understand that he needed his sleep and depart, so that Cicero could be alone again.