Silvertip Mountain Ring any bells?

I thought it was time for a reunion between her and Day-day. Don't mind me, just talking to myself...

No matter how many times she resolved to stay at home like a good little lady, Doe just couldn't shake her wanderlust. Gripped more fiercely than ever in light of her alpha's inactivity and preoccupation with a big, stupid rock, she had wandered a ways from her home.

Truthfully, she was worried for the man. He seemed so distant, lately, and it pained her to be so far from him in such joyful times. The pack needed to pull together in the months before winter, and it seemed to her that he was pulling away. The Blackrock wolves would not survive without him; the pack would disperse without his leadership. She would do her best to keep them together and strong, but she knew that she was not Leviathan material. If Skellige left, they would be in shambles, and she would be alone.

There was nothing for it, and so she wandered, hoping to shake the restless worry from her bones. And presently, she came upon a mountain marked, and on the borders was a familiar scent. For serveral long moments, she remained there at the edge of the territory, nosing and snuffling at the dirt there. Who are you?

A face came to her, but nothing more. Uncertain, she sent out a soft, querying howl.

He'd been sleeping; he rarely did anything else in the territory, as of late. If he was not out hunting or roving or simply wandering around, he still stayed on the edges of the mountain, away from the hubbub of pack life. It hurt him to do so, but he felt it was best. There was a part of him that felt as those his days here were numbered, and he wondered if one day he simply wouldn't come back. That if after a long day's hunt, he might lie down with his kill, and the next day travel further still. They were troubling thoughts, but made easier to entertain by secluding himself on the outskirts of the community, though he still did his best to participate in hunts and bring back whatever he could to his family.

He wasn't ready to leave them yet, whether on his own or by Steady's displeasure with him.

So he'd been sleeping - and sleeping nearby, at that - and he still felt a strong duty to protect this pack he lived with. His ears pricked at the sound of the woman's howl, and he almost fancied that he'd heard such a call before.

Already on his paws, he moved toward the sound with leonine grace, eyes scanning for any sign of movement. But the woman, when he came upon her, remained still as a statue aside from the constant twitch of her ears. Her non-aggressive stance allowed him to further relax, and as he drew near, her scent began to trickle into his nostrils.

"It's you," he murmured when they stood face to face. She looked healthier than she had then; her coat was full and red, and her ribs fully shielded by a layer of muscle and fat.

Doe's tail waved in confused pleasure at the sight of the man. He was bigger than her, but she felt no fear as he approached - already, she had an innate trust of the beast, despite the fact that she could not recall their meeting. That she knew his face seemed to be enough, and even now, she was remembering warm words and a steady, soothing presence through a long and hungry summer night.

"It's me," she agreed, ears flattening in embarrassment as she tried to remember how they knew each other - he certainly seemed to remember her, but she still struggled to put together their past.

She liked him, though. He'd been kind to her.

"You were kind to me," she said, repeating this sentiment to her companion and hoping he would elaborate on the fact. She knew it only distantly, and not with any concrete evidence to back it up.

Bemused by this sudden twist of fate - that the very wolf that haunted him would appear so conveniently on his doorstep - Day simply stared at her, realizing that she was speaking to him this time, and that she seemed just as confused as the first time they had met. He'd taken her to be a simple creature back then, and thought the same of her even in light of her ability to speak, but it seemed she'd been able to take care of herself during their months apart.

"I'm sorry I lost you," he said after a long moment of silence - and Cat and Calf, it felt good to say those words to her; the ones that'd been burning on his tongue for months, now. And she was alive - safe and apparently healthy, and with the scents of other healthy wolves mingled heartily with her own. "You don't - you don't know how happy I am to see you, girl. Alive, healthy - I'm glad. I worried."

Shaking his head, the male laughed as he realized he still did not know her name. "We never introduced ourselves, did we? I'm Grayday. What's your name?"

At his words - lost, mainly - the memories began to trickle back. Two wolves in the dark of night, earth damp and open, the incessant croaking of frogs on the air. Words, spoken as if from far away; You've been alone for a long time, haven't you? The fear and pain of those lonely days had been lessened by his presence, and the kindness that he'd shown her had kindled a warmth in her heart that'd kept her going for the few more weeks she needed - he'd tided her over until she'd met her true King.

And "I'm Doe," she was able to say, the name rolling off her tongue as easily as Atoll had these past few months. She was glad to see him, too, and happy that he'd survived the famine and found a home as she had. "Doe Cairn, now. The beta of my pack - I live not far from here, actually, in the arms of Stavanger Bay."

With her nose, she indicated the way from which she'd come, and came a bit closer to run her nose over his rangy form, gathering information from his musky scent. The loneliness she'd sensed in him those many moons ago still pervaded him, the sorrow hanging in his fur like any other smell. It seemed as though he'd not faired quite as well as she had, but again, he was going blind - he was lucky enough to be part of a pack at all.

Still, she had compassion for the man. He had been kind to her at a time when she'd most needed it. Perhaps there was some way she could be kind in turn - but how?

Rolled to see what, if anything, Day-day will infer from her words and scent. I made a mistake in that post, but I'm going with the first option.

He hummed appreciatively at her words, not surprised that she'd found herself a mate. He'd not been unaware of her appeal, but had been reluctant to attempt to start any sort of relationship with a woman so clearly unhinged. Apparently, someone else hadn't been so exacting in thier choice of a mate - or perhaps she'd simply gotten better in the months since their meeting. She certainly smelled healthier, and happier, too. And what was that in her fur? A scent he knew, though not very well.

"Doe Cairn, huh?" he chuckled, surprised by this new revelation. "And the lucky mister wouldn't happen to be a Szymon Cairn, would he?"

For it was surely the pallid youth's scent that hung most heavily in her fur. He'd never gotten the surname of the pelt-hunter, but Doe reeked of him. It seemed most likely that he was the one she spoke of. And apparently this was the lad's 'Chosen One' - the one that he'd gifted a fawn's pelt, and that had apparently been sufficiently impressed to have chosen the boy in turn. He wondered if the kid had taken his other advice about women.

Cocking his head, he tried to decide if little Doe looked a bit bigger than she should be.

A flicker of ears betrayed her surprise at Grayday's utterance of the name. A question was at the tip of her tongue - How did you come to know that name? - but she did not ask. Szymon would give her a more trustworthy answer, and it would be more enjoyable coming in his rich timbre. It was not that she did not trust the male - she did, unaccountably - but he did not have the mind that her lover did, and she liked to hear things from his unique point of view.

"That's him," she said instead, a toothy grin splitting her bristling maw. "With any luck, I'll bear his young in the winter. Strong like him. Healthy."

And not like Grayday. Her eyes slipped over him, and she was unable to keep the pity from shining through. Even with a pack, he had not found what she had. Perhaps she should direct him toward Donnelaith, the Land of Beautiful Young Women.

Brightening, she decided to do just that. And she had the perfect excuse, as well as the perfect way to repay her debts to the man. "There is a healer in the woods not far from here," she said cheerfully, tail waggling entreatingly as she sidled up to the man. "Pale white, with green eyes. Her name is Deirdre, and if you bring an offering, perhaps she could heal your eyes. The pack is called Donnelaith, and it resides in the sentiel trees that rise up beside the shore. Seek her, Grayday - and perhaps come visit Szymon and I when you do."

Duty fufilled and debt relieved, Doe decided that she'd spent enough time away from home. The problems there would not fix themselves, and it was high time she seek out Lagertha once more to rekindle their friendship, and perhaps to speak to her of the nobleman and his promised woman.

"I will see you then," she said firmly, giving the man a brisk nudge in farewell and then quickly making to leave. She paused, though, feeling strange about such a goodbye - He has been kind to me.

Returning for but a moment, she pressed a brief lick to his cheek and bumped her head into his shoulder. "Seek her," she said again, giving him one last, bright smile before going on her way.

She was not the girl he'd expected her to be. She'd seemed much younger when they met; more innocent, more... sweet and friendly. And she was friendly now, and sweet enough, he supposed - but still different. Stronger, maybe. A woman, and not the youth he'd first taken her as.

"I'm sure they'll grow as big as mountains," he agreed, privately a bit amused by her admiration of the stuttering youth. But then, he'd taken down the fawn easily enough, and there was time still for him to grow. Day withheld judgement and the snicker that threatened to break free. He liked Szymon, he reminded himself, and was glad that the pelt had won him his girl. But what a surprise it was to see that it was this girl.

He returned his attention to Doe as she spoke of the woodland healer. His ears pricked at the command in her tone, but he took it all in stride, curious enough about Deirdre to accept her haughty behavior. He supposed she was used to that, now, being a beta and all - but he still remembered how submissive she'd been when it'd been just the two of them in that miserable swamp.

"I'll do that," he said with a nod - it was pretty high on his list, actually.

He was sad to see her go again, but there was finally resolution in his heart. Her embrace confirmed it - she was here, in the flesh, living without anger or resentment at his failure. She was doing fine - doing much better than that, actually - and she remembered him as kind.

He'd never expected to be free of that guilt, or to have this absolute closure of the matter.

But he was. He did.

Wandering back into the territory, he wondered if he should tell someone about it.