Hushed Willows sugar magnolia

An afternoon chasing rabbits up and down a grassy hillock he'd sniffed out still left him empty-handed. Some days he did better than others, and evidently, this day was not one of them. Each lagomorph had been quicker than the one before it, and the whole lot of them managed to duck just out of reach or outmaneuver him just enough.

So without another rabbit in sight for the time being, he huffed a tired sigh and let himself flop down into the plush grasses to wallow in his momentary defeat. He sprawled out his long legs, stretched, and gave a frustrated little groan to no one and nothing in particular. Yet, he still felt the weight of everything bearing down, even now as his bright eyes trailed up the clouds dotting the otherwise blue skies.

The rain had abated for the day and once again he had turned up empty handed. It was discouraging to say the least, though by then he had at least roped in a couple of others into looking for Pippin. With Harlyn laid up and the majority of his time spent out, it left him with little time to try and reconnect with his children. So much had happened so fast that his head spun, but maybe that was lack of sleep that left him woozy.

Still, when he caught sight of Silas in the foothills, he could not help but direct his attention towards his darker-haired son. "Looks like you've been working hard," he called out to him, pulling a smile to his face. It was no doubt the weary sort, though he tried to push past it.

The tingles of fatigue ran rampant all up and down the lengths of him, but a gentle breeze and soft grasses below helped ease it back just a little. While it was far off from the satisfaction of a successful kill, it was something. He had already come to appreciate the smallest of victories, happy to take whatever he could get when he could.

His nose twitched when he smelled his dad's approach, so lazily, the darkest Ostrega rolled upright to prop up on an elbow. He gave a few slow flops of his tail, too as he watched Mordecai fondly. Silas knew he had been busy looking for Pippin lately. "'m trying," he answered through a big yawn. "But not a single catch," with a huff, he tossed his head back down to the grass.

He plopped down on the ground near to Silas, feeling a yawn split his face wide open as he stretched out. Mordecai couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's rest. He had maybe slept decent once or twice since they had come to the Keep, though honestly his troubles with rest had come long before they had even left the Hollow.

His jaws clicked together as he stifled off the last of the yawn, listening in to what his son was telling him. It seemed the yawn was contagious or they were on the same page with the day; Mordecai huffed quietly with faint amusement as Silas rested his head.

"Some days are better than others," he said. Wasn't like he had much luck in finding what he had been out looking for too. But that was a topic he wasn't too inclined to comment on, at least not without prompt. Things were already bad enough at the Keep, there seemed little reason to try and sully it more.

Some days are better than others.

If he felt like lifting his head off the grass, he would have nodded. Instead, after a lingering pause, he just agreed. "Yeah," he sighed. He knew this all too well. There were good days, bad days, and a whole range in between. Sometimes it didn't matter what happened, there would be no changing it. Today, he suspected, may shape up to be one of those days because he didn't have the energy to go fighting against it constantly.

"I wish there were more better ones," he grumbled into the grass. "Have you seen Mom lately? I hope hers is better," he asked, peering sidelong at his father for a beat while worry bled into his tone. His father seemed tired, but to Silas, that was default. As far as he knew, the searches for Pippin had yet to turn up anything so he understood that morale would not be at its best with that weighing them all down. The dark brother had long since worried about him, among all else.

He too wished that they had more of the better days than the usual fair they had received. Never in his life had he thought he would ever find himself so mired in with such misfortune that it changed who he was, but then again Mordecai had never pictured himself as the settled type with children. Things changed, sometimes for the good, and sometimes for the bad. He rested his head on his legs then, breathing out slowly as Silas spoke again. Harlyn.

The best way he could have described his mate as of late was even more reserved than he had ever been. But he couldn't have blamed her, for if it wasn't a healing leg that got her down then it was being sick with worry for the son she could hardly search for. It almost drove a pang of guilt through him for lounging there, but he also knew that she would have only been worse if he pushed himself past the point of sheer exhaustion.

"She's healing," he said. They had scarcely talked at length since the incident, but he felt he knew her well enough by then to assume such things. "She's worried about a lot of things right now, but I think we all are." He did not mask the truth from his son—Silas was no longer a child easily swayed by a story. If Larkspur was intuitive enough to pick up on things, and Pippin old enough to make his own decisions on a situation, then Silas would naturally have those inclinations too.

Still, it didn't stop him from trying to clutch after their youth.

"Things will be better soon."

The circumstances surrounding his mother's injuries had the youth decidedly nervous. About what it meant for their family, their place here in the willows, and all else. With Pippin gone and Tavi strangely scarce, he felt like he was stuck in some unreal in-between where the best he could hope for was piecing things back together and flying under the radar to not incite the wrath of the alpha female who wasn't his mother. That, and keep away from the noisy whelp that Silas was festering a newly-founded loathing towards.

Harlyn was among the lights in his life, perhaps one of the most bright, and to see her miserable gutted him. It drove him to want to be better, help her, make it all right again, despite having no energy or direction for the actual act of it all. Desperately, he wanted her to know he was here for her. He stopped by when he could! Usually when he had something to offer. But, sight of her suffering unsettled him deeply. He felt bad about that and did not want to wallow in such thoughts. It was a vicious cycle, he had learned long ago. Harlyn ailed, his brother was missing and probably just as miserable, while the rest of them just had to scrape by with what they could.

He nodded into the grass again. Nothing his father said surprised him. "Yeah," he agreed. He was worried. Always. About so many things that he did not know how he was supposed to deal with this. Knowing Mordecai felt the same soothed him somewhat, but still didn't make anything better. "I was gonna take her a rabbit if I got one," he sighed. "I want to do more to help but.." The rest didn't need said.

He would perhaps never truly know the depth at which his children had come to understand things. There were far too many things he wished he could have shown them that were good about the world. But it was a difficult thing even now to conjure up from the ashes of what they had. Even to him, the world as of late may as well have been cast in shades of gloom, for even when they dared to look up it was only to see that hopeful light grow further and further away. And he had tried to be humble about it, always siding his thoughts with the notion that it could have been worse.

Even now, when he felt much lower than he had in weeks, he reminded himself that it could have always been worse. Perhaps that was why he found himself as some central bastion of positive reinforcement, that it would all come to pass and be over before they knew it. How soon that would be, however, Mordecai could not determine, nor had he the energy to ponder such.

"Just being there helps," he answered. "You and your sister help more than you realize." Or so he wanted to believe. There were times when their pained gazes betrayed whatever other emotion rose to the front, and there were times when he felt guilt for undetermined reasons. He kept that tucked away where he hoped they would never stumble onto it, and suspected Harlyn did the same.

"Perhaps we should bring her some flowers," he went on to suggest.

When Mordecai answered him, he nodded slowly. He felt vaguely reassured but still not soothed in full, although any little bit helped. It was not always easy to just be there, though. He didn't like seeing her injuries and not knowing what he could do about them besides nothing at all and of course, he never wanted to pester when he knew he wore his worry all over his bright eyes sometimes. That... probably didn't help very much.

He still felt bad he couldn't help more. But, if all else failed and even on the worst of hunting days, he most certainly would be there. He'd be there for Harlyn was much as she'd have him, he supposed. It was easy. So easy that it didn't feel like enough.

The mention of flowers came as a welcome change of his focus, though. "Yeah?" he peeped. "I think I know where some good ones are," he offered, and began to gather his legs beneath himself before pushing up to stand. While not as tasty as a fresh meal, if they took her flowers, it was more than showing up empty-handed, and that made him feel a little better too.

He wasn't in any rush, all content to soak in Mordecai's company to savor every second he could, but he nudged his snout on his father's shoulder before pointing down a pathway -- the one he had in mind for flowers. Barring any better suggestions, he'd aim in that direction, slowly but steadily.

Eventually settled into motion, he warmed to the idea, and accepted the distraction from his sulking.

sorry for the wait <3

He mustered up the strength to rise again when Silas nudged him, and wondered when the last time had been that he simply hadn't felt so tired. The weariness came and went with all things, but in the recent days it had become more and more prevalent. Mordecai didn't know a time when he had simply been so worn down and in more than one way, but he was far from out of things so far that he let it effect him constantly. Such would have to be one of those times. He shook out his coat once he had righted himself, his solitary gaze following the direction that his son had pointed out.

"Lead the way," he said, returning the nudge with one of his own. While he had come to learn many of the paths that scaled and traversed the Keep, Mordecai was far from intimate with them. He did not know where many of the little features and nuances were hiding away, and flowers were among that collection for sure. But, this was his opportunity to learn, and assuming things went all well, perhaps he too would have something other than no news to surprise Harlyn with.

<3 <3 <3

He'd liked busying himself with mapping the underbrush of the Keep, almost as he'd started to back in the Hollow as a tiny pup, so running across the flowers seemed secondhand when he was creeping around after small prey. He wondered, though, as he tracked on and realized something that had been idly on his mind. Since he wasn't exactly upholding the speediest of paces to get them where they went, he thought to ask. "This is probably gonna seem like a weird question," the Ostrega prefaced with, and glanced over his shoulder to his father. It was out of nowhere. He understood. "How did you know you wanted to be a hunter?" he asked, trying to place his appropriate emphasis to get his point across, even as he stepped over a root on the trail. Sometimes he felt like his skills were just about where they were supposed to be for any wolf who wanted to feed themselves. Yet, others, beneath the glow of others' praise, he wondered if he was just thinking too much into it.

His brow furrowed. Not because the question had come out of nowhere of course, but rather he was searching for the best way to answer his son's query. Mordecai didn't think there had ever been a time when he had decided on something. He had simply known. But that didn't seem all true, or easy to explain.

"It was always something I was good at," he said after a couple of moments. "I guess it helps that it's a useful skill to invest in too. Everyone benefits from it at the most, and yourself at the least." While all wolves could hunt to some extent, there was something valueable in being able to hold an edge to it. He was no master hunter by any means, but Mordecai had learned a lot of it over the years.

The juvenile would appreciate any input he could get, and from his father no less. It didn't need to be vast, nor detailed. He took the words in carefully and nodded his head, slow, steady, and took a while before he had his reply ready. "Yeah?" he nudged quietly. A natural skill? Sometimes he was hopeful for himself. But he was still easily discouraged. "That's.. what I thought. It's what I want it for.." The usefulness to the greater good and to ensure his own survival even when matters went bleak -- and therefore, by extension, his family and pack most of all. He just liked that. Who wouldn't? "Plus I like it. I want to.. get better, learn more.. you know," he spoke more quietly, assuming he would get his gist.

He nodded, gathering the gist of what his son was suggesting. It was enough to get a smile to spread evenly across his face for a moment, a prideful moment that one of his own happened to be finding a particular niche they were comfortable in. If nothing else it meant that at least for all they had been through over that year, not all was a disaster. He had worried that with everything that had happened they would be so ill-adjusted to the world that things would be infinitely difficult... but perhaps not, after all.

"You will," he went on to say. "Like any skill, you have to practice it. Tracking, hunting small game, even if it all ends in failure... you learn something." Most of which he hoped would come naturally to Silas, if it hadn't already. He knew his son was particularly suited for hunting even without him saying anything—word travelled nonetheless. Mordecai had seen glimpses and glimmers of such, though they hadn't hunted anything on their own just yet.

Silas listened with a thoughtful furrow, although he skimmed along the trail as he went. Everyone really did seem to have faith in him. Many wolves he cared the most for and respected above the others had already helped reassure him. Sometimes, with it all fresh it mind, he almost could feel misplaced for worrying while hoping to one day manage to steel his resolve in himself. "Yeah.." he agreed, and while his tone may not have suggested it, he felt a little better. He knew that deep down. He needed the practice, and it just took time.

He was quiet for a while until his ears swung up tall once more. "Hey, look.." he chuffed hopefully, and steered towards something purple that caught his eye. While not the flowers he'd first had in mind, these were.. pretty nice? Silas moved to gather some, carefully maneuvering them into a mindful grip. Once satisfied with their harvest, he went off to deliver them afterward.