Firefly Glen missing you is a reptilian crawl

@Libeccio

Instead of going south, where she should, she ushers Kitsch to the nearest forest and finds a place for her to rest that's safe (as safe as one can be on their own) to tend to her wounds and evaluate her psyche. She does not push the girl for more than she can give her and coddles her pain and treats her as she can.

When her own stomach growls in protest, knowing her young companion is likely the same, she sets off early in the morning. I'll be right back, she assures her and finally gets the girl to settle into a light slumber. There are several things she needs and the last few weeks she's grown rather accustomed to the area. She knows the glen well enough, and the forest, and as she parts further north, she knows exactly where she's going.

The poppies are promising to bloom soon and she takes a mouthful of those. She doesn't know if the girl will take them and, if she doesn't, she'll keep them for herself but she sets aside several while she searches for everything else. With her nose pressed to the ground, she searches for the scent of small prey that she's able to accomplish herself and take back to her companion.

As he wandered the lush reaches of the glen, Libeccio began to wonder if his decision to leave Windsong Heights was made with an entirely sound mind, or if the maddening boredom had simply gotten under his skin. The persistent steadiness he once favored was now insulting to the man—three years of life on the earth and little to show for it. His accomplishments were slim, and his goals after reaching adulthood amounted to nothing more than glorified survival. Find a mate, father children, have a job, settle down. He couldn't stand it, and every attempt at anything more was quickly shuttered by the leaders of the clan.

So he abandoned them. Packed it in. Gave up. And he didn't even have the decency to feel any shred of guilt.

Libeccio huffed and lowered his head to the ground when, suddenly, he picked up a wolf scent on the breeze. His ears popped up to attention and his molten copper eyes flashed as they raked across the grass, but he remained motionless otherwise. He wasn't entirely sure how close the nearest pack was, and he wasn't at liberty to go skulking around their lands without permission. Something moved off in the distance, briefly illuminated by the scattered light of the cloud-covered sun, and he tracked it with his eyes until it vanished into the verdant green sea again.

A bolt of electricity shot down his spine and he took off in pursuit. He wasn't fond of ignorance, or the unknown, so he trotted at a brisk clip until he reached the place he last saw the figure. Again, he caught sight of it, and this time he was much closer. It was a wolf! Libeccio narrowed his eyes and lashed his tail, not liking the proximity of the other, but unwilling to let them wander out of sight again. He rumbled a note of discontent and called out, "Who's out there?"

For the fear of moving too far from her plucked poppies, she circles the same area until her diameters brings her far enough away that she feels the pull back. The glen, which should be filled with the scent of rabbits and their mating and offspring, has proven thus far to be empty but she knows she cannot return empty handed to two hungry stomachs. She’d lived the loner life once before, albeit briefly, but suffering withdrawal at the same time as starvation had been hard enough that she didn’t want to suffer through it again. Half of her problem is equally taken care of as the poppies settle and absorb after she’d eaten them but the rest remained strong.

The shout of another, however, causes her to immediately freeze in position. Her nose pressed to the ground with nothing but dirt and grass is enough to lodge her senses from a scent that should be familiar. Her green eyes narrow and she slowly picks up her head, staring at the open field ahead of her, and then slowly does she turn over her shoulder to see a figure in the distance. A low growl rumbles in her throat but their distance is far enough that the threat is not heard by her opposition.

She stands there for a long moment, unsure what to do—there are no notes of a pack nearby but she has hardly gone any farther north than she is now. West does not move forward, narrowing her eyes to zero in on the other, and something about him is familiar enough but her legs have rooted in place. The wind blows right in her face—how convenient—and her emerald eyes widen in surprise. “Lib?” she murmurs quietly to herself and stumbles forward a few steps before she halts, remembering her legs don’t want her to go any further.

The wind betrays him as he stares down the stranger—his fur is toustled and his elevated tail is buffeted this way and that like a poor flag strung out in a storm. Libeccio sees the tension lashed across the stranger's frame and he pulls his lips taunt over his hidden teeth. He prepares himself for the worst case scenario by adjusting his stance and splaying his paws firmly against the loam. That is until a voice from the past cuts through the roar of his blood pounding in his ears and strikes true to the heart of him. A name, reserved for only those precious few close to him, tumbles from her lips and all at once his defense crumbles.

He blinks, "West? Fucking hell." He exhales loudly and all the uncertain anger leaves him in a great big rush. Libeccio moves to join her, devouring the distance with his furlong eating stride, and comes to a resting point just out of reach. He was never one for physical affection but, for her, he is willing to entertain it for a short time should she desire it. The wildfire of his eyes dance rapidly over her as he ascertains her condition. Blessedly she appears hale and, well, somewhat present but a little dazed. He hadn't forgotten her fondness for the psychosis inducing flora of their homeland, and wondered, briefly, if she'd discovered a substitute here or if she'd simply hit her head.

Not that it mattered. He could care less about what she chose to do in her spare time. "Glad to see you're alive, at least." Libeccio said with an odd quirk of his mouth that could be construed as something of a smile.

Everything clicks into place way too fast and for a moment, West can’t remember where she is. She blinks dumbly at her brother as he shrinks the distance between them. The area is familiar enough that she doesn’t question it and her mouth hangs up as she hears his voice for the first time in weeks. Months. A sound stammers out of her mouth as his features come into fine focus and she slowly leans forward, but she isn’t sure what to say at first.

By the time he’s there in front of her, she offers a single wag of her tail and straightens out her features. West isn’t certain she’s hidden her expression fast enough, so she applies a quick sneer to her muzzle but does not reach out and touch him. The thought alone makes her skin crawl and she blows off the tension with a scoffing laugh.

“You must have forgotten I am immortal,” she snorts, briefly forgetting her purpose. Her eyes flicker away, distracted by something in the distance. It doesn’t hold her attention for long but she quickly remembers her purpose and sheds the light flutter from her face. There’s so much she wants to tell him all at once, if only because he may be able to help, but they don’t form in time before she shuts the reunion down and moves on. “My friend is hurt,” she tells him when she draws her attention back. “I was getting some things for her and trying to find something for her to eat, but,” she pauses in thought. She’d never been much of a hunter. Most of her meals had been brought to her one way or another and she never went without until lately and now, away from her pack, she isn’t entirely capable of covering the basic needs.

Her tone, and the almost languid way she formed her words settled uneasily in Libeccio's stomach, and he felt the familiar prickle of irritation. Though he didn't much care what she chose to waste her life on, be it an addled psycosis or delicately pulling all the right strings like a puppetmaster above the stage lighs, the fact that she was out here in the open without protection and high out of her goddamn mind was enough to rankle him. His eyes flickered dangerously when she looks away and his hackles raise just a touch—the slightest indication of his shifting mood.

But the subject change takes him by surprise, and vanquishes any arguement forming on his tongue. Libeccio's frown darkens and he narrows his eyes. The term friend was an interesting addendum to the problem, and it demanded further attention. Whenever did West make friends that weren't just pawns, or other playthings? He snorted when she trailed off, "but you decided to indulge yourself first. I get it." He remarked tonelessly, though it came across as slightly cruel given the circumstances of Kitsch's injuries, and West's... whatever it was.

He shook his head. "Fine, I'll get something but you owe me." But he didn't set off right away. His ear flicked towards her, "What even are you doing now? Did you find a pack, or—" The food, yes, he'd get to it, but first he wanted answers. The hunger of a stranger could wait until he was satisfied.

West stares at him for a long moment as her expression hardens to a blank slate of stone. The only indication of failed control is the way her ears fall back against her head again as he accuses her of something she can’t deny. It was never something she kept terribly under wraps but she’d always stumbled through life without much of a problem. She’d managed to get from Windsong Heights to here without losing too much along the way, but she didn’t have much going for her anymore back home. Her own irritated rumble vibrates her chest but he relents anyway, but not without a few questions and, of course, repayment.

“I just told you what I’m doing,” she says sharply, brushing past him.

She keeps her legs stiff so she does not stumble and in the process, loses her grace. Even though militant marching isn’t something often associated with her, it is enough to keep her from showing she can handle herself when she needs to. She pretends to look for something not in his immediate vicinity as she mulls over her answers, thinking about the caldera and the wolves that had taken her in. She’d done a little to earn her keep but she knew from the beginning that she did not fit in with their family and she can’t take Kitsch back there without having earned enough. “Neither of us have a pack,” she decides to tell him, looking back at him, “but I need to find one to keep her safe.”

Libeccio jerks his head upright as she brushes past him. He swings it around so that his eyes may follow, and reveals a thin line of pearly teeth as a warning. Her response was expected, considering how callous he normally was, but he didn't appreciate the hedging. It wasn't like he'd ever hidden anything from her—he had nothing to hide. It gave her little reason not to trust him. Nothing in his life was ever worth a damn, but he knew she had secrets to keep; ones that would never, ever, see the light of day again.

He doesn't shadow her as she walks stiffly past him and instead observes in irate silence; her gait is unrefined and clumsy, but not because of her euphoria. Rather, he could not conjure a memory of her ever moving with such aggressive locomotion. The red-kissed brother sighs when she reveals that she is, in fact, alone out here and caring for an injured associate. "So make one," He offers simply as he moves to join her again while alluding to her previous band of miscreants and deliquents. "I'm sure there's bound to be a ton of young wolves looking to find a home now that the snows finally fucked off." He remarked with a twist of his russet ear.

Libeccio does not stay behind for long, which does not surprise her, and she gives him one look to the side before she refocuses on her goal. He continues to speak, even if she doesn’t want to, with an idea that makes her roll her eyes. The thought of taking on responsibility of just anyone isn’t entirely high on her list and her own followers from before are evidence enough, leeching off her home for long enough. West never branched out from Windsong Heights nor pursed anything resembling an official leadership, even if her own claws were lodged in the backs of others along the way.

But then again, what was the purpose of keeping Kitsch around? Of taking care of her so easily since she’d stumbled upon her? West heaves a sigh and brushes off the notion quickly. “That’s the last thing I want,” she tells him with an irritated flick of an ear at just the mere suggestion. “I said I wouldn’t be gone long and I still need to find something for swelling,” she tells him offhand, hoping to scoot him along to find a catch or two to feed the girl she promised a meal for.

Libeccio lingered on a step, paw curled away from the ground, as he observed her reaction. She was irritated, and that summoned a smile to his lips. He wasn't about to pressure her into the idea, but he wasn't terribly fond of shopping around for a suitable leader, either. Even if his sister didn't shoulder the mantle, he wasn't about to go bend the knee to any old fool. Loyalty was exchanged as currency in most places anymore and he refused to sell his body and soul for the mere chance of lifelong fulfillment. They would find a solution somehow but, until then, he was content to tag along with West and her nameless friend. 

He snorted at her attempt to dismiss him and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah." Libeccio looked around for a decent trail to follow before settling on one that led southwest from their current position and set off without another word.

The answer seems to satisfy her brother enough to ward off any further interrogation. It won’t last long but for the moment she can collect what she needs in peace. Occasionally she peaked up for her brother but he’s long from her vision, plucking at a plant here and there as she locates everything she needs. By the time Libeccio returns, with two rabbits between his jaws, West has everything she needs. With little left to exchange, she picks up what she needs and the two of them trot back toward the forest.