Morningside Cuesta thoughts and hearts

It had been several days since she'd arrived, and she still hadn't seen Grayday. Part of her worried that he wouldn't want to see her, though she couldn't think of a good reason why that should be. It had just been so long, and he'd had so much time to change from the brother she remembered to a wolf he didn't know. She still thought of him the way she'd last seen him, and there was a strange disconnect in her brain that now thought of him as her baby brother, because the last time they'd been together, he'd been little more than a pup. They both had.

But he had grown as she had. It was time to see what the years had wrought.

"Day-day?" she called softly, approaching the small stand of trees she'd traced him to. A little creek stood before her, and as she crossed it, a crumpled, grey-furred form came into view. She'd heard about the snake bite, but considering how little fanfare there had been about it, she assumed he was doing better than this. "Day?" she asked again, having received no answer the first time.

Grayday was feeling about as well as could be expected, all things considered. The pain in his flank had not disappeared, but was slightly duller than it had been. What bothered him most, now, was how quickly he still tired and how badly it hurt his joints to move or even just lie there. It led to a lot of trouble getting to sleep, and even more trouble staying asleep. Normally, he'd jump at the chance to interact with another packmate.

But when Sunspot spoke, he was sure he was still dreaming. His ear flapped as though trying to rid itself of an irritating fly, but Grayday slumbered on, determined to catch some rest. At least, he did until she spoke again, and this time, he was sure he'd heard someone. The silvered male lifted his head (which felt far heavier than it used to) and peered at the pale, creamy woman standing before him.

"Sunny?" he asked, his voice thin and reedy. Was it really her? Or... was she dead? Was he dead?

The male blinked, and then his nose began to twitch. No, it was Sunspot!

"Sunny!" he called, dragging himself to his paws and padding toward her.

Sunspot surged forward and met her brother halfway, her tail wagging wildly behind her. She couldn't contain her delight at seeing him again, after all these years. It'd seemed so unlikely that they'd ever meet again - impossible, almost - but here they were.

"I've missed you!" she proclaimed, covering his face in happy licks. True, he had not been a pressing thought on her mind, but she'd still thought of him from time to time, and when she did, she'd felt wistful and bittersweet. Now that it was happening, now that he was before her, her heart ached all the more. So many years had gone by.

"You look like hell," she sighed, stepping back to look him over. He could do with some feeding up, and that leg... something had to be done about that leg.

"Me too," the male murmured, deeply agreeing with the sentiment but finding himself a little too overwhelmed to respond in kind. He simply sat still and endured his sister's treatment, his tail waving idly behind him. This still felt like some strange, happy dream. He was glad she was here, but he could hardly believe it.

"It's temporary," he replied, an amused grin quirking his face when she so casually insulted his appearance. "You look good, though. How've you been?" 

The last time he'd seen her, they'd been only a little older than Sunny and Dawn were, now. He remembered her being so much smaller, though they had always been the same size. Now, she was fully grown, comfortably plush, glossy-coated. She looked far better than he did - but it was only temporary. As soon as he could hunt again, he'd be back to his fighting weight.

Aside from their initial greeting, the conversation was awkward and stilted. Sunspot's ears fluttered uncomfortably as she stood before her long-lost brother. They spoke as though they were strangers when they had this common blood between them - but in all ways that counted, that was what they were. Strangers.

"I've been good," she replied in a small voice, casting her gaze around so that she did not have to look at his face (familiar, but so different that she imagined). "The pack... nothing happened to it, really. It's just that, after da and mom died, and all the kids went off... there just wasn't anyone left," she explained, and another stab of melancholy speared through her chest. How strange it was to have the family she craved so close, but so very far away.

Grayday wobbled a bit, and sucked in a deep breath when she confirmed what he'd always feared. His parents were dead. His father was dead. There would never be answers to the questions that plagued him. He'd always known that, of course, but it had been good to hope. It had been good to imagine.

"How'd they die?" he asked softly, ignoring everything else she said. He didn't give a damn about his brothers and sisters. He loved them, and he wished them well, but there were more than he could name, and only Sunspot and Shale had been close to him, his littermates.

Her face fell when she realized how callous she'd been. Of course he hadn't know. How could he?

"Peacefully," she assured. "In their sleep, at a ripe old age, with plenty of children around them." The last part was meant to be a comfort to Grayday, and not an insult. As many as had been there, many more had been absent. It was the way of things, and Sunspot didn't blame any of them for striking out on their own.

"They always hoped this for you," she went on, looking aroung the cuesta. "Well, not the snakebite - but kids, and land, and a family..."

She'd been about to mention a woman, but no one else had. Sunspot wondered where the mother of his children had gone.

His heart gave a dull throb when he learned of the way they'd passed. It was a good death, and he'd known for a long time that they must have been dead, but it still hurt to think about them being so far out of his reach. I will see them when I die, he thought, and it was frightening how much consolation the thought brought him. He could not remember when death had seemed nothing more than a distant idea.

"They hoped it for all of us," he replied, and then felt strange, speaking of them to his sister. Sunspot had known them longer, knew them better. What could he say to her?