Northstar Vale Lemon children! Go forth!

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They had all rested up after arrival, and none more thoroughly than Titmouse. He had dropped to the ground as soon as he'd realized the group had found their destination, and without even curling up he was asleep. Out like a light. His slumber was characterized by muscle spasms that, to any onlooker, would give the appearance that he was still running. At some point someone grabbed him by the scruff and carted him off (he was a small boy, even now) and yet he kept on sleeping, as if determined to recoup as much of his lost energy as he could. The group was probably relieved by his absence among them; temporary though it might be, Titmouse was an aggressor, a pest, an irritant - and many of Rannoch's family would be in need of rest. Yes, his absense was a blessing.

Nobody was aware of how deeply the bear had corrupted him. How that single undignified moment had shifted something within him. Not even Titmouse would be fully aware of it, although his mind tried to work its way through the trauma of his near-death as he slept, and his dream was an immaculate reconstruction of events:

—it was with hurtling speed, a breakneck charge, that he rushed the other boy, yellow fangs jutting from his maw as he neared, a heavy forepaw set to deliver a blow to the small wolf, the paw like a club in its strength— The bear, fifty times his size, a great black pit of a mouth surrounded by a boulder-shaped body cleaved from the mountain itself —yellow fangs jutting from his maw— and he was paralyzed. Alone. There was no Rannoch here, no Cypress tailed by Redshank, no Rian, no Liffey; Titmouse was alone to face the giant and all he had was a pebble without a sling. The beast became stone; it rose up on its hind legs and around it, through it, from it, spanned the mountain. Its eyes were a shining yellow at first - burning and malevolent - but they shifted too, becoming the spark of light caught in the beryl.

As Titmouse witnessed the glimmer of those eyes, the spark he recognized from tossing the stone, the dream abruptly ended. He jerked awake with a squeal in a place he did not recognize, surrounded by mountains and shadows, cloaked in a mental fog from the deepness of his sleep, and without meaning to he felt his bladder release.

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Rian was dozing upon the overlook, eyes heavy but mind racing. Sleep would not come, no matter how hard he tried to quell the anxiety now tightening like a noose about his throat. The events of the day were coming to him in fits and spurts—he barely remembered calling upon his courage and shepherding two of their youngest away from danger as his brothers, his brothers, faced the bear alone. As if somehow they were less important than the order Rannoch had given for him to retreat. But wait!—his rational side argued, one of the Frostfurs had to lead and Rannoch had chosen him, not Liffey or Rose or anyone else, to bear that burden.

He sighed and rolled onto his stomach, feeling the full weight of his responsibility for the first time. The eldest Frostfur understood, now, what Rannoch (and Cypress) expected of him and he wasn't sure if he was up to the task. In fact, he still wasn't sure what he was even doing out here with this rag-tag group of teenagers and children alike. The self-same niggling doubt that persisted throughout his turbulent childhood continued to grow as he cast his eyes down upon the Vale below. He'd failed Neverwinter, how could his brothers be so sure he wouldn't tuck tail and run from this, too? 

A shriek of alarm caused Rian to bolt to his feet as his muzzle whipped around towards the noise before his mind was even aware he was reacting. His ears pressed forward, his nose flared, and his whiskers quivered as he scanned the treeline for danger. Thankfully, the shadows were quiet (though a few of their number did natrually stir at the disquieting sound). Rian spotted Titmouse, looking dazed and entirely out of sorts. A quiet pang of concern made itself known, and lodged itself firmly betwixt his ribs. 

The earthen Beta considered as he observed Titmouse with a neutral slant to his lips—should he assist the boy, or let someone better suited such as Rannoch or Liffey handle it? Rian glanced towards Rannoch, then Cypress, and finally Liffey before deciding it was best to nip whatever it was in the bud.

He picked his way carefully through the slumbering pack, mindful not to make too much noise, and was soon within whispering distance from Titmouse. There was the tangy scent of urine, and it nearly caused his nose to wrinkle in disgust but, somehow, he managed to keep control of his expression and offer the young boy the gentlest look he could muster. "Hey," he said softly as his ears slowly relaxed to a more casual position atop his skull, "it's alright."  

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He was wet, and uncomfortable. The feeling of dread lingered through the dream though; Titmouse was distracted by it, and didn't notice as Rian came slinking through the slumbering wolves to meet him. When he heard the whispered voice he visibly startled, sagging right, and stepped in the sinking warmth that had spread out from under him. The boy quailed next to Rian, ducking his head and swerving his gaze away with shame. The boy sniffled and blinked away the rest of the fog that cloaked him, and then admitted (more to himself than anyone else:) All my fault. The terror, the running, the injuries -- he glanced away and saw the adults sleeping around him, some with open wounds. The smell of blood mixed with the pine-fresh scent of the vale and the boy felt oh so small then. m'sorry.

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Nightmares were an old enemy of Rian. He felt the sting of their bites, and the wounds they left upon wakening more nights than he could now count. The occurances were so numerous that Rian was certain he'd hardly slept peaceful at all in his first year of life. There was no distinction between the good or bad times anymore, for the only moments that his happiness was certain was before his father vanished and his mother's fire died. They were not a demon he wished upon anyone. Especially those under the care of the Frostfur brothers, or a kid as young as he was when they first started. 

So now, standing before Titmouse, he could feel the tension and fear expressed with every movement of his smaller frame. The flicker of his eyes, the tremble in his quieted voice. Rian's heart ached for him—it jerked sideways and then up into his throat, before bottoming out somewhere in the expanse of the void that still lurked quietly beneath the facade he often wore for the rest of the group.

He swallowed around the tightness constricting his throat and cleared it instead. "It isn't. We don't know why that bear was there..." the eldest Frostfur began only to trail off again. Rian didn't believe, not for a second, that Titmouse was to blame. He hadn't summoned the bear. It could have been any of them caught in it's path—Rian could have wandered off to relieve himself, Rose could have been searching for herbs. But explaining this, especially to a kid who felt the immense weight of his guilt and shame so heavily in this moment, would be difficult. 

So with a twist of his ear and a soft frown, he reached over and attempted to brush his nose across the boy's shoulder. "C'mon," he grunted as he turned back toward the path they'd come up. He recalled passing a snow melt run off on their way up not too far from their camp. A drink, and maybe some privacy to voice his thoughts, could help him. Or maybe the silence would be a better healer. Rian was not well-equipped to decide, but choice was always a good option in the absence of any real solution. "I could use a drink, and some company if you're up for it?" He asked with the best smile he could muster despite how exhausted he was.

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It took him a few minutes to muster the energy to get to his feet, but he did it. The invitation was left without an answer spoken aloud, yet Titmouse kept close to the older boy's heel as he navigated the sleeping bodies. During the first few steps he paused and shook his back feet out, letting the wetness fling off of him and lightly splattering nearby faces; they'd never know. With a slackened posture and lazy eye Titmouse looked around the gathered bodies and picked his way through them, coming up behind Rian just as the boy voiced his comment about getting a drink - and the child merely shrugged. Sure, what difference would it make. He could use a bath too.

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Rian wasn't sure if what he was doing was the right answer to sooth Titmouse's woes. Maybe he should have woken Liffey, or Rannoch—they seemed far more devoted to the well-being of the younger members of the pack and had an innate knowledge of how to handle them. Rian, on the other hand, barely had a handle on himself let alone the budding, sometimes frustrating, personalities of the younger wolves. But suddenly Titmouse rose without much aplomb and picked his way through to Rian, who turned in the same silent fashion and led them both from the throng of slumbering wolves.

He passed beneath the bristled boughs of the great pines and into the shadows of the woods. There was no sign of danger here—no musk, nor half-eaten carcasses rotting in the mild late-spring air. He paused every so often to shoot a look back at Titmouse, feeling that same sense of thinly veiled despair that he used to feel often back in Neverwinter. He had no tools to help Titmouse understand that the bear incident wasn't his fault. No amount of talking it through would help, or he assumed.

Finally they reached the stream and Rian bowed his head to drink after checking on Titmouse one last time. He lapped up a few sips of chilly snowmelt, and flicked an ear towards the younger boy. A thought came to him and he voiced it before properly filtering it, "I have nightmares a lot," he began suddenly. "and it's hard. I don't sleep well most nights." He remarked. "But, I know it's just my mind playing tricks on me." The Frostfur yearling's whiskers quivered as he pursed his lips, and then sighed. "Sorry, I'm not good at this. But what I'm getting at is... sometimes you can't trust your inner voice to tell the truth, so you gotta put trust in your friends to steer you right." 

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The stream gurgled softly, and had he been in a better mood (more himself maybe) then Titmouse would've been overjoyed to search the river stones for pretty colors and shapes to play with or collect. As he was now, the boy just looked out over the current and seemed utterly disinterested. Rian drank, and it was quiet for some time.

When the older wolf spoke, Titmouse didn't even look at him. He was watching the stream. Watching the colors morph and the shadows shift. The current pulsed against a middle-sized stone that looked uneven; partway through Rian's comments the big stone came loose, floated a fair ways along, then clattered against smaller rocks. Titmouse saw the bear; he looked away foolishly to his feet.

—sometimes you can't trust your inner voice to tell the truth, so you gotta put trust in your friends to steer you right. Titmouse sighed through his nose and wiggled his toes through the wet soil. His ears went back, looking very much like a child being told-off for bad behavior. He interjected in the next moment, mumbling, I don' have any.

A moment after that, to clarify: 'm loud, an' I don' know things, an'... he shook his head at the mere suggestion of friends. He did have Liffey, but Titmouse had matured to a point where even he could tell when his cousin was irritated by him. Then there was Redshank (who he still held out hope for), but the older boy was pretty set in his mannerisms and clearly held no interest in the small firebird. Titmouse frowned as he tried to think of others, and then looked back to the stream with his eyes glazed by sadness.

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Rian was ignorant of the scene playing out in the stream bed. He wasn't predisposed to personify rocks, or other inanimate objects, because his imagination was quite happy to play out the horrible scenes in his head all on their own.  But he did note that Titmouse didn't bother looking up when he began talking, and that made him even more uncomfortable. The doubt he felt about leading the boy out here to talk was growing by the second, and now he began to worry—what if they were ambushed? What if Titmouse decided to run away? Rian wasn't fast, by any stretch, and it was highly unlikely he'd be able to stop the boy should he put his mind to it. 

But the child in question spoke, then, interjecting and then explaining. His own ears splayed at the sight of the despondent youth, then settled flush against his scruffy chocolate mane. A decidedly forceful beat of his heart reminded him that it was now his turn, no, his job to console the boy. There was no parents around to call upon when things got too difficult to handle. Rian had to learn now, no matter how hard it might be, to swallow his worries and put his best foot forward no matter the circumstances.

He frowned, but the look was not near as severe as it had been in the past. "Who told you all that?" He replied with a slight twitch of his left eye. Who had the gall to bring this boy so low under his watch? Or was this a sadness formed from a time before Rian knew him? Regardless, he wasn't sure how to comfort him; he didn't know how to handle his own self-loathing. "I don't really know what I'm doing myself, honestly, so don't be so hard on yourself." The Beta revealed as he gingerly lowered himself into a sphinx-like position. "Besides, I thought we were all friends, one way or another. Rannoch likes you, and he's our leader, which means you're one of us." 

His efforts were not futile, but they were close. Titmouse was fixated and couldn't shake the feeling he was being told what he wanted to hear, and nothing more. The boy shrugged, but settled when Rian settled. The smell of his urine was finally getting to him though - but the boy was focused on the conversation.

I know, and I have Liffey.. sorta. He conceded these points, but did not brighten. But erryone is good at things. You, an' Rannoch, an' all the bigger kids. Redshank too! I'm a... I'm a big baby! And I can't do anything! Fighting a bear was Blackthorn-level skill at the very least, but it had taken prompting to unlock his limbs and make him run; something like that should've been instinctive. He was weak, had nothing to show for all of his shrieking - he was falling behind everyone and the bear only solidified that.

Titmouse harbored yet more dissertation to the points Rian made, and it was causing his compassion to come in direct conflict with his irritability. But he was calm enough in the moment, with the silence of the trees and the babbling of the brook as their only companions, to stamp it down. He understood the boy's frustrations to a level he couldn't possibly convey with words—he knew what it was like to feel useless. He still felt it on a daily basis, but it went relatively unacknowledged with so much responsibility now resting on his shoulders.

He slowly rolled so that his back feet weren't trapped beneath his bulk, and considered his next reply before committing it to words. "See, you just said the answer to your own problem—we're bigger, er, older. We've had more time to practice and learn than you." He remarked in an usually gentle tone of voice. "Redshank is an orphan, just like Cypress and Rannoch. Or, I mean, I think he is. Life expected them to learn fast, or die." He continued on somewhat more rapidly than before and turned to observe the younger boy's face. "Seriously, Titmouse, we have no fu--'effin idea what we're doing. You're in good company." 

Bigger, older, better.

They'd always outmatch him, he knew it. But Titmouse conceded the point when Rian spoke, no longer interested in venting his emotions to the Beta - he just didn't get it. Ironically, he was likely the one wolf who really, really understood. But the child was still quite immature, and clammed up when he felt himself being corrected again.

Until Rian mentioned the word orphan. This was a concept he hadn't heard of before, and as the older wolf explained, Tit just kind of... Stared at him. His ears twitched when he heard the almost-slip-up in the older boy's language and then, unable to help himself, he grinned stupidly.

No effin' idea! He parroted, suddenly back to his old self, but this momentary flicker of Titmouse's old fire flew out swiftly, like a candle. He was focused more on the whole orphan thing. What is an orphan? An' how can Rannoch be an orphan when he's the boss?

Though a bit taken back by the abrupt change of topic, Rian was internally thankful for the boy's attention-deficiency. It meant he didn't have to keep trying to explain very serious topics to the kid—something he was most certainly terrible at, given the current state of things. But regardless, he did twist his ears back when Titmouse parroted his replacement curse and hoped that Liffey didn't think too poorly for introducing him to the whole idea. 

He wrinkled his nose, "Being an orphan doesn't mean you can't be the boss. It means his parents died," he replied in a low, hurried tone, in case their conversation shook anyone from their sleep and trying to cut Titmouse off before he got a bit too wrapped around the subject. "they were killed by a bear." he added, softer now.

The news that Rannoch had fought a bear before (or at least thats what translated in Tit's mind) made him gasp and murmur an awed, Woahhh, which was hastily hushed by Rian, of course. Titmouse got to thinking about how strange it would feel if his own parents were dead (and being rather dim, he didn't realize they both were; to Tit, his parents were Finley and Elwood, maybe even Raven). He grew suddenly solemn, a reaction that did not sit well upon his features, though it did seem to weigh him down as he took on a serious expression.

wanna wrap this one up? I need to get up to date on Rian's log. My fault for letting this go so long, sorry. ;-;

An expression entirely unsuited to Titmouse's characteristically sunny disposition found itself a home upon the boy's face again and Rian flicked his ears back, signaling his regret in bringing about such an unpleasant topic. He grunted as he moved to nose the younger boy's shoulder, "Don't worry about it." He chuffed in an attempt to seem as warm and friendly as possible; something Rian was not well-versed in. 

But he pulled away as soon as he felt the moment was stretching too thin, and motioned back to the group. "I mean it: you're welcome here, Titmouse. So don't bring yourself so low over things you can't control. Ok?"

Quick ending!!

The boy listened and gave little inclination that he was listening for real - but then he nodded, a tiny sage-like thing - and while his smile did not return to his face, he seemed to recouperate from whatever had been bothering him. Without another comment spoken, he ducked, nodding a farewell to Rhian, and wandered off to find something to keep himself occupied - but the older boy's words were filling his mind, and would occupy him for a while yet.