Dragoncrest Cliffs my tongue is sour from the hunger of missing you

Thuringwethil has been in a cave in the private beach accessible through Hougeda so only wolves that are allowed in the cavern. I'd love for @Bobby or @Artaax to pop in.

The evening sun settles over the horizon, shining light into the small cave she’s taken residence up for the better part of a week. It illuminates the room as it always does but most of the time, Heda is facing the other way, ignoring the light and sleeping most of the day away. Her eyes flutter open and she looks across the stone floor, sand gathered at the entrance and leading out into the ocean. She can see the tide pools to one side but she pays little attention to them as her eyes close once more as habit has sunken in, attempting to sleep a little while longer. After a moment, she opens them again and blinks back the exhaustion that has settled behind her eyes.

She carefully lifts her head so that she does not unwind her stomach and spew bile. The ache in her head has subsided, which takes several minutes to realize, and her stomach churns in a way that aches for food instead of rejecting it. Her mouth is dry and she licks at her chapped lips, smacking them a few times and searching the cave for a nearby skull have filled with fresh water. A few seconds pass and she works up the courage to try and stand, shuffling her front legs until she is upright and with a groan, she pushes the rest of her form all the way up. She does not move forward just yet, steeling her legs so that she does not fall despite how weak her muscles have turned.

Slowly, she steps forward and drinks until the skull is empty, thankful for whoever left it for her. When it is empty, she continues to lap at the inside until it is dry and not a drop is left. Then she licks at the floor at what has been spilled, cleaning it the surroundings and yet still she needs more. The nearest water source is at the opening of Hougeda, where the lake drips into a small and shall pool but she doesn’t suspect she can make it that far without giving out. It surprises her that she is still standing and, deciding to chance a few more steps, she moves toward the opening of the cave and sets her paws out on the sun-warmed sand and enjoys the rays against her dark coat.

The days seemed to grow painfully long with Thur bedridden and Wildfire missing. Artaax had been silent and watchful over his nomi throughout her illness. He kept whatever distance she or Portia requested of him, but usually no more whenever he was at home with her. Whenever he wasn't with her, he was busy doing his duty for the pack. He hunted often, simultaneously splitting his attention between that and keeping a watchful eye on their home. He brought whatever he caught to nomi first, then took whatever was rejected to offer to the others in the pack. It was rather monotonous work, but it kept his mind from worry over both of his ailing parents.

Today, Artaax approached the cave with a white heron clenched by the neck between his teeth. He was extremely proud of this particular catch and so was hopeful the commander would be well enough to have at last a small nibble of it today. He bowed his head slightly as he came near, chuffing between his teeth to announce his presence if she hadn't spotted him already. He was surprised to see that she was standing. Hope trilled in his heart as he crept a few steps closer, eyes brightening and ears perking up tall as he looked at her.

Despite the effort it takes to stand, Thuringwethil closes her eyes and enjoys the way the sun heats up her fur. It adds an extra fraction of energy she didn't have before. Portia's medicine over the last several days has worked wonders enough to get her to this point and the sun gives her that little boost to linger a while longer. It gives her the chance to stay on her feet long enough to find her oldest son trotting in her direction with a prize between his jaws. It seems she has missed out on so much over the last week or so, even with frequent visits, that she turns slowly and lowers her head to greet Artaax with a longer embrace of affection.

"Yu hon on dis?" she asks in a rough, unused voice. Artaax has shown hunting skills to impress those of his mother. A smile flutters on her lips as she thinks of Wildfire, anticipating her home soon.

Artaax smiled as he dropped his catch on the sand at his paws. "Sha," he confirmed, pushing it towards her with a pale paw, "I caught it further up the coast. It's for you, if you're well enough." He looked hopefully at her, his tail moving gently back and forth. She seemed better now than she had been in days, so it didn't seem entirely unreasonable that her stomach could handle the bird. He glanced down at it, feeling pride swell in his chest again at the white feathers stained with red.

Thuringwethil watches as the boy answers her question. A smile formed on her features and she gives him a few shakes of her tail. Catching the bird is impressive, which takes a better skill than she has, and she feels a swell of pride. All three of her children are budding students and she won’t admit it, but put up against the other children of the pack, there’s no competition. She dips her head and sniffs at the kill. Her stomach rumbles but her mouth drools, two contrasting needs her body is giving her but she won’t pass up a gift from her eldest.

“Let’s not eat it on the sand,” she says, her tone almost questioning. “How about over in the grass, instead?” she asks and points off a little further up beyond the cave she’d chosen to stay in. Where the sand thins closer to the cliff’s wall, the grass thickens in the sunlight. Thuringwethil circles around slowly, glancing back to make sure Artaax has followed, and drops to the ground without her usual grace.

Artaax watched intently as Turingwethil took in his catch. Her expression remained placid, and yet the boy could tell his mother was pleased. He nodded at her suggestion and reached to grab the heron again by its neck. Obediently, he followed her to the bed of green, pausing to allow her to settle in before setting the heron before her. He shifted down onto his haunches near her, watching eagerly to see if she would indulge.

The grass in the dune offers only a slightly better dinner plate than the sand. It acts as a barrier from the sand it grows through and if she's careful, she can prevent a good portion but she knows it won't be a perfect meal. The alternative is the cave she'd taken refuge, or the cavern, but she'd rather stay out in the ocean and she doesn't know if she has the strength or stamina to make it to Hougeda. So instead, as Artaax puts the kill near her, she gives him a loving nudge to his cheek before she rifles through the feathers to break through and eat her first proper meal in days.

There was much that Artaax had inherited from Thuringwethil, even though he didn't actually share any of her DNA - a fact he remained oblivous to. Her propensity toward silence was one of those. The boy had never been much of a talker. Only his more talkative siblings had ever been able to pull the words more easily from his lips. In their presence, as well as Wildfire's to an extent, he could chat and banter with the best of them. But the easy silence he slipped into with his nomi was more natural to him, and he found every moment of it highly enjoyable.

This was no exception. The boy leaned into his nomi's touch with a soft growl of affection, watching as she settled in and began to endulge. A smile slid across his lips as she tore into the flesh beneath the pale feathers, staining more of the bird with brilliant red. After a minute or so, he slid down onto his belly and dropped his head onto his arms, looking out at the ocean as the waves steadily rolled in, fell away, then rolled in again.

Thuringwethil stops when she can’t take another bite. Her body yearns for more but her stomach protest and she does not push it. She huffs a few down feathers from her face and licks her chops a few times to groom back the blood and debris. When she looks to Artaax idly testing in the grasses beside her, her quick turns to a long exhale as she settles herself similarly. The company does wonders, despite the lack of conversation. Silence had never been the lonely factor of company and for a while they lay there, watching wave after wave with a rocky consistency.