The Heartwood things lost to the flames

for @Varick. miyako's personal timeline: backdated a little bit to after her thread with Rouge (which takes place immediately following our trio thread, before this thread with Howl

For the majority of her journey, the Teekon Wilds had been a land of abundant beauty and resources. Even the northern wilds, with its glaciers and tundra, carried a type of rugged charm. It surprised her, then, to wander into a place where no life was found. It took her breath away.

It had once been a great forest, but it had been reduced to a barren wasteland. Corpses of tall trees halved by the flames stood stark and white. Underfoot, the dirt was mixed with ashes. Feeling grief for a place she had never known, Miyako padded through morosely, trying to see if there was any small game to be found hiding in the wreckage.

She came to a small stream eventually, whose water was mostly clear, a little cloudy from the ashes that had tumbled down from its steeper banks. This seemed to be where the only life could be found here; slim silver fish darted out from rocks every once in a while, making the trek to more fertile waters. And there was still some greenery beneath the surface.

Miyako took a drink, grimacing a bit at the acrid taste. She looked down into the ripples, wondering if she should try her luck at fishing in this solemn place.

Varick forced himself to trudge southward.  It was more difficult than he thought to tear himself from the glacial fortress that reminded him so much of home, of the Azorius in its prime.  But he was a man in exodus, his duty was to leave the Syndicate behind and to do so meant destroying everything that the once-prince had ever been.  Eventually, he found himself in the lush green expanse that marked the end of Neverwinter Forest.

A second forest was visible from the edge of Neverwinter, and having traveled without aim before, he decided that it was as good of a place as any but the closer he got, the worse he felt.  The moment he broke through the Heartwood, something ugly inside him shifted, memories that had once been banished took over.  Varick's mouth parted, a wisp of silvery fog escaping as the air was forcibly sucked out of his lungs.  All he could see was burning, although the Heartwood was not home and both the death of Charlemagne and the Heartwood were long ago.  

The dazed man hurried through the wreckage.  He did not notice once he came across the woman he had met just nights ago, almost shoving past her before her scent made its way past the fire and the memories and brought him to the present.  

Varick was sure she had seen him.  The generally cool, composed man was caught off guard and an anger surged up that he did not understand, angry with himself for breaking and angry with her for existing.  But it was not fair to punish her for something she did not know, she did not help, so he just addressed her with his gaze, trying to look as composed as he could.

Did I disturb you?

Miyako was just about to attempt to snare a fish when a dark figure came upon her, stopping abruptly close by. She looked up, surprised, and discovered it was Varick, the handsome male she had come across in Neverwinter Forest.

He asked if he had surprised her. Yes, she thought sourly, thinking of the fish that had just gotten away. "Not at all," she fibbed, giving him a pleasant look. "I wasn't sure if I'd run into you again."

The big wolf gave every indication of outward calm, but his eyes, hollow and dazed, betrayed him. Something had disturbed him recently. "You okay?" Miyako asked, tilting her head. Perhaps it was the forest. She craned her neck around, glancing at the barren trees. "This place is. . .sad," she finished lamely, failing to come up with adequate words of description.

He watches as her startled expression melts into one of hospitality and he shifts his weight, trying to quell the earthquakes that threaten to betray his composed demanor but she asks him if he's alright and he knows that something has given him away.  Varick breathes in deep, letting out a long sigh that shatters the painful silence in the Heartwood.  I am fine.  It is an outright lie, but at least one he hopes is not obvious.

He lingers on the burned carcasses of the trees, of singed grass and smoky air and finds her description to be both juvenile and inadequate, so he furrows his brows and finds words of his own. This was once a kingdom, guarded by wood sentinels of great size and longevity that has been unjustly razed to the ground by tongues of fire.  He turns to her before resuming. It is devastation.

Varick looks at the pond beneath them, spying the fish that darted back and forth in fear, struggling to survive in the barren wastes around them.  It comes to him that she was likely trying to hunt and although he should be embarrassed or abashed, these are feelings that he has chosen to ignore.  Instead, a swipe of his paw brings one to the surface and he pushes it towards her. 

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his flowery language. Smart-ass. But she agreed. This had once been a paradise, somewhere of great beauty. Beauty snuffed out in a few days' work.

Varick dipped a large paw into the water and scooped out a fish, placing it near her own feet, and she looked up at him and smiled, taken aback. "You can fish," Miyako said, impressed. She looked down at the small silvery body, recalling many lazy afternoons spent fishing.

"My brother and I used to go fishing all the time.  There was this lagoon. . .so beautiful," Miyako remembered, closing her eyes and seeing the azure expanse once again before her. "There were so many fish there. Spring, summer, winter, fall. It was so great."

Looking intently back to the water, she saw a sleek shape slowly meandering through the water. She had learned long ago that her paws, unlike her legs, weren't fast or deft enough to snare the creatures. Instead, Miyako's head dipped rapidly under the water, snatching the fish in her long jaws and setting it down at Varick's feet. Turning away for a moment, she shook the water from her face and ruff.

"You had said you come from the north," Miyako said. "Inland, or the coast?"

sorry this one's shitty

She said nothing at his words and perhaps it was for the best; the description was not just of the Heartwood but of home.  Instead, she remarks on his ability to fish.  And disappears in her own memories.  He gives her the attention he can manage, nodding when appropriate.

And he watches her watch the fish, surprised when she strikes her head into the water, appearing once more with a fish of her own she tosses at his feet.  He had never liked this method much, he did not like the way the water clogged his nostrils, but it seemed to work for her.

He finally sits, wrapping his silky, long-furred tail around himself as she inquires to his whereabouts.  It's a long story, but one he might be willing to provide if she so chose to pry. Inland.  Mountains.  What about you?

"I don't mind long stories," she responded amiably. "Coast. We lived on these plains that ended in cliffs, that dropped into the sea." Her mouth screwed up as she remembered the last time she had encountered said cliffs. "My father fell one day, got knocked out by the rocks below and drowned. We found him washed up on the beach a couple days later."

Miyako paused, glancing at Varick with a sheepish expression. "Sorry. I know that's probably over-sharing. I just haven't talked about it with anyone, or really had time to process it. Things sorta went to shit shortly after that."

With that, she resolved to shut up and hear her newfound companion out. "I've been talking a lot," she apologized. "What's your story?"

Although Varick never cared for the abrasive scent of coast and the way the sand matted between the thick fur between his pads, he treated her story delicately, for he understood what loss felt like.  

He had never had a sense of obligation, but she had shared her story with him and he nodded dutifully.  Do not be ashamed of sharing with me, Miyako.  I am sorry for the loss of your father.

Perhaps it was the devestation of the Heartwood that made him so vulnerable, perhaps it was that her story so closely resembled his own.  He sat in silence for a while before deciding to divulge his own shady history. I was born to Charlemagne Rangvaldr of House Azorius, he began, looking up to the barren sky revealed by the naked branches overhead.  The Azorius Syndicate was located inside a mountain, with three packs at its feet.  Each had their own lord, but Father ruled over them all.

He shut his eyes and lost himself. I was raised first as a warrior.  I trained under our head Mercenary.  When I was still young, my father was murdered.  House Orzhov — my uncle, took over.  Varick sighed, standing once more to pace around. 

My older brother and I were placed under a ward to be groomed as heirs once we got old enough to replace Orzhov.  When my brother disappeared, the focus was shifted on me.  My ward protected me.  I was supposed to be killed.

He could feel the anger rising up in him once more, and his tall, tapered ears flattened against his neck.  I hid in the lower regions of the packs at the base of the mountain, gathering followers and building a resistance to Orzhov's rule.  The night we were to attack, an engulfing fire razed down the forest.  Many wolves died.

I pressed on.  I was determined to slay the man who killed my father.  I failed.  I was put on an unfair trial before the council for attempted murder and exiled.

He casts her a glance, realizing he has spoken for far too long and shared more than she had probably bargained for. And now I'm here, he finishes unelegantly, his lips tightening.

Fire. Perhaps that was why Varick seemed so disconcerted upon entering the barren forest. Fire, and death. His convoluted tale of family, duty and revenge was to her as tangled as vines, but she did her best to listen closely, giving him the same courtesy he had given her.

"Now you're here," she echoed, looking at him intently. "You were a warrior." Still is, she noted, taking in his powerful large form.

Miyako touched her nose to his shoulder in empathy. "And I'm sorry for your loss, as well," she added, pulling back and gazing into his bright blues. "I wasn't very fond of my own dad. . .but it's still hard, and weird, to lose a parent, no matter how you feel." And the way Varick spoke of his father suggested Charlemagne was a much greater wolf than Hiroto ever could have been.

"Your brother. . .you said he disappeared. Have you been looking for him?"

He surmised that his story probably made sense to nobody other than himself — the culture he was raised in was strict and its rules were many.  Still, she gave him her rapt attention and he decided that it pleased him... probably.  Yes, I was a warrior.  Perhaps if he were to ever settle down somewhere, he would be once more.  Did you ever hold a.. position?  A trade?

He tried to resist the urge to recoil violently at her touch, and only halfway succeeded — instead he pulled his shoulder from her and stiffened.  It wasn't her, it was touch, the feeling had always ignited something uncomfortable inside him he could not place.  

He did not want to startle her or scare her off, however.  He did just bare himself to her and did not want to risk her running away with his story. Thank you, he replied because that was custom, wasn't it?  I understand.  Charlemagne was a virtuous man, more of a king than a father.  But it was difficult to deal with the feelings that came with his death.  It was a long time before we figured it was murder.

He let out a soft hmm, at her last question.  Yes.  Though I have every reason to believe he is dead.  Did you have any surviving family?

He flinched at her touch. She noticed he stopped himself halfway, but he still had flinched. Taken aback, she took a couple of steps in reverse, making a small sound in surprised apology. But she spoke no more of it, instead listening silently to his words about his father and brother.

"When I left about a month or so ago," she began, in answer to his question, "my brother Ichiro--the eldest son--his mate, Taani, my only sister, Tsukiko, and my youngest brother Moro were still alive." She gulped, then, thinking of the two she had lost. Varick may have recoiled from her, but her body warmed from the memory of her younger brothers curled up near her, as pups, when she was a yearling.

"I had two other brothers: Jiro and Saburo. Jiro was a good kid--but pretty unstable, emotionally. Saburo was a terror--but sweet, deep down." She smiled at the memory of the latter's antics, and the former's words of deep wisdom, far beyond his age. The smile left when she saw their bodies again in her mind's eye. "They were the next season's litter after me and Ichiro, so a year younger. When my dad died, they each thought they knew what was best for the family, and decided to challenge Ichiro for leadership."

Miyako shuddered, knowing what came next. "He could have just. . .ran them off, when they decided to fight him. I begged him to let them go. But Jiro struck first, then Saburo. . .and he murdered them both." She bowed her head, silently praying for their souls. "Ichiro was bigger and stronger. Older, more experienced. He could have--he should have--chased them away."

She looked back up at Varick. "My brother had promised me I would be alpha female. But he made his mate alpha instead. . .and honestly, I don't know if I could have stayed after what he did to my family." Letting out a shivering breath, she wrapped up her story with the quick aside, "My mother died in childbirth with her last litter. Only one out of three pups born survived--Moro. It was a hard birth."

Feeling exhausted after voicing her tale aloud for the first time since it had all gone down, she settled onto her haunches, closing her eyes and leaning her weight back, stretching her back muscles. Every emotion she had worked so hard to suppress over the last month was now coursing through her veins like hot blood, and she struggled to keep composed as he had when he had come across her in the forest.

Miyako rolled her head to look at him once more, after a few moments of silence, her face blank. "Shit, I had forgotten that you asked me about trades," she said, breaking into a chuckle. "Uh, no. We didn't really do trades, just sort of pitched in wherever we were needed. I'm a pretty good hunter, and since both of my parents were sort of sketch and wandered off a lot, I raised the younger kids, too."

Varick gave her his rapt attention as she went off with a dialogue as indepth as his, and he tried to keep all of the similar-sounding names straight in his head.  As she recounted the murder of her two brothers he gave a single curt nod of his head — it was the diplomatic thing to chase them, not to snuff them from existence!

His thoughts traveled back to her touch, her attempt to assuage him and he took his own nose to his shoulder in the most brief attempt at comfort sonce she finished recounting her tale.  You've suffered more loss than one should have to deal with at our age.  I hope these lands are good to you.  


We were very trade-based, though if something needed done we did what we could, he said as if he had been helping... in reality, he had been a prince, and royalty was not to interact with commoners so easily.  Still, he did not want that impression to be left on her, so he spun an easy lie.

He pushed both fish towards her, brows knit.  You should eat something.  Help you feel better. 

His voice was soothing, deep and cultured, with an accent bordering on pretension. He was royalty, and he carried himself as such. At his touch, she looked at him, surprised, but then let her features melt into a gentle smile. "These lands have been good to me so far," Miyako said. "I haven't been attacked or made fun of, at least."

Varick pushed the fish toward her, and she smiled even wider. "We should both eat," she responded mildly. "Plenty of fish in this water for a small feast." As if summoned by her words, a particularly large specimen started to approach the shallows. Her head turned slowly until she faced the water, her body folded into a crouched position, and when the fish was close enough, she struck--but failed to grasp its slick body in her jaws.

Wrenching her head out of the water with an ungainly splash--the fish swimming away in fright--she shook her head and laughed ruefully. "Well, we'll have a small feast if we can catch the damn fish." Another fish was lurking, this one smaller than the last, but still meat. She repeated her tactics but failed again, and found herself taking a few paces back in annoyance.

She turned around to face Varick, smirking. "Not my day," Miyako chuckled, letting the water run in cool rivulets over her muzzle and down the thick ruff of her neck.

rolls done in tabletop!

One side of his lip turns up towards her in a kind of crooked smile.  Aye.  While he could see another wolf protecting a kill or their territory and retaliating, he was perplexed about why she would ever be mocked.  Perhaps that is a question for later.

He is pleased to see her accept his fish but her next statement is correct — they both should eat, especially with how the prey had been thinning the further south he ran.  He eyes the large fish as she speaks and watches as she dives in after it. His dark companion misses, and as she startles the fish away from her he dips his paw in after the large one they had been eyeing, though its slick, shiny body is just out of reach.

Damn things, he muses, though it gives him some kind of hope to know that although the singed wood was not home to wolves or other predators, smaller animals were surviving there.  The tall man watches her dip her head in the water and fail again, water glimmering against her dark pelage as she comes up and studies it.

He turns back to the fish and calculates for a moment before a very sudden move pushes his head under the water, jaws clamping around the wriggling fish below.  In a movement just as quick he pulls himself out, dropping the fish at his feet and wrinkling his nose up at the feeling of water clogging deep within his nares.

Still, a success is a success. Sure it is, the pompous man says, I'm here.

She broke into a delighted laugh at his comment and his new way of fishing, pulling back a little to avoid the spray. "Look at that," she said, each syllable shimmering in her glee. "You've turned our luck around."

Well, if he had tried it her way, she would try it his way. Another silver shape soon appeared after the water had calmed, and with one deft motion, she reached her paw into the water to scoop it out. It was mostly her foreleg that did the work, but regardless, it worked, and one more creature was added to their fishy pile.

"Two for you and two for me," Miyako said with a grin. "Let's eat so that we don't scare all the fish away."

As she bent her head to the kill, she watched the dark man out of the corner of her eye. He had come upon her initially seeming so stiff, so formal, but with conversation he had begun to warm up. The water droplets on his sleek black pelt glimmered in the sun. His smile, which she had so rarely seen, lit up his entire visage, changing him almost entirely.

Perhaps, buried underneath the steely interior, was a friend. Perhaps--her skin prickled and warmed at the thought--something more.

Her laughter had a delightful tune that pleased his ears, and he felt kind of full of himself for bringing it forth as she stroked his ego with her following comments.

Varick watched with a prying eye as her foreleg deftly broke the surface of the water, returning with another one of the wriggling creatures.  Although he tried to hide it, he was once again pleased with this outcome!

Though he has nothing to say, he agrees with her and grabs two of the fish, reducing them to bone and then gnawing on those, too.  Varick reclines, laying down on the burned ground.

He wants to leave, to banish himself from this grievous forest but so long as she decides to remain, he figures he will accompany her.

What do you plan on doing after nightfall?

The fish were delicious, but small game really wasn't the trick to filling a wolf up. Merely a snack, to ward off the hunger that would come in a day or two's time. She needed another deer hunt like the one she'd gone on with Drogon, needed some red meat to keep her fit for winter.

Varick finished eating and settled down in repose, and asked her what she was doing tonight. She smiled. "Looking for plans?" she asked coyly.

Her voice growing more serious, she continued, "I don't think I want to stay here before the sun sets. I'm thinking about heading back over the plains to visit a friend. He. . .he has a pack in the mountains, that he said he'd show me sometime."

Miyako gave him a long look, studying his features. "Will you spend the winter alone, or are you thinking about joining a pack? Part of me is leaning one way, part of me the other. . ." She left the other question--the will you join me in the Vale? question--unspoken, hanging in the air between them.

Her brazen nature caught him off guard, though looking back on his words he supposed they could have been taken with other intent.

But he does not need to come up with a rebuttal because she admits that she is going to visit another man, another pack that he has very little interest in.  Varick has nothing against packs, sure, but he is not certain he wants to be plagued with constant pressure to socialize, and is definitely certain that he does not want to crawl his way through the lowest tiers of packhood.

He takes in a deep breath, weighing his words before he ultimately, inevitably lets her down. I do not think I wish to stay here either, but I cannot say I will join you to meet your friend.  His lips tighten and he swallows, hoping that she does not take it the wrong way.

I'm not sure.  I do not want to face winter by myself but I am... averse to joining a pack.  It feels dishonest to join up.  And if you haven't noticed, I am not the most sociable.

He turns back to her with a sigh. I can accompany you most of the way, if you would like?  The side of his mouth quirks up again, Unless you'd rather be rid of me.

She hoped he didn't get the wrong impression from her mentioning it was a dude she was going to visit. After all, it was Mouse. The same Mouse who had been cloaked with the scent of several females, the same Mouse whose quips and smiles were trademark ladies' man. Cute enough, sure, but not anyone she thought would stick to one girl for long.

"No, I'm not looking to get rid of you," she laughed, the happy sound covering up any disappointment that could have leaked out into her tone. "It's too bad you won't come. I hear it's beautiful in the valley."

Miyako rose to her feet, pushing away the discarded fish bones with a small mouw of distaste. She looked at Varick with a half smile. The sun was beginning its slow descent beneath the horizon, and she wanted to be out of here before it got dark. It truly was a creepy place, made better only by the companionship she had found.

"I don't want to keep you any longer," she continued. "If you wish to follow, follow. If not, perhaps I'll see you again." Miyako walked past him, the only touch of farewell a small brush of her tail-tip against his broad shoulder. She looked back after a moment, taking in his appearance should she not see it for a long while. "If you change your mind, the Vale is this way."

With a stiff upper lip, she departed, wondering if the burly male could let go his pride enough to at least take a chance on her.