Totoka River for the sake of one who was

@Varick -- keeping this vague not knowing how this thread will end

It had been an eventful first few days of her life. Well, at least, the life she was fully aware of. Thelxiope was a sweetheart, and Samothes interesting. Wolves had been kind, if distant, so far.

But the loneliness pulled at her like the winter wind, sweeping down from the north, tugged at her pelt.

Who was she? Where was she from? What had happened? These were all questions without answers--no, questions with answers, but answers she had no ability to find. She was completely helpless in the face of this handicap; she felt like a prisoner in her own body.

Snowe's physical health improved day by day--she could gather her muscles into a slow trot, now--but her mind remained a jumbled mess. She found she had no trouble retaining memories made over the past week, but as for memories before she had woken up? Barely a whisper.

She had had a mother, once. And siblings. A shadowy form she recognized as her father appeared every so often in her dreams. And the crashing of the sea. . .

She stood by the riverbank, looking forlornly at the water. Her reflection stared back at her, black-furred, amber-eyed. The calling of gulls overhead and the rush of waves created an ambient soundtrack to her wallowing, preventing her from going entirely mad, lost in her thoughts.

"What the fuck happened?" Snowe wondered aloud, feeling that maybe she'd never know.

*rust noises*
trying to get back into the swing of things so this is shoooooort! until interesting things happen.

He had traveled back outside the Teekon Wilds, continuing without aim or reason, and just the same he returned.

He had no ties to anyone or anything and after so long of being chained by the responsibilities of princehood, of knightood, and then of being a vagaond it was almost a relief but his mind kept wandering back to his encounters in the Teekons.

Perhaps it was time to return.

He traced the banks of a riverbend, mind clouded by thoughs of how close winter was and whether or not it was time to join forces with a pack or go it alone when a voice pulled him from them violently.

He picked up his pace and headed directly for her, closing the distance and emitting a friendly chuff at his friend. Miyako, he called, How have you been?

She was contemplating flinging herself into the icy river when someone called out to her, and Snowe looked up, ears lifted toward the sound. A burly dark wolf was making his way swiftly towards her, eyes lit in greeting. Except. . .

She frowned. He had exclaimed like he knew her. But she didn't know him. And what was that he had called her? Snowe had been so abstracted that she hadn't quite caught it. Certainly not Snowe.

Icy fingers reached their way inside her stomach, twisting at her guts 'til she was nauseous. Was this someone she had known before, like Durnehviir, possibly? And if so, who was he to her? And what had he called her?!

"Hello," she said, just barely dislodging the words from a throat that was growing tighter with each passing moment. "Sorry, I. . .I--who are you, exactly?" She was so stupefied by the appearance of what was most likely an old friend that she lost all eloquence entirely. Knowing that he'd be taken aback by this query, she hastily added, "I had an accident. Lost my memories from. . .before."

Her question cooled him considerably, disengaging him from the excitement that he'd held moments ago.  He came to a halt, keeping more distance between them than he would have before she responded to him.

But she seemed damaged — visibly, she was scarred and perhaps mentally something had happened too.  

I had an accident.. lost my memories..

Her wounds seemed unnatural, like burns which he had seen his fair share of.  He wonders momentarily if he could have protected her from this but shakes it off quickly as nonsense — besides, she's here now.  And even though she still smells of other wolves.. he has resigned himself.  Even if she spurns him, does not want him, this is his duty.

Oh, he rumbled, still awestruck. Just an old.. acquaintence.  He didn't know what to tell her, how to tell her, he didn't understand how she couldn't remember him but their time had been so brief and perhaps he was insignificant to her.

Varick, he introduces himself once more, dipping his head at Miyako.  Are you.. otherwise hurt?  Other than your memory and what I can see?  Are you lost?

He--Varick--looked thoroughly taken aback, and for that she felt a tremendous wave of remorse wash over her. She knew that this was something completely out of the realm of what was normal, that he must think that she has forgotten him because he was no more than a ghost in her past. She has no idea what sort of history they have between them.

"Varick," she repeats, committing the name to memory once more. "I. . .was pretty hurt. For a while. I'm getting better. Fur's growing back. Strength's coming back." Snowe drew herself up, looking directly into his eyes. "I'm Snowe. But you know me by another name. . .right?"

And what if that life had been much better, much bigger, than this one? How was she ever to go about reclaiming those thousands of memories, all those friendships, lost? Hope rose up within her as she realized that this Varick could help her reclaim some of what was missing, but it sank again, as there was no way of knowing just how much, or for how long, he knew her.

His intense, glacial eyes bore into Miyako's — Snowe's — as she spoke, explained herself to him.. although he realizes now that he is too demanding of her.  She owed him nothing.

Yes, I do.  But how much did she need to know, did she want to know?  How much would overwhelm her?  Be too much?  She had, of course, told him everything about her.

Miyako, he says again, waiting to see if this gives her any sort of miracle response, although the stoic and logical side of him tells him that most likely it will not.

Miyako.

The name came to her ears, at first a meaningless shred of sound from his lips. But like a raindrop into a pool, it soon rippled through her, beginning to form inside as a word of meaning, a word that belonged to her. That was about her.

She could hear her parents call her so, their voices a faint whisper in the back of her mind. Miyako, her mother cooed, and her father's rusty tenor, Beautiful child of the night. She glanced down at her inky pelt and resisted an unhinged laugh. The night. Snowe, so white, was an ill fit.

Her gaze lifted back to Varick again, her throat tight again, but with emotion rather than nerves. "Thank you," she whispered, tears blurring her vision. Only barely did she dam them, preventing them from spilling over onto her trembling cheeks.

"I don't. . .I don't know if I'm ready for anything else, yet. About me, I mean," she continued, voice soft and quivering. "But when did we meet? Where?"

It was hard to stifle the curiosity. Part of her was stretched hair-thin, yearning to know more. Who she was. Where she had come from. Where her family was, and if she could get back to them. Her entire identity. She had a name, now, and she had friends. But she wanted more.

But a tiny voice shouted within her, over and over, a warning cry. As if there were things she didn't need to know. And perhaps this injury was a sign that those parts of her life were not worth revisiting, reliving, and that she should embrace the fresh start, the empty slate.

Snowe--no, Miyako--resisted a heavy sigh and waited for his response.

He cannot imagine what it must be like to lose all of oneself such as she had.  He had no idea the magnitude of what she felt but as she turned to face him with tears in her eyes he could see a part of it.  It welled a heat up inside of him, creeping up his neck because he hadn't done anything to deserve her thanks.. but it was disgraceful to not accept.

You are welcome.  

Varick wants to move closer to her, to comfort her by being near her but it was fair enough that he'd barely known her before and certainly she had a better life than to hang around some lone man now.  So instead as she asks him how they met he raises his head to the sky and closes those intense, glacial eyes.

"Good evening," he recalls her shaky-steady voice, "What brings you here tonight?"

It was uneventful, he begins, three lone black wolves meeting in the middle of a forest.  It was the second time we met that was interesting.

He turns back to look at her once more, getting into a more comfortable position. A burned forest that reminded me of home.  I came in dazed and you brought me back to earth.  Since Miyako — Snowe — was not ready to know more about herself, he'd not divulge any information she had shared with him.  It was.. better for her not to know that he knew.

Time to change the subject. Are you.. well?  Cared for?  I smell others on you.  And perhaps he could bed down with them as well.  Winter was fast approaching.

so so sorry for the late response

"Hmm," she responded simply, intrigued. And where was this other black wolf she had run into? Perhaps their paths would cross again, too. A burned forest. . .had there been a fire? Had they had to escape the flames, and that was how she had sustained burns on her pelt? But. . .no. She had awoke on top of a mountain, far from any burned forests she had seen on her way down.

Varick asked her if she was staying with anyone, and she lifted her shoulders in a bewildered shrug. "I ran into a couple of wolves the other day," she said, "and one of them took me to a forest. They accepted me, I guess. It all happened. . .fast."

She lifted her head to stare at him. "Are you alone? You could come stay there, too, maybe. They seem all right. And winter's coming."

It was strange. Despite her not knowing him--in this new existence, anyway--she felt incredibly safe with him, as if they had known each other for a very long time. And this feeling extended to a sense of caring; she wanted him to ride out the winter warm and fed. She wanted him to stay with her.