Dawnlark Plains the truth be told you need it more than you thought

she gnawed half-heartedly on the spine of the rabbit aditya had left some days ago, the bones picked clean in her boredom. the skull lay at her side, meticulously cleaned and pale, a few of the sturdier bones alongside it. tongue roamed a nook in between two vertebrae, discovering something pliable and thus surely edible. she worked to get it free, head low as her rear limb stretched out behind her. the forced stillness had her concentrate all her energy at what was at her disposal, describing then easily the state of the rabbit. 

she forced air through her nostrils in a huff, considering seeking out the pups again but wary of their wandering, sharp teeth. the bit of muscle came free suddenly, and the brief flash of satisfaction had her shift the spine over in her maw and search the next crevice with teeth and tongue.

he wasn't sure what brought him to dawn's den that day. surely, he'd be best suited as far away as possible? she didn't want him around, and he didn't really want to be around. but old habits, as they said, always died hard. he was only half-conscious of his steps as he padded toward her sleeping place, a recently-dead woodchuck clutched in his jaws.

adi smiled through the mouthful, depositing the kill near enough for her to reach, stepping back and watching her gnaw on the skull for a moment. "thought you could use something a little more. . .fresh to chew on," he said, his good humor, at least, still intact. he settled onto his haunches, wrapping his long tail around his paws. "how are you healing?"

he could have sent kitten or loir with the woodchuck, but he had come, himself. why? it felt deeper than the obligation of a leader to look after the rest of their pack. he could not deny that he had once, indeed, had a deeper bond with dawn than comrades; while the core of it was gone, the edges, the memories, would take longer to fade away.

perhaps it was those lingering feelings that brought him here, today. damned if he knew what to do with any of it.

teeth grated against the bone uncomfortably, and a brief flash of hurt erupted somewhere in hum gum when a sliver of bone became lodged there. face twisted, and she attempted to work the piece free with her tongue. a moment passed without success and she resigned herself to it remaining there when Aditya arrived, fresh kill hanging from his maw. 

a brief flash of guilt at eating what should surely go towards the nursing mothers (or Shale) before remembering that the pups were weaned, now, the mothers out with the rest of the pack. he dropped the kill; yet sat, seemingly not going to leave as he had last time. despite herself, smile curved her lips in the slightest. "not quickly enough." gaze slid back to the rear limb that still jutted out awkwardly from where she lay, the wound there mangled and torn. infection threatened constantly, but nothing serious had yet taken hold. 

mind flashed to the last time she'd been den-bound this long, the simplicity of her and Aditya. something sour rose up in the back of her throat. "I don't know how to deal with Loir."  she offered, then grimaced. she wanted something else to focus on, yet the words sounded calloused. "she's - upset, because - I don't know that either." brow creased, sourness sinking back a bit but lingering as her mind shifted to when he'd left quickly as soon as she'd started to cry.

he grimaced, understanding her frustration all too well. "it'll get there," he said mildly. "pema and sebastian will have you all fixed up in no time." words could not express how grateful he was to have them, the latter especially on his mind as of late. he was a huge help to pema, who had her paws full with her children, and a good friend, on top of all that. they were lucky to have not one but two competent healers in their ranks, for all they lacked in fighting strength.

adi's mouth twisted as he thought of loir, the way she'd broke down during their last encounter. "she's just scared, i think," he murmured. "of losing you, losing all of us. she told me that she found her family dead--her entire family. perhaps she'll feel as if she's failed, if something happens to any of us."

in a way, she reminded him of raid. which disturbed him, slightly--for raid had gone her own way, eventually. would loir do the same? she had seemed interested enough in sticking around for the long haul, but you never could tell. he hoped that she would at least rise above the terror that simmered beneath the surface. winter was coming, and the possibility of death was more probable than not. death was, after all, merely a part of life. it was reality. she needed to be strong--they all did.

he explained Loir's state of mind easily, it seemed, and for a moment she was silent, considering. scared. that was apparent enough, but Adi's explanation slid things clearly into place. perhaps the information would help her in the future, at least in dealing with the woman's fears. despite the conversation, the sourness remained still at the back of her throat. she hated it, hated the way she couldn't swallow it down and push up against the weight on her chest. without a topic to fixate on and take up the space between them, she suddenly felt as if she were being slowly but surely crushed. 

silence reigned a moment longer, panic beginning to blossom somewhere in the back of her mind. "thank you - for the woodchuck." lame, faltering, she was suddenly at a loss and couldn't grab at a topic before it slipped away. her state could be likened to a gaping fish, and gaze flicked up to Adi, waiting for him to be the rock, the anchor he always was.

the silence had grown around them once more, the two former lovers staring awkwardly away from each other, neither one knowing what quite to say. finally, aditya dipped his muzzle, smiling softly. "you're welcome," he rumbled, nosing the woodchuck a little closer to where she lay.

with a curt nod of goodbye, he turned to pad off, to resume his duties for the day. something within him made him stop, half-spun away, and he craned his neck to look at her, his eyes open and guileless.

"i'm sorry for the way things fell apart," he said, voice a little hoarse. "i could have handled it better." he thought of the venom he'd spat, the look of shock that had painted her face. aditya had never wanted to hurt her; he had acted spitefully, fueled by rage and pain. it was not among his finest moments.

and one could argue that dawn had started it all, to begin with, by sleeping with the man, still unknown to him. but aditya was not one for grudges. he apologized first, thought about it later. no good came from bad blood. arguments kept him awake at night, and resentments made him miserable. some might think he was justified, for fucking alarian, then throwing it in her face--

but it was not his way, and he was sorry for it.

he offered little more than a thank you, and at once she wanted to scream. she wanted to break something. no, she wanted to put everything back in its place, tape up all the edges and go along as they always had. sourness turned to acid as he turned away, and her face twisted suddenly and violently with all the shame and guilt she pent up and tamped down when moments like these stretched on. 

her maw opened and closed as he spoke, and suddenly there was panic in her chest and everywhere."I deserved it. I took us for granted. something certain." pause, breath, "I don't know how to be alone again." pause, breath, "I don't know how to stop - " admittance, raw and open. she didn't know how to stop loving him, burn the edges and start again. Shale had called her strong. she was not, not now. she knew how to pretend and how to be what the pack wanted her to be. but in this, she was feeble. her fault, her selfishness, and she was the one burning. he was her first and only, and while he had seen the end of things like theirs, she had not.

no, he didn't want this. not this show of self-deprecation and regret. she had made her bed, and now she had to lie in it. her sputtering excuses made his lips pull tight in a frown, without volition, and his golden eyes darkened, like clouds floating over the sun. but he mustn't be angry with her, not now or ever--not for her sake, but the pack's. it would not do for him to have a public meltdown.

"no one knows," he replied, unaware that he had just echoed the sentiment he had offered her after her father's death. his voice had been honeyed then, though; now, it was bitter, cold. "you just learn, dawn. you learn to live without."

he gave a sudden exhale, part-laugh, part-sigh. incredulous, momentarily. "things were certain, dawn. a living goddess could have placed herself at my paws, begging for my love, and i would have stayed faithful to you." okay, perhaps not entirely true. had coelacanth been willing. . . he shook his head, clearing that mental image from his mind. "i loved you--love you. probably always will, somehow. but you had to test it, right? had to set it all on fire.

"i respected myself too much to stand in your flames and pretend i wasn't burning," aditya murmured, words slightly clipped as he gritted his teeth. he was burning now, a pain beyond the physical rippling through him. "and i respected you too much to hold you back any longer."

gaze darkened, and at his very first words, something snapped into place. panic settled suddenly, and guilt froze in its rampage. it fell instead to lie somewhere at the bottom of her chest. it was her fault, hers and only, and she would live, would it. as she lived with her father's death so would she live with the death of this, by her own hand. she remembered too Rannoch's words - she should leave, become something other than what she'd been her entire life. in the depth of her grief was it a tempting prospect, but one she knew she would never take. 

panic settled into something quiet and unreadable, even by her. it was not acceptable, but it was something close. understanding, perhaps, that in this there was no set solution. she'd learn. "I know." she loved him like she had no other, but that did not matter anymore. it had lost it's meaning when she'd done the things she'd had.  "I made my bed." she pushed to her haunches, sitting awkwardly. "I'll learn." 

it was wrong of her, to probe, to ask what she had. it burned all the other desperate thoughts, questions from her mind. "thank you."  soft, easily missed or misheard. she didn't understand quite what the words were for, whether it be to thank him for what they'd had, or this single, flaming moment that had somehow settled the desperation. there was nothing to be salvaged in the fire, and the death of this was as permanent as the bones that lay buried on the mountain. there would not be forgiveness, either - she only had to meet his gaze to meet the burning pain there and know herself to be the cause. pain entwined with dying desperation burned, but it was burning out even as she held his gaze a moment.

 

he did not hate her. how could he? he looked at her now and saw her, finally, for what she was--a girl. a strong, smart, brave girl. . .but, at the crux of it all, a young woman, with a long life, god willing, ahead of her. mistakes would be made, missteps taken. that was how one learned; that was how he had learned. and he still did not have it all figured out, likely never would.

aditya must give her room to grow into the wolf she was meant to be. he had realized, perhaps as long ago as his conversation with her father, that she could not do so with him anchored to her side. he must let her go, and not cling to the hope that she would one day return.

"it will heal, with time," he said, not knowing quite how to digest her whispered words of gratitude. "no one but god knows how much time we really have--but we are young, and we do have time." adi swallowed, his throat rippling with the motion, the only movement on his otherwise stiff body. "whatever is meant to be for us will come true. just know, dawn. . ."

he broke off, all words lost entirely as a surge of something--he didn't know what--rose within him, choking him suddenly. he let out a half-panicked exhale, turning away. "let me know if you need anything else," he managed to spit out, though not at all what he had meant to say. blood pounding in his ears, he spun and took quick steps toward the expanse of the plains, teeth chattering with the effort to contain himself.

aditya broke down just out of sight of her den, head bowed as if in prayer, the tears tracking through the plush fur lining his cheeks. in his head rattled the unspoken sentiment he had failed to offer her:

i don't know how to stop, either.