Swiftcurrent Creek There is no way but up

Aching limbs.blind in one eye it took him several days to get to the creek. By the time he made it, he was breathing like the bellows and his was limping so hard from his hitched hip, he had started walking 3 legged.

He settled down with a whimper, tears springing to the gun metal of his gaze. He lifted hia muzzle and howled for @Akavir. He didn't know the girl that had attacked hia Bonnie, but he'd be damned if she got away with it. No sir.

He waited. Silence pervadong all around, turning his head to use his one eye.

Tired, surely. But such mental ailments were par the course of maturity, it seemed, and in the most unhealthy way, Akavir threw himself in to border patrols and building the caches. 

Because conversations about feelings were overrated, right?

When a call sounded for him along the borders, the Mayfair wasn't far off. The familiar form of Gunnar was a surprise to him--he couldn't recall a time the man had been to visit them, and so it was with a sense of apprehension he drew forward, concerned eyes upon the aging man. Welcome, Gunnar. Would you like to come in for a drink?

Gunnar would have argued with the young man that talking of fedlings was healthy and he should do it more, but it was not the way.

Gunnsr shook his head and took a small rattling breath.

i come with a want and a need to figure something out.

Gunnar shifted the hard ground wreaking havoc on his hip. Blinded eye turned towards Akavir.

I am not long for this world anymore and i will see those i love cared for, before i leave the mortal coil and i want to know why a she wolf of your creek attacked one of mine without question. The skirmish with the little one and the daughter of yours. Now i have a wolf who is permanently damaged because all your wolf did was say she was of the creek and then attacked there were no questions asked.

A hard light grew in Gunnars eyes and you could see the man he had been when he was young and hardy and strong.

i am not syaing some of the fault doesn't lie with him. But i do not know any wolf that will not attack back if attacked first. So explain to me please why one of your allies was hurt by one of yours when it was one loner attacked the child? Why was it mine?

Possibly just one post! Just wanted Mae to be a brat LOL

The call was not for her, but for her father. Still Mae felt compelled to answer, if only to know what was going on; she'd met Gunnar once, briefly, and knew Kvarsheim well enough to be curious as to the happenings between the two packs.

What she did not expect was to walk in on a lecture. Or, that was what it felt like. It took Mae a moment to realize what Gunnar was talking about, and when she did, she couldn't seem to hold in her outburst.

Yeah, well, maybe he shouldn't have been such a dick, She snapped, not minding her father's authority in this moment. Mae snorted once in the wake of her insult, then turned to stalk away. She didn't want to hear what Akavir had to say. He wouldn't take her side anyway; he never did.

Did he tell yah he was trying to steal a baby that belongs to us?
Wren, too, had not been far when the call rang out; and she had watched from behind, at first, dumbfounded by the Kvarsheim man's presence at their border. And as the conversation unravelled, she stepped closer; she heard Mae's voice, the confirmation, and the realization nearly brought vomit right from her throat.
That man; that man that day Moss died, he was from Kvarsheim.
She lumbers up beside Akavir in a stifled drag of heavy legs. About 'yay' tall, brown fur, brown eyes? Yeah. she pauses if only to wait, even if the answer was right in front of her. Her ears fall outward in a splay; a genuine wilting of shame, even as defensiveness sharpened her edges. I had no idea who he was. Where he was from. He didn't exactly tell me before he nearly killed me.
Shaky, shaky breaths sucked inward as she looks then to Akavir, and the figure of Mae. She wished Silvertongue was here.

Gunnar seemed to refuse his offer—instead, opting to simply barrel in to a conversation that held the implication of exploration to a scenario and quickly escalated into a demand and lecture.

The man listened intently upon first words—his concern clear for the aging man as he began—and then when the realization of just what Gunnar was saying began to embed itself within his mind, he could feel the clench of his heart—the thrum of blood in his ears.

It had been Kvarsheim that had attacked his daughter and Wren?

And here stood Gunnar, emboldened to make demands of him—and it took a great restraint to not bare his teeth, insisting then and there the dissolution of their alliance.

But of course, when he made an attempt to deal with issues, others seemed to come from the woodwork—and lo and behold, Mae and Wren made their presence known. Mae spat her say in it—Akavir’s eyes upon her a moment, his form moving to keep her from Gunnar’s reach—untrusted.

But she left—and then there was Wren—damaged from the fight, and even more so, damaged from her heartache. She described the man who had attacked—and he settled his gaze on Gunnar, waiting for confirmation.

He did not chase after Mae—it was best she was not here to witness anything else further. Her trauma from the incident had been enough.

“You’re telling me the man that attacked my child and my member who was protecting a newborn cub from one of our dead mothers, and my daughter… was one of yours? Or he was there with the two rogues? Because the account I received was there were only two wolves.”

There was a dark flicker in his gaze—a coldness in his champagne eyes as he studied Gunnar now, seeing the man now in a more insidious light than he had prior—had he forgot the two wolves who had attacked the creek had also ripped the tail from the young one? “I have spent weeks looking for these two unknown wolves who have attacked our pack. One ripped the tail from the newborn… Or have you forgotten? So I will need you to clarify.”

For now, he would gather the information—simmering. For now, he would dismiss the audacity and entitlement that oozed from the man who visited their borders with such an accusation.

edited.

Gunnar didn't move as a child screamed at him and he didn't move as the woman who hurt his bonnie threwout accusations and cruelty. He didn't flinch as Akavir grew angry and he could see the way he turned cold. This was worthless.

There was too much anger. No matter what he would say they would all possibly attack him with words and for the first time. He wondered would he make it back to his children today. He had thought swiftcurrent fair. But he was finding that perhaps they were cruel and blood thirsty and maybe their allyship should be dissolved.

Finally as everyone apoke their piece. He took a breath the sound still whistling from his walk here. He was an old man after all.

If you would allow me to continue? I was only asking for clarificication and trying to understand. Perhaps i misspoke. After all everyone sees ever situation differently. There are pieces that perhaps he does not know, that she does not know. I will tell you what i was told, but you must bare with me it is a long tale and I am old i need to take breaks.

Age and sadness and years of all of this bled into his eyes as he continued to speak. When i came upon our packmate bleeding out with his throat so ripped open he was dying. A young one by the way barely in his 2nd year. He couldn'ttell me what had transpired. Too much blood loss or i would have come sooner..

Gunnar shifted a soft whine as his hip caught. I apologize i cannot sit still long anymore.

But he continued. Once he healed enough that he could speak. He sought me out to tell me this tale. I came to you in good faith as a leader of an allied pack as soon as he told me and i was able. Though it did take me longer than it should have. Definitely longer than it would have a year ago. a dry voice. Gunnar was unsure would he make it back.

He explained to me that he had smelled blood and followed and came across a dead wolf, a little pup and another female doing something. But he didn't know what. Then there was another suddenly who said she was a packmate. He didn't know if she was.

Gunnar stopped for a moment to take a breath. A child came charging out and went after the newborn. Our packmate snapped at her in warning, not to hurt. He didn't even touch her. He told me there was enough older wolves around to keep her in line he just didn't want her to go for the newborn which is what she was doing. Then it seems he was attacked.

It was here his voice grew a little colder, but he still didnt move. She wouldn't let him go. Just continued to attack him and as
All the young do he attacked back. Which if someone grabbed me and wouldn't let go i think I'd do the same don't you?

Gunnar sighed, a sigh of a bone weary man, of a father trying to help his children and keep the shreds of pack allies together, but he had doubt that this would happen, now.

He doesn't know anything of the pup or the newborn. After that point he was only trying to stay alive. He said it only stopped when he could no longer fight he stared and got away. We were lucky to have found him or he would not be among the living.

Gunanr shifted. So what i am saying is he attacked no one until he was attacked. He warned a child away that he did not touch and he came upon the newborn with someone none of us know. And he was attacked first. That is what i am saying. Does he hold responsibility certainly, but not for what you are saying about the children at least. And not for attacking first.

She almost killed him.
She almost killed him and she knew this; but he had almost killed her. The retelling that spills from the elder's lips brings forth a snarling rage. Was there no sympathy? No understanding of why this had all transpired?
You come here in good faith, her eyes seethe, brows narrowed to a fine point. but you actually just come here to demand I be punished for defending my family? and she laughs, then, a dry, misanthropic croon, because if she hadn't she perhaps would have dissolved to tears.
Alright then, here, tell me what you would do. Imagine you hear a distress call from your packmate, and when you get there you see another one of yours dead with a newborn, and two strangers that you've never seen before in your life tryin' ta steal the baby. One of 'em, the man, makes a go at your leader's daughter, who had the newborn in her mouth, and you must be thinkin' to yourself, oh, shit, this guy's gonna kidnap or kill two children, right? So you-- you make a move. And you bite the guy, and it was supposed to just be a warning to make him go the fuck away. And you try and tell 'em who you are, thinking maybe if he knows the baby belongs to us he'll-- stop, somehow. And he just... whips around and he goes fuckin' crazy on you, when all you wanted was to defend your pack, and now it's a life or death fight.
Her head cranes to reveal the scabs that still linger upon her neck, her shoulders, her forelegs. Ugly, sinister. He didn't stop. I almost died. I didn't wanna kill him, man, I swear to god, I-- I mean shit, I'm glad I didn't. I didn't know where he was from or who the hell he was, and if I knew he was one a' yours, none of that woulda happened. At least not on my end. and that, that was sincere; but there was no going back from this now.
A brief glance to Akavir before she exhales a labored breath. I'm sorry. I am. But maybe you should think twice about trusting a guy who wreaks havoc on your allies, let alone come to their home in his honor and try to defend him. If anything, we should be interrogating you.

‘If you would allow me to continue?’

It was these words the elder man spoke—as if he had been interrupted by a rowdy gang of yearlings, rather than wolves he stood before with accusations stemming from him. He had questioned them—they had answered, after being given the floor—and now he seemed to backtrack his words, now saying he wished for clarification and to better understand the situation.

Akavir remained unimpressed, and Gunnar’s entitlement was what spoke to him now.

Gunnar had tried to impress upon the dark leader the man’s youthfulness—but two was hardly a pup, unlike Mae, and again, the Mayfair found it hard to sympathize.

When the man stopped, Akavir found himself at a loss for words. His initial thought was to react with the severance of an alliance—the crumpling of a valley. What was the point, in the end? Silvertongue was gone, having left her mark physically upon his brow and mentally within his chest. Riverclan gave favor to a man who remained the very reason their Sharpfang had fled… the same man who also held safe harbor in Kvarsheim. It would seem the company they chose to keep was not as endearing as they tried to display.

But where he lacked words—Wren did not. The emotion is clear within her voice and as such, the man moves next to her, closer, shoulder to her own, trying to ground her, but while from his peripheral vision he can see her quake, it is Gunnar he watches now, his anger rising with every word she offers as she relives the terrible event.

She finishes—her statement grand, and it is then Akavir tilts his muzzle, nose smoothing to her cheek should she allow it, inhaling, and then exhaling a moment. Taking a moment…

“She’s right, Gunnar. You didn’t come for clarification or details—you launched into a demand of knowledge. Your wolf chose to ignore the fact it was our packmate who had died and lunged toward one of our own—a child, mind you— my child. You don’t get to come to my borders and condemn my pack for reacting—it was stated multiple times that it was Swiftcurrent Creek business and our packmate. He chose to ignore that—he chose to initiate a physical reaction the moment he moved toward my daughter, and he chose to continue his assault.”

A pause, then. “I’m going to ask you to leave, now. Wren, Eshe, nor Mae are going to relive the death of a pack mate and a fight while they are in the safety of their own home because you've made the demand. Perhaps a meeting between the three packs is the best course now in neutral lands.”

He continued to study the man. “You’ve come to these borders looking for some kind of vindication or condemnation. Perhaps we both take time to consider what either side has said and cooler heads can prevail later.”

Gunnar shifted then and stood on stiffened legs and body. Almost stumbling, but he managed to get his feet under him. He had sat too long. Perhaps he had been abrasive cruel, but he wanted, no needed an end to this before he was gone.

Perhaps so. I plan to step down Akavir. I may not make it through the winter so it will not be me you will deal with, but perhaps that will be preferred..

He gave a sage nod, yes perhaps that was for the best.

This pack had been built on blood and it seemed it would continue to do so. And he then looked.

i ask a request as an old man for consideration. If you find that punishment is due in price of blood for blood. I ask that you take mine. I have lived many years. Only for consideration.

Then he turned away hia respect for the wolves of the creek falling at each pawstep and the girl Wren. It seemed they only wished to punish bonnie she would not hear any and that was a cruelty.

The aging man stifles; stumbles, and in some way the graying face nearly made her feel pity. But he looks at her as if she is a deranged, feral creature with no sense of morality.
She supposed she was still her father's daughter.
She says nothing, not while the two leaders discuss — blood — and not while her head feels as if it may burst into shards. Akavir keeps himself close to her, and while she does not shy away from it, she does not lean into it.
Not anymore. Not with— but did it matter? Did anything matter?
Gunnar turns to leave at the command, and for a long while, Wren stares at the pit in the grass where he once was. The shame burns.
She didn't know.

The man stood at his request for him to leave—the stumble almost drawing the shadowrunner forward, but he did not, for not only did Gunnar catch himself, but Akavir did not imagine the man’s pride would settle for the creek Alpha to aide him in that moment.

Gunnar’s request was something that could have been admired by Akavir had he been younger himself—but now, in this moment, it was a man hoping to protect a youthful man that didn’t necessarily deserve it—or, so the verdict remained unsaid.

Would Gunnar offer his life also, for Germanicus, who had thought to place Silvertongue in servitude? He doubted the man knew—could not know—and thus, it seemed a naive wish to replace the draw of blood for another wolf among his ranks.

But he could never know—would never ask.

“Enough blood has been shed, I would think,” he noted to the man dryly—what he wanted was still unsure—but Wren had paid a price in blood, and it sounded as if she had done a number on the other guy. “And I would prefer to meet before winter,” he noted, as the man seemed to use his age now as a card to play—a victim of sorts, that he would not be here another season and to use him as a means for revenge if they so thirsted for it.

He was unimpressed. No apology given—no acknowledgement of what Wren had gone through. Mae’s nightmares—he heard them, waking her at night. No, Gunnar simply stated he was likely not long for this world, and that should they wish to take vengeance, it be on him… not his precious soldier.

He watched the man go, and as Wren remained still as a statue, his worried gaze turned to her, brows knitting together. “Patrol with me?” A distraction. Flimsy, at best. Eshe could fix her external wounds—had—but her internal ones? He did not know how to mend them.

She could not do it anymore.
As soon as the stumbling figure of Gunnar disappears into the treeline, Wren's expression folds from anger to sorrowful. A cry, strained and incomprehensible, before she dissolves outright into quiet sobs.
She had almost killed someone. She had almost killed an ally, and her lover is nowhere to be seen, and she does not know how many faces she had once considered to be friends remain —
It felt as though the whole world had whisked its cheek away from her right as she had found her footing.
And she couldn't do it. Not anymore.
Akavir; oh, Akavir — I think, she squeaks through her weeping, a sharp sniffle sucked into her nostrils as her shoulders hunch forward. I-I think I just want to be alone for a little while. Her eyes search for his in a sweep of blurred glass. I'm sorry.

Wren crumpled before him—the emotional turmoil clear upon her features as she politely declined his invitation. Perhaps, in retrospect, some quiet time would assist her in healing… not just physically, but emotionally.

Some alone time to ruminate on everything.

He gave a small nod, refusing to look to the direction Gunnar had left—his words leaving behind scars worse than the teeth Wren had given to his supposed golden boy.

He leaned forward, brushing his nose to her cheek faintly before pulling back. “I’m here if you need me,” he murmured, and with that, he exhaled softly, his paws finding a trail as he began a patrol—his own quiet solitude to consider everything he had just learned… and just what he would do with it.