Silvertip Mountain breaker of trees

Fjall gazed upon the glacier below him, bathed in dim sunlight.

From this height, he could see much of the land formerly known as Moonsong. It looked unchanged. Unchangeable.

He knew he wanted to go back. But he knew also that it had changed. It could not be the same as it was when Ariadne was there. Where he thought she would be when he returned from his spirit journey; where he thought she would be forever.

The yellowsilk wallflower took a deep breath. He started to think about Winterglade [Neverwinter Forest] and Moonglow [Ouroboros Spine]: the homes he had already given up on ever occupying. He thought it would be too painful to live in these places without his mother. And now he imagined that it would be the same for the glacier. The mere thought made him feel soft-boned and weepy, as if he could just crumple here into a pile of boneless flesh and puddled tears…

Yet, something in his heart kept him upright. And for the first day in a long time, he did not cry. Fjall instead closed his eyes and felt for the wind until he could hear nothing but its wild song and feel nothing but its fingers clawing through his fur.

It told him what to feel; what to do. A sense of peace began welling up inside him, and the hurt at last turned to resolution.

He opened his lilac eyes again and knew that he must return to the glacier. Not despite Ariadne, but for Ariadne. And, more importantly, for himself.

A drifter.

A shapeshifter. 

A windtaker. 

Kusuma had been out of moonpack as much as she'd been in it. Slender legs restless as the date of her litter drew near. 

A den. A place for them to be born and see stars, to be told stories.

A place for her to rebuild the family she lost.

Her head went down.

Sniffing.

tysm for joining!

No sooner had his eyes opened did the young wolf catch movement on the slopes below him. A grayscale figure hunted for something. He didn’t think it was prey they were looking for, as they were not being very careful about their pawsteps.

Fjall studied them for a moment. The canid looked too small and narrow to be a wolf. Some sort of… large fox, maybe? Fjall had never seen a coyote, though he had heard their calls, and he certainly had never seen a jackal. Shifting on his haunches, the boy lifted his head and howled a subdued call.

He figured it would be less surprising than if he suddenly shouted down to them.

Kusuma's head jerked upright suddenly, a voice too close. 

A yip-yap of alarm came from her mouth before she could react with words. 

Wolf. 

W-who is... wolf? 

Her belly was round, enough to give it away. 

Wolf.... nice? the wolfs here were different, they were different- 

Pups do not need to be scared of wolfs. No. Kusuma, stop it. Stop it!

State this one's name.

There was a yip! A cry that was not wolf. But when the creature did not immediately flee, he knew that it was not a prey animal either. Fjall came down gingerly from his perch.

Up close, the canid was awash with the colors of dust and stormclouds, and her belly was round with growing pups. He was mystified by her condition, even more so by her patterns of speech.

He nodded when she asked if he was nice. I, I think so. He had never been called otherwise, anyway. My name is Fjall. He dared not come any closer to scent her; she seemed terribly afraid already, though brave enough to confront him. Do... do you have a name?

Kusuma's name is Kusuma! she yapped in response. Fa-yall is not mean wolf? Kusuma has seen many mean wolf. 

Her pointy nose continued to sniff around. A hare, a squirrel, but not a badger or wolverine, not something that would be able to dig a burrow big enough for a coyjackal to wedge herself into for a whelping den.

Fayall live here? Kusuma no want to intrude.

I promise I won’t hurt you, Kusuma, Fjall said softly. And he meant it. He’d run away before ever laying a claw on her.

Lilac gaze followed as she sniffed about again, resuming her hunt for… well, he didn’t know what. He might’ve guessed that she was looking for a whelping den, but shouldn’t she be with her— people for that? She asked if he lived there, drawing him from his thoughts.

No, um, well… For now, I do, I suppose. He had been up here a few days already. There was no telling how many more he would stay before gathering up the courage to knock on the glacier’s door. You are not intruding. Please stay, the lonely wolf implored. Are you… looking for someone, Kusuma? Though he did not typically say another’s name so much, he naturally adapted for this conversation.

Kusuma feel kick in belly - so Kusuma search for den - for whelp. Seem to be no good den here. 

Normally, she would not be as straightforward. Kind, courteous, perhaps - but wolfs were not exactly a fond memory for the coyjackal. 

Her eyes, today, were thoughtful. She was in the wild, free- or at least, she would be. Even ehr rounded belly wouldn't stop her from running if she had to. Besides - he looked nothing like a wolf that looked evil. 

Fayall search for other wolfs? Kusuma does not often see wolfs alone.

Kick?!

Do you need to lie down? Fjall asked immediately, looking a little bewildered. He’d never been around anyone pregnant before. He couldn’t imagine that she felt very good right now. I could find a den for you while you rest. I can help you, Kusuma.

What he was doing up here hardly felt important, but he was too polite to ignore her query. Not searching… He shook his head. Returning. Home. I am alone, for now.

This stopped the coyjackal in her tracks. She stared at him, bewildered. 

No wolf's... ever... offered to help... before. but of course she didn't need to sit, to rest - to lay down. Den wouldn't find itself, no - and besides, apparently wolfs lived in the area.

She tilted her head to one side.

Wolfs - up there, somewhere. Nice wolfs, Kusuma thinks. Can give Fayall food. Den. But... Kusuma does not think Kusuma has home.

In his own bewilderment, he had somehow surprised Kusuma – according to her face – which she quickly explained as never being offered help from a wolf.

Fjall could imagine that others might look at her strangely, but he personally saw no reason to think of her as harmful or an affront. He’d heard coyotes often stole from pack caches, which is what he now assumed she must be, but she had not stolen from him… nor did she seem particularly sneaky. (Though, admittedly, it was hard to appear great at sneaking with those sides sticking out.)

Surely, there is a place for you, Kusuma, Fjall insisted gently. What about your family? Your… mate? Did coyotes have mates?

Kusuma's family is... elsewhere. Kusuma-ma and Kusuma-da - ma and da- think? - across big lake, too big for Kusuma to swim. Kusuma-kin be... do not know. Kazakir gone, now. her voice saddened. Kusuma has no mate. Anymore, anyway. The one who held her heart was simply somewhere far away. She suspected it was growing time where the promise of finding her again was as lost as the coywolf was.

Her belly looked round and unnatural and didn't fit in, did it? She supposed that she meant no wolf's ever offered to help after noticing she was with child - but that did not come to the front of her mind at the time. 

Home is where heart is, no? No Kusuma-heart here.

Fjall did his best to keep pace with Kusuma’s explanation. He was seconds behind, and hesitated further due to his own idiosyncrasies, but after delicately parsing through the things that she said, he concluded that they were alike in some ways. Still, they were different in other ways, as he still knew where some of his family was. He still had a place to turn to… unlike poor Kusuma.

I’m sorry they are lost to you, he said, struggling to speak louder than a whisper. It felt terrible to even have to acknowledge her utter loneliness. Maybe… maybe Kusuma-heart is nearby, he said, trying to inject a little hope into such a hopeless tale. Maybe we just have not found it yet. Tell me, what do you see when you think about ‘home,’ when you think about your heart?

... do not know, not really. Kusuma not from these lands, and always quiet one. Place where Kusuma or Kusuma-litter not be found by mean wolfs that seek to hurt either.

she sighed at that.

n-not that Kusuma thinks Fayall is mean wolf! But... Kusuma has seen... mean wolf. Kill father of litter. Kusuma does not want that for litter. it was still raw, and she refused to feel the feelings about it, because she'd fall down at Fjall's paws and sniffle for the rest of time. So, she chose to not.

Her tale, it seemed to her, only got sadder the more she opened her mouth. It looked as if she were embarrassed about it.

Where is... Fayall's home? Heart?

Fjall wilted slightly at her answer. Of course, she deserved her original home. But if that was not possible, then what could he possibly do to comfort or support her? She seemed keen on refusing his help, but she had also opened up to him – a credit to his character, some might say, though he thought it had more to do with the fact that she was intensely lonely and sad. And how could she not be? Especially with the father of her unborn children murdered. It occurred to him that this must have been a very recent event, happening sometime between conception and now.

He marveled inwardly at how strong she must be to stand here, if not for her own sake, then for her coming litter. He also felt guilty for malingering on his own woes when it could, in fact, be so much worse. He’d lost plenty in his life, but he’d never lost practically everything.

He looked at her sympathetically. I wish I knew a place for you, Kusuma, and he wanted to be honest, but I don’t know a place in this area that is not near my kind. He swallowed thickly, trying to think, but she’d asked him another question. M-My heart? He glanced instinctively in the direction of the glacier. I belong in a village of the moonpeople, he said without conviction. Was that where his heart actually was? My mother is gone, too, he told her. And my father. But I still have family here. We are of the moonpeople. They are all I have. He fell quiet for a moment, then asked:

What was your home like?

In a not-so easy conversation with difficult words, she described her life of captivity. Her mother and father's territory, the tall, hairless beings that would attend to them. She'd felt something akin to royalty, but no such thing exists to her lineage. 

The silver barrier between them and the world beyond it. 

Kusuma-ma and Kusuma-da did their best, but hairless ones raised litter. This one will be raised wild, assures Kusuma. she nodded her head. Litter be only kin Kusuma has.

Kusuma must go now. Is bad luck for Kusuma to stay. Need to find den for litter, anyway. May sun warm your back.

And off the coyjackal went, loping into the wilderness.

He listened to her, as a good boy does, mindful to never interrupt or try to help without being asked as she stumbled along in her stilted common. He wanted to ask questions, to talk more, but he never got the chance.

Before he could so much as shout his clumsy goodbye, Kusama! she was gone.

Nai elen siluva lyenna, he breathed on the wind, knowing his Maker would carry it to her.