Moonsong Glacier freyja's tears

At first dawnlight, Fjall descended from Silvertip Mountain to the border of Moonsong Glacier. The scentline was not well tended here, but Fjall knew where it was from experience.

Fidgeting on his feet, he took a deep breath, anxious that he would be greeted with silence like he had when returning from his spirit walk. He had not known then that the pack had gone away on a collaborative bison hunt.

Though his life had been upended since his encounter with the wild spirit, he supposed it was a trial by fire of sorts — a way to cleanse his life before rising from the ashes. He wondered here, not for the first time, if this was where he belonged.

Fjall lifted his muzzle and howled for an audience.

she was not far when he called, but sulukinak took her time to climb nearer, not recognizing the voice.

had he been here before? if so, it was not during her time.

she found her way as a shadow along the cliffside and then around the roots of trees, to a bare part of the hill, and then slinking, she stalked to where he waited.

still, she said nothing; she watched, wondering who he was and why he called, and judging if he was known to morningsong.

A dark shape crept ‘round the hill towards him. Fjall rose from where he had been reclined and straightened appropriately, giving his yellowed pelt a shake.

The sentry said nothing – only watched him with burning copper eyes that bade him to speak. I, I greet you, he stammered out, thrown by the lack of greeting. My name is Fjall. I am formerly of Moonsong village, though I understand it is something else now. Is… Dutch here? That is what Moonwoman had said his name was, right?

It had been weeks since Sulukinak had seen anyone. The change had been slow, then steady; the departure of hunters, the wandering away of women. Sulukinak remembered being resistant to the presence of Eira and Nephele when they made themselves known—possessive of the glacier as much as she was of Dutch—and now they were gone, and Sulukinak was happy. The glacier suffered as a result. No women, and no babies.

The vanishing of the others came as no surprise as winter thawed to spring and the village began to struggle. Sulukinak kept herself fed and noticed as the village-scent became corrupted, and soon it was gone.

The man before her asked about her man @Dutch; a slow sadness drew across her features, and the usual indifference of Sulukinak held a darker note of depression.

Where was her man? She looked away from the stranger and distractedly cast her gaze along the glacier paths, at the trees, at the places where scents had faded except her own.

She was quiet still – which left Fjall with an odd sense of foreboding – and looked forlornly off into the distance. He was left with the impression that she knew who he asked for, but saw no reason to call for the man. Was she simply mute?

Are you al— Do not ask if she is alright! Of course she isn't – it is all over her face! Fjall swallowed and pressed his tongue thoughtfully to his teeth. Are, are you alone here? he asked instead. Was that why the borders smelt so stale?

She turned to look at him now. As distant and drawn as she had looked before, now there was a spark of something in those eyes; yet she still has not introduced herself or seen fit to welcome him. Who was he? Why was he here? These were questions she should be asking—but at the same time Sulukinak saw no reason to. What did any of it matter?

Her tail whisks at her hocks, and she is turning away again. This time instead of looking along the path she stalks a few feet and then pauses, checking over her shoulder. She could lead the man to where she had last seen Dutch, but maybe he had moved on already?

Call for him. He might come. The others had all gone—so maybe Dutch had too? Sulukinak did not want to consider that she'd been abandoned upon the glacier; she could not see her man doing that to her, and presumed he had gone to look for others and see if anyone remained.

From time to time Sulukinak would do that, too. Search. Wonder. Inevitably, climb the glacier again and be alone with the ice. It felt like she haunted this place, but she had nowhere else to go.

She looked to him with a flash of something – implying that there was some feeling, some thought given to him…

But whatever it was, he would not hear it. She would not or could not say.

Fjall shifted uncomfortably. This was a far cry from the Moonsong Ariadne would have wanted, and he began to solidify in his doubt that he could make it be so without her. The coalshadow turned away then, pausing only to speak briefly over her— she talks?!

I— I did! Fjall protested, heart lurching suddenly at the thought of her leaving. And you came. Can you tell me what has happened here?

Already she had forgotten his calling! She was despondent. She was back on the ice in the everdark and could not hold on to reality; not without her man there, not without the familiarity that the village had afforded her. Gone, all of it. Gone.

She thinks, and sits, and watches him again. Eyes wide and shining—but otherwise passive in affect, her voice going quiet.

Many came to call on my man, Dutch. Many women. Some stayed long enough to meet others, and take them away. That was what she'd witnessed of their visitors—they had not been family in the end, only coming to steal away those that made up the village. She had been right to be wary.

It was a good place. It was good. But somehow it wasn't good enough.

Fjall took a steadying breath as the hooded woman resigned herself to a sit, relief trickling through him. He padded across the faded border to stand beside the woman, as if to soak up her pain, his heartbreak for her radiating. And it was not that her story was particularly sad, but that she seemed so defeated. He could certainly empathize.

They found their people, he offered quietly, attempting to seem as if the news did not just plunge him further into the shared melancholy between them. Just as, I assume, you found your Dutch. She had called him her “man,” but maybe it was a sore subject to bring up, as the leader hadn’t shown himself yet and she looked rightly forlorn. You are very loyal. Our Maker will reward you for this, I’m sure. And Dutch will be happiest to see you, when he returns. Not if.

This devotion was certainly what kept her here in the absence of people. He wondered if he should do the same: erect himself as an altar upon this glacier in Ariadne’s honor. Would that make him a wolf worth staying for? He then thought suddenly of what the man Arktos had said:

“Home is people. Home is not a place.”

He looked to the woman. What did she believe?

He came closer and had she been mindful, maybe she would have been nervous. He was a stranger to her; he was most likely a hungry man testing the boundaries of this fading place, to see what he could take for himself. The way the women had come and taken what they'd wanted. Sulukinak found she did not care; there was nothing left here to take.

However, he spoke of Dutch, and upon saying his name Sulukinak refocused. He spoke of our maker and for a moment Sulukinak was confused. What did he mean by that? He was not one of her lost brothers. Perhaps one of the men that came to visit the everdark had other children? It might've only been a turn of phrase.

Her mind wandered; she thought of Dutch and felt her heart sinking through her feet and in to the earth. Speaking her mind had never been a problem before—but now that she was heartsick, the words would not come out. Her shoulders gave a small quake and Sulukinak's face tipped down as she hang her head.

...I don't know... I don't know if he will.

Fjall wanted to embrace the woman, bring comfort to her at this low turn of events. But he was as much a stranger to her as she was to him – he doubted any touch would be welcome, even if she had allowed him into her space. It is possible that he does not return, he admitted regretfully. Ariadne had not come back to this place, either. Maybe it was simply not a place people came back to. But we will hope for it all the same, yes? Just like he would never give up on seeing Ariadne again, or his mother.

Mournful eyes beheld the ruffled coalshadow, as he longed inside to touch her, to draw the hurt from her and cast it away with a tender touch. He knew he held no such power, but he still wished that he could.

We shouldn’t dwell on the bad, he woofed softly, shaking his head. There is still good around us. I know these paths – I lived in this village – we could hunt and share a meal, if you’d like? Hope bubbled on his tongue. You do not have to talk to me, but I would enjoy your company... I can also, uh, leave, if you prefer.

I can also, uh, leave, if you prefer—,
No, don't go!

The exclamation of her voice burst out of her before she could stop it; too many had come and gone and she couldn't bear to be alone again. Standing with her fur puffed around the racy contours of her body. There was a ferocity in her eyes which hadn't been there before, although it was a fickle thing, and it took all of Sulukinak's focus not to lose that intensity. She was frowning at him; but it wasn't the stranger that she frowned at, only her circumstances.

Since she was on her feet again she moved to be closer to him, flanking him almost. It was the same follow-the-leader behavior Sulukinak had always adhered-to in the everdark and again when she was around Dutch; except now she had found someone else to attach herself to. Plus she would have to show him around if he really wanted to stay and to eat.

There are caches. I... I haven't eaten much, and she could show him! The cogs in her mind shifted little by little, trying to remember where everything had been buried for storage or hidden away, and mentally ticked through the ones that she had binged upon; her nose was like a dowsing rod as she oriented herself.

I can show you. But she didn't move—rather, waited for him.

The despair in her voice kept him rooted firmly to the spot, his ears splayed in sympathy and shared grief. He looked sadly upon her frown, feeling determined to smooth the worry wrinkles from her brow. When she came to stand beside him, he leaned into her, pressing their pelts together briefly: scruffy charwood and yellow dandelion fluff.

I am with you.

She went on to speak of a cache, going so far as to admit that she had not eaten much. This was troubling, he thought, but it was also a good sign that she was thinking of it now. Her survival was chipping at the grief, and in this moment she needed companionship to go on. His tail swished, thoughtful. Please, he smiled, motioning for her to lead them. I would like that.

He found it easy to forget his own troubles when concerned about someone else.

He wanted her to lead the way. It wasn't such a strange thing to ask, given that this was her home and he was a stranger to it, but Sulukinak was not accustomed to doing such a thing. She was always made to follow her brothers in the long-dark of her home; or was most comfortable following at Dutch's heel; but now she was alone, and she had offered this boy something to eat. She moved ahead with hesitant steps, at first turning her head to watch him as if he might sprout extra legs or vanish if she didn't keep an eye on him; but gradually she went to a forward-facing posture, and only her ears pivoted to keep tabs on him.

They did not have to travel for long, although it was mostly downhill as the rocky terrain of the glacier became something more alpine, and the rich scent of pine trees became the dominant factor to the air. Sulukinak did not speak as she led him along; she only stopped a few times to inspect odd scents, or to check patches of dirt which might have been caches at one point or another, but she did not dig them out, and the pair would go off again on another path.

Finally she came to a bald patch of earth which was mostly exposed granite, heaps of moss and tilled earth with new grass struggling to grow throughout. Sulukinak ducked beneath a tree which grew bent-shaped from the soil, the likes of which should've died years ago when it had cracked in half but had not, somehow; and she began to dig.