Sun Mote Copse I build 'em up too high just to watch them fall down

Fennec lingered at the edge of the garden, but still had not started any work of her own in the place. She knew that she had Meerkat’s blessing but something about it felt wrong. Like this was a place of memorial, holding ghosts of its own, that she’d be changing to suit her own needs. Was a medicinal garden even a real garden? Especially one curated by her? Mercy’s garden now was full of plants that would flower. Most of what she grew would be bare leaves.

She’d find another place. She couldn’t mark a place named after another mother’s child, even with permission. Fennec brushed her muzzle across the plants near her feet, feeling the buds that would soon burst into bloom.

These last few weeks had left her exhausted and unsure how to feel. She missed Penn. She missed, and worried still about, Killdeer. It was hard to believe, still… but there was still no grief. Only numb detachment.

If no one mourned her when she was finally gone, she’d probably deserve it.

Fennec let out a breath, trying to release her own tension, then turned and began to head back to the place she’d claimed and (usually) slept. It was a little close to the main den to create a garden there, but she could start one a distance away, towards the border… where the pups wouldn’t find it until they were old enough to know better. She wouldn’t grow poisons in Meerkat’s home, but even herbs could make a wolf sick if they ate too much.

It was hard letting Skipjack out of her sight, now that she knew for certain he didn’t possess any of his own. But Meerkat knew she could trust the others in the pack to guide him. Hopefully they could work together to build his independence, though she secretly wondered—perhaps even hoped—that his blindness might meant her son would stay with her longer.

While the kids’ da took them on a midday stroll, Meerkat decided to go for a walk on her own. When she spotted Fennec, she watched from a distance for a moment, trying to gauge whether she looked busy. She didn’t want to be a bother. Ultimately, though, she couldn’t resist the opportunity for a conversation, particularly with somebody who knew what Skipjack faced.

Fennec turned and began walking right as Meerkat approached with an amiable, Hey, Fen.

Meerkat’s voice broke through her thoughts and interrupted them, though it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. She’d just been considering if she should head back and check on their mom, though at this point it was more to hover than to do any good. Fennec was trying not to do that if she could help it.

Hey sis. She didn’t manage to summon enthusiasm, but the smile was real, and she turned in the direction of Meerkat’s approach with clear invitation.

It was good to hear her out and getting some fresh air. Fennec almost made a quip about it, but the humor didn’t really hit. It wasn’t like Meerkat was in it alone; she had Njord, and the comment was likely to just be an unfair jab at him. It was strange to think that this was probably her first experience with puppies at this stage where both parents were actually involved.

Where were you headed just now? Mind if I join you?

She cast her eyes just past Fennec’s shoulder, in the direction of Mercy’s Garden. Perhaps her sister was working on the spring planting. Meerkat thought it was probably too early to be picking anything, though she was far from a green thumb.

You can put me to work, she tacked, gaze shifting back to the other woman’s face. I’m free for an hour, give or take.

I was actually just heading back. Fennec replied, internally shying away from the implication. She wondered if Meerkat would be offended that her offer wasn’t taken, then dismissed the notion entirely. Why did it matter? It was her choice and she had decided.

There was so much she didn’t want to talk about. It didn’t used to be this way. Figment had kicked off the notion that even family had limits on the understanding they’d offer, but Fennec blamed more of it on her own inability to grapple with things. She couldn’t talk because she had no clue where a conversation could even lead. Nothing had even close to a conceivable answer.

Is mom watching the kids? She asked instead, staying true to the subjects she could depend on. Talking about Towhee and her nieces and nephews would always be easy.

Fennec didn’t reject her company, so Meerkat prepared to fall into step. She didn’t really care where they headed. She just wanted to steal some time with her sister.

No, they’re with Njord, she answered. I think mom went to the borders. She said she would take it easy, Meerkat shared, brow furrowing. She’s gotten so thin. I’ve never seen her down like this. But she’s eating plenty and she felt well enough to patrol, so hopefully that means she’s on the mend.

She fell into a pensive silence, which lasted a few footsteps. A pair of geese winged past overhead, honking noisily. Meerkat caught herself wondering: what did Fennec and Skipjack picture, if anything, when they heard such a sound zooming past overhead?

Fennec’s expression turned slightly exasperated as Meerkat spoke about Towhee. I tried to convince her to come back here with me after we saw Killer, but you know mom. She does what she wants to do. As much as she loved her mom, it was hard not to feel frustrated at times. Fennec knew Towhee respected her as a healer, but at the end of the day, she probably heard an overprotective daughter instead.

She hasn’t said if she still feels wrong, or anything’s still happening. Fennec added, thinking of the bleeding. So I’m guessing she’s recovering. That or Towhee just wasn’t talking. Their last real conversation hadn’t exactly gone well, and Fennec hadn’t wanted to make things worse by pushing things.

Vague. The fact that she didn’t know more definitively felt wrong.

It was both surprising and unsurprising to hear that Towhee had downplayed her condition with Fennec. Meerkat tried to recollect what details she’d been able to gather from their mother since she’d turned up at The Taigh looking half-dead.

She told me she was pretty sure she’d gotten a nasty infection. She didn’t really get into it with me but I saw the bloodied blankets before. I just assumed it might’ve had something to do with her cycle going awry because of her age. Do you think it was something more? she questioned with a frown.

That’s the job, Fennec replied with a smirk that didn’t entirely ring true. It wasn’t entirely, but she absolutely worried. Changes like that aren’t normal. It only really happens when something’s wrong, but I can only help so much. Especially when they didn’t talk, and Towhee didn’t stick around to let her.

Whatever it was, hopefully her body sorted it out. Fennec’s ears tilted uncertainly, but she didn’t elaborate beyond that. She didn’t know how long their mom would be sticking around, but if she felt well enough to take patrols, it probably wouldn’t be long.

Fennec insisted there was nothing normal about what was going on with Towhee. Meerkat’s frown deepened. Should she be more worried? They were doing everything they could to look after her and she seemed better lately, so she decided not to make mountains out of molehills.

I don’t even know if she went into heat this year, Meerkat thought aloud. Do you think she did? And—mated? Can a pregnancy… She paused, grimacing now. Get infected?

She wondered what Fennec knew, or had at least deduced. Meerkat supposed it was sort of irrelevant at this point, though if Towhee had suffered something like a miscarriage, mightn’t she need more emotional support? Then again, she seemed fine, so maybe she should just take the cue…

After a beat of silence, Meerkat said, Anyway, can I ask you about something off topic?

As Meerkat asked questions, Fennec could feel her patience wearing thinner.  It wouldn’t be fair to take it out on her sister, but how was she supposed to know?  Nobody ever let her do her job and she wasn’t a mind reader, no matter how often she labeled herself a witch.  It was an overexaggeration - Towhee had come to her at first.  But then she hadn’t.

I don’t know.  Whatever happened, mom clearly got it handled.  I can’t really guess unless I knew more.  Fennec responded, disinterest clear in her tone.  She knew she likely would come off as callous, but maybe that was better than the reality.  Fennec wasn’t the world her family revolved around, obviously, but sometimes she wished she could feel like something other than a responsibility.  A problem to solve, or a burden to endure.

It was pretty pathetic, actually, how fucked up she still was over Fig.  About time she got over that.

Sure.  Ask away. It was a relief to shift topics, and Fennec was suddenly curious what question Meerkat might have specifically for her.  She had no ideas.

Fennec’s dismissive tone earned an inscrutable look from Meerkat, not that her sister would know. She drew in a breath and said nothing more, letting that topic rest in favor of another.

Especially when you were younger—but even now—was there anything in particular your loved ones could do to help you navigate the world? Even if the answer is just, ‘I wanted them to treat me like anybody else,’ that’s fine. I just want to know what I could and should be doing for Skipjack.

He’s blind? That was complete news to Fennec, though she wondered how Meerkat could know that. He seemed a little clumsy, sure, but blindness was something else entirely.

I could see, at first. I think the same way anyone can, though it’s been a long time. It’s something he’s going to have to figure out himself. She couldn’t imagine anyone enjoying being dependent. Her family had tried when she was growing up, and she’d appreciated it at the time, but then she’d wound up lost and without them and unable to take care of herself.

I guess, one tip, make sure he knows how to find the things he needs as early as you can. Food, water, safer places. I lucked out the first time I got lost but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here. It’ll make everyone feel better if he’s prepared for it. Trust me. It had been a hard transition point for her, realizing how terrified she was of losing her family and ending up alone and defenseless. If she could spare her nephew that particular grief then she’d consider it a job well done.

Meerkat listened carefully to Fennec’s answer, which made her wonder if Skipjack was entirely blind or perhaps just visually impaired. It was so hard to tell at this age. But the signs were impossible to ignore, so she wanted to be prepared to support her son.

I have no idea if he’s entirely blind or just visually impaired, Meerkat said, especially since he can’t just tell me. But I have little doubt at this point and I just want to make sure we’re doing everything we can for him, in any event.

She mulled on her sister’s words a bit more. She hadn’t realized Fennec hadn’t been born totally blind. Meerkat wondered if that made matters worse—she knew what she’d lost, on some level, unlike Towhee, who would never know what she was missing—though she didn’t ask.

Food, water and safe spaces, she repeated, though it was common sense. The latter two seem pretty straightforward. I do worry about teaching him how to hunt.

He’ll be fine. Fennec stated, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. She could tell that her sister was worried, with good reason perhaps, but Fennec remembered what it was like to be coddled. She might have enjoyed some aspects, but others had left her sour. Just include him when you do things. Don’t assume he can’t or won’t want to. Hunting has been a major point of contention for her as well, growing up. Her dad hadn’t wanted to see her hurt, but she would have liked the chance to try. Instead she’d snuck out and sought her own experiences, arguably a more dangerous way.

Hunting isn’t the only option anyway. There’s other things to eat, and if he listens for the birds, they can guide him to something. It wasn’t the most reliable method, but along with bargaining her fortune telling, this was how she’d survived her brief period alone in the canyon.

It isn’t impossible though. It’s hard. But if we can hear prey, we can follow it. She added. It was honestly hard to recall what it had been like, to see the things around her. But she knew it had to be easier; she rarely allowed herself to run fully unless she was extremely familiar with an area. This could make the chase difficult when trying to pursue.

Fennec’s mention of birds made her look the way the geese had gone, though Meerkat doubted they were much use. Her sister must mean birds of prey, or perhaps simply those who fed on carrion. She took notes on this and every other bit of advice Fen dispensed, feeling immense gratitude.

I’m hopeful that Skippy can live a totally normal life, full of joy but probably full of setbacks too. But not because he’s blind, just because that’s how a normal life goes, at least in my experience.

They were near The Taigh now. Was that where her sister had been headed? Meerkat almost announced their location, then remembered Fennec probably knew perfectly well where they were. The thought brought a smile to her face, thinking of how Skipjack would come to know the cottage in the same way.

Isn’t that the truth. Fennec replied with a small laugh, a rare one that came fully. Fuck, everyone’s lives were a mess at some point. She felt she’d gotten more than her fair share of rotten luck, but that didn’t mean she had the worst of it. Her life had some pretty great shit going on in it too.

It’s strange. Because for us, this is a totally normal life. At least, the only normal we’ll ever know. Sometimes I get the sense that there’s something I should be missing, but I barely remember living a different way. What would it mean, to have something, when I don’t even know what it is? And from the way everyone describes seeing things, I see well enough. Fennec blew out an amused breath, her tail brushing a tree next to her. Refamiliarizing herself with the Copse had taken time, but by now she knew these sections well enough.

There’s some things, I guess. Color, whatever that is. And things like the sky. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d sat next to her dad, listening to Phox explain the stars and trying to understand what he meant. She never had, really, but she never intended to stop listening. I just don’t think those things are any better than the sound of rain, or scents on the wind.

She’d never really spoken at length about this before. Maybe it was crazy, but she hadn’t wished for things to be different in years. Not since she’d decided what others thought didn’t matter. She hadn’t meant to subject Meerkat to a speech, but maybe it would help Skipjack to get to where she was sooner.

Meerkat meandered toward the root system that formed the entrance to the communal den, though she did not head inside. Instead, she took a seat in the dirt a few yards outside the doorway, happy to continue the conversation as long as her sister liked until her family returned and inevitably interrupted it.

It was fascinating, hearing Fennec elaborate on her experiences without sight. She didn’t know colors, which was difficult for Meerkat to grasp. She felt bad for her sister, then felt bad for feeling bad. The entire point was that she didn’t really miss something she hadn’t really had in the first place. She was whole. Skip was whole.

You don’t know how much it means to me, hearing these things. I’ve wondered before but I didn’t know if it was prudent to ask, Meerkat admitted. It will give me a lot of insights on raising my son but I’m curious for you, as well. I know you—and mom, and Jr—are solid proof that it’s less of a disability than different abilities.

She thought about the geese again. Since her sister didn’t seem to mind discussing the topic, Meerkat realized here was her chance to ask. It was a silly question but she was so curious!

When those geese flew past a few minutes ago, what did you picture? Or did you picture anything at all?

Fennec hadn’t really thought about it before; it was just something that happened. I hear them and know about where they are. And I know about how big, since I’ve hunted geese. And eaten them at the very least. That’s really all I need. They weren’t too close, or anything that was going to come after us. So I could ignore them after that.

Skipjack would figure that process out if he needed to. It hadn’t taken her long to establish it, and after the first few attacks she’d gone through she’d been an even faster learner. She did hope he wouldn’t be quite so gung-go to learn from experience. Wraen showing up had probably saved Fennec’s life a couple of times.

Maybe, when he’s a little older, I can take him around some. Otter too, if she wants to come. Fennec smirked, remembering how bent out of shape she used to get about being left behind. Just close by, to learn some of the basics.

She hoped her sister would say yes, though it would be her call ultimately. It would be nice to do something that actually felt useful for them.

Fennec’s response fascinated her. It made sense on some level, though Meerkat still couldn’t quite fathom how the goose’s colors; the streamlined shape of its body; the breadth of its wings; hell, the sky it flew through—none of that applied to her sister’s experience of the world. Nor would any of it mean anything to Skipjack.

Trying to grapple with this made her heart feel a little heavy for both of them, though she reminded herself that their experience was not lesser for it, just different. And though Meerkat was fairly certain there was some saying about the blind leading the blind, she couldn’t think of a person more suited to helping her son figure out how to navigate the world.

I’d love that. Anything… anytime you want to teach him. You’re more than welcome, Meerkat said in a slightly breathy murmur. Thank you, Fen.