He could not understand why Fox would choose, of all things, to give him the cold shoulder. Had he done something horribly wrong—as he had done when inviting Junior into the territory back in summer, for instance—then her current behavior toward him would make perfect sense. But Peregrine had done nothing wrong this time. His body was breaking down on him, yes... but why would the love of his life treat him like a ghost? Like he was (already) dead (to her)?
The only way he could find out was to ask, yet Peregrine—who hadn't the first clue just how dark his mate's thoughts had become—wasn't sure he was ready to find out the truth. He sat beneath a bent pine, trying to steady his rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing, waiting for her to come explain. The fallen Alpha was ashamed to admit he was trembling. Didn't she know he needed her, desperately, now more than ever?
Once she was done questioning the young Frostfur, she did as Peregrine had asked, flinching even when she had heard his voice. Fox had not told anybody—not even her betas—of the murderous thoughts that had plagued her. Those she kept to herself, unsure if it was the pregnancy, the shock, or her real self thinking them. She was not even sure she wanted to know the answer to that question, which was probably better left unaswered for now.
Letting out a sigh, she found Peregrine sitting beneath a pine tree, clearly struggling with a different, related, set of thoughts. Her stomach turned again, causing her gag reflex to kick in, though she managed to keep anything from coming up. Truth-be-told, she had all but lost her appetite with all that had happened on top of the pregnancy.
Fox put on her brave face and stepped toward him, hoping that her stomach would settle at least for a little while.
The instant she walked into sight, his heart leaped into his throat and throbbed there. He felt sick to his stomach too, though he couldn't blame pregnancy. Peregrine wanted to reach out to Fox, give her his usual licks, nudges and otherwise warm and easy greetings. But he wasn't sure how he would be received. And her stoic expression did little to reassure him. She had put him on ice, it was clear to him now.
He opened his mouth and expected to struggle to find the words. But they slipped out of him, cuttingly to the point. "Do you not love me unconditionally?"
Love was an emotion that often still felt foreign to Fox. Before Peregrine, she had thought it was a myth. Early in their relationship, she had not loved him. He had said the words first, as she remembered it. She had not felt love for some time after. She could not recall the exact moment that she had said it, nor the circumstances that had surrounded it. The beginning of their relationship had been based on her feeling that she owed him something in return for the shelter he had provided.
She took her time answering, aware that each moment that passed would pump doubt into his heart. "I love you, but you hardly seem you anymore," Fox admitted. She didn't know if that was a yes or a no. As far as she was concerned, he was on his death bed without a sense of smell, only one eye, and seemingly aging at an increased pace.
"I love you," she began and, despite himself, Peregrine clung to those first three words, hoping fiercely and desperately. Yet he could not deny the six more that came after them. It felt like his heart had stopped. His eyes squinted. He didn't know what to say to that. His nose had gone and died on him... but he wasn't his nose, nor was he his eyes (good or bad). He was a sum of all his parts—heart and soul most definitely included.
"Just—just like that?" Peregrine asked quietly, voice colored by disbelief. "I lose my sense of smell and suddenly I'm not me anymore?" It sounded like a painful excuse to throw him away now that he was no longer whole. "I'm not an Alpha anymore. But I'm still your mate. And still their father." His gaze momentarily fell to her middle, then he dragged it back up to her petite features. "And still doing my best. But that... it's not enough for you?"
He thought they'd both known he would grow old and retire sooner, given his age, even if they hadn't anticipated it this soon. She had even mentioned stepping down with him when the time came. Not that he wanted that but this was not the same Fox who had promised to stand by and with him in everything he did. It left him at a complete loss, his chest now feeling like ground zero.
Fox was reminded of the segment of time when Peregrine had stepped down, immediately following Junior's attack on Wildfire. His questions only made her feel worse, sicker to her stomach. Once again, Fox felt the blood begin to drain. If she hadn't had the fur to cover her skin, it would have been a pale sickly shade of green.
"I don't know," she squeaked out, averting her eyes. Why did she have to answer all this right now anyway? What was so pressing that he needed to know everything right away? Fox didn't understand, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. She just wanted him to get fixed and get everything back to normal. Peregrine was supposed to be the provider, and now he couldn't do that. Fox had always been a practical wolf, and keeping around a half-dead (in her mind) mate didn't make any sense.
A pine bough above Peregrine began to creak, and before either of them knew it, the branch—heavy with snow—broke and fell from above. Fox scarcely had time to dart away from the branch, but managed to avoid getting hit. Peregrine, on the other hand, was not so lucky. It seemed to have landed directly on top of him, and Fox rushed to his side, licking his face. Whatever reservations she'd had about them were set aside, worried for his life more than what their future would be.
Funny to think that she had been plotting his demise only moments ago.
She didn't know. It wasn't the answer he wanted but it was the one he needed. A sigh pulled from his chest, long and slow. It felt like his soul was leaving his body. That made sense to Peregrine, in a way. He would have called her his soul mate a few days ago. But now she didn't know and the piece of him attached to Fox seemed to be making a hasty exit from his body. Who knew what it would leave behind.
They wouldn't get to find out, at least right away. Both of his ears worked perfectly fine, so Peregrine heard the creak. He looked up just in time to see the limb, heavy with snow, drop on him. Because of the angle, it hit him square on the nose with a loud, squishy crunch. The swarthy wolf went down like a sack of potatoes, the broken branch rolling a few inches off to the side as blood gushed from his busted muzzle. There were complimentary scratches above each eye too, blood trickling in threads.
It was the overwhelming smell and taste of his own blood that roused him from his brief swoon, followed quickly by the touch of a warm tongue. Funnily, Peregrine did not slowly return to consciousness; it snapped back to him. She doesn't know if she loves you. Whatever joy he might have experienced at Fox's touch was promptly robbed from him as he woozily stood and stepped away from her, jade eyes blinking rapidly as tears mixed in with the blood flooding them.
Blood trickled from his nose. His useless nose. Was there anything that could have gone wrong with her to change his love for her? Did she love him less? Did he love her more? Was his love unconditional? She had perhaps murdered one of their children in her sleep, and yet he had been unphased by that. Fox had ruined their relationship with Blacktail Deer Plateau, with his closest friends... and Peregrine had scarcely batted an eye, sticking by her side without a second thought.
Fuck.
She felt terrible.
Fox wretched, tossing up whatever small meal she'd had that morning. It tasted awful, but Fox licked her lips anyway. removing the bits of food that had made their way there.
"If you step down, I'm going with you, Peregrine. Elwood and Finley are more than capable of handling things. I always said we'd go together, and even if it's sooner than we thought, I'm not going to let that put a wrench in our plans." Fox paused, gingerly reaching out, but worried that he might pull away. "Unconditionally." That was the answer. The split second of thinking that he might be gone had answered that for her.
Her words—her sudden change of heart—made no sense to him and gave him worse whiplash than the rogue tree branch. But speaking of senses, it suddenly clicked that he was smelling his own blood. Peregrine's eyes bugged out and, for once, he tuned her out as he marveled at this abrupt turn of events. He sucked in a deep breath, only to wince as pain seared through his broken nose. Still, he could smell again. His jade eyes dropped to the branch, his expression simultaneously delighted, horrified and disbelieving.
Then they clapped back to Fox as she said, "Unconditionally." Suddenly his face fell slack, expressionless. His eyes tightened. "My love for you has no conditions," he said, tasting his blood as well as smelling it as it continued to run from his snout like an open faucet. "I would love you no matter what, even if you lost all your limbs or went bat shit crazy or..." His head hurt and he couldn't think of more examples. But you get the idea.
"I would love you no matter what," he repeated, only to pause before speaking heavily. "But this relationship has conditions." His entire face was essentially streaming bodily fluids right now. "I will take care of you—and them—and never stop loving you. But I can't be in a relationship with someone whose love has conditions." And it was difficult but he managed it; he turned his back on Fox and walked away, making no mention of his renewed sense of smell. It didn't matter now anyway.
"Yes, that—" but he continued to talk, causing Fox to lash her tail in mild annoyance. Had he lost his hearing now, too? It seemed Fox was going to be the wife of a vegetable at this point. At least he could still give her children. But how would he know when the time came? She brushed the question aside. She would stand by her words, no matter what.
"You dunce," she said, stepping in front of him and blocking his way. "I just told you I don't have conditions for loving you. You lose your hearing, too?" She asked the last question in as light a manner as she could, resorting to humor when everything else had failed her. Damn, she really was falling apart.
There she was, in his path, and it took every ounce of his strength to pull away from her again. But he did, putting two feet of space between them and staring at her as she playfully chided him. It was tempting to accept her words at face value and embrace the feeling of relief that threatened to wash over him... but Peregrine hadn't hit his head that hard. Five minutes ago, Fox hadn't been sure she'd loved him.
"No," he replied slowly, woodenly. "I heard you perfectly well when you said you didn't know." Then, because he couldn't help himself, he asked, "What changed in the last five minutes, Fox?" Well, he'd taken a tree branch to the face and regained his sense of smell. But how had the former changed her mind? And she didn't know about the latter...
That realization gave him pause. She thought he still couldn't smell, yet she had swayed. What did that say about the situation? Peregrine didn't know. All he knew was... that he was in pain, suddenly so bad that he fell rather abruptly into a sit, bashed and bloodied muzzle pointing at the pink stain spreading on the snow between his forelegs.
She frowned, listening. Now he didn't trust her. "I thought"—she paused, unsure how much she wanted to reveal to him—"I thought you were dead. I realized that even if you're broken, you're still the only one on this earth who can be the father for our children. If that means not being at the head of the pack, so be it." And if he still didn't believe her? Fox wasn't quite sure of that, yet. There were options, but all of them left a sour taste in her mouth.
He should have been happy to hear those words, to know that the tree branch had fixed not only his nose (while simultaneously breaking it) but also his love life. However, Peregrine could only cough out something that wasn't quite a joyless laugh as he continued staring at the smear of blood. He was having trouble concentrating all of a sudden and felt like he might pass out.
"You fucking hurt me," he accused the red pool between his legs. "You were ready to throw me away like a broken toy." He couldn't help it. He sobbed... then again because that fucking hurt like a bitch. "I couldn't be an Alpha or a hunter, so I became worthless to you." Okay, which was worse: the pain in his nose or the pain in his heart? It was a toss-up.
For reasons unknown—but maybe because he'd just been bitch slapped by a pine tree—his mind flashed to the whelping den he had so meticulously decorated a day or so earlier. "I just want to look after the babies," Peregrine said somewhat inanely as his head really began to swim.
Fox = oblivious to his pain
Her brow furrowed.
"I wasn't ready to do anything." Okay, so
maybe she had entertained thoughts of luring a bear to him... or drowning him... or pushing him off the cliff... but she hadn't been
ready to do any of those things. Now he was putting words in her mouth, and that was the last thing she wanted.
"I just needed... time, space. I don't get to choose how fast I can keep up with" (your latest ailment)
"my emotions." Fox shook her head, at a loss for what else to say.
"I couldn't look at you because I knew you would demand answers that I wouldn't have time to think through." Lo and behold, that was exactly what he had done.
Just a giant misunderstanding... right?
"I want that, too," she said, softer now.
Fox did her best to explain and Peregrine could hear the authenticity in her tone. But it was increasingly hard to focus. For an instant, he wasn't just picturing the den, he was there. Was he hallucinating? He lifted his head so swiftly that his neck cracked, eyes all squinty as he peered dumbly at Fox. He took a deep breath, his sense of smell so sharp that he swore he could smell each of the puppies inside his pregnant wife. Four, boys, he thought dimly, his nose tingling savagely.
"You shouldn't have to think about it," he said a great while after Fox had finished speaking, his words officially slurring like a drunk's. And finally Perry had had more than he could take. He slumped gently forward at her feet, not quite unconscious but definitely off in some fuzzy place for the moment.
"I'm not just thinking for me," she replied quietly. She wanted their children to have the best life possible, and Fox knew she had to weigh each and every option carefully. Even the worst ones. Peregrine shifted, laying down at her feet. His nose was still bleeding, but Fox suspected it would stop soon. If not, she could consult... well, somebody.
"We'll need to tell Elwood and Finley what's happened. I hope they're ready to take over. Unless... do you think Nightjar is ready?" The ruling pair had spoken once of giving the pack to him when they were ready to retire... though it was possible he might want more time. Or that he would need it. Surely he would understand why his parents need to relenquish the throne.
/dice rolls for RHC's next Alphas ;)
"Fox..." Peregrine murmured from his stupor. She had just accused him of rushing her... and here she was, trying to push a decision on him while he was lying bleeding and stupid at her feet?
"Stahp." It would have been funny, if he wasn't in so much pain. But at least he could smell. In fact, he could now smell Fox's feet
and he threw up in his mouth a little bit.
As addled as he was at the moment, though, Peregrine latched onto the mention of his son's name. What
if Nightjar became Alpha, rising up in his parents' stead? What would Elwood and Finley think of that? And where would that leave himself and Fox? Right now, Peregrine decided he gave zero fucks. He drew in another breath and over the smell of corn chips (Fox's feet) and blood, he smelled his sons again.
For once, she just did what he asked. Small as she was, she settled down and made her best attempt at being the big spoon. She still had no clue that his sense of smell had returned, else she would have scrapped any plans of naming the next heir to the caldera. She sighed, breathing in the smell of his fur and unaware that he was doing the same.
She remained silent then, still feeling like things were somewhat up in the air, but also knowing that pushing for more answers would only lead to further unrest.