Though her scent permeated the territory and he knew she called, Ashlar also knew that others answered. Others who would give her warriors that he could not... and wasn't sure he wanted... to give.
Of course he would not fight for her. He was happy that she had found so many willing to and that was enough. The lonely sensation returned, but it was tempered with the memory of play. If nothing else, at least he had something to give.
When the springtime sun gilds all it sees
And the shadows fade into the mornin'
He sang quietly while he worked at uncovering the roots he had found, forepaws coated in dirt.
As the flowers bow down, give their thanks to the bees
So do I give my thanks to the learnin'
Hmm. He wasn't sure. He liked the pattern of the song, but that wasn't quite what he wanted it to be about. He could pronounce "learning" to rhyme if he did so oddly, and he didn't mind it, but he knew there was a better phrases to be found. He fell silent, considering other words with a thoughtful expression.
the distant song draws her forward.
she's a little sore but pleased, loping a little crookedly along the hills of the Rise. when she sees Ashlar, she pauses, then gives a chuff his way, trotting to meet him.
nose lowered, sniffing at his work with plants;
she is wreathed in heat-scent and fully aware of it, but does not necessarily mean to tease.
why does she come?
she has already taken strong seed.
and yet, Avicus wonders if Ashlar's softness and prowess for healing would be beneficial in a young wolf.
He hadn't quite found the right words when Avicus came upon him, but he had begun to hum a different rhythm, one that might suit better. He fell into silence as her presence registered.
He couldn't very well ignore her presence. Ashlar would never, and could never, do that to any wolf who he considered friend. He looked at her with a simple question, assuming she was there because she needed something.
Had she found another strange thing? Or did she or another need some remedy?
He hadn't even considered the thought that she might seek him out. It was outlandish - perhaps she had welcomed him, but Ashlar would never guess his skills as highly valued as to merit him among the others. He had stayed away for a number of reasons, this one chief among them.
she doesn't mean any ulterior motive;
or does she?
she looks up at him, gesturing toward the unrooted plants. healing?
she asks briefly, shoulders hunched in a shrug.
but the air is different between them by virtue of her new. . .status. she finds herself wanting to draw close, and yet something holds her back. it's as if it's a test, but she's not necessarily grading.
instead, Avicus stares across the Rise, wondering when the new children may take root.
Yeah.
Ashlar plucks the root he's been exposing with his teeth and tugs, hard. It strains and then suddenly comes loose, trapped in his jaws, the strong taste of it overwhelming him for a moment.
He lets it fall next to him, then rolls it to show it to her. It's ginger. Papa said that he would bring it to mama, before I was born, to help. She would get sick.
He looked at her, shyer than normal. He did not know how much he could assume, or what it was right to say. But he was Hæland.
I wanted it, in case you needed it.
He'd gathered many plants already for wounds or for infection, to stave off pain and to help with fever. This was something new that he'd only remembered when he'd noticed her scent and the way the others acted. If she didn't need it, then perhaps others would, if more joined and spring lengthened.
she takes the small, gnarled bundle between her teeth and crushes it slightly. it's a pungent taste, different from the usual fare that hits her palate. she grimaces a bit at first, but concedes, after depositing the root back to the ground, that it lingers a bit pleasantly.
before i was born.
in case you needed it.
will i gehh' hh'—'hhick?
Avicus asks, glancing up at him.
she's still caught in the crossbeams of estrus, and for a moment she sees not Ashlar but a body, a male body, and it takes a moment's concentration upon the earth on which she stood, and the present moment occupied, to bring her back to their normal reality.
She was distracting to him too, but in a way that was muted. Instinct told him warring things - that he wanted her, but also that he was not hers. It was not his right to have. Tulimaq's presence, his bearing at her side, the way the others postured as well. All of these made him wary of any motions otherwise.
You might. If you, y'know, have any kids.
He heated a bit when he said it, blushing beneath his coat. It wasn't the speech of an experienced healer, but this circumstance was even stranger. Everything was a jumble in his chest.
He said the time between season and pups can be hard. It depends. It was hard for mama.
Luckily she had had papa, and Avicus would have him, albeit for a different reason and role. He wondered if the assumption would bother her, if she hadn't planned on it.
what's wrong with him? why is he not stirred by her scent like the others?
she thinks, perhaps, it's whatever had caused him to run from the fox chase, or cower at orders Merrick had given. it's cowardice, an inability to take what's in front of him.
and yet, inexplicably, she wants him. why? does this condition cloud her judgment, or is it bringing to surface latent feelings?
so caught up in these thoughts was Avicus that she missed each and every one of his words.
she picks up the ginger root again and begins to gnaw it, slightly aggressively, looking away from Ashlar and staring up a nearby hillock instead.
She seemed suddenly distant and didn't respond. He looked down for a moment, ashamed that perhaps he'd crossed a line and invaded her privacy. But no, because he was Hæland. If he did not know what her plans were, he could not prepare for it. He needed to know to do the job she'd trusted him with, and that meant she needed to trust him with the telling.
If you do plan on having pups, this is for if your stomach doesn't like it. There's also herbs and foods that help. Will you?
He tried to catch her eye as he spoke, tried to gather his courage and confidence in his role. He did not want to force or challenge, but in this moment he would need to meet her as a peer, just as he would need to learn to meet the soldiers should he treat them one day. If he did not trust himself, how could he ask them to trust him?
Another question burned, one that had not escaped. It tried.
the ginger rises, sweet and cloying, in her mouth, along with saliva. she opens her jaws and lets the root fall, laving away stray trails of drool from her lips, ears canted toward what he's saying to her.
she looks at him, dead-on, and replies, i will.
perhaps even now, the future of the Rise burns within her belly.
and yet, he does not act!
Avicus walks forward a few steps and presses her muzzle against his shoulder, her fragrant tongue uttering a brief phrase—'hhank you.
if he does not make a move upon her now, she will depart, leaving him to his plants and his songs.
Ashlar would allow her to leave with only a quiet nod of response. He did not want to ask and saw no sign that she did either. Perhaps, if he had, things would be different... he was not the type to simply take.
But even then, perhaps not, for he knew any pups she had would be hers. Not theirs, not his, not even their own. And he could not imagine his own sons or daughters growing up to think themselves wrong if they did not wish to fight.
After she left, her scent lingered, and Ashlar continued to work. He did not break the silence again and it settled heavily over him, suppressing the relative peace with quiet disappointment.