Days—weeks?—had gone by since his last encounter with the madman, leaving Alexander trapped within the walls of the valley by his own fear and anger. Bearclaw, his home, offered small portions of comfort here and there, allowing him to slowly take back control over his life. Still, it was not without a great deal of time and caution that he had eventually trailed up along the boulder path and out into the open. Over and over again, he silently told himself that he would be alright, that everything would be fine. And, after a long while, he’d even started to believe those internal assurances. For despite all that had happened both months ago and weeks, he was home. There was nothing that could harm him, just as long as he returned to his valley after each trip away. That newly-budding confidence was enough, too, to send him out on a journey, legs carrying him—unknowingly—towards family.

Before long, the sights started to become more familiar to him, and it took him no longer than a minute to realise just how close he was to Desna. Desna. The name made him freeze where he stood, wondering to himself just how much time had passed since they’d last seen one another. And although he tried to figure that out, he was struck by not even a single thought of what could have happened, had the pack within the grove succeeded. Unable to recall the reason behind his previous visit, he pressed onward with a light enough heart, lacking his usual worries and focusing solely on closing the distance between himself and his sister’s home. Then, once he was near enough, the young Inuk tilted his head back and loosed a howl, calling for @Valette. As soon as his voice was cleared from his throat, leaving behind just a faint echo in the skies overhead, his ears perked and his eyes began scanning the span of land before him, searching for her.

It hadn’t been long before he was greeted by his sister, the dark mass that was her body growing larger as she neared him—too large, perhaps. Alexander had only just managed to get out a quick, “Hey,” when his eyes fell to her abdomen, enlarged and swollen. In an instant, his mouth had shut and he’d taken a step towards her, ears pushed forward whilst his head tilted ever so slightly. The male hadn’t heard her question, her voice drowned out by the quickened beats of his heart. Curious, he observed her for a long while, wondering how he might best ask her a question for which he already had the answer.

From the depths of his chest there suddenly came a low rumbling, which was, with ease, smothered by the clearing of his throat. He knew not where the wave of anger had arisen from—jealousy, perhaps, or some instinctual rage towards the threat of competition—nor did he care to find out. Instead of questioning himself, he turned the need for answers outwards and asked, “How long?” How long since she’d been impregnated, or how long until she might be due, he’d be satisfied with either response. “And who?” As the final word rolled off his tongue, he dragged his gaze up and away from her stomach, focusing instead on her face. His previous troubles and reasoning behind having sought her out were pushed to the back burner, Xan having decided that his need for answers was far more important.

Alexander was still—rigid—as he waited for answers, unable to keep his gaze from trailing back to her abdomen every time he tore it away. Even as her comment was made, he remained focused on her midsection—that is, until she answered one of his inquiries, and he realised just how little he knew about pregnancies. Dragging his eyes back up to meet hers, he gave a slight tilt of his head and asked, “How long until they’re born, then?” The weeks leading up to the births of Nemesis’ children had not been counted, their existences having always meant nothing to him. That, coupled with his lack of interest in having questioned his father about the steps of reproduction whilst growing up, left him without the knowledge of how long it took children to be born. The topic itself kept him from focusing on the fact that a name was not given to the father, thus keeping him from doing something either incredibly stupid, or pitifully arrogant.

As the pack within the grove was brought up, he felt his chest tighten. Hardly a beat later and he’d eased up once again, forcing the band of loners from his mind. “It didn’t,” was all he said in reference to it, wishing to forget having ever been a part of them. And, hopefully, she would allow him to do just that, which he assumed to be the case the second their conversation progressed. Though, the next matter wasn’t any easier to speak about, especially since he’d not even thought to consider joining her someday. Frowning, he could only shake his head, requiring a moment or two to figure out how best he might explain himself.

“I won’t be joining your pack,” he said after a minute or two of silence, knowing it wasn’t the place for him. “I’m... I’m going to take back the valley—reclaim Bearclaw and rule over our parents’ land.” For now, it was the only place that offered him the sense of security that he so desperately needed. Some terrible things had happened there, once upon a time, but the positive outweighed the negative whenever he looked back through his memories. “And am I not allowed to ask about your life?” was his next question, her remark having not gone unnoticed. “You’re my sister, you’re pregnant with my nieces and nephews—why can’t I ask about you?” His tone had changed drastically, switching from accusing to genuine curiosity. Of course, he would never recognise said change, but would instead proceed with the belief that he’d done nothing that should have offended her.

A few weeks.

Just a few weeks to get through and then his family would acquire some new members to it… the thought made him feel weird. The entire situation left him with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, really. His sister was pregnant, she was going to have her own little family. Despite their rough beginnings, she’d made it out just fine, then even went so far as to turn around and make a real life for herself. Although Xan never even considered the possibility of someday being a father—pups were messy, and he just couldn’t see himself as being father-material—he couldn’t fight off the ounce of jealousy that had crept up on him with the greatest stealth. Unnerved, he swallowed a few times whilst nodding, having nothing to say but not wanting her to think that she’d been ignored. There, he dropped the subject, unappreciative of whatever it was that was causing such a storm within his mind, chest, and stomach all at once.

Collecting himself, he muttered a monotone, “Yeah, I guess I could have,” when his disappearing act was brought up. A part of him wanted to explain why he’d left, to spill all of his secrets and shames, but a greater part forced him to hold his tongue. It was a difficult task that became easier only after he was then asked something, the details of his future seeming far more important right then than anything else. “I don’t,” he stated, frowning at the realisation. “I haven’t really started searching for followers just yet… I’m not even sure where to begin, in all honesty.” Was he just supposed to wander around in search of lone wolves and ask them if they wanted to join him, or was there some sort of secret to obtaining followers that he needed to know? Having never been the most social of wolves out there, nor having overseen any recruitment missions in the past, he was at a total loss. Suddenly, a task that had seemed so simple in his head became the hardest code to crack. And, had her next words not struck the emotional barriers that he’d erected so long ago, he likely would have sought out her advice.

Frowning, he gritted his teeth and did all else that he could to keep from snapping at her, letting her finish. Everything in him insisted that he argue with her, that he counteract her points with some bullshit lies that even he hardly believed. The more he listened, however, he realised that she didn’t have the full story; from what she did know, though, she was right. Alexander had vanished without so much as a goodbye, acting just as selfishly as he was so accustomed to. No more, he decided, choosing—for once—the truth over excuses. “I didn’t forget about you,” was his first declaration, peculiar eyes seeking out her own. “I left Blackfeather for a reason. I’m… I’m not ready to share that with you, but I will say that, when I left, I felt I could only because of Sriracha and Ocra.” It was the first in a long time that he was able to say either of their names, still angry and hurt by their decision to abandon him. “So when they disappeared and just left me behind like I was nothing, I didn’t know what to do,” he continued. “I was lost. I didn’t feel safe anymore, so I ran. I didn’t think about you or anyone else, I only thought about how far I could go to get away—and I went far.” Perhaps he should have stopped to consider his options back then, then maybe he would have found some sense of safety there with Desna, but he hadn’t; he doubted whether or not he even could have.

“I went to the coast, and there I was reunited with an old friend—my first and only friend, actually.”—it still pained him to talk about her, believing that her fate was his fault—“I felt like I wasn’t lost anymore, so I followed her. I promised to protect her and then we joined a pack together, and then I let her down.” It felt to him as if someone had driven a knife deep into his chest, and then proceeded to twist it with each word that left his mouth. Yet, he continued anyways, needing to get everything out. “I loved her more than anyone, but I still let her down,” he croaked, then quickly cleared his throat thereafter in an attempt to hide the shakiness of his voice. “You, dad, the valley—you’re all I have left now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving again.” The valley was his home, the only place where he could thrive, and she was his sister. To think of leaving again… he just couldn’t.

It was his first time sharing the story with someone—and it felt good. Although it wasn’t fully lifted off his shoulders, and likely never would be, at least some of the weight had faded. It was strange, he noted, that speaking had done so much for him; the idea of speaking with others, too, never crossed his mind, however. Eventually, perhaps it might, but today was not the day. It was the day to try and reconnect with his sister. Whether or not the retelling of his troubles had helped that process along, he couldn’t tell, nor could he think of a way to ask. Silence overcame him yet again, for his go-to response to everything in life rarely seemed to let him down anymore.

An offer to keep in touch was made, which he accepted without hesitation. “Yeah, let’s do that,” he agreed, glancing towards her abdomen shortly after. “I’ll come again after they’re born and are big enough for you to leave them. Walking around like that seems uncomfortable.” Plus, every time he saw her swollen stomach, it reminded him of how much success she’d had thus far. A part of him was happy for her, he truly was, but the uncertainty lingered continuously.

“I guess I’ll let you go now so you can rest,” the Inuk decided, his own words having reminded him of her condition. “I’ll see you around, alright? I won’t run again.” Should she have nothing to add, he’d flash a forced smile—a genuine one was too hard to create with so much going on within his head—and then take his leave, hoping to get a hold on himself before his next visit.