Years ago, the north lost one of its own to the irresistible pull of an adventure. Grandparents had to watch the boy they’d doted after go off on his own, as did siblings that’d grown alongside him and guided him through some truly heart-wrenching times. Various relatives had wished him luck in his travels, and perhaps it was that very same luck that had, eventually, led him to Scarlett—a monster she was deemed but most certainly was not, whose smile alone had captivated his heart with ease.

But luck, just like with anything, could run out, often at the worst of times.

Children were born and then a family divided, three young girls following their mother whilst a boy remained with his father. Words were spoken that could not be taken back, fueled by rage that was backed by heartbreak—heartbreak that had been avoidable, had only he’d not been so inexplicably stupid. But he had been, he’d made so many mistakes, and then came the final nail in the coffin that drove them apart.

He was to blame for that, for everything, and that blame weighed heavily upon his shoulders as he walked along with his granddaughter. It slowed him down—or was that the age?—and made him wonder if he should even be there. How would Desna react? Their past reunions had been anything but ideal, he remembered, so what would be different about this one? What had changed?

Before he could backtrack and find a reason to leave, they were there along the outskirts of his daughter’s pack. Again, he considered finding a reason that might drive himself away but, after taking a single glance at Arlette, he was suddenly unable to flee the scene. Rather, he raised his head and let out a low howl for his daughter, realising now that avoidance was not the same as giving space, and that neither would solve any one of the problems that he’d created for himself.

Alone, the wait likely would have been dreadful. However, as he stood there alongside his granddaughter, he was more at ease. He kept his eyes on her and listened to what she had to say, before turning his head to look into the direction she’d pointed out. The stones themselves were marvelous in size, being visible even from where they were, but what truly stood out to him was their use as a burial site. During their time together, he had not once imagined his former wife passing away, nor what he would have done with her bones in the event of such. As he gazed at the mighty stones, however, he believed she was where she needed to be. “I think your grandmother would’ve liked it there,” he noted absentmindedly, voice just above a whisper. Perhaps she would have liked the location as a whole, even.

Kove was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of approaching steps, towards which he turned his head to glance at the wolf—who was the very same that he’d called for, albeit much... larger than he remembered. Her sides were rounded out, telling a story he knew all too well: children were coming. How far along she was, he could not tell, but the markers of pregnancy were obvious enough. Had things been different, perhaps he might have inquired about it, but now most definitely was not the time to do so.

“It’s alright,” he said to Arlette, noticing her hesitation. He hadn’t expected to receive a favourable greeting, though he did wish that the child hadn’t been there to notice. He looked to Valette as soon as her child returned to her, a weary smile replacing the wonder that he wore previously. “I would never hurt her,” was the first thing he said to her, the way in which she moved forward having not gone unnoticed; Kove was many things but, despite his former place of residence, he was not a killer—and especially not of children, whether they were related to him or not. “I met your daughter in our old home, the valley,” he continued with an explanation. “She offered to bring me here and I agreed. I am only here to visit you and... Scarlett, too, if you’ll allow me.” Knowing that she was there made it difficult to resist the urge to find her, even if the only thing he’d find would be bones.

But perhaps his being there wasn’t a good idea. He was not trusted, that much was obvious, and years worth of damage was not so easily repaired. “I can leave, if that is what you’d prefer,” he added, a dullness in his eyes as the words left his mouth. He’d followed Arlette on a whim, after all, without taking into consideration what his sudden appearance might mean for everyone else involved. It was only fair that he now listen to his daughter’s wishes, even if they countered his own.

In spite of everything, he was not sent away. It surprised him to hear her disagree with his leaving, but he reminded himself not to read too much into it when an explanation followed: it was more so for her daughter that he was permitted to remain than it was for her sake. No matter, he was glad—glad that he could continue to spend time with his granddaughter, as well as see the home that they’d made for themselves. “Nakummek—thank you,” he said as their eyes met, truly grateful for the experience. And whilst his happiness was subdued, the excitement that radiated off of Arlette almost seemed to come in waves. It brought a smile to his face as he trailed after her, her eagerness contagious.

As the child spoke, he listened attentively; every word that left her mouth came right to his awaiting ears. And as she explained the rocks, what they stood for, and how they were discovered, he found his gaze travelling over every bit that he could see—for a moment, after he learned that it was Valette who had discovered the territory, he cast a smile in her direction. He was proud of her, even if he had no right to be. But no sooner did he look her way that his eyes were being pulled back towards the young albino, who made her way up the hill with ease. As Kove followed after her, he could not hide how age had slowed his body, nor how he stumbled—briefly—whilst pulling himself up the hill; it was not a mountain by any means, and yet, he struggled. It was not something he lingered on, however. Rather, he tried to move past it as quickly as he could once he was near his granddaughter again, and now able to examine the collection of rocks and stones. “Hopefully everyone that has had a stone placed here in their honour return to you someday,” he responded. It was a custom that he could appreciate, as well as admire—though he admired her more, simply for her ability to understand and act on their tradition. That someone so young could have such a steady understanding of the world… well, it wasn’t something that he was terribly used to.

When she ran ahead, he watched, but it wasn’t long before her voice rang through his ears again. “You must be the fastest wolf here!” he exclaimed as he paused. “I just can’t keep up with you, you’re too fast.” He began moving again shortly thereafter, picking his pace up to a light jog so that he wouldn’t leave her waiting for too much longer. “I’m sure you’re the greatest hunter here,” he said as he reached her. “I can’t imagine anyone runs as fast as you can.” Meanwhile, his own body begged him to relax; he’d been travelling for quite some time prior to meeting her, with only the short rest at the borders to help regain his strength. Kove, however, was not willing to disappoint her—or Valette, for that matter—and so he remained upright and moving.

The father stone; the burial site for her late husband, whose kindness was evident in the way she spoke of him. Then the mother stone; it stood guard over the grave of his late wife, yet it was not the least bit intimidating. Somehow, it brought forth a wave of relief, which washed over him with increasing ease the longer he gazed at the stone. It was as if she was there alongside it, warmth radiating from the stone as light was cast down upon it.

Overwhelming was a mild way to describe his feelings.

Given space he didn’t realise he needed, Kove approached the stone; his movements were slow and his exterior expression displaced, a crack in the mask he’d worn for so long revealing the agony that lingered just below. As the background faded and his shoulders slumped forward, he could not hide the gleam of tears that brimmed the corners of his eyes. For so long, he’d hidden behind a wall of anger and false disgust, not allowing himself to truly mourn her. But now, as he stood before her again, he was suddenly hit by a freight train of emotions: anger, sorrow, joy, and so many more he could not name.

“Kangâ,” he whispered. “Kikavaga… I should have stayed.” It was far too late now, years having gone by since he’d left her in the valley; she was gone from this world now, she had been for a while. And as much as he sought to join her, his body refused to fail him still, forcing him to continue living even when it was she that should be the one to still breathe. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, this time to Valette. “For leaving your mother alone. For leaving you and your sisters without a father. For… for this, for being here now. I’m sorry.” But he could not look at her, nor even at the stone, his gaze averted and downcast. Maybe he shouldn’t have followed his granddaughter there—maybe things would have been better left untouched.

Kove did not know his daughter, not as a father should. Her response that came was as much of a shock to him as his actions were to her; they would likely never know one another as deeply as other parents and children did but, perhaps, they might someday forget what it was like to surprise the other. “I’ve always cared,” he told her. “From the moment your mother felt a change within her womb, I cared—for you, your siblings, and your mother.” For all this time, he’d cared—although he’d never known how to go about showing that, after their family was split apart. There had been so much anger, so much hurt, that even now he still wondered if it was truly okay for him to be there now.

But, if it wasn’t okay, then would the offer had been made?

The Inuk’s body grew still and he struggled to decipher her words, searching for a hint of anything that might paint him a fool. He had to remind himself that he was in Blackfeather no longer, that those around him now did not intend to smite him. Only then was he able to relax and lay his anxious thoughts to rest, gaze drifting between his daughter and granddaughter. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I...” Would things be okay? Eventually, perhaps—only time would tell, and a chance taken only if he took a step in the right direction. “I would like to stay.” His obligations to the Woods had long since been fulfilled and he was now free to start a new chapter in his life. A chapter that would not be plagued by traitorous beasts or the stench of the swampland.

Things would be different this time around.

As Valette further described the territory, he wondered to himself if he might ever grow accustomed to it. Up until recently, and even in his youth, he’d always lived within a forest. To trade the safety of the trees for the open plains was troubling, to say the least, but not something that he wasn’t willing to try and get used to. Besides, even though the majority of the land was open to the skies above, there was still a wooded area within. Perhaps, should he ever find himself uneasy being exposed, he would retire to the birch trees.

When she spoke of their hunts, he smiled: it had been quite some time since he’d last assisted during a pack hunt. Whilst he’d never partaken in a bison hunt before, he was curious to see how it differed from deer—although, he did wonder if his body would even allow such a taxing activity at this point. Either way, he decided, he would assist in any way that he could; the idea of being sore for a few days in exchange for joining a hunt seemed hardly a price to pay when he really took the time to think about it. All thoughts in regards to the hunts soon faded from his conscious mind when she mentioned her mate, however. He maintained his smile—more so for Arlette than out of true joy—and had to remind himself where exactly he stood; the male that he was apparently to meet had, currently, a better standing with his daughter than he did, and he’d be wise to keep that at the forefront of his thoughts.

Just as he was about to try and change her mind, for the plan to be altered to them meeting on a different day, his granddaughter spoke up and his attention shifted. “No, no,” he answered, shaking his head. “You keep your den. I’m sure you worked hard finding it, I wouldn’t want to take it. Truthfully, I’m not too used to sleeping within a den. I much prefer being out beneath the moon.” He used to alternate between sleeping out in the open and within a den. It wasn’t until recently that he’d really abandoned the idea of dens altogether, as he no longer felt comfortable within them; oftentimes they were far too cramped for his liking, and he just didn’t have the energy to expand them.

Before long, another wolf arrived—a male, who he assumed was the mate his daughter had spoken of. Despite the posture taken with his approach, Kove’s own body remained relaxed; he neither submitted nor made a play at challenging the other male, but instead focused on maintaining his composure. And even though the question was not asked of him, the Inuk answered: “My name is Kove Apaata, her father.”