He didn't follow her up the mountain trail, exactly. It was also true that he didn't change direction when he encountered her pawprints fresh on the path.
The night had long been a time he preferred being active. Though Taikon had tried to break out of this habit since his arrival at Nova Peak, his endeavours had been unsuccessful. Sagtannet was not a pack that enjoyed policing its pack members, however, and so he now lacked the motivation to change.
Things were tense with the coming of winter coupled with the anger Wylla had stirred against the Rusalkans. It was on the mountain peaks that he, like Takiyok, hoped to find solace. His thoughts buzzed despite his air of calm. He wondered about the places he had once roamed. He thought of Lunaria, and hoped that she was getting on all right on her own. He wondered if the Saints were still causing havoc in the Sunspires and surrounding areas. Taikon's heart longed to roam, but he wanted to be more settled before he began wandering far from home.
Takiyok was alone on her ledge. Her coat seamed to glow in the chill air. His steps were loud in comparison to her quiet. He wandered over to give a quick and pleasant nuzzle, casually sitting by her. He left space between them. Can't sleep? He assumed she couldn't because he couldn't, but was sure there were different reasons why.

Taikon wondered what exactly her mind was so busy with all the time. Surely Stag couldn't fill all that space on his own. Perhaps she was much like him, constantly dwelling on the past without feeling much control over it. The idea of sleeping a handful of hours made him frown. He had trouble imagining what that might be like, considering he frequently slept half of a full day, particularly after one of his longer travels.
He nodded all the same, knowing that it was virtually impossible to break such habits, and generally there was no need. The pack borders were just as well guarded from intruders at night as during the day. Nocturnal animals, too, would venture out under the stars to be caught by an alert wolf.
It is a bit like the Farukan Kingdom, my homeland, but in terrain only, he said slowly, echoing the same thought he had told to Asra. Only we have Wylla the Fiery instead of my mother at the helm, he smiled thin, glancing at her. Wylla, he could tell, had a short fuse. Mahler was someone he was less familiar with and thus couldn't speak to. In structure, his birthplace and Sagtannet had nothing in common. For that, he was thankful.

The question gave him pause. He stiffened noticeably. Looking out from the ledge, he watched the clouds roll over the moon. The light upon Takiyok dimmed then, and Taikon took a moment to lay down in a regal sphinx position. After a long breath out, he followed the silence with words.
It's a good thing, he said, swallowing what felt like a rough stone. It made an audible sound — his tongue felt dry and the cold air through his nose wasn't helping. Taikon knew that she wanted more, but he had to be careful to step around the hardest parts of his story. They were wounds that were still too painful to open. It was quite possible they always would be. He had never spoken about it, not even to women like Lunaria whom he'd cried his heart out to.
We didn't see eye to eye, he said, though he knew he had told her that when they had first met. My mother was a bit of a monster. Well, actually that's putting it mildly. She brought war to many packs. She swallowed them and turned their sons and daughters into slaves, or plebeians if they were lucky, he explained, unable to look at her through it. What Taikon did not mention was that he had been brought up as a prince, and as such he had long enjoyed the comforts and luxuries of his royal position. That meant he had been a part of her vicious system, regardless of who had invented it.
In fact, his mother had been one of a long line of Farukan Queens and Kings that followed such a pattern. Taikon had broken the cycle, but he was certain that she or a chosen heir was still doing the same fascist bullshit. It created a lot of suffering. He was one of those who suffered, but he knew there were many others who had lost more than he had. Entire families had been wiped from the earth, all for the sake of power and a facade of knowledge-seeking values.

It was his turn to dump his garbage on her this time. Takiyok and he had an interesting, strangely casual relationship. For the amount that he trusted her, one might have expected to have developed romantic inclinations or otherwise feel very close to her, but the friendship kept a healthy amount of space. Though he had kept a theme of forging trusting relationships only with women, they were never confused in nature.
Takiyok offered her support, listening well. He nodded as she suggested he may find comfort in this place, out on top of nowhere. Taikon had very much meant it when he had told Wylla he held no desire for grand adventures. He merely wanted a place where he could be still, be quiet, and help his chosen family.
He was brave, she said. It was hard to defy, she said.
The gold eye contact he gave the evening clouds was hard and challenging. It was as though he willed the moon itself to drop from the sky, so focused was he on not addressing what she had said. He didn't want to answer her because she was wrong.
But rather than switching the focus to her, as he often did, he continued. Actually, I was exiled, he clarified. A moment carried where he felt his saliva thicken. His heartbeat thumped harshly in his chest.
I'm not brave at all, see, he followed. Taikon could not tell her, or anyone, the reason for his exile. It was the same reason why he was unable to forge romantic relationships.

No, she shouldn't have assumed that he was some kind of white knight that had intentionally left his home. He hadn't stood up to his mother. To that day he remained terrified of her and the power that she seemed so easily to wield. The insanity of the Queen had caused great rifts for hundreds of miles in the kingdom and beyond. Taikon had been powerless to stop it then, and so he had not even bothered to try.
Taikon wished that he could tell her that he had rallied together the dissatisfied and wounded souls. He wished that he had been the one who marched a rebellion upon his own mother. He wished that during the fighting, she had found a way to separate him, and thus exiled him. He wished he could have died a martyr.
But that was not the real story. The martyr in question had been Luciano. Taikon had helped to find him and was the reason he had been executed. Taikon was a coward. He had been exiled for other reasons.
It doesn't matter, he said. It did matter. It was a story that had left a hole in his heart that likely would never heal. I'm just glad to be here with you, now, Taikon followed. It was impossible for him to be angry with her. Takiyok had not meant to pry unnecessarily. He understood the curiosity. She was not trying to harm him.
How is your son? He redirected, making it clear that he would not talk about his exile any longer.

He was thankful that she dropped it. They were friends because they could do this — dancing around one another's sore spots seemed to be their favourite past time. At least it was when they were together.
Takiyok had a delightful smile, however little it might have been. He could see very easily what he already knew: she loved her children more than perhaps anything else in the world. She had never spoken of her partner. Taikon assumed that the father of her sons was either dead or otherwise irrelevant; he wondered what had happened, but would never dare to ask.
Ego had returned. The answer of where their father was given without prompting, but that wasn't the important bit. A son. Back from the dead. That's great! I mean that's.. amazing actually, he said, looking back at her, tail flopping a few times on the cool stone beneath him. Taikon generally assumed that when people went missing, they were dead. He understood her assumption. He didn't realize she still had a missing child. Is he all right? If he had returned, he must have been "okay," but Taikon, being rather emotionally disturbed himself, knew that things could get complicated.

Taikon was glad to see her in this state of brightness. Her smile was cool and beautiful. She had a northern way about her that would have made any man worth his salt weak at the knees. Taikon saw her only as the incredible woman she was — he did not feel nervous or strange around her.
Takiyok had referred to the person he assumed had been her mate only as "Ego's father." He didn't understand the relationship there and assumed that it caused her pain based on the way that she had mentioned him. She must have had children quite young, for the woman before him was wise but not old. Her children had reached adulthood.
For a very brief moment, the prince wondered what might have happened if his children had been allowed to live. The thought felt dark and so he abandoned it, pushing it out of his mind.
It's hard to lose a parent, he said, though he really meant it is hard to lose someone you love. He was curious about the boy. He wondered what a child of such a powerful woman might be like. What... what would you like to see for him? You know, what should he get from Sagtannet? He asked her. It was a bit of a difficult question, he knew. Surely, she had high expectations of her sons. Taikon made a point to meet this boy. He wanted to know at least that he was good and respected his mother. He wasn't sure how to measure otherwise.

Takiyok surprised him once more. She had many children, more than the two sons he knew about. Taikon supposed that this information shouldn't have surprised him — it had always been clear that his friend revealed only what she felt like and it seemed pertinent to do so. The woman had quite the legacy for her age. He felt... almost envious.
Taikon listened to her tales. She spoke of her children, and of the father being consumed with power as she put it. He wondered then what had really happened. At some point, she had left. She was sick, and he wondered if she really meant pregnant when she said sick. Then, she had returned to Sagtannet because she felt she had no other choice. He wondered, then, if the choice had been for her unborn children. These were not things he would ever dream of asking. The prince hoped that at the very least, she was okay here with her remaining children.
I will never stop you, he said, more seriously than he'd meant it. Everything she said intrigued him. Her worries over their behaviour based on how their father had behaved, though, that struck him as an odd little tidbit. He latched onto it. You say ambitious but it sounds... worse than that. Their father was power-hungry? Tai knew all about that. He'd lived his young love knowing only the desire to own the power of others.
Her concern was real. He wanted to know more.

She sighed. Taikon shifted slightly to his side so that his legs were more relaxed, splayed in a posture that he could have taken a nap in if he laid his head down. His eyes remained alert as he listened to her tale. She spoke of Diaspora, of the dream and the great ambition that he had convinced perhaps her and an entire pack of. To control the Sunspires would take numbers far beyond what Taikon had seen since leaving Faruka. The Kingdom only had that level of manpower because they had enslaved or converted everyone around them.
He made an audible wincing face when she mentioned off hand that her ex husband had cheated on her. This was something Taikon felt very strongly about. He knew many men and women who had been unfaithful to their partners. It was something that had never made sense to him, for he believed that wolves were wired for monogamy. He couldn't imagine ever being unfaithful to someone he loved, though he doubted that love would even find him ever again.
"—it lead to a fight between us." No kidding.. he said quietly, while she continued on. Killed by a moose. What an anti-climactic, terrible way to end things. He felt angry on her behalf, but said nothing. There was a moment of silence between them that felt thick and raw in the air. Takiyok would not look at him, and he didn't blame her. She had shared a lot. It was a painful past, and no doubt, it had worn heavy on her and her children.
Thank you... for telling me, he said slowly, swallowing. It was a lot to share and a lot to listen to. These were their conversations. Intense. Dramatic. Yet somehow their friendship had proved simple to maintain. Part of him wanted to tell her that he sounded like a complete piece of shit, but it was not the time and likely never would be. He felt rather thankful that he had not asked her whether or not she was single the day they met, for it might have dredged this all up then, too. Your daughter... Simmik. Ambition isn't a bad thing. Or, at least, it doesn't have to be, he said calmly. He didn't know what it was like to be fearful of your children taking paths you didn't want them to, paths that could lead to their downfall.

Simmik's early rogue behaviour had clearly cut the mother deeply. Taikon nodded as Takiyok told this story, finding it difficult to fully understand the pain of a child leaving, but likening it in his mind to disloyalty and betrayal. Very lucky, he followed, nodding with a knowing expression. Any number of things could have happened to a girl at six months old. Taikon recalled what his mother had done with such girls; if they were pretty, they were often kept as servants of the royal family. If not, they acted as slaves to nobility and were sometimes traded for other goods from neighbouring peoples.
Some were treated well. Others, not so much. Regardless, such girls never knew a lick of freedom until their lives were spent.
Taikon nodded, knowing that such a girl would have a lot of growing to do yet. Yearlings were always of the mind that they had everything figured out. From his own experiences, he knew this wasn't the case. Yearlings were idiots.
Of course, he said when she thanked him. He rose from his spot and came closer to her, dropping his head to gently groom the back of her ear. It was a brief, tender touch. He sat beside her so they were lightly touching, settling back down. Who knew so much crap could be rattling around in both our heads, he said, a thin smile creeping over his face. With that, he rested his head on his paws, unwilling to leave her side.

She was right. Life had been cruel to the two of them. One of the things he appreciated about their conversations was that there was never a contest between them of who had experienced more hardship. They just listened to each other. It felt good to be close to her properly, as though they were family that had just been separated for a long time. Her tough was pleasant and natural. There were no questions or hidden meanings in it. He leaned into it, just as she had.
Her yawn was contagious, and he found himself growing tired in the night air. Her head was resting on him, and she felt warm and good beside him. It made living on his own for as long as he did look sad and much more miserable than it really was. He felt her put more weight on him as she started to drift away, and he breathed out a long, wonderful sigh. He felt his body relax and let sleep take him. For the first time in a while, he felt content.