Armed with new information, he needed to seek out his most trusted advisor to see what he should do with it, if anything at all. Wylla was pushing the pack toward war despite the lack of evidence of there being anything wrong in the first place. Taikon had gone to the cliffs on his own in order to judge for himself what exactly the threat level was. Unless Rosalyn was the greatest liar who ever lived, he believed that she had told both Mahler and Wylla that Sagtannet had nothing to fear from them unless they pushed for violence.
It had solidified his suspicions that Wylla had judged the Rusalkans solely on the location they had chose and the battered appearance of one of their leaders. Taikon felt strange after the pack meeting that she had called for. He knew that others, like Stag, had not agreed with his approach. He had questioned a leader while being new to the pack, but this was his way. He didn't think his opinions mattered more or less than others, but the pack he found himself seemed to view him as lowly and thus should not be willing or capable of speaking out to injustice.
@Takiyok was the person he was looking for. She was the only one he trusted enough to voice his concerns and figure out what to do. He worried now that Stag had openly pushed against him that she would think less of him, but it didn't matter. His mind was swimming, and he needed someone to talk to that wasn't going to tell him to go fuck himself.
Maybe that was exactly what she would do, but she might at least be able to listen.
He hunted her trail on their mountain home, knowing that he would find here somewhere on her own this evening. The sky was very dark, as the sliver of a crescent hung high and far. The stars occasionally teased visibility through the cloud cover, but their light was dim. He searched for her, feeling anxious.

Like clockwork, there she was at the foot of the pathway. Her orange eyes were obvious, lit in the darkness like lanterns. Evening, he returned, nuzzling her neck briefly to greet her. I would love to, he said, knowing now that they were of like minds, at least in respect to their desire to speak.
She led the way up the pathway. It was the same as that which led to Asra's cave somewhere along the ridge. The ledge they sought was just the same as it was the last time they had talked. They were both falling into a comfortable pattern of behaviour, and he liked it, no matter the circumstances.
The way up was largely silent. As they neared her "place," he felt noticeably calmer. Something about her company and the familiarity of it all kept him feeling stable and okay. It felt like, even if the world fell all around them to ashes and dust, they would prevail as a pair. It was all quite romanticized, but being based in reality, he had trouble shaking the feeling.
Finally, he spoke. Where he might have started with a gentle "how are you," instead he went right into it. I went to talk to the wolves at the cliff, he said. He wasn't sure how she would react. He knew that others might attack him for treason, either physically or verbally. They might accuse him of disloyalty. He stood there, watching her carefully, hoping she would understand.

When she froze, so did he. They were close. They weren't family though. She could easily disown him for wronging her in some way. That didn't actually worry him, even though it was something that was always a possibility.
Slowly, she carried on, asking him what he had learned. He breathed out a sigh, seating himself on the ledge. He looked out at the dark clouds overhead. He knew that the view was why she had chosen this spot. It was particularly convenient that it was unlikely others would trouble them here and overhear a conversation.
Rusalka. That is the name of their pack, he answered, looking over to her. His expression was wrenched, torn by what might happen versus what actually was reality. I met Rosalyn, one of their leaders. She is gay, he said, realizing after he said it that it wasn't particularly relevant. He blinked, swallowing uncomfortably. She claims that they are here trying to find peace, that they were at the Sound before. She doesn't want harm to us. In fact, he breathed out another exasperated sigh. Talking about his encounter for some reason stole his breath faster than it usually did.
She says that the scars Wylla spoke of... I mean she really is just a mess of scars, he described her while practically rolling his eyes in sheer disbelief that she had survived such an ecnounter, they were apparently caused by the same people that took Wylla's eye. It was all very ironic and, to be honest, fucking stupid.
If he trusted either Wylla or Mahler more, he would have brought the information straight to them. However... The worst of it is that... this Rosalyn... she says that the Rusalkans told both Wylla and Mahler that they do not come to harm us, he explained. Really, such news should have been the best of it. In some ways it was. But the fact that they had told the leaders of Sagtannet such and neither had felt it relevant to relay it to their members?
Taikon was disappointed, and now he didn't know what to do with the information apart from pass it to Takiyok for appraisal.

Taikon felt confused by all of it. He wasn't sure what his friend would say. He wasn't even sure what he would say to himself if it was him in her shoes. So he sat, feeling unsure and exposed at all of the pieces he had given her. It was as though he had been holding a very interesting set of poker cards, hiding the hand from everyone. Now that he showed them to only her, he somehow expected her to say "PLAY" or "FOLD" and move on.
The reality of the situation was much more complex, and she followed with words that he expected. She spoke of Mahler, not Wylla, and said that he would merely reject the notion of the Rusalkans being trustworthy entirely. He nodded, knowing that she was probably right. Though he didn't know anything about their friendship, Takiyok had known both Mahler and Wylla far longer than he had. Just because he didn't trust their judgment didn't mean she was in the same boat.
She looked away. She didn't know what to think, just like him. He was about to interject, and opened his mouth, but she told him of her history with the pack. What she said sounded painful, and he frowned, looking down toward his paws.
Takiyok asked if he knew whether the black-faced one was still a leader. To be honest, he didn't know. I don't know. Rosalyn is brown, she is the scarred one. She said that she and her wife lead, but I don't know what her wife looks like, he answered, shaking his head. He followed quickly after, not allowing her to interject.
Look I don't know if I can trust what they say either, and I'm not asking you to trust what they told me. It's just... Taki you can't possibly want to bring war to a pack that has done us no harm. It's ridiculous. If what they're saying is true, and I'm not even saying it is, us being hostile toward them will just invent what we fear. Your memories of this "black faced" bitch will be repeated in a different person, Taikon expressed, the hair at his shoulders flaring from sheer emotion. It all seemed like some ridiculous fucking charade and he wanted no part of it, but he knew that Takiyok had experienced real pain with the Rusalkans of the past. He didn't know if they were even the same people.
He did know that people don't change, but packs do. Changes of leadership were common. The Rosalyn he met did not seem to want anything bad between them. If Sagtannet pushed for war, they would certainly receive it.

She was a warrior. It comforted him. He wanted to tell her that he, too, had been trained to fight in his youth. He did not fear battle even if it might cause him death or doom. Takiyok agreed with him, though, that it was a hard-to-swallow pill that Wylla was selling. Taki was not willing to sacrifice those she loved on a split judgment.
Takiyok continued, telling of Stag and his odd loyalty and its vague reasoning. Personally, Taikon hated that he would be willing to follow something without evidence, but he knew that Stag was important to Taki. It seemed more than clear to Taikon that Taki's son merely followed Wylla for nothing else to follow. It was a pattern he had seen with those who followed his mother. In contrast to Taikon's usual conversations with Takiyok, he was unwilling to hear her when she spoke of Stag's loyalty and her own guilt. He followed instead what she said after.
You can let him fight without you if you accept that his decisions are his. And that you will always be waiting to catch him, waiting in the wings, Taikon said, knowing his friend would not like the answer. It didn't matter. They were on the brink of war, and she needed to see reason. You love your son. But you have to do what is right, he said, slowly. He didn't even know what it meant. All he knew was that this faux enemy of the Rusalka would land them nowhere. If Stag followed Wylla off the cliff, he would be lost, and it would be his choice, and Taikon refused to let her go with him.

Taikon listened. She was right, in a way. He didn't know what it was like to have a child and worry so much about their decisions and life choices. What Taikon knew about Stag was based entirely on what he had learned from Takiyok, coupled with the reaction of the son to him asking a question. He was grown, but clearly still had a childish view of the world around him. The concern that his mother showed seemed fair, for young men are stupid and will follow women into fire. He didn't answer her apart from a slow nod of his head. What Taikon expected her to do, the right thing, was watch her son throw himself into the fire and do nothing apart from nurse the inevitable burns. But thinking about it, he started to understand why this was impossible.
She continued on, speaking of peace. At this, he had to take a deep breath in and let out a long, heavy sigh. Life seemed to be an asshole to the both of them. Taikon understand his own mess, since he knew that it was his own corruption that had led him to his exile. For her, it seemed she had merely been dealt terrible cards over and over. The both of them appeared to be playing a game where everyone else knew the rules and they did not.
Takiyok hardened, looking at him. She declared her choice. He licked his lips anxiously, sitting down. His head was low. His back hurt from carrying tension for days. He was quiet. Finally, he told her. If you weren't here, I would leave, he said plainly, looking at her. This is a pile of bullshit. I'll stay to make sure you — and Stag — are okay. Not for Wylla or her pussy-whipped husband, he said, angry, but not at her.

Her surprise was expected. He responded easily. There are very few people on the planet I respect as much as you, and you've earned that respect, he explained. Most of the people in his life that he loved or respected were dead. People that he cared about had a tendency of dying on him, which meant that he had developed something like abandonment issues. So, when he found people he cared about, he stuck by them almost no matter what. Lunaria was another person that he cared about and respected, but she was busy doing her own thing, living her own life.
Taikon was loyal to people like her. For him, he would much rather have seen her as a leader than either Mahler or Wylla. But that just wasn't the way the world was designed.
I'm not obligated, and that's why I will stay, he answered, finally giving her a small, meaningful smile. It'll be fine — don't forget I am also a warrior. The reminder was for both of them. He was so out of practice that he could hardly call himself a fighter, but he didn't mention that. He realized in that moment that it was sort of ironic they had never sparred, and made a mental note to start doing that in case things really did lead to war.

The return of her words gave him pause, and made him smile. To be respected, by anyone, but especially her, meant a great deal to him. He hadn't really earned the respect of anyone since perhaps Aphrodite. He had no doubt lost it with Artyom and his family when he decided not to follow them after the floods destroyed Whitebark. He had arrived in the wilds feeling bitter and angry, wanting to fight off every piece of kindness or love that was thrown his way. Now, even in these dark hours of war, he felt thankful that he might have the vote of confidence from one great and proud woman. It was not something he took lightly.
Takiyok pointed out the flaw in his assertion, and he knew that she was right. He did not want to die just because Wylla seemed to think throwing themselves at Rusalka was a good idea. In fact, he doubted his own skill and competence in the arena, for he was far more practiced with argument and debate instead of physical fighting. Though he was not exactly old, his body was starting to show signs of age. His lack of sustained injuries was nothing short of miraculous given the brash nature of his voice.
No, you're right, he admitted, still smiling thinly, as though all of it was a big joke. With a heavy sigh, he stood, walking slowly toward the path back down the mountain. I need to think. It... um.. He wanted to say "It will be okay." But he had the distinct feeling that it absolutely wouldn't, and he was not the type to lie to someone he respected. I'll see you later, he followed, blinking, scrunching his brow, and glancing briefly at her with a vague expression that tried to be a smile. He felt bad dumping a pile of information on her and then leaving, but she was right that they couldn't trust what the Rusalkans had told him. She was right that there was very real possible harm that could come to her son, to her, and to him that was just not worth it. She had to stay for Stag, but him? He needed to piece his thoughts back together after talking to her.
So he headed back down, slowly. He swallowed. Anxiety pulled at his skin. He shivered, though he did not feel cold.