Porcupine Ridge your darkness is shining

it had been an accident. 

one minute she was rooting through the remains of a cache, and the next moment was laid out on the ground, visceral fluid seeping in a halo around her skull. 

a sapling that had died two winters before, held tentatively in the balance by dry-rotted roots up until the moment ava leaned against it. heavy enough to knock her down, and lay her out there for some time until she came back too. 

that had been two weeks ago now; the wound healed over, and her senses returned. but still much too weak to return to the shores or navigate proud sea water. 

ava moved directionless, following her nose for food out of desperation. 

today, she paused at a rich deposit of scat marking a hidden boundary; the scent of doe meandered past, but ava knew better than to pursue.

@Hex and @Makono had by now been told of the raid declared by the man tousaint, who had since defected from the montagne wolves.

she suggested that when this night had come, that the vale be surrounded in silence on four points. sentries watchful. were war to be hinted at in any regard, they would invade from all sides.

a night spent in observation was worth the great cost blood would demand.

alert, yellow eyes watched the dark figure carved here and there in deep burgundy. her eyes too, intrigued the warrior, this wholly colorful stranger who scented their border and left it behind.

after some time, muskrat detached herself from the obsidian pour and approached with narrowed eyes, silent in demand for explanation.

The search for her sister had led her inland. It was at the borders of a pack that Ana found her now — and they were not alone. The girl had gathered all the treasures of Blackwater into a pelt, the wolf bones and the strange split rock, and now clutched the pack possessively as she moved toward her sister.

An unceremonious reunion, but when had the world ever been so kind as to let them have their moments in peace? Ana glanced toward the unfamiliar presence before her eyes settled on Ava.

Were they staying here now?

Or had Ava meant to leave her behind?

Exhaustion sat heavy in her bones. Anathema couldn't find it in herself to feel anything about either possibility.

a she-wolf pulled from a thicket of shadows, her lithe step suggesting a heritage similar to ava’s.

immediately, ava’s limbs buckled out from under her in submission.  she was hungry and tired and so, so very desperate. she looked away, licking her lips in appeasement; allowing muskrat the full survey of her body.

her eyes jerked upward to hear a familiar step. ana! she wriggled forward, nose pressed to her sister while still mindful of the wraith that stood before them.

almost guiltily, her gaze traveled to the woman with peculiar scars marking her face: would she take them?

a second girl emerged, multi-hued and with her eyes upon the first. kin? muskrat wondered, her sunflower eyes moving unhurriedly between the two. the weaker one brought nothing. the stronger brought a gathering of small things over which muskrat's stare traveled with pointed interest.

hunger was their cloak, travelworn bodies proclaiming more than words ever could.

these ones held the look of the warrior herself, and the swamp panther in her heart answered. "this shadow ridge. hex is seer. i muskrat, sentinel," careful proclamation in her words. a pause. "you speak?" addressed to both of them, her voice a rough susurration in the shadowland's eternal dark.

Anathema realized only belatedly that it would be her to speak for them. Distantly she remembered that their mother had always done that. Her mother who had left her, and then who she had left, and she supposed this was the fate of girls who wandered the world without their mothers. Speak for yourself; speak for your sister; make it look good, Ana, or the woman will see what a broken little thing you are.

Sometimes, She said after a moment, setting her pack reluctantly at her feet, because she'd never been much good at dressing anything up. The woman would want names. Anathema glanced to her sister, wishing for perhaps the first and only time that her darkling sibling had the words to speak her own mind. Was she called Ava or Accipitra in her dreams, in her innermost thoughts? Would she hate Anathema for whatever she chose?

Anathema thought again of their mother, the life they'd left behind.

My sister is Accipitra, The words fell from her of their own accord. Her lips burned. I'm Anathema.

I can hunt, They were going to stay, weren't they? Wasn't that what Ava — Accipitra wanted? She would try. She would try. And if - if you let us stay - Hurriedly she unraveled the pelt, letting the bones and split halves of the stone fall free. I'll tell you what they say. They tell secrets.

Her gaze settled again on Muskrat, who seemed almost familiar to her now. Hadn't they met once before? Or had that only been a dream, or a telling of the bones? Maybe it didn't matter.

as always ava was silent, and the gods worked in strange ways to pull mouths to speak for her.

she could feel the cold appraisal of the woman’s gold gaze; for all its sunny hue it communicated something ava could only place as tundrian. she looked to ana, one paw slid reassuringly to her sister as she pulled from them both the power of their true names.

and then, her gaze slid to the agouti warrior, wondering how she got such ornate scars.

accipitra. anathema.

the second claimed to speak with those beyond, or perhaps those unheard.

"stay. do what is told." there was no greater transaction than that. "save strength for training." muskrat said to anathema.

she turned then, indicating that they should follow. soon the shadows would eat away the fact they had stood there at all. it was a good land hex had chosen, and were they devoted, they would understand too its eldritch power.

Stay. Do what is told.

Anathema supposed she would never know if the bones had swayed Muskrat's decision at all. Maybe it was better that way. She offered a wavering smile to her sister's touch, gathering up her treasures to tuck them away and follow as they were bid.

She still felt nothing but numb. Training, the woman had said. Anathema wondered at that, but she said nothing else as she trailed Muskrat into the shadows. Maybe they would both look like her, one day. Maybe their eyes would reflect that same hard glint. A faint shudder rippled down her spine at the thought, but Anathema never once thought to turn back.

anathema offered the truest gift.

ava offered nothing at all.

she felt numb just like her sister -- but this time, it was the numbness of knowing how minuscule her self worth.

accipitra now; her true name. she put her head gently against her sister's as she felt the faintest of shudders rend her spine. rising with a hunger-widened gaze, the girl trotted silently after the slinking step of the she-cat.

fading with a lore ramble

grandmother had once known healers.

she had known witches also.

witching was considered a perversion of the true spiral, a backwards dance which defied helpful spirits and bid darker ones forward. clan matrons wasted no time at all in putting a witch to death, though muskrat had grown to suspect that such accusations were sometimes rather false.

"go. find hex when you settle," muskrat instructed when they had come to the core of the shadowlands, its darkness warmed to crushed velvet in the spare light which managed to find itself upon their faces.

a woman named owlclover from the camp of racing water had once been accused of witching the earth's power. how convenient for grandmother gorseberry that owclover had been the daughter of her greatest enemy, ivory fern.

shamed, discredited for having given birth to a witch, ivory fern was sent away in shame after the execution. with no daughter to carry her line, it was the warrior six kills who was given the task of reestablishing a tie with gorseberry's clan.

and it was muskrat she had offered. grandmother was cunning. ivory fern had been well-liked, far more than she or her own daughters. such respect was a threat to ambition,as owlclover would have followed ivory fern as clan matron, thus gaining more power for their clan.

that the camp of racing water would be handed to a man was something gorseberry had known would happen. he was war chief, but he could not lead. muskrat's marriage would have gained status, land, and rank for gorseberry's people. there she would have led as matron while six kills retained his place as war ruler. muskrat was a lesser daughter. grandmother had reminded her of this always. yellow vine was the girl's mother. mica leaf was to follow yellow vine, but the other sisters blue chert and star scallop, would inherit two portions of the village as well.

there was no place for muskrat, and an accusation of witching had eventually led to cloud singer's death.

the swamp panther placed little faith in these commands. if anathema was a witch, let her craft be in service to hex and to his land. muskrat would only see it done.