Shadow Mountain [m] And I think that she knows, I'm out of control

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Depictions of self-harm

All welcome but maybe @Hunst since we were already gonna have another thread? <3

It almost felt good to take flight, a little dip of the toes back into the acid waters of old habits. She would find her way back to Sunbeam Lair eventually, obligated as she was. For now Reverie slipped away from her guards, feeling girlish and daring and hysterical in her grief. She ran the mountainside; she cut the burdens free from her shoulders and let them fall into the wind.

He should have been here.

He should be here.

Was that why she'd sought solace in the arms of another man? A loose rock caught her paw and sent her stumbling, slowing to a halt. Reverie realized all at once that it was dark. Back to reality — and the weight of it struck the air from her lungs.

She turned the rock beneath a soft pink pad, pressing it harder into the earth until crimson welled from beneath her paw. She hardly realized what she was doing. It seemed she never did. Her thoughts turned back to Dusty Rose, darkening, twisting until her paw slipped on all the blood and the rock tore a raw red path up her foreleg; a mirror of the scar already there from nearly a year prior. Reverie lifted her paw gingerly, startled but not quite shocked by herself. I guess I'll tell them I fell, she thought numbly, studying the wound as it dripped blood in steady protest.

Hunst's pulse thrummed with urgency, his normally stoic demeanor cracking as he tracked her frantic path through the mountainside. Her scent wove sharply with the cool night air, laced with blood—far more than he wanted to find. Quickening his pace, he followed the metallic thread, each stride filled with a grim determination to bring her back safely.

Then, in a hollow darkened by shadow, he saw her—blood trickling down her foreleg in thin, red trails. His heart clenched, but his face remained impassive, masking the swell of relief that she'd been found. Hunst approached slowly, his pale eyes narrowing as the coppery scent of her blood intensified, mingling with another—a familiar, masculine scent that clawed at the edges of his memory. Bearclaw Valley. His gaze hardened.

He moved closer, wordlessly assessing the damage, a frown deepening as he noted the fresh gash trailing alongside the old scar on her leg. Standing tall beside her, Hunst’s jaw tightened, but his voice softened as he asked, What happened? Only the faintest thread of worry cut through his usually steady tone.

Every instinct told him to press further, to demand why she had left so recklessly, why another male’s scent lingered on her. But he swallowed those questions, letting his presence speak instead, solid and unwavering. For now, he would let her explain—or keep her silence—while he stayed close, steady as the mountain itself, ready to shoulder her burdens if she allowed it.

For a fleeting moment she imagined it was Dusty Rose who had found her, who swept to her side in his effortlessly confident way with some flippant comment to mask his concern. He'd never been much good with herbs, but he would have done anything she asked. Then the questions would have come, the questions like whose scent is that all over you? Questions like —

What happened?

Hunst's voice shattered the daydream, for better or for worse.

I fell, An unconvincing lie even to her own ears — but maybe there was a simple truth to it, in a way. That was how the story always went: and then she fell. Reverie drew in a breath to steady herself and looked up. We shouldn't linger in the valley. Haze can stay behind to meet with Gossamer and Gemini - I can find us a path through the mountains.

Hunst narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, watching her with a trace of doubt. Fell? The word didn’t sit right with him. Reverie was sturdy, rooted, one who didn’t just fall. But he kept his thoughts to himself, his silence lingering, steady as always.

As she laid out her plan, he listened intently, nodding once. The valley wasn’t safe, and though he knew nothing of herbs or winding paths through mountains, he trusted her instinct implicitly.

I’ll be right behind you, he replied, his voice a quiet, reassuring rumble. Let her lead the way—he would follow, as he always had.