Bearclaw Valley wildflower

for @Vanja < 3

the winter would soon ease, and the ground would soon thaw. and with that thaw would come rebirth; a change winslet could hardly wait for. spring would be upon them soon and the valley would be bursting with life. not only flora, but soon, there would be the stampede of little paws. child's laughter, tomfoolery—she smiled fondly at the thought. 

a part inside of her ached, though. a part that was jealous, perhaps, of all the expecting mothers. a maternal side of her that would rear its head full-fledged and strong. a side of her that yearned to whelp pups herself. 

it was foolish, maybe, seeing as the bond between she and cole was still fresh. still blooming. she would not ask of him for such; it felt too soon, and she did not want to push something on to him that he may not wish for himself. 

but oh, how she could dream it. her belly swelling and full of life they would create together. her own children to corral and teach and love.

she hopes it will come soon. but for now, she soothes that dull ache with preparing for the new bearclaw children. she stood beneath an oak tree, circling its trunk, gathering whatever she could collect. feathers, grass. 

if she could not whelp children this season, she would help take care of the many soon to come.

twitch wasn’t used to seeing wolves like the ghostly woman before her. soft, warm—like the promise of spring itself. it was unnerving, almost, the way she carried herself so easily despite the scars clawed up her thighs, across her spine.

she lingered a few trees away, watching for a moment longer than she probably should have. she was gathering things—feathers, grass, bits of the earth. twitch didn’t understand why, but there was intention in her movements. curiosity killed the cat.

finally, she stepped closer, ears dipping back out of habit. “what’re you doing?” the words left her before she could stop them—too blunt, too graceless. she winced slightly at herself but didn’t take them back.

an abrupt voice called to her. she didn't recognize it. turning to face the girl, a bundle of goods at her paws, she smiled. "i am collecting things for nests," she hummed softly. "for the expecting mothers." her mind envisioned towhee jr. and their regina. 

her gaze was soft as she examined the stranger. a brief recognition struck her—cole had mentioned a wiley young woman before. it came in idle chatter as they lay curled in their home, chatting about everything and anything. 

"you must be twitch. cole's spoken of you before. it's nice to meet you." winnie extended gracefully, with a friendly sway of her tail. her gaze flitted down to the bundle at her feet. 

"would you like to help me gather some materials?" a gentle invitation, should twitch take it.

twitch stiffened. not at the offer—no, that was harmless enough—but at the mention of cole. the fact that he had spoken about her at all felt odd. she realizes moments after who the woman was, given that loose context and the scars along her backside. winslet.

her mouth opened, then shut again. didn't really know what to say to that. instead, she let her eyes drop to the small pile of gathered materials, buying herself a moment. nests. for the expecting mothers—yes, that sounded right. she noticed the influx of pregnancies early.

the invitation was light, made without pressure, yet it still made her uneasy. twitch wasn’t used to being invited into things, and she wasn't much good at plants.

but winslet was smiling, and twitch found herself nodding before she could think better of it to keep her enthusiasm. “sure,” she mumbled, then cleared her throat. “jus' tell me what to do.”

she wasn’t used to asking for guidance—didn't like to—, but winslet seemed like the kind of wolf who would give it without making her feel stupid. at least, she hoped so.

i fucking love twitch man

"just collect whatever you think would be comfy. feathers, grass if you can find it." winnie responded gently. twitch seemed nervous, flighty, but she didn't mind. she hoped the girl would find some comfort alongside her, as she'd found somewhat with her mate. 

with that, she turned to gather more. feathers spread around the base of a tree, perhaps left from some crows getting into a scuffle. she'd watch the girl from the corner of her eyes, with keen interest. "how are you finding the valley?" came her soft inquiry. she wasn't prying, but perhaps was looking for a kinship. a connection. "i was new much like yourself, just not too long ago. i had some trouble fitting in...but now, it's home." she hummed.

at best, she's hoping twitch can one day call bearclaw home, too. everyone deserved one, after all.

home. 

the word snagged against something in twitch’s chest, catching like a thorn in the soft flesh of her ribs. 

she expected the question. cole had asked the same. it was one of those things that you’d ask to be polite, she supposed, but winslet didn’t seem like the type to ask things just to fill the air. she meant it. 

twitch hesitated, nosing through brittle underbrush. a few tufts of fur clung to the roots of a fallen log—old winter coats, shed in uneven patches. she plucked them free with careful teeth, letting them gather at her paws before she answered. 

“it’s… fine,” she said at first, automatic, but the word tasted flat. empty. then again, didn’t it always? it was neither the whole truth nor complete lie. she swallowed, glancing sidelong at winslet, then back down at her meager pile. 

"’s pretty. quiet," she admitted, voice quieter now. "better than fending for myself." she licked at the back of her teeth, brow knitting slightly. "i don't really… settle, i guess."

a pause. then, just as quiet, "i dunno how."

she didn’t know why she said that. twitch wasn’t sure, but the words had already left her, and now all she could do was pray for a very sudden death. 

she ducked her head a little, huffing as if to brush it off. “s’pose i’ll figure it out, though.”

winnie does not mind, nor does she take offense, to the flat and quick response she receives. it's hastily given, as if it was instinct. she simply nods. listens. she does not offer pity, though her gentle heart aches. 

although twitch's situation wasn't the same as hers, she could relate. it was difficult trying to fit yourself into a home already established. it's hard to carve your place into a stone already chiseled. 

but, there was hope. it was all she could offer, just as others had offered to herself. Cole, Rala—their kind words and encouragement are what made Winnie confident. they are why she found herself a place in the valley. 

"it is difficult. it feels like everyone around you is moving with a speed you cannot compete with." she murmured thoughtfully, as she paced from tree trunk to trunk. scavenging for materials, though her attention waned on her task. 

"i felt as if i had nothing to offer, when i first came to the valley. and sometimes i still do...but you will find your place here. at your own pace." she smiled. it wouldn't matter if it took days or if it took weeks; twitch was strong, winnie could sense it. 

"it comes with time," she offered encouragingly. "you will have no problems, though. you are strong. stronger than me, i am sure." she admitted with a whispy laugh.

the word is utterly unfamiliar to her: strong. never in a million lifetimes did she think she could fit it to herself, even in a million different bodies. strength was something sharp-edged, something solid. it was cole and tvar with their toned builds and gnashing teeth. it was ameline, her steadiness and calm lead. it was winslet, too, smiling so softly in the face of doubt.

twitch did not have that, therefore it was not her; she knew it as a whelp, and she knew it now. twitch snorted, shaking her head as if to dismiss the notion entirely. "i highly doubt that," she remarked with a laugh. "you seem like you got yourself figured out enough."

it wasn’t an easy thing, to exist so open. to be gentle, unguarded. that took more strength than most realized. it was easier to be like cole, or like tvar, who were strong in mind and body.

it was also easier to build walls around yourself, to snap at anything that got too close—she had her own variation of that. often, it was easier to not feel at all.

with a gentle sigh, winslet turns to face the young woman with a sad, sympathetic smile. not one of pity, but of understanding. a silent i see you, i understand you. "not everything. there is much i still need to learn. no one has anything ever truly figured out—they just...do what they can." she spoke softly. 

she was still battling with her own insecurities, her doubts and short-comings. there was much she had to learn still, just as twitch does. but there difference is, is that winnie understand this. that growth takes time, patience, and nurturing. 

and it does not seem like twitch has been nurturing herself. 

gathering her bundle of goods, she moves to join twitch's side. a gentle brush of shoulders, an even gentler smile from behind the feathers and grasses she holds. "walk with me?" 

and if twitch accepts, winnie leads the way. a slow pace, one welcoming to more conversation in which she also leads again. "you doubt yourself...but you are not encouraging yourself. why is that?" comes her gentle question. perhaps the truth would enlighten the both of them; hopefully twitch more-so.

her mouth went dry. she felt the briefest touch of winslet’s shoulder against her own, and her nerves sparked. her instinct was to recoil—to shrink back or spit out some offhand joke to kill the conversation where it stood. no such luck.

why is that? god, why’d they always have to ask? what about her screamed give me a therapy session that everyone felt so inclined.

it wasn’t like she had an answer. or maybe she did, but it was too ugly, too tangled, too much to say out loud. how did she explain the constant gnaw of inadequacy, the way she couldn’t stand her own skin sometimes, the way she watched everyone else move through life with ease while she sat paralyzed behind glass? how did she explain that she felt like a rusted hinge, something that creaked and stuck and failed to work the way it was meant to?

her throat bobbed, and she swallowed down the first answer that tried to crawl out. instead, she huffed a small, bitter laugh. “y’sound like ameline,” she muttered. a joke, something to make her back off, but she could still feel the weight of winslet’s attention on her. she was waiting. she wished someone would come and kill her now—anything to escape this interrogation.

she shrugs. “just easier. not expecting much from myself. that way it doesn’t feel so bad when i mess it up. can’t get disappointed if i never get my hopes up.” it was a lie. it was still very disappointing no matter what she did.

a harsh snort. she was walking now, keeping pace with winslet. her tail twitched behind her in restless agitation. “not much point to expecting more than what i can offer.”

her pace was slow, gentle, welcoming. knowing eyes watched twitch from their corners, noticing her unease. the storm inside of the young woman that clouds her own vision toward herself. the haze of discontent and self-doubt. she understood it, as she had lived with that same cloud looming above. 

so she listened. and when twitch was finished, she let her words hang in the air around them for just a moment. "making mistakes is not as bad as you think. it's...normal. supposed to happen. how else does would you improve?" came her soft statement. 

it was obvious, in a way that made Winnie's heart weep, that someone in twitch's life hadn't been so forgiving, nor understanding. that someone had witnessed her failures and hated her for it. she wishes then, that she herself could have shielded the young woman. that somehow, she could have been there for her as a shoulder to lean on. 

as the person who praised her, and not belittled.

"but how do you know what you can offer, when you're too afraid to try something new?" came her gentle rebuttal. not to nag or to prod, but hopefully get twitch to see a new side. perhaps shed a little light where there was only darkness and gloom. "you holding yourself back is only going to hurt you. and i can assure you, no one here will mind a failure. it is a part of growing."

the words didn’t sting because she already knew them. they settled inside twitch like a slow, creeping ache, winding their way into the places she didn’t like to look at too closely.

making mistakes is normal. how else would you improve?

no kidding. but belief was dangerous—it opened doors to disappointment. better to stay where it was safe. the expectation of failure was safe—sweet if she defied said expectation. vanja had spent her whole life picking at scabs, replaying failures over and over in her head like a cruel mantra. twitch knew it was safer to expect nothing from herself than to climb too high and come crashing down.

her steps slowed, her tail giving an anxious twitch as she looked at the ground, at the bundle of nest materials clutched in her jaws. she felt weirdly exposed, like winslet had reached into her chest and started burning away the thorn bushes crowding her chest with beaming light.

it made her itch. made her want to shrug and laugh and wave it off with a careless yeah, sure, whatever you say.

instead, her voice came small. hesitant. like she wasn’t sure if the words were safe to say aloud. “i've done plenty in the past year and half. i know what i can do.” she muttered, lips curling into something wry. self-conscious. “—know when i'm beat, too.”

gentle are the steps that guide them back into the heart of bearclaw. winslet guides them with a new-found confidence within her steps; confidence built by those around her who'd believed. steps veering slowly toward the many dens, soft eyes peering within. ready to greet whomever may be home, or ready to leave the gifts at their doorstep.

placing the brunt of the supplies at the mouth of ameline's den, as she knew the woman was expecting any day now. and then, she turns to face twitch. watching the self-consciousness scrawl across her pinched features, the doubt she wears like a second skin. winslet wants to provide to her the very same encouragement that had shaped herself. even if the girl was not wanting of it, even if it made her uncomfortable.

"when you're beat...do you know what you must do?" she asks, letting the question linger between them, before she's leaning forward to press their shoulders together with a warm smile. a fleeting touch meant to ease some of that self-inflicted pain. a touch meant to bond, not to startle.

"you pick yourself back up and begin again. you do not failure define you, but you use it to better yourself." she pauses thoughtfully. "if you do not believe in yourself, then i will. i see your potential, twitch. and i will help you see it, too."

her eyes meet winslet’s, and she bites the inside of her cheek, trying to fight off the warmth creeping up her neck. she doesn’t like being seen like this, like she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

pick myself up? she murmurs, voice quieter now, tinged with something softer, more thoughtful. yeah, i guess there ain't much else to do...

she shifts uncomfortably, the silence heavy for a beat before she looks at winslet again. her shoulders relax, just a little. the warmth in her chest is still there, and she doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

maybe you're right, she mumbles, her tone almost shy now, softer than usual. guess i can try... to believe in myself more.

she pauses, looking down at the ground for a moment, letting her words settle before looking back up at winslet, a small, sheepish smile tugging at her lips.

thanks, she says, quieter than before, the gratitude slipping out without her usual edge. for, y’know, uh... not lettin' me forget.