Bramblepoint diortosire

aw! made some assumptions based on previous threads <3

Run.
Plum eyes flicked to the horizon just as darkness swallowed it whole. Run. Her chest tightened; the sky split open, hurling boulders to the earth. Run. Faster. Chaos. Screams. The world breaking apart beneath their feet. She saw them: her mother, her father—reaching for each other. Then a boulder crashed between them. She screamed.
„Mother!”
With a gasp, Hemera jolted upright, sweat slicking her brow. Her heart pounded, breath ragged. A nightmare; no, a memory. Swallowing hard, she scanned her surroundings, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the lingering terror. The den was quiet, Periane still lost in sleep. But Hemera could not stay.
The sandwoman stepped away, out into the open night. The air was cool, but it did nothing to soothe the unrest twisting inside her. Was this a punishment? A warning? Had she sinned without realizing? No. Impossible. Her breath came shallow, her pale tail flicking anxiously. The moon bathed her in silver as the canopy creatures slumbered undisturbed. Yet, somehow, she felt certain; she was not the only one awake.

She could feel spring in her bones—literally. Towhee’s leg felt almost normal as she trundled through the brambly wood, restive despite the late hour. She had half a mind to go ahead to the caldera and start staking a claim on her grandson’s behalf. Towhee didn’t want to step on @Killdeer’s toes though, especially not with emotions running high à la Treepie.

Her brow furrowed as she paused between two cottonwoods, eyes absently scanning her dark surroundings. The forest looked still, though she sensed movement somewhere just out of view. It made her hackles slowly rise as she pushed through the dense undergrowth, moving slowly but well aware that she was anything but silent in this overgrown brush.

Half-asleep and uncertain of her safety, Hemera slowed her pace, the rustling of leaves breaking the silence. She wasn’t alone; someone was watching from the shadows. Her steps faltered, and her muzzle lowered, her senses sharpening as unfamiliar scents filled the air. The sandwoman rooted herself to the ground, ears twitching, alert. The stranger was not stealthy; perhaps it was their way of reassuring her that they did not mean harm. Still, she drew strength from the Lord, certain He would keep her safe. Not yet was she needed elsewhere, not when so much remained to be done here. This land could be shaped into His kingdom, but first, she needed to rid it of the darkness that tainted it.
"Show yourself," she commanded, her voice steady and firm. She would not be the prey of an unseen watcher. Her plum gaze swept the canopy, yet there was nothing but shadows. 
"Step into the light!” she ordered once more, unwavering. Though the moonlight was weak, she demanded to see who dared follow her through the dead of night. If they were indeed following, that is.

From somewhere out in the darkness, a feminine voice commanded, “Show yourself. Step into the light!” Towhee, of course, didn’t hear it.

But she stopped suddenly, hissing through her teeth as pain lanced through her leg. It wasn’t the same leg, nor the same kind of pain. Towhee raised her right foreleg and squinted at the deep scratch on the lump beside her dewclaw. She had a few of those—soft knots of fatty tissue called lipomas, not that she knew that term—littered across her aging body. None ever bothered her, though a sharp twig had just flayed this one open.

Rolling her eyes at her luck, Towhee ducked her head to lick gently at the wound.

I had too much fun writing this!

Silence; the night pressed in around her, thick and suffocating. Then, a hiss. A sharp, serpentine sound slithered through the air, curling in her ears like an omen.
Hemera’s dark ears flicked back, plum eyes widening. What was the meaning of this? Not only had the stranger refused to answer, but they dared to hiss at her? Her gaze swept the dense canopy, adjusting to the dark, searching for a form, a presence, anything. Perhaps it was the remnants of her nightmare, the weight of fatigue clinging to her bones, that made her mind so bitter, her vision so clouded.
Still, the audacity of it! Her brow furrowed, her tail arched high, claws pressing into the earth. „How dare you!” she snapped, her voice laced with both outrage and command.
A woman; The sound belonged to a woman, she was sure of it. But who? Not some jealous mate come to claim vengeance; Hemera had taken no such lovers of late.
The sandwoman took a slow step back, her instincts whispering caution. Was the stranger already upon her? Was this an attack? She did not flee, not yet, but the thought coiled in the back of her mind, a snake waiting to strike.

Glad you’re enjoying, I am too!

Fuck, it smarted. Grimacing, Towhee continued to clean the stinging flesh. When it was as good as it was going to get for the moment, she hesitated to set it back on the ground. She didn’t want all manner of dirt and debris to get into an open wound. Exhaling, she kept her foreleg barely crooked and began hop-stepping through the underbrush.

She wasn’t being as attentive as usual, what with her wound distracting her, so Towhee didn’t see the pale she-wolf crouched in her path until she headbutted her. Fortunately, she wasn’t moving very fast, so the impact was more startling than it was painful. Towhee reeled backward, blinking like an idiot at the stranger. She looked—unsurprisingly, considering—like a serpent about to strike.

Hemera held her ground, plum eyes darting through the shadows, sharp and searching. Then; impact. A full collision with another body sent her stumbling back, paws skidding against the earth. It hadn’t been enough to truly harm her, but still, she pressed a paw to her forehead, swiftly assessing herself; intact, good. Her gaze snapped to the stranger, anger flickering like a struck match. Brows furrowed, lip curled.
„Who are you?!” she snapped, voice cutting through the night like a blade. „Why are you following me?!”
Something about the woman unsettled her, a nagging familiarity she couldn’t quite place. Yet she had ignored Hemera’s summons; why? Was she deaf? Or simply arrogant?
Then, a flash of crimson caught her eye; a wound on the woman’s leg. Her mind spun. One wound meant there could be more. And if there was one attack…
Hemera’s ears flattened, tail raising high, her voice a sharp demand, a worried gaze sweeping around the clearing. "Are we under attack?!”

She expected the first question: “Who are you?!” The second one made her head rear back a little. Towhee’s mouth opened to refute this allegation when a third and even more melodramatic question fired from the pale woman’s muzzle. Now her entire face scrunched as she held up a paw in the universally understood sign to be quiet.

Lady, Towhee said pointedly, in case she didn’t obey the command, chill. I’m not out to get you. Nobody is. These woods are just dark and deep. She paused to take a breath. Sorry I bumped into you. I really don’t mean you any harm.

She slid back another step to give the other woman some space. Her orange eyes flicked to her bleeding, stinging wound but quickly skipped back up to the stranger’s face. It was hard to tell in the dark, though her features looked almost pinkish, particularly her eyes and nose. In contrast to Towhee’s dark, tough exterior, she was all feminine grace.

I’m Towhee, she said at last.

Hemera’s breath came out in a sharp exhale as she realized her mistake. The woman wasn’t following her, not at all. The woods were simply dark and twisted, and her own self-importance led her to believe otherwise. She scoffed quietly to herself, shaking her head and pressing a paw to her forehead, cursing her own overconfidence.
Towhee’s words, though gentle, eased the tension in Hemera’s chest slightly. Still, unease lingered, like a shadow that wouldn’t quite leave. „Alright, if you say so,” she muttered, voice a bit more gruff than she intended, but she couldn’t help it. „But then why is your leg wounded?” It wasn’t a severe injury, but it was there, and Hemera didn’t trust that it was something simple. Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the wound, before her expression softened, and she quickly corrected her posture, forcing herself to stand straight.
„I’m Hemera,” she added, her gaze steady now, her voice tinged with reluctant courtesy. „Pleased to meet you, Towhee.” She flicked her eyes to the wound once more, her concern barely masked beneath the facade of cool indifference. „Are you in need of assistance with that though?” She gestured to the bleeding with a subtle paw, her tone now more neutral, as though to downplay her earlier wariness. It wasn’t how she’d imagined a usual meeting, but she would offer help nonetheless.

The woman—Hemera, she introduced—demanded to know why Towhee was wounded. She snorted at the interrogation, though she knew she probably meant well. In fact, she offered her assistance, or at least asked if she needed any.

I’m old. My body just likes to fall apart at will, she joshed. It’s just a scratch. I cleaned it as well as I could, though… Towhee lapsed into silence, squinting off through the trees before her gaze returned to Hemera. Have you seen any streams around here? I wouldn’t mind giving it a proper wash. The cold should help it clot, not to mention dull the pain.

The word old struck a chord she did not care to hear. Hemera knew time was creeping upon her, relentless in its pursuit, but she chose to live as if it weren’t. As if the world would always be bathed in golden light and her days would stretch on, endless. Soon, silver would weave itself through the edges of her silk-soft coat, though fortune favored her; pale fur would hide the years well.
She shifted her weight, casting another glance at the wound before scanning their surroundings. Lowering her muzzle slightly, she took in the air, thoughtful.
„Yes, I believe I saw one.” With a fluid motion, Hemera turned from Towhee, a silent invitation in the flick of her tail. It had been her presence, after all, that added to the fright; she would see to it that the damage was lessened.
„Come.” A nod, a gentle command, and then she moved, weaving through the canopy with effortless grace. The murmur of water guided her steps, the quiet rush of a stream threading its way through the woodland. As they neared, Hemera stepped ahead, catching a low-hanging branch before it could snatch at Towhee’s already wounded form.
„Here.” A single word, offered as she turned, warm gaze steady. „Is your home nearby?” Hemera continued, keeping her carrot gaze.

Hemera had seen one. She turned, her verbal command lost on Towhee but her intention clear despite the gloom. Minding her foot and moving quite a bit less gracefully than her escort, she fell into step behind Hemera.

She had no idea they were close to their destination until Hemera moved a branch out of the way before it could strike Towhee. The Redhawk gave the younger she-wolf a smile, eyes flicking to the dim sparkle of moving water through the brush. She carefully pushed through to the bank.

Towhee gingerly dipped her throbbing paw in the water, hissing silently through the momentary sting. Although she missed the opening of Hemera’s conversational question, she shifted her eyes to the woman’s face as she settled and managed to catch part of the last word: “—by?”

Sorry, what? she said, then used her free paw to tap at her own chin I’m deaf, so make sure I’m looking at you when you want to say something, Towhee explained.

It seemed her assumption had been correct; Towhee was deaf. A flicker of guilt passed through Hemera, a rare sting of regret for her earlier outburst. She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself before speaking again.
„I apologize,” she admitted, the words feeling unfamiliar on her tongue. Not just for now, but for before. For the sharpness of her temper, for speaking without understanding. Hemera was not one to confess fault easily, but this time, she did.
She made sure to face Towhee directly, her movements more deliberate now, ensuring the old lady could see the shape of her words. „Is your home nearby?” she asked, her voice calmer, more measured. A wolf of her age… surely she wasn’t wandering alone, was she? Hemera, while she was still strong, could barely sustain herself at times.

Towhee waved her good paw, dismissing the apology and guilty expression on Hemera’s face. There was no need for either. She didn’t bother speaking at the moment, focusing on the bleeding paw dangling in the small rapids. Thankfully, it was starting to go numb from the water’s frigid temperature.

Orange eyes cutting over to Hemera again, she read her lips and said, No, I, and then tipped her head, thinking better of it. I mean, kind of. It’s a long story. My grandson might be reclaiming our family’s homeland on the caldera next door. But it’s up in the air at the moment. What about you?