Nova Peak Powinch

The huntress always came to Elowen’s den with a mouth full. If not with petals of chamomile, then sprigs of purple lavender and echinacea, or small bones for Kaldros to chew.

Today she brings nothing, only the heavy tread of tired paws. Ayovi stands in front of the den and peers into the warm dark.

“Elowen? It’s me. May I speak with you? It’s important.”

elowen’s eyes flicker as she hears ayovi’s voice, the weight in her tone enough to make her stomach turn. she rises slowly, concerned, and steps closer to the entrance.

ayovi? is everything alright? her voice is soft, steady, though there’s a quiet tremor beneath it, an echo of the unease that’s settled in her chest. she studies ayovi for a moment, sensing the tension in the air. the silence between them feels thick, too thick to ignore.

kaldros squirms around, beginning to gain leverage on his feet. he is quiet today, and that she can manage.

She looks upon Elowen’s face and hears Kaldros’ gentle croons and at once finds her heart wringing with guilt. 
“It is Lorcan,” she paces back, belly swaying lowly. Against the crook of the tree den she seats herself, determining how best to deliver such news to a new mother. But nothing can sweeten what must be said, and so Ayovi decides at last to speak everything plainly.
“A few weeks ago, we caught him courting a woman from Darukaal at our border. She was chased off before anything could happen, but— the intent was clear... from both parties.” Remorse flattens ears against the curve of her neck.
“I’m sorry, Elowen, I had not wanted to get involved. I asked Lorcan to speak with you himself, but he’s denied it, and threatened to kill me if I ever brought it up with you, but… you deserve to know.”

the words feel like a blow, the cold reality settling like ice. she blinks hard, eyes burning, but she forces herself to stay composed. she cannot let the tears fall—not now, not when she needs to be strong for kaldros.

her voice is a whisper, barely audible, but there’s a strength in it, one that even surprises her. i... knew this would happen.

a tremor passes through her, but she stifles the cry that threatens to escape. her heart aches with a deep, hollow pain, but she swallows it down. the weight of it is too much, too much to bear, but she pushes it down, keeps her breath steady.

thank you for telling me, ayovi. her voice cracks only slightly, but she doesn’t look away. who else knows?

Elowen adopts a face of strength. It’s heartbreaking. A pressure of tears builds beneath Ayovi’s eyes. She eases closer. The instinct to protect the mother and her child is strong now. She wonders if Lorcan had ever felt such an inclination for his family.
“There were a few of us there that night. Skorpa, Nemage and I. We were all witnesses. But Elowen— he must answer for his threat. His fate on this mountain must be decided before the wolves of Winsook.”
Ayovi does not tell her Skorpa wants him gone. She does not tell her Skorpa wants him dead.

you wish to kill him? exile him? she says, the words an eruption of pain. before them all? her gaze locks with ayovi’s, a storm of confusion and raw emotion churning in her soul. the love for her child stirs something primal within her, a deep need to protect, to shield from harm at any cost. the fear of losing what she has built with lorcan grips her heart like an icy vice.

the air thickens, and for a moment, she stands frozen, caught between the need for justice and the brutal weight of her own love for lorcan. 

the thought of him dead—of never seeing him again—nearly breaks her. her resolve is still strong, but her heart shatters into pieces at the thought of the impossible choice she faces. 

i don't know what you expect of me, elowen murmurs, her voice a fragile thread in the silence between them. but i will not be forced to choose before them all.

“That will be decided by Winsook. This is how we will govern together.  I ask you to choose, as must we all, what action the mountain will take against one who threatens the life of our own.” Her life. Was Elowen hoping for Ayovi to simply ignore it— as she seemed to all her husband’s infractions? She may have turned a blind eye for love, but Ayovi must look more broadly at things that endanger the peace of their pack.
“There must be a consequence for his actions. It is the same as I’d do for you if Skorpa jeopardized your life,” her eyes flash their blue, and then the huntress is sighing. If Elowen is upset, it is not with Ayovi. It is with her husband.
“I know it is a lot. I do not want to be put in this position either.”

elowen is quiet for a long time.

it is not because she does not hear ayovi—she does. every word, every syllable spoken in calm cadence lands like flint inside her ribs, sparks chasing the soft ache that has never quite left her.

she stares at the dirt between her paws. kaldros is asleep beside her, curled like a comma, his breath shallow and warm against her flank. she must protect him now. from this, from the truth, now.

"i know," she says quietly. it is not a defense—it is hardly anything at all. "i have never asked you to ignore what was done. you are right to be angry, ayovi, but i know my husband." a pause. her throat works. she lifts her eyes to ayovi’s, tired but not pleading.

"it cannot play out that way. not—" her voice catches, and she shakes her head slightly, as if trying to will the emotion away. "not with everyone watching. you will only make enemies where there doesn’t need to be any." her heart clenches. her mate. her son’s father. and yet, love cannot shield a man from justice—but how could they expect her to send him away so willingly?

"he deserves consequence. i don’t deny that, but do not humiliate him. no spectacle." a beat. "let me speak to the mountain first. try to keep our peace without tearing it apart in front of them all."

“Elowen— the one threatening our peace is Lorcan. The only enemy I stand to make is your husband,” and such friction had already rooted inside huntress and huntsman both. To turn this around on Ayovi was unfair, but when she looks into the riverstone eyes she sees the new mother’s exhaustion. Gently, a paw slides forward, threading her ivory pawtips with the cream of Elowen’s palm.
“I am not angry— I am concerned for you,” her gaze lowers to Kaldros then, asleep at mother’s breast. “Talk with your husband,” she urges, “if you believe this is a misunderstanding, that he is well-meaning, we will listen. But you cannot speak for him. Lorcan must stand for himself.”