Dragoncrest Cliffs from grueling anxiety

onward the grief grated. blindness had not taken her again, but erzulie walked beneath a weight.
today she stood staring at the mound of snow-covered earth beneath which raleska and kaertok lay together. she would have welcomed grandchildren; something catching at her chest as she sank to her haunches.
her eyes hurt with weeping, and yet they stung again. haunt and vex, valravn and regin —
erzulie finally stood to her paws. she would go down to the shoreline and search again, but @Njord crept to her mind and she set out to find the redtail boy instead, for they had both loved rosencrantz.

Grief made the wind feel colder in the days following Shardik’s assault on Sapphique. They had lost three of their finest members, now buried beneath their home. Njord was hardest hit by the loss of Rosencrantz, his mentor. Though their relationship had only begun, the seafarer truly felt like he had discovered what is was like to have an older brother or a father.

Now, with their ranks thinned the islander worried for his family. Prey was hard to track in the fresh snow that was constantly replenished by the unrelenting storm. He crossed back over a familiar trail deer used, when he spotted the gold and cinnamon queen descending from the rise of cliffs.

The storm made it too easy to isolate, and the sight of his leader reminded Njord just how much he longed for connection. He moved to her swiftly, already regretful he had not spent more time with Rosalyn, Erzulie, and the rest of Sapphique so that they may mourn together.

"oh, cher," erzulie clucked when she had found njord, or rather he had found her. tongue passing to smooth his cheek; she sought the young man's eye. "tell me how your heart has been," the obsidian urged in a voice stippled with affectionate worry.
it seemed that the men of sapphique, at least for now, had not yet earned the scorn that rosalyn and erzulie both bore in their breasts for the more brutish of the sexes. njord was quite sweet, and the woman was unsurprised to find that she truly wondered after his well-being.

The goldspun queen drew near and offered a touch of comfort to the grieving red-tail. A warm, peaceful feeling embraced him at her thoughtful gesture. He missed the closeness of the pack – their togetherness. It seemed the storm deigned to separate each in their dens and further ice their hearts over.

A long sigh whistled out his nose as Erzulie offered to listen to his burdens. A pang of guilt accompanied it. Shouldn’t he be the one to comfort Erzulie? The queen had lost two daughters… her own flesh and blood. Yet the tone of her voice had genuine concern for her subordinate, despite this.

“I am jus’ so sad,” he admitted. “Yesterday we were thrivin’ an’ now… It’s hard to believe they’re all gone.” A hard-lined frown creased his muzzle. “An’ I know tha snow will pass, but… I worry for us. For tha kids.” He fell over his words, not quite sure how to express the gravity of his concern without sounding like a wet blanket. Just the other day he was able to comfort Valravn, but now it was Njord who needed assurance. “Ya can count on me, ya know that... right?” he added as her two-toned gaze found his.

"i do," she said after a moment, though the searchlight of his seablue eyes invoked some need to defense in the harlot. yet she laid it low; he meant nothing more than what he had said, the pledge of a youth to a queen. she rocked back upon her wiry hips. 
"change is somet'ing you come to accept, wid age, but — maybe never so much of it at once." mind's eye flashing to the way that raleska and kaertok had looked as they were buried, torn and tormented until the end. rosencrantz, burning to death with fever in the days to follow. 
and regin — though erzulie refused to consider that the girl too had been lost completely. 
"sadness be a bitter cup for us bot'. i am sorry we must swallow it."

“Aye,” Njord agreed as he took a seat besides his leader, hip pressed against hers for comfort. “I am still learnin’ tha taste of it, ‘ow ta drink it.” Even though this was his third winter, the islander still felt like he was a season behind. A late bloomer. Inadequate in some way. Lacking something… Thankfully, the compassionate leadership of Erzulie and Rosalyn was the perfect home for someone like him.

“Kaertok and Raleska were great wolves. Tha bes’ of tha bes’. An’ Rose? He was a mentor ta me. Teachin’ me ‘ow ta fight. Someday I’ll be more like ‘im.” Those were big shoes to fill. A silence blanketed Njord as he turned back to Erzulie, “I am sorry you lost yer daughter,” he told his queen quietly. The memory of her broken and bloodied body strewn across the rocks. They didn’t even know the circumstances of her death. Was she brave? Scared? Did she suffer? “Sharp mind, Raleska,” Njord said. “’Er soul’s at peace now.”

The islander bowed his head to press his muzzle against Erzulie’s shoulder, like someone asking to help carry a large load. Though the dead had been laid to rest, the living had to endure the work of unknotting their tangled minds and hearts.

your daughter
her soul is at peace now
the dip of njord's crown against her shoulder.
absently, automatically, erzulie reached to preen along his cheek, soothing him as much as herself with the familial gesture between wolves of the same clan. "you loved dem as much as any of us," came her soft voice, hoarse with grief, tears chained back behind the words. "we will learn toget'er."
rosencrantz. regin. had he ever known? would she ever return?
she was so young, and the snows were so high — a choking sound low in her chest. "it was hardest to lose regin. wid de ot'ers, we knew. but wid regin —" 
voice trailing into nothingness.

The queen’s gentle touch was therapeutic. Healing. Njord leaned into her, but knew their hearts would be bereft with sadness for many moons. The lilt in Erzulie’s voice stuttered, almost hoarse from heartache. The quaking words of a grieving mother sent shivers down his spine.

Regin.

Amidst the chaos they had lost one of their youngest to the storm. Though they had all searched, no sign of the youth had turned up. Njord could not imagine the pain and burden Erzulie carried. He draped his head across her nape, pulling her into a hug against his chest. No words felt sufficient enough to ease this great loss. He felt like an unarmed man, without knife or shield. Powerless to stop the will of the natural world.

“Aye,” he whispered softly in agreement.  He opened his mouth to say more… words of comfort or words to reassure.

We’ll find her.
Maybe she is happy, safe, and warm somewhere.
I won’t let this happen again.

…but all he could muster was to hold Erzulie a bit tighter, and repeat, sadly, again.
“…aye.”

erzulie heard his heart beat against her ear.
so strange that she should find comfort anywhere to do with a man; she had met many great ones among them, but her own spirit had only found a true solace in rosalyn.
what njord offered was different. pleasant. the intimacy of pack.
erzulie mused upon unspoken things; she sighed so that his fur was moved beneath the sudden rush of her breath. there were no words that were necessary; they existed in the space of one another, and for a long moment she felt ageless as the long sky that stretched above them.
at length erzulie stirred herself, reaching slim muzzle to preen the base of njord's ear, thankful that even in the dizzying wake of her grief she was not alone in this moment.

Fade here? :D

Njord felt great responsibility when Erzulie shared this sad and tender moment. She was warm against him as they embraced, Njord’s mind running in reflection like a dog afield. Is this why Rosencrantz acted the way he did? Like a knight. A guardian. A fierce desire to protect these vulnerable and precious bonds welled in his breast as the two sat quietly together. Njord leaned into her naturally until Erzulie preened at a tuft of fur behind his ear.

He flicked it and smiled. “Oi, that tickles, ya’hear?” he said in a playfully reprimanding tone. Yet, despite this he sat still and enjoyed her careful attentions. He would reciprocate as they soothed each other with social grooming, until the pain of loss was eased – even the tiniest amount.