Noctisardor Bypass instead of ordering an uber, we ordered a goober

Druid’s first thought upon waking was, Remember @John? She’d forgotten all about him. She probably would’ve wondered more about his whereabouts—@Glaukos’s too, for that matter—but there was no time for thinking these days. Three seconds after her eyes opened, one of the babies began to scream.

Thirty minutes later, everybody was cleaned, fed and napping. Instead of giving herself a moment to rest or, gods forbid, think, Druid popped out of the den to relieve herself. Since her diet consisted of so much pre-processed food lately, her bowel movements were pretty disgusting. She hopped a good distance before squatting and releasing.

It was awkward using a hind leg to do it, though she took a moment to kick leaf litter over the puddle of toxic waste when she was done. Druid then took a deep breath and began hobbling back toward the den’s mouth. Just before ducking back inside, she glanced sideways and spotted @Anselm.

Despite the raking wound Heda leveled on his pride, Anselm made good on one thing; he brought what meager creatures he caught to the den. 

He was not so gracious a delivery man that these gifts were announced — instead, most of the bodies were thrown roughly against the stone, a crude dinner bell that announced more about Anselm’s feelings than anything else. 

He’d hurled a broken rabbit at the rock with all his might before coming face to face with Druid. He froze, noticing an acrid bite to the air that was not quite sweetmilk. Thinking she wanted her privacy, Anselm turned to leave — but he kept one ear trained behind him if she called.

She jumped a little when something slammed down right beside her. Druid’s hackles prickled as she found herself looking down at a dead rabbit. Her two-toned gaze swept upward, eyes full of questions and lips pulling into a moue as she regarded the Birch. But he didn’t even hesitate, starting to turn and stride away.

Raising her voice to be sure he heard, she said, Don’t make me give chase, to his back, her words as dry as a French Muscadet.

Don’t make me give chase. 

Anselm stopped in his tracks, half his chest teetering over his suddenly stiffened legs. 

He turned around slowly, his gaze still hard from thoughts of Heda. It was then he noticed the missing teeth, the way her paw bent at an angle that suggested pain somewhere above. Glaukos. Anselm had heard, but not yet seen it for himself. 

Vhat did you just say? He asked, irritability for the situation as a whole clipping his voice.

Her words halted him. Druid watched him turn around slowly, the look on his face suggesting he smelled something unpleasant. She wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. She imagined there were feces clinging to her coat, her own and everybody else’s.

I have no hope of catching up, she said by way of answer, pointing her dark muzzle at the foreleg she held off the ground. What’s the matter? Druid asked in the next breath, eyes tracking over his sour expression.

Did she want for his company?

Anselm stilled, gaze sweeping from her face to the raised forepaw. He assumed that she, like Heda, hated him — an assumption that was perhaps unfair to Druid’s autonomy. 

Nothing is the matter. Anselm answered. He didn’t know Druid in a way that facilitated trust about vulnerability — and if he learned anything, it was exposing vulnerably was how you ended up with a fang in your back. 

That from Glaukos, then? He motioned to the ruffle of her fur and the akimbo leg. Asshole.

Then why does your face look like that? she replied without missing a beat.

The irony of his next question was not lost on her. “Does he hit you?” She remembered walking home that evening, nearly forgetting about the conversation only to have three more of Anselm’s words burrow into her brain like worms: “your psycho boyfriend.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said, Druid revealed presently, or what he’d done. I was too busy being… She trailed off for a moment, shaking her head lightly. I confronted him, told him to leave. He wouldn’t listen, so I tried to attack him and ended up getting hurt. He didn’t intend it but I don’t think Glaukos realized his own strength, how much damage he could do without even trying.

Her tongue swirled around her mouth, finding all the gaps. They were a little tender now, though they didn’t hurt unless she probed at them. Druid resisted that impulse.

Anyway, she said on a sighing exhale, I don’t regret it.

Anselm was utterly unprepared for the clapback. His ears pinned and he scowled — but then relented. It is just my face.

Partially true, anyway. He brought a paw to the cut on his cheek, thumbing out the tension there as if he could tuck every ugly emotion under the soft folds of his skin. 

What he learned from Druid was somewhat different than his first assumption. Even if she thought Glaukos didn’t mean it, Anselm remembered the things the man did mean — Etienne. Himself. His neck still hurt from the mercenary’s disabuse. 

Imagine if that vas a puppy. He said absently, coming to realize with a jolt it could have been one of —

He sat up straight. How did you two even end up vith him?

Her lips twisted at his words. Druid said nothing. She would never tell anyone the pups had likely been much more endangered in her presence than his. That was in the past now, she decided as her lips pulled into a grim, determined line.

They parted a moment later to answer, He saved my life. Druid let that hang in the air momentarily before continuing. Not long afterward, I went into heat. I let my hormones rule me and make irreversible decisions. Estrus is a hell of a drug.

That was when she’d first lost her mind, in retrospect. But Anselm hadn’t asked about her pregnancy. He’d asked about Glaukos’s involvement.

I obviously don’t condone what he did to you and Etienne but you won’t catch me speaking ill of him either, Druid said a little sharply. He kept us fed and protected. But he took it too far, way too far. And we never…

She stopped herself and shook her head again, jaw tightening as she gazed off into Rivenwood. Druid hissed slightly when the clench of her teeth inevitably stung, relaxing her jaw. Still she stared, thinking of how she’d driven him away for destroying her too, however unwittingly.

Druid revealed the unlikely. The boulder had a soft side.

She spoke of estrus and called it a drug. Anselm's head jerked up in surprise, but he quickly diffused the emotion. Perhaps this explained everything between he and Heda. The illusion. The illogical. The hurt.

You never vhat? Anselm asked, noting the sharp intake and the way Druid clenched her jaws.

Anselm’s sharp speech cut into her thoughts, scattering them. She looked at him in a rather vacant way for a split second, brow knitting. What? Druid had lost her own thread of thought.

After several seconds of trying to recapture it, Druid admitted, I can’t remember what I was going to say. But, she continued, taking a breath, I feel like I didn’t really know him. And he didn’t really know me. And then because of him, I no longer knew me…

But now she was delving into matters that were too complicated and personal to stand here and hash out with Anselm. Druid didn’t dislike the Birch, despite his ancestry and resting bitch face, but she hardly knew him, either…

I’m sorry too, she said after another brief pause, for whatever that’s worth. The way Glaukos treated you guys is not how I want things to be in Rivenwood.

There were parallels to Druid's situationship with Glaukos, and he and Heda -- Anselm refused to acknowledge them.

Once again her manner seemed a little detached. Anselm noted this with a flat look, wondering if she'd hit her head. But one thing resonated: I no longer knew me.

Who was Anselm becoming?

He didn't expect an apology and his expression conveyed it. Despite the annoyance in which he'd stalked to the den, some of it was dissipating -- in part because Druid was so vulnerable without being barbed shortly after.

Vonne hopes he does not come back.

She saw the way his expression softened in the wake of her apology. Druid drew in a breath, her tail waving slowly of its own volition.

Who’s Von? she asked, suppressing a smile.

She was finding her way back to herself, she felt like, and it felt good. At least until she remembered the catalyst for it: her altercation with Glaukos. Could it even be called that?

Heda seems to think he might. But he did leave, Druid said in a thoughtful voice, and nobody could make Glaukos do anything he didn’t want to do. He left under his own power, and, granted, at her command.

Her tail went still as she let her thoughts spin out for the first time in days. Glaukos had been her friend, not to mention the father of her children. Druid’s eyes skittered toward the mouth of the den, lips pulling down as she wondered if he missed them.

I wasn’t really in my right mind when I told him to leave, she confessed, and it should’ve been less of a confrontation and more of a conversation. I still stand by it but I just wish we both would’ve used our words rather than hitting.

She was a hypocrite, she knew. Druid could probably plead insanity but that didn’t make her feel any better.

No, Vonne is-- But she was joking. He could see it in the faintest suggestion of a smile. Anselm trailed off.

Nobody could make Glaukos do anything he didn't want to do. This sentiment was shared with Anselm, and it terrified him. While Druid was rediscovering her sense of self anew, Anselm was examining a new horror: what if Glaukos found out the children weren't his?

Something told Anselm that words were not Glaukos' weapon of choice. A chill raked down his spine once more to think of how easily he'd been pinned to the ground. It was unsettling. He is a loose cannon. Anselm cautioned, not caring for the trajectory of this conversation. It sympathized Glaukos, and Anselm was firmly in Team Anselm's camp. No one sympathized the devil, right?

If he comes back, and no vonne can control him, vhat good does that do us all? Can he be reasoned vith?

It was a fair question. Druid considered it for a few beats before opening her mouth.

I really don’t think he’ll come back, she said, but if he does, Heda said she would stand with me. I think Fiona would too. She was there. If you and Etienne were with us, that would be quite a united front for any wolf to face. But I don’t think it’s going to come to that.

If not, though, she sort of liked the idea of the five of them linking arms, so to speak. There was Ava and Ana to consider; surely they would back their mother. And John was nothing if not a devout follower of Heda’s.

I feel like this pack could actually start to unify, Druid murmured, leaving the rest—with the big bad boss gone—unsaid.

Anselm hoped that between all of them, they could withstand the physical mudslide that was Glaukos if he returned to collect. His gut twisted to think of what the man might do if he realized the truth. It made him wonder if Druid’s children’s parentage was just as convoluted. At least none of them came out with an extra tail. 

Druid spoke of unity - a concept as foreign to Anselm as tying one’s shoes or willing fatherhood. Vhat makes you say that? He asked, curious if she was aware of some form of personality superglue he’d yet to discover.

She had to admit, I don’t know. It could be wishful thinking. But I’ve been feeling more optimistic in general, and shrug her shoulders.

Druid idly chewed at the inside of her cheek, her eyes resting speculatively on Anselm’s face. She wanted to talk to him a bit more, get to know him better. But the pups’ demands were, well, demanding.

I need to get back inside now. She turned, starting to duck her head. Thanks for the food, Anselm, Druid added, nosing the limp rabbit indoors and then following after it.

Anselm believed it was wishful thinking, but he kept his mouth shut. He understood that Druid had not had an easy time -- frankly, none of them had -- and further drawing to attention negativity could hardly inspire confidence in the pack's future.

For a second, Anselm thought she might ask something else. Her gaze was almost shrewd as it rested on him, a different shade than the vacant look it had been in the days before. But instead, she announced she had to go back to the den. She thanked him and picked up the hare. Anselm nodded and rose with a grunt. Call me if you need anything.

He did not stay. Once Druid left, his irritation returned in full swing. Anxious, bullheaded, and full of testosterone with nowhere to go, Anselm slunk to the borders to leave heady deposits of his virility all over Rivenwood's claim.