Chimera Fields My mother told me

for @Galen

Íruna patted the loose earth with her paw, ensuring the bundle of roots she had buried was secure. The forest around her was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves overhead. She took a moment to straighten, brushing dirt from her fur, when the sharp crack of a twig broke the stillness.

Her ears swiveled toward the sound, her posture stiffening. The borders weren’t far—too close, perhaps, for her liking.

The voice called out, a name upon his tongue. Familiar, but still, the woman was unsure. Luhtar. Íruna’s brow furrowed, curiosity pricking at her. She glanced back at the cache she had been working on, hesitating briefly, before stepping toward the sound.

It wasn’t long before she caught sight of a figure, large and unfamiliar, standing among the trees. The wolf’s fur was a striking gold, bitten by a scar or two. He was large, perhaps amongst some of the larger she had met since arriving in Forneskja.

She watched the man as if she could see right through him, a gentle edge about the Seer. “Who are you, and why do you call for Luhtar?”

There was trouble in his heart - a wretched snake curling and slithering about his chest, knocking on ribs and chewing at his heart like it were a mouse small enough to swallow. The dilemma Luhtar had given him.. it sat with him, at first, finely, stewing like a broth on the stove - but it wasn't long before it felt like it were to boil over. Galen had taken to a walk, hedging the borders so clearly marked amidst the wilds, not leaving more than his passing scent as his slow strides became quicker, legs eating ground so swiftly he was practically lost.

It was a simple answer, one he knew by heart; he had been loyal to a pack once, so what really made it so different now? His nose tilted to the air, meeting the same answer each time. This wasn't the woodland he had grown up in, it wasn't the family he knew, it wasn't the people he helped protect. It was all strange and strangers. Alone, he could pretend he was just on a long trek, almost a pilgrimage, and then he would turn and revisit them as he always had. But meeting Luhtar, knowing him, Galen sighed a low thing. Maybe he had been alone for too long. 

He paused, ears perking and then calling for his friend - to no answer. He didn't expect one, closing his eyes and shaking himself off as he made to travel vaguely the path he had come. Only to pause, head swiveling to meet the voice nearby, he blinked, taking in the visage of the darkly-colored wolf just before him. On the breeze came the heavy scent of Forneskja, and with it, his unease grew alongside his melancholy. The last thing he needed was to meet an untimely patrol. He bowed his head in a respectful greeting to her, I apologize, I meant no trespass. I will go.

Íruna’s steady gaze remained fixed on the golden wolf as his head bowed, his words rolling out of him like distant thunder. She caught the unease in his voice, the weight in the way he held himself. Her lavender eyes narrowed slightly, though her expression remained calm, her posture poised.

She lifted her head, chin tilting ever so upward. Narrowed eyes settled on the man.

“You’re not trespassing,” Íruna hummed, though her snout tilted downward in a pointed glance. “Not yet.”

She stepped forward slightly, closing some of the space between them, her tail swaying slowly behind her. “But you are at the border of Forneskja, and that makes you my concern.” With gentle examination, the wolf picked forwards, nose to the wind. She scented him, and found she didn't necessarily hate what she smelled.

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the direction he had come, as though to measure how far he’d traveled, before returning to his face. “You spoke a name, friend. Luhtar,” She returned to her initial question, which had been ignored in favor of deflection. She straightened her posture.

“How do you know the boy?” Dismissively, as if to show the man she meant no harm, she let herself settle down upon her haunches. Tail tucked close to her womanly frame.

Her lavender eyes seemed better fit in a witch's face than the lady before him — they were almost otherworldly, drawing him in closer with their unfathomable depth. The way she stood there, patiently, letting him come to her like a parched rabbit to a river. Only when she tilted her head down, voice and eyes taking on the slightest more cool formality, did the enchantment break.

Your concern... of course, Galen answered hesitantly, paws flexing beneath him — he had every thought to turn and go, yet he remained.

His ears perked further at the name. He glanced away, as if the forest could swallow him up and hide him. He answered, honestly in his word, Luhtar is .. a friend.

To utter the word brother felt too much to give. He owed this stranger nothing, but the respectful politeness he always offered. He could appreciate her neutral approach, mimicking her in lowering to a sit, ever still compelled to entertain her word. His large frame folded into prim posture, almost comical how obvious it was practiced. I was seeking him to talk about a future.

A smile forms upon her face as the male takes a seat. Across from her, the feet between them is lonesome, craving for closure, and yet she does not move from her place. Tail coming to tuck around her body, Íruna lets her eyes of lavender and lilac poke and prod at the golden man.

She could not deny that he was handsome. She gave him a measured look, one of her paws reaching to comb through the cold, frosty grass. Soon, winter would be upon them. Íruna had better things to do than entertain a stranger, someone of outside allegiance to Forneskja, and yet...

Here she was. Eyes never straying from the man, full of content.

A friend? Íruna's eyes betrayed her curiosity. "A friend? Care to elaborate?"

Then, he spoke more. Íruna squinted for a moment, lingering on his mention of... a future. She couldn't possibly understand it, but then offense scrawled itself over her face. "Are you trying to steal him away?" A question, an accusation, but not harsh.

She stood then, coming to take a few confrontational steps towards the large, brutish man. "This is his home. He belongs with us. I do not know who you think-"

Eyes widened when he cut her off.

The smile rising to the lady's face was enough to set him more at ease - Galen sighed at her question yet, tilting his head to study the trees around them again. His ears drew back, wavering closer to his head; another image of indecision written across his face, clearly warring with himself whether to answer fully. He wouldn't lie, he needed not to, but he felt compelled nonetheless. Outside of Luhtar and a few friendly strangers, he had no one to confess to, to let those little whispers and nightmares spring into nothing but words.

It made them feel less real, in a way. He slowly replied, tentative, We talk often is all-

He had the sensation he had stepped on a thinly-frosted lake, listening to it crack and threaten to bow beneath his weight. His jaw dropped, flashing his bottom teeth in an aghast stare as she grew closer, voice sharper and sharper all the while. His back paws dug against the dirt, he sputtered - unable to come up with a clear word as she only encroached.

Galen's brows furrowed, lip now drawn in a fierce and disturbed scowl as he jumped to his feet, staring down a wheat-hued snout at her, right into the agitated pools of purple and pale. I do not seek to steal him!

His voice was sudden and frustrated, a marked difference between the way he had hummed and murmured before. To think of what she was accusing him - of luring Luhtar away from a home that seemed so true and dear to him? One that he even invited Galen into? 

I will take my leave of Forneskja's borders, since my reason for being here causes you distress. Galen was colder then, but his voice had fallen back to its baseline, closer to a whisper than a shout. He bowed his head again, stepping back, ears now drawn and tail low behind him. Again, he uttered an apology, and made to turn and go.

Íruna watched as Galen’s reaction shifted from frustration to resolve, and something within her stirred. She had not expected him to retreat so suddenly, yet as he bowed his head, her heart clenched—a sharp, unexpected pang that pulled at something she had tried to ignore.

She stood, frozen for a moment, tail stiff against her haunches as her lavender eyes followed him. Her heart betrayed her confusion, but she could not allow him to simply walk away.

With a deep breath, Íruna’s voice softened, and she stepped toward him, but her pace was slow, measured—giving him space, but showing that she would not let him go without understanding.

“Wait,” she called out almost breathlessly, “I did not mean to accuse you.” She paused, her voice softening further, “You have my apologies...” she faltered, looking for the words. “Please, stay. If Luhtar trusts you, then so do I." An attempt at putting faith in her fellow packmates.

Her tail swished as she hurried to step in front of the escaping brute, trying to prevent him from getting any further away. "May I ask what this future is?"

He leaned with the space she took, bending away like a tree weathering a storm, then sweeping back. Galen watched her, searching for something he couldn't understand. He took her apology at face value, the harsh tinge to his face abating. It changed then, warming back to something like a distant dawn. 

Luhtar.. he's trusted? Galen asked, tilting his head, then paused, as if he had bitten his tongue. He was quick to continue, Not that he shouldn't be- I...

Galen's chin tipped toward his chest as the strange lady stood before him, all of her features in new startling clarity. Her peerless gaze was one that made him decidedly nervous, his body still drawing back on his paws as if she were some horror set to devour him. His answer came readily enough, steady but unnerved, My own. Nothing to change his.

His comical skittishness settled, his tongue wetting his nose as he thought it over some. He talked about Forneskja.

Íruna watched Galen closely, sensing the shift in his demeanor as he spoke. She felt the weight of his words settle between them, and there was a quiet understanding in his uncertainty. Her lavender eyes remained steady on him, soft but unwavering, as if willing him to find the comfort he sought.

"Luhtar is trusted," she said gently, a quiet smile coming to fall unto her beautiful face. "Everyone is trusted in Forneskja. The forest's heart holds us in harmony. Her balance grounds us all."

She let a pause linger, allowing Galen’s nervous energy to settle, her own posture easing slightly to reflect the shift. “If he spoke to you of Forneskja, it must mean he sees something in you,” Íruna did not seem to question it. Most were welcome within the heart of Forneskja if they were willing to work. She stepped forwards despite Galen's reluctance, despite the way he continued to put distance between them. “Forneskja is a home worth sharing. We do not speak of this place lightly.”

Her lavender eyes steadied on his again, and she reached out with a tender foreleg to press her paw to the man's thick chest fur. “Perhaps the gods meant for your paths to cross. For him to guide you, and you to find what it is you’re searching for. A home.”

Galen welcomed the newly gentle atmosphere between them - finding it better suited than the way harsh looks made the stranger's pretty eyes too harsh to meet. It was a shame, to have to turn away from them long. Maybe it was a sign he had better stay on her good side.

It sounds lovely, He spoke with a reverence, as though it was something he hadn't heard before. You're.. faithful?

He stumbled then, ears flat against his head and an abashed look on his face. Religiously. Right? You sound wiser beyond my years and yet you look..

He paused, eyes cast down to the ground again, tail sweeping through leaf litter as he sat, drawing his frame close again, as though afraid to take up too much room. He hesitated, lips pulled in a thoughtful frown. To think the gods would have ordained a path for me. I've always struggled with it. Is my life not my choice?

His uncertainty, his hesitation—it was something she could understand, though her faith had never wavered in the same way.

She took a small step forward, the sound of the leaf litter beneath her paws soft as she closed the distance between them just slightly.

“We all struggle with it,” she began, voice warm. “Faith is not about knowing everything. It is about trusting in what you cannot see and walking the path that unfolds before you, even when it’s unclear.” She paused, letting soft eyes drape across his fur of gold. Undoubtedly handsome. She fretted to see it molt under his struggle of faith.

“The gods do not take your choices from you,” Íruna let a reassuring smile warm her plush face.

“They guide, they whisper, but the steps? Those are yours to take.”

Galen welcomed the closer proximity - it made it feel less like an interrogation, and more like something casual. It was a fleeting sanctuary in his more alone lifestyle.

He listened keenly, letting her talk and talk, absorbing each word she said with an obvious pensiveness. Each had a value, and it was clear he was respectful of them all. It wasn't a question of if he believed her, it was a certainty that she believed all she said. He had never had such a full belief in something like that, ever. It was admirable.

It doesn't sound so frightening that way, He spoke after a long pause after she had finished. He looked markedly more at peace, even despite the tiny flecks of turmoil that still haunted him. His eyes shone genuine as Galen looked to her, meeting her gaze again. Thank you..

He looked flummoxed then, a tiny frown on his features. Forgive me. I am Galen.

“Galen,” she repeated, as if testing the sound of it on her tongue. A faint smile touched her lips, her lavender eyes steady on his. “It’s a good name.”

She dipped her head slightly, a gesture of respect. “I am Íruna,” she offered, her voice calm and unhurried. “And there is nothing to forgive. We all walk different paths—it’s what makes the journey worth sharing.”

Her tail swayed lightly as she straightened, her gaze holding his for a moment longer. “I am glad my words brought you some peace. It is not always easy to find.”

Her gaze softened as she looked upon the great golden man. She observed him, as if testing his worth. A smile.

"And for what it is worth, Galen, I hope you take Luhtar up on his offer."

fade? :3

Thank you, His gratitude was bashful, front paws sliding closer to one another, an almost nervous gesture. His eyes skated anywhere but her, only looking him to catch her gaze before dancing away again. He couldn't begin to verbalize it, as his great heart pitter-pattered in his chest, savoring her name in return. Íruna, it was a beautiful sound.

Surely peace is easy to find with one as wise as you in Forneskja, He found it in himself to compliment her, fighting through his own anxieties to impress something of kindness to her. Anything to give back just a fraction of the stability she had gifted him.

He bowed his head as she gave her well wishes and her clear hope. It felt wrong to deny them. His voice was warm, but his ears tipped forward - eyes not quite serene, but calmer. I'll keep that in mind. Fare well, Íruna.

good 2 me :P