Firefly Glen ^__________________^

The mountain was too quiet. It wasn’t just Sialuk’s absence that made it so. Treepie tallied Moonspear’s members in her mind as she picked her way down the crag’s eastern flank. There were the three she’d seen yesterday and Alaric, of course. But other than taataa’s companion, Tiuttuk could think of no one else. She frowned, yellow eyes panning the foothills before coming to rest on the healing ulaq.

She walked up to the moldering log, then past it, leaving a trail of prints in the snow as she wandered into the glen. Tiuttuk didn’t go very far into the trees before swiveling around to face the mountain again. She beheld it in silence for a long moment, then sighed and dropped her eyes. A patch of bluegrass caught them, green tufts pushing up through the dormant grass and snow near the base of a middle-aged oak.

Treepie padded closer, nosing at the ticklish little shoots and wondering what they were doing here so early. Wasn’t spring still weeks away? Her head cocked, then she loosed a second sigh and slumped to her hindquarters at the base of the tree. She tipped her head to peer up through its scraggly boughs, noting the blue sky beginning to whiten with the promise of fresh snowfall.

Rowyn wondered yet again. Farther than he had in ages. And he felt no stirring to meet others. He liked his god given solace. He did not have to take care of others. He often wondered what had happened to Goldfinch and he regularly made his way back to where she had been last. But she was never there. And as such he realized she had left him. Just as his mother’s had. He couldn’t count on anyone, but himself.

But his early days had been surrounded by love and kindness and as such. When he saw the drooping form of a she wolf nearby. He tilted his head. He warred between walking the other way or checking on her. His better nature winning out.
 
He shifted and moved forward. Eyes on her face, but he stopped far enough away so he did not startle her. Perché sei così triste, ragazza?

When her gaze dropped back to terra firma, she started a little at the sight of an approaching figure. Treepie swept back onto all fours, though she stilled as she studied the young man coming her way. Despite his larger build, he looked to be around her own age, which loosened some of the tension in her spine. His fur resembled a stone, his eyes a glacier.

Her mouth opened to offer him a greeting, though he spoke first. Pie blinked at the strange words, then began smiling despite herself. She hadn’t understood a word of what he’d said, though the language stroked her ears in such an enticing way. The last word—“regazza”—stuck out particularly.

Greetings, she offered, wondering if he would understand. Do you speak the common tongue, by any chance?

She was on edge and he backed up a paw step or two. Not wanting to cause her any fear. He knew fear intimately after all.

He returned her smile. And a soft chuckle at question. He did indeed speak. Both. And one more besides. He was not as fluent as his mama's, but he made do and he learned from others.

A nod. I do and one more besides.

Intrigued as she felt about the foreign language, relief swept through her when he replied in a tongue she could understand. Her smile grew as she regarded him, head canting ever so slightly to the left.

Oh? Me too, she replied. What language was that, just now? she pressed, yellow eyes glimmering.

Treepie knew she ought to introduce herself properly, though she couldn’t resist asking first. She would wait for his reply before offering up her name and seeking his own.

He hadntspokwn to another in awhile. It took some thinking to get the words out. B3cause he often replied in Italian due to not many knew it. And he could be rude sometimes. Also he l9ved swear words like his one mother.

Italian. One of my mothers spoke it. My other mother spoke Spanish and both of course knew Common.

Then he waited patiently. He thought of his mother's and it didn't hurt quite as bad anymore. But he hoped he didn't see them again. They had abandoned him.

She’d never heard of it, though it pleased Treepie to pad her linguistical knowledge. Her smile grew not only due to this, but also his mention of two mothers. Elentari had left Sialuk long before a properly maternal connection could be established, though she remembered the woman fondly enough.

What did you say to me? she asked now, then tacked on, I’m Treepie, by the way. I only speak the two languages: Common and Atkan Aleut. Realization struck like lightning even as she spoke. Oh wait, I know three too! Have you ever heard of Ptero?

Rowyn enjoyed his ability to speak his mother's tongues. It made him feel close to wolves he was beginning to forget. He had been without them now nearly as long as he had been woth them, possibly was more.

I asked you why you were sad?

He shook his head. never heard of it. . che cos'è?

His translated question made her suck in a breath, then let it out slowly. Treepie was enjoying his company and their brief conversation so far, yet they hardly knew one another. Besides, she didn’t really feel like dwelling on her heartaches right now.

I’m not sad. I just have resting bitch face, she told him with a small smile. Where are you from, Rowyn? I’m from Moonspear, she didn’t mind sharing, slanting her muzzle toward the mountain looming over the glen.

The tilt of her muzzle allowed the first drifting snowflake to find its way up her nose. It tickled! Pie wriggled her snoot, not sure whether or not she was about to sneeze.

She sucked in a breath and two ears pressed forward. Concerned gaze at her face. But she seemed to choose to ignore his question. Her next words and he laughed outright. Refreshing it was to hear swear words like one of his mothers. Though following on the laughter was a sharper more painful emotion of abandonment. 

I was from Qeya River. A wolf came and killed our leader and took it over. I haven't been anywhere since. Moving around.

he tilted his head. Where's Moonspear? He chuckled as she wrinkled her nose. And then he waited quietly.

Tiuttuk blanched a little beneath her swarthy fur. He offered this information so casually, like he wasn’t particularly bothered by it. She assumed he was just doing the same as she was doing, keeping his emotions close to the vest.

That’s… awful, she said slowly, thinking of no better word for it. She blinked, then tipped her head toward the nearby peak looming over the glen. Just there. She paused, thinking, and said, Would you like to come there with me? There’s a ulaq—a den—in a hollow log near the borders where we could shelter from this.

She motioned at the snowfall already thickening around them. It was fairly dry snow, though Treepie still wouldn’t mind getting out of it and curling up someplace warm. She imagined Rowyn might feel the same way, especially if he didn’t have anyplace else to go…

Rowyn sort of had to work on his delivery. Was he particularly bothered by Ash's death. Absolutely. At night. In darkness. But he had tried so hard not to let it define him. That it had anyway. But he would never be weak again.

It was. It is. Especially seeing it, but I refuse to let it define any more of my life. I've given enough of my heads pace to tragedy.

He titled his ear. A den with a girl. A pretty girl. He thought of finch who he had also shared a den with. Did that mean something? Or just that they needed a place. He decided on the latter. Refusing to give head to crazy thoughts. 

Si. I mean uh yes.

He accepted her offer, seemingly without qualm, so Treepie canted her head and swept to her feet. Her eyes brushed over the patch of bluegrass—soon to disappear underneath a layer of snow, likely to wilt beneath its weight—before she faced forward. She replayed Rowyn’s words in her head as she paced toward the moldering log straddling the invisible line between the mountain and the glen.

She rolled to a stop beside the log’s mouth, motioning for Rowyn to walk inside ahead of her. Pie ducked her head and walked inside too, pondering how much tragedy he’d faced in his life that he’d maxed out his bandwidth. She was afraid to ask.

She folded herself to the dirt floor, paws tucked beneath her chest, snout pointed toward Rowyn as she waited for him to get comfortable. A soft rushing noise snagged her attention, yellow eyes cutting to the entrance as the wind picked up and blustered a bunch of flurries past the doorway. Tiuttuk hunched into herself a bit more.

Do you need a place to stay, she wondered aloud, gaze once more finding his face, on a more permanent basis, I mean?

Was Rowyn unsure, absolutely. He had given the girl a little more faith than most. But he was a sucker for a girl. Probably having grown up mostly around women.

Rowyn stared at mouth of the den and her movement. He wasn't fond of being in the back. He should probably be at the front. Ehat if something happened. But her den her rules. So he headed inward. Roomier than he imagined. 

He watched the wond a frown on his face. A softly muttered. Dio mio

He turned to her face. Haven't really thought of it if I'm honest.

D-what now? Treepie muttered under her breath, likely too quietly for him to hear what with the wind howling now.

Rowyn said he hadn’t thought about it. She bobbed her head to acknowledge his words. Moonspear certainly had the space for him if he was interested, though he didn’t say anything else about it. Tiuttuk decided to take that as a cue.

Well, you’re welcome to stay here until this storm blows over. Longer, if you want, she said with a shrug, telling him, This is our healing ulaq but we don’t have any patients these days.

Rowyn heard her mumble something, but he couldn't quite understand with the loud wind. So he shook his head and tilted an ear. Moved a beat of an inch closer. 

Rowyn had lied a fraction. He had thought about it, before today. But he hadn't been able to come up with a solution to his current problems. And he couldn't abandon Finch. He wasn't sure how to handle that. 

Our old leader was a healer. A really great one they say. I can't remember much. There's another wolf that hangs with me. I haven't seen her in a little while, but I head back that way to check on her. I'll talk to her about it.

Rowyn said two seemingly unrelated things in quick succession. It took her a minute to fully process his words. Was the healer the same leader who had been killed, she wondered? Rather than ask, she couldn’t help but leap at his latter words. Pie smiled wanly at him.

Tell me about her, your friend, she coaxed, rocking in place a little to further tuck her feet as the storm exhaled some of its frigid breath into the log’s interior.

Ash Star had indeed been the leader who was killed. Not a fighter at all, but brave as many could not boast. She had fought even though she couldn't and had died for it. Rowyn refused to let that happen again. He would not let someone fight and die in vain.

He blinked surprised and sighed. Not much to tell. Goldfinch is her name. I often call her Finch. She was abandoned by her family. And She took pity on me. Took me in when she didn't have too. There's another wolf that checks on her now and again. And she is always searching for her siblings. But she always returns. Though it has been some time since I've seen her recently. I hope she's alright.

Her jaw clenched when Rowyn said his friend, Finch, had been abandoned by her family. Why were such things so commonplace? When he mentioned her ongoing search for her wayward siblings, Treepie’s yellow eyes glazed as she stared inward. She had never gone looking for all those who’d walked out of her life, for myriad reasons. She wondered: did any of those who went searching ever find their lost loved ones?

I’d like to meet her, Pie said, blinking back to a focus as she met his eyes in the gloom. Once you catch up with her again, you should bring her by. Only if you want to, though.

Moonspear could use more able bodies, though Tiuttuk didn’t want Rowyn to feel any pressure or obligation. Those who peopled this mountain should want to be here. She wasn’t in the business of trying to force their hands, even if all the departures—and the subsequent scarcity in the ranks—felt like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

Wanna fade this and have another sometime? :D

Rowyn knew abandonment well. His mother Silver had disappeared in the dead of night. His mother Wren had gone in search and never returned. Ash had died. Ksura had given in to the man who had killed Ash. And his siblings had been long gone, following his wayward mothers. 

Yea I'll bring her by. Sure i don't mind coming around. Nice place you got here. Granted I'm more partial to meadows. But mountains ain't bad.

It seemed this pie was decent. She didn't pressure and that he liked. It was nice to know he had a choice. A boy who had very little choice most of his life. 

Absolutely <3

Wait until you hear about the meadows way up on the mountainside, she rejoined with a little grin.

She hoped he would keep his word and bring Goldfinch here, to visit or otherwise. But she would not let herself become expectant of it. Treepie wanted them to feel welcomed, not obligated.

I’m going to rest my eyes. Stay here as long as you like, Rowyn, Pie repeated her earlier words.

She smiled faintly, then curled her slim body into a tighter ball. Lowering her head, she tucked her snout beneath the feathery tip of her tail. Tiuttuk took a moment to watch the snowstorm through the dim doorway, then let her eyes slip shut.