Noctisardor Bypass arrival

@Morwenna @Faliya

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they arrive at dawn.

there is a silver sheen in the air, fog lowering into the stretching valley. he leads his wife's daughter over the rocky crops of the bypass and down beneath into the snow-packed trails.

they pass by a deep grotto, and blackfell turns to glimpse back at the girl. the thick fog of his breath is visible in a hefty plume when he exhales; a tense sigh upon his nose and agape, black lips.

faust has been through, his scent thick on the wind. as is morwenna's. but there are several other interlopers, to which he can't help but to furrow his nose up in disdain. gods, he loathed strangers.

the devoted husband pauses upon a wide column of rock outcrop and looks down into the bypass, squinting against the beginnings of blinding sun peeking through thick clouds of winter. the brute gives his thick coat a shake and then calls into the heart of the territory for his mate, a note upon his tongue that speaks of urgency.

she would know.

fa'liya follows without looking at him. three days of silence—she has not spared him more than a few sidelong glances since they left the river. spite is a small, stubborn animal in her chest, and it is kept alive on principle alone.

fog clings to her fur, dampening what little warmth her thin body can make for itself. each breath rasps faintly, shallow, controlled. her limbs burn, and yet she is steadfast in her decision.

she is silent still when he calls for her mother, but her body is not. something in her stutters and everything else reacts violently. her shoulders hunch as if she has been struck and a wheezing cough tears out of her, sharp and ugly, folding her in on herself. her paws skid half a step before she catches herself, claws biting into packed snow. her heart slams so hard it hurts, a frantic, animal thing trying to escape her ribs.

she hacks once, twice, lungs protesting as her breath scrapes raw through her throat as if the cold itself has lodged there. she swallows hard, jaws clenching hard, a bitter taste blooming behind her tongue. she tastes iron and swallows it down just as fast.

she recovers just in time to turn her attention toward a woman—mother.

she crested the rise at his call—and the world stopped.

for one breath she could not move. could not think. the fog thinned just enough and there she was, slight and sharp and heartbreakingly real. not a ghost. not a dream hauled from grief.

her girl.

morwenna broke.

she ran.

the cold tore at her lungs, the stone cut at her paws, but nothing slowed her—not the ache, not the fear that this might vanish if she blinked. she closed the distance in a rush of white and breath and soundless prayer, skidding to her knees in the snow before her daughter.

fa’liya, her voice tore free at last, raw and trembling, the name a sob and a crown all at once.

she gathered her into herself without asking, without restraint, arms and neck and body folding around her girl as if to shield her from the entire world. her face pressed into the damp fog of her daughter’s fur, breath shaking, a broken sound caught low in her chest.

i have you, she whispered, again and again, fierce and disbelieving. i have you. you’re here. you’re here.

her hands framed fa’liya’s face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, her brow resting against her daughter’s with reverent care.

my star, she breathed, voice steadying only through sheer will. my girl. you are safe now.

she did not look away. she would never look away again.

fa’liya goes still the moment she is touched, stiff as an old tree. the world narrows to fur and breath and the unbearable weight of arms around her, and for a suspended heartbeat she does not know what she is supposed to do with it. her body remembers being carried, being held, being loved so tenderly she again, did not know what to with it.

her lungs hitch, traitorous. another rasping cough claws up her throat, muffled uselessly against morwenna’s chest. it leaves her shaking, breath thin and uneven, ribs fluttering beneath skin that was never meant to house so much feeling. it is wrong and right all at once, familiar in a way that makes her head spin. she swallows hard, nose burning, eyes stinging.

she cannot decide which memory to obey. mother is not a word she knows how to stand inside of—it feels too big, too soft. all she has even known is traitor, and for so long, it swallowed her whole.

her eyes stay open. they do not soften.

fa’liya’s gaze drifts past morwenna’s shoulder, unfocused, staring at nothing while those whispered assurances spill over her. safe now. safe. safe. it slides off, dull and distant. was there reason she would not be?

another shallow breath rasps through her, chest hitching. she swallows it down with effort.

one paw lifts, hesitates, then presses lightly against morwenna’s chest as if testing whether she is solid. real. “mother.” she murmurs finally, small and hoarse. finally she is unfrozen from her place, and she leans into the contact, forehead tipping to rest against morwenna’s cheek. her eyes close for the briefest moment, lashes damp with fog and something else she refuses to name.“why—what is this?”

just a cameo :3

he is not far from morwenna in the small week. his presence wavers, however. traveling between the territories of great sky and this pack, grey fangs.

he returns now to visit again, not out of any desire to see her but because a part of sky eater is hungry. and he does not know for what.

along the dark ridge, his white shadow skulks. drawn by the sudden noise and the sound of morwenna's voice. he finds her thrown amongst the arms of a smaller girl, and closer by, an unknown beast.

but neither party is entirely unknown. he recognizes the man as the blackbird, the enemy his father had spoken of. and the girl...

she is like seeing his father in the flesh again, and sky eater's chin narrows—as well as two sulfur eyes—against his chest while he licks at his chops anxiously.

morwenna felt it the instant the cough tore through her—too deep, too familiar, the telltale rasp that twisted memory and instinct together. her hold tightened, not to trap, but to steady, one arm firm along fa’liya’s ribs, the other cradling her shoulders as if she could brace her lungs by will alone.

easy, she murmured, voice low and certain, meant to anchor. breathe with me.

she tilted her daughter just enough, guiding her posture without fuss, without panic. her muzzle brushed fa’liya’s temple, breath warm against colddamp fur.

your lungs, she said softly, not hiding the truth, never lying to her child. they have always been sensitive. the cold pulls at them. it always will.

her paw came to fa’liya’s chest, flat and steady, letting her feel the rhythm beneath. real. solid.

but i know this, morwenna continued, quieter now, there are steam baths in the stone hollows. warm, mineral. they will loosen what the cold tightens. they will help you breathe.

she drew back just enough to look at her—really look—eyes bright with a fierce, controlled tenderness.

this, she answered gently, when fa’liya asked, is your body remembering that it is allowed to be held.

her brow pressed to her daughter’s, a queen bowing to nothing but love.

and i am here to remember it with you.