Silvertip Mountain if you stand for nothing, what'll you fall for?

@Whip

After a decent meal, and a good rest, Akantha felt ready press on. She lacked her formerly impressive figure; instead she was lean and unkempt, but there was a dogged determination in the way she carried herself across the foothills of Silvertip Mountain. They had begun in the west so she was retracing her steps to find the fault in the tapestry she had, unfortunately, assumed was flawlessly woven. It was a difficult lesson to swallow—that her intuition was not bulletproof and, without the intervention of the Mothers, she would have succumbed to the depths. But the whims of the rebellious bitch did not trump Akantha's devotion.

She was now living proof of that.

As she continued her zig-zagging ascent, the air was becoming thinner, and far more biting. The humid warmth of the autumnal lowland woods had no chance against the alpenial heights of the mountain ranges. The sea witch was not normally found anywhere near anything that could be considered a mountain, as it was far too removed from the Sea for her comfort. But she needed a good vantage point to get a better feel of the local territory, map out her next moves, and ascertain just how far inland she had wandered since returning to the Teekons.

The stand of pines soon began to thin as she approached a craggy slide area, but jutting out from the side of the mountain was a rather sturdy shelf of granite. It was worn around the edge from snowmelt and slides, and the earth around it had long since began the process of reclaimation. From sight alone it was stable enough, so she proceeded to follow the dangerously narrow game trail to the ledge. Her legs began to tremble as she approached the edge, and saw just how far down it was—she jumped the last few feet from the path to the shelf and looked back with a sigh of relief.

After making his escape from Themiscyra, Whip told himself that he wouldn't come back this way, but he found himself drawn back to the coast with Tytonidae's offer in mind. He was torn between two options: one, stay in hiding and ride the winter out as well as he could alone, or two, join Bhediyon with a new name and identy. Then, the winter was less of a pressing issue. Themiscyra's reach within the wilds however was Whip's primary concern. Nevertheless, Tytonidae's offer gave Whip the opportunity to hide in plain sight, and perhaps, he thought, that was the best he could do.

He knew where to go, but the mountain provided an easy way to stay oriented with the path. He followed a game trail up and he thought he smelled something vaguely familliar, but not so familiar that it raised any concern. It was just the familiarity of the wilds, nothing more.

Surprisingly, heights were not one of Whip's many phobias. In fact, the higher he ascended, the more calm he felt. It was a grounding experience; peaceful and quiet enough to gather his wits and focus on the next move. He stopped along the way to take in the view. Though he could see for miles, the ocean was still out of reach -- and yet, when Whip turned his gaze upward, he saw something of the sea and he froze with fear. Akantha didn't know what he did. What he had to do. How could she know? She dissapeared and could protect him no longer.

He said nothing.

She then looked West, towards the plains and woods of the Great Bear Wilderness, and the range beyond. Rivers, like veins, cut through the expanse on their path to reuinte with the Sea. Akantha was not one for poetry and prose, but she felt as if Themiscrya was modeled from a similar system. She sent her children out; small, but violent storms, that ravaged the land but eventually drifted home again to be reborn. The Sea was a faint echo here but umistakable even among the wind and oppressive stone. Akantha held fast to the voice, knowing that, regardless of the distance between, She would never lead her astray. Not like the others.

Her nostrils flared and, with it, came a scent that sparked a sudden flash of recognition. The thorn witch turned until her memories solidified into something—someone. Whip, her mind gasped. There he stood, silent as the stones, alive and grown. A pang of regret scorched a tract across her heart, and she was nearly floored by the unexpected emotion. Indeed, she had rescued him; given him a home and a purpose. Whip, one of the few who had, somehow, won her over and never given her any reason to doubt his loyalties to her. 

Akantha steadied herself by planting her feet firmly into the stone and felt, suddenly, completely out of her depth. He was silent which, given their former relationship, was not abnormal. In this instance, however, it was unsettling. As her eyes flashed across his form to assess him her attention was briefly drawn to the bare, pink, marks on his pale legs. Akantha huffed, further disturbed, and lifted her hawkish gaze to his own. There were many things that demanded her voice, but she could not commit any of them to her tongue. The former Matriarch was no wordsmith and she felt as if explaining the events of the last few months was, ultimately, futile. 

So, instead, in a rare show of supplication, Akantha flipped her ears back and lowered her head to chuff softly at her once-Drudge.

He saw in Akantha something truly uncommon; vulnerability. Guilt, sadness, regret -- Whip could read all of these powerful emotions plainly in her sorrowful gaze and he felt them mirrored in himself. He too was a broken creature, made of many splintered pieces that could be rearranged but never repaired.

Instinctively, Whip bowed his head, tucked his tail between his legs, and made himself small before the Matriarch of old. She did not demand it of him, but the conditioning of the Sirens ran deeper the conscious thought. And while he hated them, all of them, those cruel creatures, he could not bring himself to hate her. No, Akantha was one of the few Whip allowed himself to love. In many ways Akantha was his surrogate. His mother.

"They said you were swept away," he said, recounting the story he had been told after Akantha's disappearance. "I didn't -- I didn't know what to do."