Phantom Hollow the cover of the wings of grasshoppers

dated back to couple days after puppy borth

Normally cool, calm, and collected, Megara is, these days, fraught with concern. They left the weald to claim Meldresi's forest, only to find it occupied by another set of Melonii. So these Melonii are now adrift, and furthermore, Nyx's time came whilst away from home. One disaster after another.

So here they hunker, on the run, their movement stalled by tiny mouths to feed. And here she sits, trapped in her own quiet anxieties.

She is near enough to the den to hear the puppies' cries, and Nyx's gentle murmurings to them. That, at least, is music to her ears. But will they be strong enough to withstand a journey home? They cannot leave the weald unprotected for long; what if they come back to find it occupied? The crone sucks in a deep breath, folding her paws one atop the other, curled in the brush.

A silent, slightly-trembling shadow—and the only thing giving her away is her indigo gaze fixed unblinkingly ahead.

Damien wasn't blind to the mess he had caused by trying to claim Blackfeather Woods such a poorly timed moment, but as a man who had spent his life learning to adapt to the adversities, the night king hadn't been sleeping under the bushes at all. His mind had been running with options from day one, and even this outcome had been considered before even making the call to leave the weald behind.

But he had spent too long brooding already, and he needed time to clear his mind of stale thoughts and freshen up with a different opinion, so he came out of the den leaving five sleeping, peaceful creatures gently while he took care of business.

Megara was the first she found in his random path, calmly guarding the mother's den from a safe distance, and he took the chance to approach her. Megara, he spoke gently, i wouldn't believe you're feeling comfortable if you told me so, he said as he walked up to her with a cool sway, What ails you? he asked, and took a seat close by, preparing for what could be a lengthy chat with his long lost auntie.

Damien approaches and joins her, and she gives him a stilted nod of greeting, her face turning wry as he speaks. I cannot imagine what would give you that idea, she shoots back, definite pique in her tone, although her voice is not cruel. There's a smile upon her face, fleeting, vanishing at his question. Megara sighs, staring off toward the whelping den, among the dismal landscape.

Everything, she responds cryptically. This exodus. This uncertainty. I have no doubt in your strength of leadership, nephew, but I cannot help but worry. Pups should be born at home, not in some temporary place. Circumstances have been poor. I have no blame, I just. . .

Her indigo gaze cuts over to Damien's own icy one, respectful but gimlet. I have seen countless Melonii litters brought into the world, and I fret over each and every one, she admits. My family and my bloodline will always be my greatest weakness. Megara's brows raise in gentle query. Do you have a plan, Damien? What comes next?

Damien's skin had turned immune to caustic words like the ones his aunt spoke, and he shrugged them off as the harmless sarcasm that it was. He'd guessed quite right that the woman wasn't feeling too peaceful about their current situation, but it hadn't been a wild guess... Their situation was horrible and unfortunate, and anyone who didn't feel nerve-wrecked about it was probably insane. But he was there to soothe their anxiety even if he was deep inside it as well, for if not to comfort his followers and give them hope then, what even is a leader for?

He sat there to listen to Megara's concerns with calm attention, but her comment on their bloodline being a wekness made his ears flinch and brought a frown to his features. 'Our bloodline is our strongest asset, dear aunt' he would have said, but he quieted his thoughts to give his worried aunt the answer she needed. Of course I do, he said with a charming smile that only he knew how to fake successfully, I always have a plan,

But he didn't this time.

The original plan was to take Blackfeather Woods and settle Nyx in the Spiderlings' Glen in time for her whelping, and the unexpected nature of their quest hadn't left them any time to even sketch a plan B. They had to work with what they had.

Don't worry, Aunt. You are safe here and so is Nyx and my children. I would have never accepted to setting up camp in this place if I couldn't defend it, he said, hoping that his charm and his own forceful confidence would soothe his aunt's worries.

She is no spring chicken, soothed by Damien's words. The words are not backed up by any semblance of logic, after all. But she gives him a smile nonetheless, knowing that any resistance is futile. Nothing can change their precarious situation now. All they can do is make the best of it—and hopefully, they will return home soon.

How are the children? Megara asks, changing the subject, for she is loath to speak any more of hypotheticals. Better to focus on the Melonii, her greatest pride, her greatest weakness. Is Nyx nursing well?

Damien chose to take refuge under his idea that he was handling things marvelously, and didn't really stop to think too long about how stupid it would seem to someone with as most semblance and experience as Megara.

So he took the change of subject without question, happily catching on to Megara's thread and drifting off in thought to his family. Nyx is doing wonderful he said, and for the first time in this conversation he was being truthful. You could see the pride in his eyes as the thought of his children rolled through his mind. They are strong. The future of The Melonii is secured, but was it? All would be worth nothing if they didn't fix their situation fast.

The barest relaxing of her shoulders belies the relief she feels that there is, at least, some good news. Megara dips her muzzle, gaze tracing the ground beneath her for a short moment before returning to Damien. They are most important, she murmurs. She thinks suddenly of her own pups—what she wouldn't give, to see them small again! They matter most.

With a gentle sigh, she rises to her paws, tail sweeping elegantly behind her, as if brushing the dust off a coat she might be wearing in another universe, another existence. Keep me informed, Megara says, her tone brooking no opposition. I want to know where we stand, where the danger could possibly lie.

She isn't altogether confident that Damien will honor this request, but it is one worth making, anyway. For all her years, she is not senile yet, and her experience in these matters may be beneficial to her nephew. She gives him one final nod of farewell and then departs, a shadow on silent patrol.

Most important indeed. And all their efforts needed to be directed towards improving their situation for them. Yes, Megara had everything straight in her head and Damien had no reason to believe she had any intentions that were anything but good for his family. It calmed him to know the kind of support he had gathered for his children, and he saw none but good paths forward.

Why, he could not gather, but despite her showing the best interest for the pack and proving herself an asset quite repeatedly, the night king couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that his aunt was giving him. A stern gaze covered it up as usual and to her request Damien nodded; even tried to smile for courtesy's sake. But as he watched her fade into the darkness that half smile went right back to a cold void.