Arrow Lake when thaw is not below us

He wants to be of use to the pack, but finds it hard to focus. Its always been a struggle - even when Stigmata was alive and teaching his children to adhere to his rules, to become the little soldiers that he desired of them, Mesa tried his very best but felt himself fall short. Without him, he wonders what will become of them - all of them; how will he become a proper warrior without the general to guide him? So, he sequesters himself with his thoughts and works his body for hours. He fights the slopes of the range, wrecks saplings to make himself feel better. Carves small paths in the mountain where before there was nothing. He learns the routes slowly, and comes away from all this effort feeling exasperated, sore, and confused by the strong emotions that brew inside.

Mesa doesn't want to feel what he feels. The anger that his father would be gone, the slowly dawning realization that his denial is not enough. The frustration that's built up to volcanic levels within him, ready to spill over as magma hot rage. Angst, angst, angst, and he's still just a boy - but a boy that doesn't know how to handle the strength of it. Out of desperation he finally relents to seeking out his family and returns to where they congregate, his gait a bludgeoning drum beat, his breath ragged as he careens down one slope or another, as if to threaten the very mountain, take me too! I dare you!

if Tahani was calm personified, Mesa was heat. he certainly came in hot, and was storming toward his aunt when her ears perked up, her head soon to follow. Tuvak? she asked hesitantly, cocking her head slightly. she shuffled to a standing position, groaning slightly with the effort.

are you all r-right? she continued in her stumbling common tongue, then shook herself, disappointed with the effort. do you want to talk about it? if Takiyok hadn't taught them the northern language, it was a shortcoming that perhaps Tahani could remedy. not in a few days, sure, but a few words here and there could suffice enough for her to rest easy.

she focused her dark, serene gaze on the boy, a Mona Lisa smile coming to rest on her muzzle.

He was careening down one path and ready to duck around the split in the worn road, maybe do some kind of Matrix-style leap at the exposed stonework jutting from between some uprooted trees, when a voice called to him. It was so much like his mother's that he felt his magma hot emotions cool for a split second; it wasn't enough to prevent his momentum from carrying him towards the stone escarpment though, and Mesa roughly twisted and collided shoulder-first with a chunk of it. His head ducked in time to narrowly avoid some exposed roots twisting overhead, and as the blur of his motion settled, he saw Tahani properly. Not mother, he thought, and felt an instantaneous white-hot rage rekindling.

MESA! He hollered at her vehemently, and ignored his (probably bruised at this point) shoulder as he stalked back up the incline towards where she was watching him. She questioned him, and again in the north tongue - the language of his mother, which he knew - and again he shouted, STOP IT! I AM MESA! He was Mesa, his father's son! Stigmata's! How dare she try to make him forget! How dare she use his other name! The boy was bristling and inconsolable as his emotions ran the gamut, settling easily on the rage that festered, rippling through his body as his fur serrated and spiked.

Deep down Mesa knew he was being childish; he loved his mother, loved both his names - but he wasn't in control of himself, he wasn't sure how to deal with anything, and so all that came from him was an eruption of cruelty and anger.

her ears swiveled, moved backwards, at his outburst; however, she remained otherwise calm, expression placid. she could let herself be upset by it, but Tahani knew it was only a young man lashing out in a time of great strife. he reminded her a lot of Siarut in that regard—she felt a sudden pang of longing for her brother. no matter how hot-headed he could be, she always had loved him. she always would.

Mesa, Tahani corrected herself, nodding once. i am sorry. i call you Mesa, now on. she was unsure whether his vehemence toward using his common name extended to the common tongue as well, and so she erred on the side of caution for now. better safe than sorry.

sit with me? she offered tentatively, gesturing to her side.

The boy hadn't expected an adult to curb to his voice in such quick succession, but it surprised him in to compliance. It felt good to have power over something even if it was foreign and fleeting. When she called to him again in her broken common tongue to come, sit, he obeyed mostly because he was still stunned she hadn't told him to be quiet. His agitation didn't cease even as he stalked closer, but he did settle next to her with a thwump - turning to look away from her rather than face her, glowering at the mountain as if the mountain was the real enemy.

face still clenched like a fist, the boy came and sat, and Tahani cast him a fleeting smile as he did so. auntie and nephew existed in silence for a good few minutes, the healer content to let whatever storms were in Mesa's mind recede, at least somewhat. she knew there was no getting through to him if anger clouded his every thought.

talk to me? she finally said, phrasing it much more like a question than a command. if he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't talk. mostly, she just wanted to avoid the lashing of his young tongue. tell me. . .what is in your mind. tentative, like testing ice not yet thick enough to walk upon.

that was the nature of young Ateneq men. explosive, all. handle them with a gentle touch when things were not their fault, and put your paw down firmly when they had stepped out of line.

They were sitting in silence for a few minutes, but gradually Tahani worked up the nerve to ask for clarity and, desperate as Mesa was to contain himself and freeze everyone out, he opened his mouth to rebuke her but what came from his mouth was much more. It started slowly, like an avalanch - growing in strength with his emotion, unchecked.

Dad's gone, he started, glaring at the mountain slopes and away from her. Ego's gone, the wind caught upon the trees and they waved, shuffled, chorused with movement, then stagnated. They... they won't come back, and it's not fair! I wanted to be the best but I can't if he's -- if they're -- gone, and -- everyone just keeps on going. Dad's in the dirt and turning in to meat, and we're supposed to just go on like its nothing? If the mountain is so bad then why are we here? Why did dad have to -- It all fell apart from there, and while he wanted to break out in to cries of frustration or some tears, instead he grit his teeth and scowled at the dirt, quaking where he sat.

after his initial outburst and subsequent sullen silence, she hadn't necessarily expected the cascade of words that fell from Mesa's mouth. Tahani sat in the wake, nodding intermittently, her face suffused with soft sadness. when he had finished, she curled her tail around his scrawny haunches, the barest of touches to accompany her words.

i am sorry, Mesa, she murmured, blinking down at him. sorry. . .hard to—to lose loved ones. okay to feel sad, angry. damn, this was difficult! her words of wisdom came much easier in her own tongue, but she didn't know whether he'd be receptive to its use or not.

keep going, Tahani suggested gently. it is what. . .what your father would want.

No. He would want me to be strong. He would want... The pack protected. My family safe. But Ego... Mesa countered until he felt emotion rise like bile in his throat and had to stop, breathe, swallow it down before it overwhelmed him. After a few minutes he went on.

He would want me training so I am strong enough to be like him, to fight and run and do all the things that everyone needs. But I can't, I don't know how without him. The boy looked sharply down at his big paws, studying them. The curve of blunted claws, the width of paws that were too big attached to legs that were only just starting to grow. I can't be a warrior like him if there's nothing to fight. I can't fight the mountain! Nobody can. We shouldn't even be here.

at this point, Tahani thought her best course of action was to quietly listen. she took in every word, feeling acutely the boy's sorrow, his frustration. when he finally fell silent, cursing the mountain, she paused a moment before responding. she had to choose her sentiments carefully, lest she set him off again.

your mother. . .warrior. strong warrior. she teach you, too. she can. Tahani had all the faith in the world in Takiyok; a northern-born woman was as capable as any man out there. perhaps Mesa didn't see it that way, but one day he would. hopefully sooner rather than later.

she inclined her head, staring down upon the child. protect. . .not fight. cannot fight mountain, no—just protect. family. not your fault, she murmured gently. nothing your fault. it was disjointed, but she prayed he could grasp the gist of it. again, she cursed her weakness in the common tongue, but it was all they had. at least while he eschewed the polar language.

There was quiet everywhere except inside of him, where there was a brewing storm. He felt more and more unstable the longer he sat there pining for change; but he couldn't do anything else, and fell to a certain disquiet which could've been interpreted as aggressive, or at the very least dangerous. He looked upon everything as if it were rotten, to touch the ground was to invite a vile stain upon himself, or to breathe the air of the mountain he was intoxicating himself with the sickness of an inevitable and early death. But he sat there, brooding, seething, until Tahani spoke with her disjointed words.

Whether he was listening or not, it was hard to tell. The glare in Mesa's eyes was reserved for the nearest ledge bordering the hillside. He pulled his tail tight around his haunches, lost his balance a bit, and ended up leaning against his aunt, bumping her softly. Whether the contact comforted him or not, he was like a stone—a vengeful stalactite.

He did hear what she was saying, though. Bits and pieces patched together, forming some kind of understanding that eased a little of his suffering. Mesa knew his mother was just as much a warrior as his dead father; more-so now, since she was alive and he was not. He let out a sigh from his nose and felt himself delfate againt Tahani, minutely, and then grimly replied, I won't let anything happen to them ever again.

good, she said gently, and they sat together in silence, auntie and nephew, the former contemplating the horrors her sister's litter had already gone through at such a young age. they'd be seasoned, for sure—but she didn't wish that on anyone. let them be children, for god's sake.

Tahani sighed, pulling Mesa close, grateful for at least this moment. . .while she still was able to savor it.