Hushed Willows we'll make our homes on the water

takes place shortly after this

tiredness dogs her steps, and exhaustion pulls at her limbs. the matriarch wants nothing more than to return to the creek, but is unwilling to cut directly back toward her home. the possibility of being tracked back to all that she holds dear has her cut a wide path back to the stream, pausing not even to attend her stinging wounds. 

evening falls all around, sunlight giving way to stretching shadows. she does not expect the border, sudden as it is, and is given pause a moment. wariness prickles, disliking being at the borders of a strange pack. foliage shifts, as does recognition. the willows. had whatever remained of the once-elysium returned to this place? she considers, before tilting back her muzzle and giving a call to the denizens of this place, a tired call for an audience. tongue presses against the inside of her cheek, testing carefully the sting of the wounds on the opposite side. remaining stub of a tail twitches, and she winces, longing for Artyom's familiar touch when the whole of her seems to hurt. the left side of her face remains bloodied, something she can hardly address now, but the mess that is her shoulder remains within reach. one eye on the treeline, she begins a careful cleaning of the wound.

For timeline's sake, saying this takes place the day after she sends Dante to WBS

The girl had rested till late in the afternoon, her legs soar yet her spirits high. She'd suffered from severe exhaustion and dehydration because of her little stunt, but she was feeling much better now. Though she'd not like to admit it, she was not strong enough to make it to the Empire nor Whitebark Stream, not yet - and their cause couldn't wait. It was therefore she'd sent Dante to find Artyom - surely the man would remember her, even if their meeting had been brief. He had said their wolves lived in peace, and somehow that was enough to convince Lumi they were good and wanted evil gone.

She was still lazing about near the pond in the clearing, staring at her reflection. Her journey had done a number on her, she could see. She looked a bit hollow, like her eyes were further back into her skull than normal. She touched her face with her paws, rubbing her eyes, dipping it in the water... That is when she heard the call. It was an unfamiliar one, and the fae was immediately wary.

With her tail held high and her chin held up, she approached the borders, poking her snout through the curtain of willow branches carefully. What was that copper-like scent... blood? Greetings? She nearly questioned, confused by the visitor whose scent was vaguely familiar, but her face couldn't be placed. Not to mention they looked hurt...

 

tiredly, the matriarch twists to regard the woman that approaches, rising stiffly. she is a pretty thing, young, alternating patterns of smoke and charcoal and ivory. she dips her muzzle respectfully, gaze coming to settle on the yearling. this time, she does not move to sway whatever remains of her tail. "I am Dawn, of M-Whitebark Stream." gods, she must really be exhausted. it's a slip of the tongue she hasn't made for months, perhaps even a year. 

"I man attacked me [mash] he's done so before, to others, and he smelled of a pack. I think he came from the mountains." her warning, delivered first and foremost, in the very slim chance she forgot to do so, foggy as her thoughts are. "can you tell me what this place is called?" she queries after a beat, unaware how she lightly sways upon her paws.

Dawn of Whitebark Stream? The gods of fate were at it again. She'd just send Dante to deliver a message to the woman's husband, even though the two had never formally met. It was a lucky thing the queen never forgot a name, but even then she'd lend a helping hand to whichever Whitebark member she came across. They'd be allied were it not for the long time it had taken for her court to get established.

I met your mate a while ago - Artyom, right? I've just sent a scout to your home actually, as these lands are getting terrorized by another group. Lumiya asked, needing to be sure. Her next story had become quite common around these parts; the Saints loved beating people up, especially young women it seemed. Her brows knitted together in a worried frown, a position they were in often nowadays. Did you catch his name? Was he a large, bulking male, black, brown and white coat - probably not completely wolf? The color of his eyes were lost on the young queen, but she remembered his stature. His condescending tone.

I'm Lumiya, queen of the faes of the Seelie Court. Should I fetch our healer for you? Perhaps she should've started with introductions, but the girl was still tired and things got ahead of her quite easily when she was stressed out. It almost looked like the other woman, Dawn as she now knew, was going to faint on her. She needed the information out of her first and foremost to confirm her suspicions, though she'd rush to get Deidra should things take a turn for the worse.

she nods, relieved that they are not strangers. something tugs at the back of her mind; something Artyom mentioned when Artemis had been returned to them. and whitebark wolves did not seem to be the only ones falling victim to this man and his followers, so it seemed. 

her brow furrows, relaxing after a beat. "he called himself donovan azura," she confirms, though it is evident that they are speaking of the same wolf. "I was looking for a packmate, Surya, who's been missing a while. another wolf, dark, called himself Dægmar, helped me fend off donovan." without him, she might have ended up like aphrodite. the thought is like a dagger to the gut, twisting slowly. 

she girl was a leader, then, akin to herself. the matriarch hesitates, wanting only to be homeward bound, to run through the night. but, if she is honest, she does not think she'll make it. muzzle tightens, worry gnawing at her heart, of that brute anywhere near her children. "thank you for your kindness, Luminya — I would appreciate it." she can't, won't, stay long, but even as the adrenaline from her flight fades and true pain begins to set in, she knows she'll have to remain for a few hours, at least.

Of course it was Donovan. It's a shame he hadn't been dumb enough to show his face around the faeries again - sure, he was big, but a fight against five or so he wouldn't win. Lumiya was not a violent person - if anything, she hated resorting to it and seeing it - but to rid the world of evil the young girl would do anything. The man had already proven he was incapable of change, incapable of being reasoned with. Her last option was to retaliate, but she was afraid it had come to that.

I'm afraid I don't know either of them, but I'll make sure to get word to you should any of my faeries come across this Surya. The other name she did not recognize, but if he had fought against Donovan and not with him, he was good in Lumiya's book. Anyone that stood up to the brute would personally receive a kiss from the queen, if she could make it that. But this Donovan, I know him. He's the leader of the Saints, settled in the nearby mountains. I've sent word to all our allies, hoping that together we can drive them out for good. Their crimes include trespassing, mindless attempts at murder, disrespect - you name it. She informed. She knew Whitebark Stream was a long ways to the north and perhaps the Saints' reign of terror hadn't spread to that part of the realm yet, but it had only been a matter of time before one of their members had a run-in with their despicable neighbors. She was sad to see it was Dawn - if she remembered correctly, her and Artyom had been expecting pixies in the past spring. She couldn't imagine the poor things being motherless because of a brute like Donovan.

She curtsied in kind, turning to lead the woman into their willows where it was safe - or, well, at least it felt like that because of the curtains of willows and the serene atmosphere. In the meantime she let loose a howl for @Deidra - hoping the fae wasn't busy. We have a beautiful pond where we can get you cleaned up. She attempted small talk.

Orlaith was revengeful, it almost seemed the very name of her enemies summoned the flaming wolf. She skulked out of the willows, a spark within her olives that has been remaining from days before. Though she thought there was an intruder, but instead  a weakened, and injured wolf. The fae mellowed

"Who this?" Probably rather rude upon asking, but the days of peace were small. She was always on a more guard now then before, especially so the call to war seemed to be near.