Nova Peak breadfruit

the dream called, and the dreamer went north.

he knew these places, and did not stray from the taiga. the purpled seeds pulsed once more in his head.

the star web was bright tonight, a vast chain of interlocked spirals, and through the maze he saw golden threads rising newly from the mountain.

it was inhabited, heart said before nostril, and he stopped his wandering.

then sat down.

he waited, and for what he did not know, watching the filaments of giltglow shimmer from all places upon the peak.

Riley had become so accustomed to doing everything in tandem with Masque — now Raider — that these new hours were lonely for him. He knew she had the world’s most important job now — raising a future generation. And he, by proxy, must feed them.

He was finishing a patrol along the slopes when he caught scent of a wolf downhill. Riley was surprised to see a figure there — outside of their claim, but peering in nonetheless. He wished for Raider — her diplomacy with strangers was so much better than his.

Remembering the three perfect lives at his mate’s belly, Riley arced his tail and stalked stiffly forward, eyes questioningly on the exquisitely colored man with capturing black eyes.

look at that eye! Wolf clattered inside the dreamer's mind. he has a Sight!

does he?

the charnel-bones clacked together in Wolf's annoyance. so long as you doubt, boy, you will never See.

i see enough.

the man was slinking and moved in the manner of a thylacine. the dreamer's dilated eyes counted the golden pinpoints leaping up into the star web from the nose and head and eartip and spine of the wolf; and he saw how they mingled with the others of the mountain.

a brush of something in the dragon's scent pulled a gilt thread taut.

"i am searching for someone here." the lightless eyes did not blink. "someone who hasn't yet been born. can you help me?"

The man’s explanation had the effect of a heavy-swung guillotine — it stopped Riley in his tracks.

His gaze swept over the scar lines and open face of the stranger; the measureless black eyes, the cowl of muted swan feather on his nape. How could he know? Could he scent the puppies on his pelt? Riley liked to believe himself logical, so he assigned to the man the talent of having an unusually sharp nose.

There are no pregnant wolves here. Riley found himself saying, suddenly growing uneasy. He wasnt sure he could share there were puppies, until he understood this man’s intentions. If they haven’t yet been born, how can you search for them?

"because they haven't yet been born as a dreamer."

he hesitates. does he See?

you seem to think so. i suppose one doesn't just walk up to people and start asking about children.

a child with a dreamer's Sight.

"my name is wolf dreamer. this mountain has told me that another will come. dreamers see the web of stars to which dance across the heavens. we are — driven by things others cannot understand, all for a fuller purpose of connection between all beings."

he drew a quavering breath.

"it is isolating to be a dreamer."

Riley listened — and to his credit, did his best to understand. Even then, he was too protective of the new lives at Raider’s breast to do anything to risk them — including giving strangers the benefit of doubt.

There was nothing outright harmful about this man, but Riley didn’t see eye to eye with the things he spoke about, and that dissonance between the two was amplified by his concern for his mate and children. The last thing the man spoke had a vulnerable ring to it — and if the situation was different, he might have offered alms.

How does one speak to the mountain? He couldnt help but ask, ears splayed.