Hushed Willows A Silent Retreat

Kirain moved with a languid pace, weaving through the willows as their long, delicate leaves danced in the evening breeze. The soft rustling above her was like a whispered lullaby; the sight of the cascading greenery brought a fleeting sense of peace. She paused to breathe deeply, savoring the crisp air laced with the faint, earthy scent of autumn. Before long, the willows would be shedding their golden leaves in earnest, and the landscape surrounding it would be barren, a faint shadow of its beauty. She resolved to enjoy this tranquil retreat while it lasted.

It had been far too long since she'd allowed herself even one moment's respite from the relentless demands of her journey. Her limbs felt heavy; each step weighed her down with the dull ache that came from constant motion. As she looked around, her gaze softened, considering where to find a brief rest. The surrounding woods loomed, offering silent reassurance, promising safety, if just for now.

Kirain found a soft patch of grass nestled at the base of a sprawling willow and approached it, her steps measured and cautious. Her gray eyes swept the area, scanning for any signs of danger, before she allowed herself to exhale. The quiet seemed real, unmarred by the rustle of predators or unseen threats. Satisfied, she lowered herself slowly, her weary muscles protesting as they finally succumbed to rest.

With a soft sigh, she settled her body, sinking into the cool, damp earth, her tail tucked around herself, its comforting weight curled close, as if to shield her from the world. She laid her head on her outstretched paws, and looked out at the willows. The long, tender shoots danced rhythmically; the light wind whistling through them was a melody only the forest could create. It was a view, placid and unchanging, which slowly disentangled the knot of thoughts in her mind and hushed her into a seldom occurring moment of respite.

Loathe as he was to disturb another’s peace, Winter’s Wake did not presently realize that he was approaching the temporary bed of an unfamiliar wolf.

He moved in a predatory slink, quiet himself as he touted his latest catch: a plump raccoon that had feasted to excess on this land’s autumnal bounty. The rouge hunted for the perfect spot in which to bask while enjoying his dinner. The atmosphere had turned sharper as the sun continued to sink towards the horizon, and the wind trickled through the trees in a cold hush. It was well sheltered here, and the swaying willows provided a soft, almost musical ambiance that seemed unique to this area.

Because of his fresh quarry between his jaws, he could not smell the resting wolf ahead of him. He would practically tread on them if they did not notice him coming from around their chosen tree…

Under any other circumstances, she would have reacted defensively, wary of the stranger’s intentions and presence. But exhaustion weighed her down, sapping the strength needed for such caution. Instead, she remained low, her wide eyes fixed on the unfamiliar wolf. He appeared oblivious to her presence, his attention consumed by the fresh kill held within his maw.

Kirain couldn’t decide whether she hoped he would pass without noticing her, or if his company might be a welcome relief. Her journey to the willows had been long and lonely, but experience as a loner had taught her to remain vigilant until all threats were ruled out.

“Good evening, stranger,” she said, her voice kind yet laced with caution as her gaze tracked his every movement. She steeled herself, preparing to act if necessary, though her body rebelled against her efforts. Each attempt to tense her muscles sent sharp jolts of pain through her weary frame.

Wake froze at the voice, muzzle snapping in its direction. He was not a wolf easily startled, though his eyes fell wide upon the pale figure, surprised to see another there.

She was a diminutive thing, most of her white as pure snow. Her eyes, sunken with exhaustion, were a color akin to the softest stormclouds, warily regarding him even as she addressed him politely. Her muscles had tensed in readiness, though his hawkish eyes noted the way she trembled with the effort. What a poor, precious, little thing, his blackheart hungered.

The winterwolf dropped his catch and swept his tail up into a wag. Ave, and my apologies. I did not see you there. Wake took a few steps back with the hopes of minimizing the threat his very presence naturally presented. He even left his meal temptingly wide open, should she prove to be a snake herself.

I am Winter’s Wake, he introduced himself with a small incline of his muzzle. Who might you be?

Kirain wasn’t sure what to make of the figure before her. He didn’t appear threatening, but her mind, dulled by exhaustion, struggled to assess him properly. Her muscles finally betrayed her, and she sank helplessly into herself, frustration bubbling up as she cursed her weakened state. The fur along her spine bristled with anxiety as she kept her wary gaze on this Winter’s Wake.

I am Kirain, she murmured, her voice tinged with weariness as the last vestiges of her fight drained away. Come and take your kill. It would be a shame to let it go to waste while it’s still fresh.

She attempted a reassuring smile, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. Her body no longer obeyed her commands, leaving her unsure if she projected the calm she desperately wanted to convey or something far less composed.

With feigned concern, Wake watched her tremulous posture until it crumpled, offering the flightless bird a sympathetic look as she tried to save face. His gaze traced the raised hairs along her spine, then fell upon the smile she had hung with great effort to mask her discomfort. This was no tiny viper, but a pitiable dove.

No matter. Wake was flexible.

Kirain, he repeated softly in that low, low voice of his, warm as steam. Have you eaten? Wake slid down to his belly, physically acquiescing to her anxiety even if he did not verbally call attention to it. I would like to share blood with you, if you are not too full.

With a large forepaw, he dragged the raccoon carcass to his chest and pinched open its still-tender belly with a scalpel’s precision. He lapped up a single mouthful of the innards before rolling it gently in her direction as a tentative offer. And without caring for her actual answer, he scooted forward to nudge the meal more than halfway towards her, before wriggling backwards again to his original distance.

That’s very kind of you, but I must decline, she said, her voice steady despite the tension lingering in her chest. I don’t partake in kills I haven’t earned. Besides, I ate yesterday. Once I’ve rested, I’ll hunt again.

Her nerves remained taut as she kept a careful eye on him. His offer was generous, and it was clear he wasn’t blind to her pitiful state. Despite his kindness, she couldn’t shake the sting of embarrassment that came with being seen so vulnerable.

Once more, she cursed herself for pushing her body beyond its limits. No strength remained within her, not even enough to move, let alone accept his offer, even if she had wanted to. A soft sigh escaped her lips, betraying the frustration simmering beneath the surface. She struggled to maintain the calm facade she had so carefully constructed, though the cracks were beginning to show.

I don’t partake in kills I haven’t earned.

No? The rogue hunter’s brows lifted. Perhaps if you did, you would not be so fatigued. It was said matter-of-factly, without judgement or cruelty. Do you not eat crow food? Wake tipped his head, genuinely curious.

Was it not natural for a lone wolf to take what they could get? He sympathized, certainly, as a man of great arrogance himself — but he was not so prideful as to deny himself a free meal if he shared her current state.

Perhaps his scrutiny and eye contact unsettled her; so he would relieve her of it.

He looked down at his paws, bloodied from wrangling life from the raccoon, and casually began to groom them. Where I am from, it is customary to share blood with strangers to form bonds, the snowfox went on.It is an ill omen for the giver to be rebuffed.

Kirain winced at the blunt truth in her companion’s words. If she had been eating properly, she wouldn’t be in this sorry state, unable to even stand without struggle. Shame washed over her, and she lowered her head, ears flattening against her crown. The stranger wasn’t cruel, merely honest and unexpectedly kind. And yet, his kindness only deepened her embarrassment. Who was she to refuse such generosity?

An ill omen, huh? Well... that won’t do, for either of us. Her voice was soft, almost tentative, as she forced a faint smile. Thank you. Truly.

Feeling small but determined, she willed herself to move closer to the raccoon’s remains. Each effort felt monumental, her frail frame trembling violently with every inch gained. Pain radiated through her body, sharp and unrelenting, her progress slow and laborious. By the time she finally reached the kill, her breaths were shallow and ragged, her chest heaving as though she’d run for miles.

A groan escaped her lips, tinged with both exhaustion and embarrassment. This is not how I expected today to go, she thought bitterly.

After a moment’s pause to steady herself, she leaned down, mirroring the stranger’s actions. She took a small, measured bite of the innards, a gesture of respect both for his offering and the life taken.

His manipulation won out; his false altruism seeded. Though it was true that his folk were generous to outsiders, it was not out of kindness that these things were done but out of necessity. These small acts were meant as lures — a small taste of glory to reel in the rudderless, the faithless, the despondent. Bodies for the cause. Prospective loyalists for his court.

For every being could become a conduit for the Rhythm, and the foundation of every connection was built stronger through beneficence rather than force.

Wake tried not to watch or otherwise interfere as the girl strained to partake in what was freely given. He continued to wash his paws with casual focus, keeping an ear angled towards her in case she spoke.