Deepwood Weald giggle at a funeral

the quiet of the forest wrapped around Kalyska like a comforting pelt, its stillness a stark contrast to the celebration she had witnessed just hours before. the snow underfoot glittered faintly in the moonlight as she walked, her breath visible in the cold air, a steady rhythm against the silence.

the wedding had been... unlike anything she’d ever seen. warmth and joy had radiated through the gathered wolves, their voices rising in song and laughter, their bonds unmistakable. she could still hear the rhythmic stomps of the dance, still see the way light had caught on frost-dusted fur and the glint of golden eyes.

kalyska paused, her hazel gaze lifting to the sky, where the stars scattered like scattered gems across an endless expanse. the ceremony had been more than an event. It had been a promise—one not bound by duty or expectation, but by choice.

a soft sigh escaped her. how strange it had felt to witness such devotion, untainted by obligation. how beautiful to see love celebrated not as a transaction, but as something shared and nurtured. it was not the way of her old pack, where alliances were forged out of necessity, not desire.

she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cold bite into her skin, grounding her. what would it mean to find a place like that here, to be seen and cherished not for what she could provide but for who she was? the thought was foreign, yet a flicker of warmth stirred within her chest.

turning back toward the distant glow of forneskja’s den, kalyska stepped forward, her heart heavier and lighter all at once. the wedding had been a reflection of possibility—and for the first time in a long while, she let herself wonder if such a future might be her own.

Killdeer had briefly checked in on the festivities, smiling at the reverie, but had departed soon after. It filled him with the joy of loving Amalia—and their future. Courtship, love, babies. . .

He took the long way back, though, entering the weald for a spell before returning to the Moonspear.

Turned out, he was not alone.

Good evening, Killer told the young woman, smiling as he approached. She smelled of Forneskja, but wasn't a face he knew. (Though come to think of it, he had woefully little knowledge of their neighbor pack. Perhaps he ought to get to know them better. . .and with Pie in tow, too, given her ambition.)

He looked up just as she had, toward the twinkling stars, and then returned his gaze to hers. Beautiful night, he remarked. I'm Killdeer, from Moonspear.

kalyska had been paused quietly among the frost-kissed grasses, her hazel gaze tilted skyward. the faint sound of approaching paws had reached her ears long before the greeting, and when the voice finally broke the stillness, she turned her head, studying the stranger with measured curiosity.  

evening, she replied softly, her voice carrying the gentleness of the snow-laden night. her tail brushed the ground behind her as she regarded him—a wolf with a warm presence, a ready smile, and a name that suited his charm.  

beautiful, she murmured, casting a brief glance skyward before meeting his gaze again. i kalyska from forneskja. her lips curved faintly, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

she shifted slightly, her posture open but reserved, as though uncertain how much of herself to offer. stars shine bright, more than usual. must feel joy of watching union. her tone was light, but there was a subtle undercurrent of something deeper—perhaps curiosity, or perhaps the weight of a past she was not yet ready to share.

apologize for the wait!

Kalyska, Killdeer repeated, smiling. Pleasure to meet you.

She spoke of the stars and their perfect view of the ongoing nuptials; he nodded, catching the unspoken weight in her tone but not acknowledging it yet.

Are you related to the lucky guy, or his new mate? he asked. He knew Callyope was kin to Kukutux, but presumably the matriarch had relatives all throughout these lands. There was really no way for him to tell which side this young woman was on.

I don't know much about Forneskja, Killer added. I've been tied up with things on the Moonspear.

kalyska's gaze lingered on the stars for a moment longer before shifting back to killdeer. his ease of conversation was a contrast to the quiet weight that had settled in her chest, but she found it welcome enough.  

no relation, she answered evenly, though there was a small, knowing curve to her lips. just observe. 

the question of forneskja made her pause, considering how best to define a place still unfamiliar to her in many ways. i new to pack. it... different from where have been before, she admitted. but great place of healing and strength. it is something i learning, but it will grow into something lasting. her hazel eyes flickered with curiosity. and moonspear? say you it ties—what does it ask of you?

Different? How so? Killdeer asked, tilting his head. Where did you come from, before?

She asked about Moonspear, and he smiled, rolling one shoulder backward in gesture toward the mountain that loomed—unseen, but still felt—beyond the forest canopy.

I've got a few kids up there that I'm trying to raise, he explained. I promised their mothers I'd be there, even if they weren't necessarily mine by blood.

And there was a possibility that some of them weren't. There would never be a true way of knowing—well, beyond Tikaani and Treepie, whose looks were undeniable—but it didn't matter. 

He claimed them all in his heart regardless.

kalyska listened, her hazel eyes flicking toward the unseen mountain as he spoke of his young. there was something steady in his voice, something warm. It was… different from what she had known.  

you… choose this? she asked, tilting her head slightly. not blood, but still yours?

it was not said with doubt, only curiosity. among her own, bonds were often made by duty, by what was expected. this—choosing to stay, to raise—felt like a thing of the heart.  

she hesitated, then answered his first question. come from far, where once stood many tree now cover in ash. a hard place. a pause. not… kind like here.

He shrugged, nodding. Of course, Killdeer replied. I made a promise to their mothers, and the other fathers aren't here. It's just me. I'm more than happy to stick around.

Once many tree now covered in ash. It sounded like a terrible place, indeed.

How'd you find this place, then? he asked. It's an upgrade, apparently, from what you're used to. He paused, and then went on, smiling, There's a great hunt at the end of summer every year—well, there was last year, and hopefully next year, too. You'll love it. Lots of new faces to meet.

The interconnectedness of the moon-packs was something he found quite appealing; it was like an extended family, and mended—if only slightly—the gaps in his heart left by various absences.