Lost Creek Hollow no time to think, time to sleep now

AW <3 use this pic as reference for the 'view' outside the den -

settling into lost creek hollow had not been without its upheavals: shortly after their arrival, the alpha male that had warmly greeted them had been inexplicably butchered. one member had been half-eaten by the time the pack had gotten wind of the unfolding nightmare, and understandably, a sorrowful gloom settled ostensibly over camp. indra couldn't help but feel maybe, they had brought their bad luck along with them: a terrible guilt sat in the pit of her stomach, and she couldn't be rid of it.

there was a lot to do to take her mind off of the awful thing that had happened, and indra had spent some time looking for a den to distract herself -- and mostly, to stay out of eyesight of any grieving wolf. she hadn't known either of the deceased wolves well, but they were family to terance, and indra knew exactly what kind of expression would be sitting behind the tired eyes of any wolf she dared to meet: it would be grief, raw and absolute, and utterly inescapable.

she wouldn't understand, as an outsider. she would try to, sure, but trying wasn't doing. she knew the loss death inflicted on survivors was incomprehensible; but no matter what, no matter how supportive her words, she wouldn't be able to fill the hole death left when it stole away a beloved life. so, indra avoided her packmates, besieged by some sort of survivor's guilt.

she picked at a piece of bramble that had embedded in a paw, and then stared back at the ugly mess of deadfall in front of her. it was not to far from the river, but the way the river curved away, it had seemed to drag dead trees and branches with it. under that tangled mess of rotted wood and forest discharge there was an old mound, probably a fox den at some point. indra had worried the mouth of the den for the earlier part of the afternoon, and while covered in dirt, had managed a sizeable shift of earth and a new, wider entrance.

she liked the view; the land was flat in front of the deadfall, and then it gently sloped down into a rocky bank: here the river was quieter, softer even as it spilled over smooth stones and ancient ledge -- it would be an easy place to hold a gathering, or house a family.

while indra was busying herself with-- something, he didn't know-- marten was rebuilding ruperts sanctuary. around the corner marten had dug into the soft earth and placed rupert into the hole. the hole was where rupert was more comfortable, he thought marten's breathe stank, and preferred not to be carried around so much. marten assured him that it was only temporary, and that his breath only stank because rupert had peed in his mouth a multitude of times. but rupert was still stubborn. 

marten supposed it was the least he could do. after all, he had taken the toad from his home.

when he'd finished, he padded over to the redleaf woman, pressing his nose to her cheek. he was growing fast, still, but he was not immune to the motherly charm that indra gave off. 

"mama?" marten asked quietly, taking a step back to look at her, "what's wrong?"

funny how it was children — not the more world-savvy adults — who were often the first to notice when something was not quite right. perhaps it was because children approached the world with a wide-seeing naïveté; their eyes might be the eyes of innocence, but they often noticed inconsistencies in the fabric of their world that adults would often rationalize out of mind.

indra gave marten an appreciative smile, her eyes falling to the makeshift den for Rupert. she wondered if the toad was even intelligent— did he, like her children, realize his entire life had just been uprooted?

she bent down, giving sweet marten a gentle lick on his forehead. he was such a sensitive and kind boy (nothing like his parents, thought indra bitterly — but she was wrong — his parents were both tender and kind, in their own way). i am just tired, is all. indra did not want to lie to marten - she remembered how it had destroyed her as a cub when she had discovered her own parents’ dishonesty. she would never do that to her kids. some bad things happened, marten - but i think we will be okay. how are you — and rupert— settling?

not-so-little anymore marten was quiet for a moment. she was tired… but something told him that the word didn’t mean what it usually meant. but he didn’t know exactly what, so marten tried to console her with the familiar meaning of the word. you should sleep, mama, he said, pressing his nose to her shoulder, i’ll watch the den for you— and bring you something to eat. you should sleep. that was how you fixed tired, in marten’s experience.

and then she asked how he and rupert were settling in, and marten scrunched up his nose. we been fighting, he admitted, wiggling a little where he stood— probably out of some sort of emotional turmoil rather than his usual excited wiggle— he was mean on the way over here. but we’ve talked about it, i think we’re okay now. marten and rupert would go through many things together, this was just one small bump in the road. 

i like the trees here, they’re so pretty, he added, tail wagging a bit, they look like you, mama. and they did. autumn had turned them bright shades of warm colors, orange and reds and yellows. and marten, who saw his mother for what she was— wonderful in every way— saw her pretty amber pelt in them.

you should sleep, mama came the soft words of her child: a pragmatic suggestion beyond the scope of marten's limited years. indra's eyelids were heavy and she felt the pull of exhaustion sink under her eyes. it was sage advice and indra would be happy to take it.. but first, she listened to the young apaata detail the troubles of his (in indra's eyes, not-better) other half, who had apparently taken none too kindly to the move.

me neither, rupert indra thought wryly, for while it had been right to leave bearclaw behind, it had not been easy.

at least he was still alive, thought the redleaf quietly - she had seen on more than on occasion an accidental drop, a nudge too hard: that the toad still clung to life was some miracle in the jaded she-wolf's eyes. things for him could be much worse - he could be in the belly of a beast were it not for marten's gentle ministrations and care.

marten had drawn her attention to the trees and for maybe the first time, indra felt the beauty of the hollow settle around them. riotous red and hellish orange tinged the forest, and around them copper and grey trunks gleamed between the brands of fiery color. she smiled at the compliment and reached out to nudge marten: "they're prettier. but i am glad you like it. do you think nuna is settling in okay?"

there, watching her child -- even adoptive -- indra finally felt a semblance of contentment overcome her.. if only all days could be like this...