Otter Creek trickle down the spine

dated 10/25 -- maybe @Mahler? or someone else from Diaspora?

Where had things gone so wrong?

That was the question of the century. Really, where hadn't they gone wrong? From the moment of her birth, trouble seemed to follow her. The past few moons, however, had been particularly awful. Children of pestilence, Ramsay's and Mou's departures, Parvati's betrayal, Cass dying, Anansi dying. . .

And now Sakhmet was nowhere to be found. How many more blows before she stopped feeling them?

Maegi stopped for a drink by the creek, pale pelt draped in the shadow of the mountains. It was cold and clear but with rain just on the horizon, ominous clouds rolling in. She lapped at the water, running slower now, interrupted by falling rocks further upstream. Not completely interrupted, as in the woods—but certainly hindered.

She lay down on her belly against the cool earth, a pebble here and there digging into her flesh. She stared down into the water and pressed her nose in, her muzzle, the crown of her head. . .

The Nona surfaced with a small gasp, shuddering at the chill. She shook herself and let the droplets rain from her chin, rippling out in perfect circles upon the surface of the stream. What would it be like to die by drowning? She wondered if it would be peaceful, quiet. She thought maybe that she'd like that, after all the chaos she'd endured.

annaliese had not yet returned, and not for the first time did mahler question how harsh a task he had set for so new a geist. yet he had promised her accolades upon arriving back in diaspora with the information he sought. if she wished it, the foxfire would come back to claim her prize.
he had come across a crushed dam, dragged from its sharp-shattered depths the bodies of two beavers smitten to death and left to be buffeted by the harsh current. one he had placed in a guarded cache, the other he had eaten himself, and felt the coursing of new strength in his great limbs.
he wandered now after the trailing scent of bear, wondering if at the end of it there would be a carcass to scavenge, and found himself upon the edge of an icy creek not far from where a familiar muzzle was flung up, gasping, from the shallows. "have i found you in danger, maegi?" mahler joked dryly, drawing near.

In normal circumstances, perhaps the jest would be better received. Oh, who are we kidding? Maegi couldn't take jokes, not even in the best of times. She whipped her head 'round to glare at him, face still drawn and dripping. You have no idea, she snapped, before thinking better of it.

Shit. He probably was just kidding, but still. . . He had no idea. No one but her had any idea the darkness she found herself mired in as of late.

Sorry, Maegi said half-heartedly, rising slowly to her paws. Her chest sagged in a sigh and she turned to Mahler fully, still looking peeved, but at least a little contrite, now. It's. . .it's just been one thing after another since we last saw each other. That's all. Understatement, that. But no need to go into the gory details yet.

his toying was not well-received; the dancing fire in her mismatched eyes burnt the gargoyle back a step. and yet in the next moment her expression was chased out by the cobwebs of sorrow. "no need for apologies," came the rough bound of his voice.
"i have novhwere to be right now, maegi," mahler ventured a moment later. "i vould listen, if you vant to tell it."  she had no such obligation; they scarcely knew one another, having only met once before. but he was nothing if not a wolf made to listen.

She swallowed, hesitant. Torn between spilling her guts and clamming up completely. It's a lot, she warned, moving a little closer to him, so that she didn't have to pitch her voice too loudly. Her eyes drifted toward the edge of the trees, the ribbon of creek that led into the darkness.

Her home. Except. . .not. Anymore.

My pack moved out to the open because of the shaking. The trees were falling: my childhood friend was crushed, and my— my s-son—

NO! 'NANSI, NO!

a pale, slender tail between her paws

He died, too, Maegi said, her voice flat, or at least striving for it. There was a quaver, though, that grew as she continued. I'm losing wolves left and right. My ranks are dwindling. My co-leader has a broken leg, and now my daughter might be missing—

A sob escaped her tattered maw, cutting off the word vomit. I don't know what to do, she admitted, shaking her head, gaze turned skyward. Everything has gone wrong. I can't seem to fix any of it. I just want it to end. I want it all to stop. She felt some embarrassment having given this sentiment freely to a borderline stranger, but stopping the speech would have required a monumental effort.

An effort she didn't really have in her, right now.

silently the shadowpriest attended maegi and her outpouring, considering what had gone on in diaspora as the young leader spoke.
they all suffered, all found their way cracked or faltering in this new season of violent changes. but while this was a dismal truth, it would not help maegi to be told such.
mahler regarded her thoughtfully for a moment once the stream of words had ended, turning then his eyes upon the creek before them.
"vhen you are in the very midst of things, there are no platitudes to be had. no silver thing upon vich u might look and say 'at least i have this.'" 
his voice grew somber, soft. "it is hard then to see vhat you are doing right, maegi. i will tell you then vhat i see: a young voman who has accomplished just as much as i have in my longer years, and more. blackfeather still stands because of you."
"as for your children, i know the pain of losing young vones, and so i grieve vith you. it is a complete agony. but you have not done them a disservice by continuing."

Miraak. That was who he reminded her of. His words were meant to soothe, to build up her shattered confidence, but the fact that he brought her long-dead uncle back to life made her feel like a girl all over again. Still small, still learning much. It was a feeling that brought her both comfort and frustration, and these emotions warred within her as he continued to speak.

Thank you, she said, not finding words other than those two for a few moments. She paused, and then shook her head. I've had a lot of help. A lot of luck, despite all of the bad things. Still, I can't do anything. I can't scout, I can't fight, I can barely catch fucking rabbits, Maegi spat bitterly, waggling her twisted foreleg. And I can't keep anyone around to stay. Everyone always leaves or dies.

She scoffed, a gusty, pointed sigh, and whipped her head away, ripping her gaze from Mahler and from Blackfeather Woods. I can't protect them like they need to be protected. I can't provide for them. All I have are my prayers and my poisons and fucking Pery—er, Jaes. God. Faith. And whatever teeth and claws and skills God had to give out, they were given to everyone else but me.

Maegi looked at the water, and then to the man, momentarily paralyzed to find Miraak standing there, as if nothing at all had changed over nearly eight seasons. My mother tried to kill me, she said baldly, face gone suddenly stark, emotionless. Maybe it would have been better if she succeeded.

mahler watched maegi in silence as words cut from her muzzle, understanding that they came from a place of great agony. it ended with a bare admission of her mother's intention for murder, and here mahler grew cold. how could such ideas be turned against a child, let alone one that had been grown in the same body? he did not understand, and yet he saw the stamp of such ugliness upon maegi, how it had attributed itself to her current state — or so he thought.
"if you vere not meant to be here, you vould not have such spirit and determination as you have now. she vas wrong," mahler declared. he had not know the bitch, but he had taken a liking to the pale blackfeather before him, and maegi deserved no scorn. "it is all right to be tired, and to veep, and to be angry. these changes have made fools of us all," the man admitted with a low sigh. 
"all ve can be now is adaptable. acceptant." he searched for her bicolored eyes now, seeking, seeking. "are you these things, maegi?"

That spirit and determination he referred to was pretty much just spite; every moment she lived and breathed really served to spite her mother. Still, she indulged his words, even if she didn't quite believe them. At Mahler's question, Maegi was taken a little by surprise—she didn't know the answer.

Because 'adaptable' and 'acceptant' seemed to run counter to everything she was. . .and yet here she was, having endured trial after trial. Alive. Here.

I guess so, she responded after a few moments, shrugging. I don't think of myself that way, but— Yes, maybe you're right. And if he was right, then she would be okay. Things would be better, even if they got worse in the process. (And, unknown to Maegi at this time, they would get worse. And yet, she would go on.)

She shifted her weight uneasily, lost for adequate words. I don't know how to get them through the winter, Maegi admitted, feeling the chill in her bones as she spoke. I don't know if we'll survive it. Are. . .are things better in the mountains? Or is everywhere just completely messed up?

"then you are in good company, maegi. i do not know either," mahler admitted, strangely unashamed in the presence of the blackfeather wolf. she was acceptant, he decided, and therefore safe. no judgement that could be sensed had cropped up between them; their speaking and answers were easy, raw.
"the mountains suffer too. i think that vhat is best is to follow the herds that have left. they flee to easier places. diaspora must do the same." mahler would not tell maegi what was good for her own pack; he only meant to share his own plans, in full awareness that it might cause the complications of more competition.

It was a comfort, somewhat, that he was of the same mindset (or lack thereof). What could be done? The future was unknowable; Maegi couldn't predict if more things would go wrong, if the destruction would continue. All she could do was listen to Mahler's take on the herds and absorb it, even if her brain vehemently warred against the idea of leaving.

You're probably right, she murmured, again looking toward the trees. Her face was troubled, wistful. It would be strange to leave this place. Even in the meadow, the forest is still in sight. It's. . .it's my home. Our home. I can't imagine being anywhere else, not for long.

And, yet, she'd called the island home for some time, although she was eventually pulled back to the woods by forces greater than them all. They would adjust, perhaps, with time. And it would be good to be able to feed themselves through the bitter months.

Maegi glanced at Mahler, mouth taut in a worried frown. Will you stop by here on your way to the herds? she asked. Perhaps Jaes will have told me what to do by then, and we could follow you.

he nodded. the idea of moving was one thing; to be forced out was quite another. and yet mahler believed, perhaps foolishly, in the indomitable spirit of his kind: they would not be sundered, only reformed. he hoped the same for maegi and her kith as well. "i vill," he promised, already relaxing into the tentative idea of the tie he had begun to forge with blackfeather.
forgive me, stigmata
"i vould have no objection to such an escort," the gargoyle murmured, finding some diversion in the idea despite the plight of them both. he would have liked to say more, perhaps on the subject of her children, but found himself silently engrossed by this jaes and what such a notion truly meant for the young woman.

Maegi was glad he was amenable; it was a weight off her shoulders. Jaes only knew how the others would react to such a proposal. . .but now was not the time to be choosy. To be attached. You couldn't be attached to a place when you were dead of starvation.

They could always return—

Thank you, she murmured, for listening. For your words. You. . . She smiled, then, an unexpected curving of lips that transformed her face completely. You remind me of an old mentor—my uncle. He's dead, now, but I think part of his spirit. . .or something like it. . .lives on in you.

Nothing would replace you, Miraak, but if you indeed stand here now: guide my paws. Please.

maegi said then a pleasant thing that caused a glow deep in the cooler recesses of mahler's reticent soul. "i vould be very pleased to be such a reincarnation," the shadowpriest rejoined, putting aside his logical feelings about gods and the like. her face had been transformed from a solemn mask into an animated shifting of features that proved her youth, but it was a polished sort.
what other trials had she undergone in her life? perhaps one day he would know them.
"i think that even if ve leave, the mountains vill always call me. and that is a good thing."

She gave him a smile, albeit a bit watery. She wasn't sure if she believed in reincarnation herself, but there was something of Miraak within the man. Maegi held his gaze for a moment, listening to him speak of the mountains, her expression fading. Her eyes flickered toward the forest, and then back to Mahler.

I think the woods will always call to me as well, she responded, shrugging. Whether that's a good thing or not. . .I don't know. But maybe we'll always return to where we belong.

And speaking of that— I should get back, Maegi said reluctantly, ears swiveling sideways in rueful apology. Thank you again, Mahler. Please pay us a visit on your way toward the herds. It would mean a lot. And likely sway her decision one way or the other. Perhaps she'd know what to do then.

With a dip of her head once he'd replied in turn, she turned to hobble away, padding along the banks of the creek on the road to home (—for now.)

recognizing that the end of their time had come, mahler returned maegi's bow. "i shall. it vill be good to see you again." the scarred princess and her woods of blackfeather; the shadowpriest was bemused by this haunting juxtaposition to his own sort of logic.
a mentor. he did not remember a time where he had been called such, though perhaps the remaining children of diaspora considered him one. or maybe that was his own mere vanity, mahler chided himself, turning away to seek out his wolves.
for some time the fierce pale royal of the haunting weald remained with him, for what reason he did not know, nor care.