Arrow Lake setting fire to our insides for fun

she wakes alone, and for a confusing moment believes herself secure within her den inside the Nightwalker's borders. but the fir she curls up beneath is foreign enough to make clear fairly quickly that she is far from the haunted wood. she does not know what has woken her, only that it is late morning, the mountainside shrouded in fog.

she moves to her feet and presses through the heavy snow-laden boughs, realizing too slowly she ought to move silently. immediately, her hackles flare; someone is close. they stand at the lake's edge, heavyset and cast in greys. she does not break eye contact, but the stranger is already turning, moving over the lake at a clip. she would dismiss it were it not for the prickle of unease across her shoulders, an innate wariness. so she watches them go until the stranger is lost to the horizon; even after, Hela remains fixed, not even the nearby scream of an eagle attracting her attention.

She came down to the lake she'd seen from up high, wanting to try fishing again. It had been a while since she'd attempted it, and Maegi thought of Rokig each and every time she did. The solemn gray man was in her head now as she came down to the bank—but it was another grayscale wolf that caught her attention instead, well in the land of the here and now and not just within her thoughts.

Hela, she said, mouth suddenly dry. She drew to a stop, warily looking over the girl. A young woman, actually; she'd grown well since Maegi had last seen her. A testament to both of her handsomely-built parents. If Maegi had been on better ground with her niece, she'd say so.

Alas. . . Are you still with Nightwalkers? Maegi asked, her voice stilted as her legs, gone straight and stiff. Her shoulders held a similar position. The tension between them could be cut with a feather.

her attention snaps back toward the present, and the woman before her, as soon as her name is spoken. hackles flare instinctively, tension almost tangible. but the woman, with her moon-pale pelt and jagged grin, is easily recognizable. "maegi," she greets the woman in turn, deflating somewhat but kept on edge by the tension extruded by the woman.

it had been obvious that the leader had not approved of her decision all those months ago. it was one she had doubted, but not regretted. had she not learned, and had she not been forced to become the warrior she was now? she was content with who she was and what she had learned, and found that she did not hold any animosity towards the once-leader for her disapproval. a nod, and then, "what happened to Blackfeather?" the borders were faded, her old haunt's tainted by interlopers and scavengers. consciously, she forced some looseness into her shoulders, though is unable to dissipate the tension entirely.

Hela was far from the Nightwalkers' claim; Maegi wondered what had brought her here. Alas, it was none of her business. The girl's query was completely unpalatable, but it made sense for her to ask. The older Melonii sucked in a breath, steadying herself and looking just past Hela's shoulder as she spoke.

They are no more, Maegi said, her voice emotionless. Our numbers grew too low, and the pack disbanded. Some of us went to Diaspora just over the rise. She gestured briefly with a shoulder toward the hollow, not moving her gaze at all.

But it shifted, slightly, to rest on her niece's face, and her chest felt tight. How are you? she couldn't help asking. She would always care for Cassiopeia's daughter, even despite the slight the girl had dealt her by choosing her enemy's pack over hers. Their paths had diverged; perhaps it had been inevitable.

she accepts maegi's explanation in silence, though her discontent with the situation is not easy to hide. "there are others there now. loners, pack wolves. they aren't really trespassing, but it's wrong." maegi, she thinks, is the only person who can understand the simmering rage she feels at the thought of strangers walking all over what used to be their home. she'd loved it, and yes, chosen herself to leave it, but that did not mean she could be in any way content with others in it. 

"I'm a warrior now." she answers simply. despite the fact that tension hangs over them still maegi remains one wolves she's grown closest too in her lifetime. thus, she actively seeks to continue the conversation, a rarity for the girl. "what is Diaspora like?"

Her nose wrinkled in a silent snarl as Hela described what the woods had come to. Despite relinquishing her claim, Blackfeather would always be her home. To think that others now trod those hallowed grounds—! It was unthinkable, and would only bring anger; Maegi pushed it aside in favor of the here and now.

For now.

Like your mother, she murmured, smiling, though the ever-familiar bolt of pain seared through her at thought of Cassiopeia. And your father, too, but Hela had barely known Vaati. Hell, she had barely known her brother. She would be proud, and Maegi said this with confidence, in remembrance of her first and forever friend.

She paused to contemplate the question, thinking briefly before responding. It's a home, she responded simply, shrugging. I needed to give the wolves of Blackfeather a better home than what I could give them, and Diaspora was an ally. I'm still getting used to living beneath the mountains, and hunting on unfamiliar ground, but. . . A small sigh escaped her, barely audible over the wind.

Her niece should be with them. Instead, she was a warrior, serving—

Hela, I need to tell you something—something I didn't have the chance to, before, she insisted, straightening as urgency entered her voice. She gave the young woman a gimlet stare, turning the ruined side of her face just barely toward the other wolf. Serem. . .the warrior woman in your pack. She is the one who kidnapped me as a child, who took me to Skullchaser, the man that attacked me and gave me these scars.

She is not to be trusted. Believe me when I say that. Be careful—you have honor, and she has none. Even if Maegi's idea of Hela's honor had all but dissipated when she had chosen to leave. She was of Cass's blood; she must still carry some shred of decency within her!