Swiftcurrent Creek daffodils

she'd thought to try her hand at fishing, a nice enough thought that was quickly abandoned after the first two attempts. it had taken a brisk run to warm her sufficiently, and by the time the sun stood poised on the horizon, prepared to leap and engulf the world in darkness, the huntress found herself at the base of the sunspire. 

it had been a while since she'd walked them, and though duty would summon her back to Easthollow soon enough, the appeal exploring the foothills was too great to shake. after a moment of brief consideration, she adopts an easy trot and begins to make her way up the nearest incline. 

@Bhediya

can we date this for the 14th? trying to get this timeline right

the trip to the emberwood didn't have to be as long as bhediya planned to make it. after descending the mountain, she seperated from kukulkan to have a drink and collect her thoughts. this was her big reveal, the moment wherein she would reveal her secrets; how could she not be afraid?

the seraph lifted her head from the creek and saw a grey figure in the distance. not wanting to seem unfriendly (and needing the distraction), she chuffed to get the stranger's attention.

there is a woman not far ahead; her chuff calls dawn's attention sharply to her. small, dark, but the huntress does not make the connection just yet. she returns the chuff, tail wafting in universal sign for harmlessness. 

she adjusts her course, moving to meet the woman. it is only when she grows near does the woman's identity become apparent. "khoe." her tail halts its wagging, unconsciously, and she stills. she's certainly, guarded, but outwardly neutral. had this meeting occurred one, two years ago, it may have been a different reaction entirely. she'd only seen her father's mate briefly when she'd herded Sunny back, she'd been too caught up with him to allow any time for her. but now—she was not entirely certain how she felt.

the woman appeared to know her by a prior name — morningside, it must have been. bhediya began to list familiar faces (liri, sunspot, heartha) but none of them fit her. she had to think back to her delivery of sunny at easthollow's border to recognize the voice, the missing clue.

dawn? she asked, a smile replacing the one that the girl previously held. she could see the tension in her stance, the apprehensive display. bhediya did not mind. i'm happy to see you.

and there it was, simple. I'm happy to see you. she knew well that attitudes towards others could change, rifts could mend; one had only to think of Siarut. had she been simply an old packmate, family member, the past would have been forgiven in an instant, smile and easy words would have come naturally. 

but she had been a mother, and now she needed to know. "why did you leave, all those years ago?" she asks, neutrally, knowing she won't be able to pull the thought from her mind and finding bluntness to be the best option, here.

dawn was the first of the children to ask why she'd left. for a moment, bhediya was left speechless, but decided that it would be in the best interest of them both to skip the bullshit. sighing, keeping that same smirk, she said, i was young and irresponsible.

it was the truth, which is what she assumed dawn would want. i was immature, she said, but now that i've seen how the kids turned out, i don't regret it. bhediya wasn't ready to be a mom either of the times she'd tried. now, years later, she hoped that that'd changed.

grayday did a better job at raising them than i would have. did dawn have questions? dawn probably had questions. bhe would listen to them and give answers, but she had some things to ask, too! how've you been? she asked, wondering if the conversation would move along.

she is similarly blunt, a fact Dawn appreciates. she nods, accepting the words, though can not stop the brief burn of anger, sharp and sudden like an elastic band snapping back. she understands, knows the pressure that comes with motherhood, and yet—she'd willingly left. 

but she's projecting, and the past is better left to lie. she has questions, but they are the sort that blur the line between outrage at long-gone past wrongs and at herself, aditya. "I'm alright," she says after a moment, motioning backward. "Sunny's been reunited with his children, and he's—he's doing fine." he wasn't getting better, really, so she supposed that was the most she could say on his part. 

"how long have you been back? do you live nearby?" she asks, for this is the second time they've crossed paths in the valley; more than random chance.

bhediya hadn't expected an outburst so she wasn't surprised when it didn't come. just like grayday, she thought to herself. that's good. he was in bad shape when i found him. she wondered if his memories had begun to reappear, or if he was still as sick as before. one could only pray.

i was helping with a pack in the emberwood, she said, looking wearily toward the west, but i'm setting up something new, up in the mountains. it was one of the first times she'd admitted that, yes, this was a pack they were forming. a lot of changes would occur over the next few months; was she ready?

the pack in the emberwood; that is where easy, lavender must be. she wonders how they might have reacted to the return of the woman; she had wounded dawn in her departure, but surely even moreso her own children. the huntress wondered at how she'd react should her long-gone mother return. she would not care, she decides, for that woman who had forced her and sunny into the world had given up her right to motherhood when she'd vanished. 

but her attention is drawn moreso to what the woman plans to do next, her brow cants in interest. "where? the vale?" she'd never been much for mountain living, admittedly, though the vale was a good territory, and seemingly popular, too. and then, "I was thinking of doing the same, to the north. sunny, the kids, me—we could use a fresh start." she admits. she does not believe that her half-siblings vanishing mother is one of the first she would admit her thoughts to aloud, but, she supposes, sharing her intent only makes it all the more real.

there's already a pack in the vale, bhediya said. courtfall hadn't been there for long, but her fondness for andraste made her want to believe it would last. there's a lair, just up this mountain? that's where we'll settle. it was quiet and secluded, far from any dangers to be found on ground level.

she turned to dawn — hm? — with a curious expression. are you planning to take the girls? she asked. lavender and easy would be better off away from uaine gorsedd, far from pygmalion's potential grasp. bhediya might have mentioned mirza, had she known where he'd wandered.

it seemed the vale didn't remain empty for long; she tucked this nugget of information in the rear of her mind, fully intending to act on it later. bhediya planned in settling in lair, this she received only with a nod. she was curious—would it not be claustrophobic? and surely the hunting could not be good—but wouldn't pester the woman with questions. 

"I need to talk to sunny, first, choose a place, but I'll visit them soon," she said, elaborating, "they're welcome to join us, I'd be glad if they did—but I don't want to force them away from the emberwood." ideally, she'd round up all the family she could and cart them north, but her younger siblings had grown into capable adults she could only hope would follow. her brow furrows, slightly, something is nagging at her. "why did you leave there? is it not a good pack?" easy had seemed content, and she'd never heard bad word about the group, but then, she really knew very little about them at all. but should bhediya lead her to believe different, she'd try her very best to cart them north anyways.

bhediya understood dawn's position. the girls had settled fairly recently; offering an invitation was kind, but one wouldn't want to coerce them to move prematurely. good, she said, it would be nice for all of you to be together again. she enjoyed the thought of the siblings striking it out on their own, setting up a family group for their own progeny to flourish in. 

the pack is great, she explained with a fervent nod, but, uh... how honest would she be? her own children hadn't even been given the news yet; would it be wrong to tell dawn? 

bhediya decided that she would tell the truth, but only so much as needed to be shared. my mate, pygmalion, he is a dangerous man — a deep inhale — there was an altercation, and i'm sure he's angry about it. i left the emberwood so that if he does come to find me, whatever occurs won't happen where my children sleep. she liked to think that dying where she could not be found was the easiest solution.

her brow furrows when she mentions a mate gone wrong; a dangerous man roaming the valley. she considers a moment, then asks, "could you give me a description? so I know to look out for him — I could warn you and my sisters if needed." she hardly liked the idea of some revenge-bent maniac wandering around, one that could potentially arrive at her sister's doorstep, and her expression turned somber. 

she thinks a moment, before making the same offer, somewhat, that she planned to make to her sisters. "if you need it, our borders are open to you." she may still harbor some small grudge against the woman for her disappearance all those years ago, but she is her sisters' mother and grayday's mate, once, and so that has to count for something.

plain white coat, bhediya began, amber eyes. he sometimes goes by pyg, too. she stopped visualizing him as quickly as possible. thinking about him often left her feeling weary and drained— this occurence was no different. i have someone on the lookout, she assured dawn, make sure that you're staying safe, too.

the worst thing that any of them could have done was assume their immunity. bhe had learned twice over that no one could tell the future, so it was best to be prepared for anything. i appreciate it. it's too risky with someone following me. i don't want to bring that to your doorstep.

"alright," she agrees, committing the description to memory. she ought to freshen up her fighting skills; it had never been an interest or a strength, but after a few bad encounters, she'd learned it to be a necessity. 

she was right, the huntress considered. they'd only just staked their claim, it would be easier to accept her concerns and keep the trouble far from their doorstep. but had she not staked out her claim with family in mind. "despite everything, khoe, you're still family. you don't have to face this guy alone; we'll accept the risk." there came strength in numbers, too; she only hoped the sisters didn't secretly hate the woman now that she'd offered what she had.

the problem was pygmalion. the pack that housed any of her children — biological or otherwise — had no place as a target for his wrath. bhediya knew that he would have to be eliminated before she could accept because putting them in danger was too much of a risk. 

i'll think about it, she replied. she did not plan to let the offer die, but knew that there were steps to take before she could accept. do you know where in the north you'll be staying? having a general description would make it easier to find them, should the opportunity ever present itself.

she nods, accepting this for now. "near the maplewood," comes her reply. not in it; this is meant to be a fresh start. but familiar lands nearby, proven hunting grounds, are a pro. 

she dips her head, admitting, "I should get back. it'll be a few days still until we set out the way—there are still wolves I need to talk to." 

alright, bhediya replied with a nod, i'll see you soon. it was a promise that she intended to keep, even if soon meant in the next lifetime. 

not wanting to linger for too long, bhe turned to head back up to her lair and consult with empyrea.