Bearclaw Valley never bet the devil your head

stalking and silent, the girl approaches.

she is aflame in a sea of white, dusted by snow, her nostrils streaming from the effort. she fights against the winter gales, pushing ever forward, reaching for the walls of the valley that loom so close. limping, stumbling a little in the drifts. . .but still, still keeping on.

an ugly, ragged gash down her right shoulder, curving into her armpit, tells a story. the fur around it is matted with dried blood and it smells slightly putrid; she might have perished were it not for her speed on her paws (thank you, mother).

the ursine princess had nearly been destroyed by—of course—a bear. had she known there was an epidemic of sorts around these wilds, she would have been more wary. she had lost her way, been driven into the belly of the beast, trapped in the mountains, without food— 

it is time. time to give up the chase, return to bearclaw.

she draws to a halt at the beginning of her family's scent, one forepaw hovering over the border. everything else about her was warmth save for her eyes, cold, hollow, dead. 

Avicus lifts her voice in a hoarse call for her parents, for the healer (the wound pained her greatly and he, after all, had fixed Aventus by some stroke of luck).

she tucks her tail, ears flattened, eyes lowered. she is come home in shame. she has failed.

attn @Merrick @Evien @Astara @Aventus

the air was so cold. it drove merrick back into the ancient trees, for the delicate blueprint of his ears could handle not the tracery of ice that wished to cling to their tips when he was out. he lay now beneath an overhang of rock, staring into the white gloom.
his bloodcub, swallowed in it. his ravenqueen, drunk up as if she were a dark potion.
in his heart he knew they must come back, but as the long days grew drawn, merrick doubted more that it had been his assurance, and less that it had been the confidant of the bear beating inside his ribcage.
he closed his eyes.
and there poured a low and sorrowful dirge, coldly feminine and dismal with shame.
merrick lifted his crown at once, slipped off the edge of the rock and out into the snow, for he knew the voice as certainly as he knew his own.
and eventually his single eye was rewarded with the sight of his red-girl shambling through the snow, taller than merrick remembered, the edge of her scent etched with the sickly-sweet aroma of infection.
merrick said nothing, only sought to curve around his child, pressing their pelts together as he leant them both in the direction of shelter.
but in his body his heart leapt with relief and with dread, and presently his shaking voice cut through the wind: "i was starting to believe i would not see you again."

others feel free to hop in whenever!

her father arrives first. it surprises her, somewhat. she had thought it would be Astara—but no, she is greeted by the bear king. she waits for his anger and doesn't find it. only comfort, words of relief; she is stunned. if he is furious with her, he hides it well.

and she is so ashamed of herself that she cannot relax, give in. Avicus remains stiff in his embrace, and then pulls away after a few moments, making herself even lower under his one-eyed gaze of fire.

i'm sorry, her own expression reads, looking near the ground, at his paws. she is the picture of humiliated submission, quite a sight different from her usual proud mien. she is half-tempted to roll and show her belly, though she will wait to see what he does next. to see who else comes.

where is she? Avicus thinks. all she wants is her mother. she will take a thousand disappointed growls and lashes of the blackbird's silent tongue to be in Astara's presence again.

merrick blinked so that his face became one smooth spread of blackstone as avicus turned her face away from him. her posture apologetic, and he searched the deeper parts of himself to see if he had ever borne her anger.
no, the bearking bid his redcub with a twitch of his torn ears.
while the primal part of merrick was pleased with the fealty of his child, merrick wished she might twist such a respect into its own knife-blade, ready to plunge it between his ribs should he ever betray ursus.
"she went to look for you," the coywolf muttered, eyes narrowed against the fall of flakes. 
she has not yet come back, for it must be always yet and never a sense of finality, for in his breast he knew the blackbird would return to them, and was grounded in it. some ghost of a smile, misplaced and vague. "come back to ursus and wait with me."

"she went to look for you."

her heart sinks along with all her guts, and whatever spirits she has left. Astara is gone. she is not here. and she is not here because she is searching for her wayward daughter. 

mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. the rhythmic beating of fist against chest; the guilt overtakes her and she sways slightly, wanting to press herself against her father's side for balance and yet too ashamed to do so. . .

instead, Avicus nods, her face clearly stricken. they travel further into the territory, snow swirling around them. would it ever stop? she misses the vibrant reds and browns of fall, the perfect camouflage.

she has nowhere to hide, now. not unless she buries herself far beneath the earth,

like a worm. that she could only become the worm as like she felt in this moment.

merrick was not a physician, but he knew the scent of sickness, and it had embedded itself in avicus like a thorn.
the edge of it caught his nostrils, set them to flare. in the snow the bear paused, looked upon her melancholy bearing, attempted to seek her eyes with the single one left to him.
what had happened?
"i will take you to evien," he said, and then paused; tail lashed behind him, and he grew suddenly distrustful, some ugly development the saints had burned into the surface of his brain.
"she will be back." the words unmatching the curious way merrick looked at avicus, before turning and moving forward into a thicker layering of snowladen branches.

she nods again, more emphatically this time. Evien had rescued her brother from the brink of death; surely he could handle a gash? Avicus was no medic and did not know the ramifications of infection. she had cut herself before, and it had healed. it would do so again. . .but she would certainly take the help from their healer.

now the second statement, she isn't so sure.

well, she has to be. they both do. what else could they think? what else could they cling to?

if Astara never returned, she may as well have been struck down by the bear. it would have been what she deserved, for forcing her mother out into the world in search of her wayward daughter.

she lets out a sigh, breath fogging, following her father deeper into the foliage. 

she is more exhausted than she has ever been,

and somehow grows more weary with each step.

she had gone far, his crimson child. her weariness was palpable — merrick was somehow loathe to leave her beneath the skilled eye of the pack's bruin-leaf.
and yet only with evien did such secrets of healing lie.
merrick let his mind spiral out beyond the expanse of ursus. he tried to picture his rook, the proud look of her in the snow, the determination of the burning indigo eyes.
fearsome down to her very step. merrick longed for her swiftly and desperately, was rocked with agony that she had not yet returned.
but he did not wish to destroy the hope in flesh of his flesh, in blood of his blood.
they had come close to evien's den; the bruin-witch paused to turn his gaze over avicus.
"blood flower," nearest the only affectionate thing he had ever spoken, "i will be back for you."

blood flower. 

the sound of it is music to her ears—and she seldom hears or cares for music. she looks at him, the tired dullness of her gaze fading into something like relief, perhaps love. blood flower. she is home.

without Astara, though, it's not truly home. she enters the den, the scent of healing herbs wreathing 'round her nose. it is warm here, sheltered from the snow. it hearkens back to simpler times. 

blind, at her mother's teat. swallowed by comforting darkness.

she lowers herself slowly, every muscle screaming, every abrasion in searing pain. curls into a ruddy ball and tucks her tail over her nose.

sleep comes quickly. there is nothing else left for her to do except sleep. heal. wait.

<3

the bear brought you back.
merrick stood in the doorway of the medicine den.
first aventus had lain here, and now avicus.
their names beat in his blood; he knew the atoms in their marrow and knew his breath belonged to them also.
something backward of the peverse violence of his bond with indra —
his daughter's red fur blurred before his single eye; which he closed with a breath.
in the next wave of wind through the snow, the narrow shoulders of the bearking were disappearing with his thoughtful step.