Wheeling Gull Isle All this sand but only one grain changed me

The sky was growing dimmer and Mal's stomach growled though he was making a point of ignoring it. Now what he should do was to find something edible to bring back to his family, but he was definitely having of of those detached, kind of useless-feeling moments that still lingered. After all, Mal had given up, hadn't he? Not that there'd been much of a choice in the matter by that point, but he'd failed as just about every title he could put on himself and that weighed on his shoulders without much current hope of it leaving.

He was caught up in his own thoughts. Not surprising there either. The time he'd previously spent doing his leadership duties didn't just disappear -- now it had voided into his brain trying to eat itself as he tried to figure out what to do. He didn't know his place in the world any more. So, he had found the most densely forested place that reminded him of home and wove between the trees, trying to partially forget so that he could find his direction again. That or he had to go back to the old standby of forcing a lying smile and hoping that his mood might catch up -- that might be a stretch for now though.

Maegi was headed to bed. She spent most of her time by the surf, desperately gulping down the cool air to keep the nausea at bay. Her den was deeper in the territory, though. She loved her husband, his cozy, soothing presence—but she was also cranky as hell these days, as well as constantly hot and bloated. . .

All that said, she wasn't so keen on curling up beside another warm body to sweat out a sleepless night.

Movement nearby caught her attention, and she froze, unconsciously holding her breath before the mottled form emerged in the dim light. Ah, him. She'd seen his arrival, albeit from a distance, and glimpses here and there had jogged her memory.

I thought you seemed familiar, she greeted him without preamble. She was easy to spot even in low light (a blessing and a curse). Mal, right? It's been some time.

His face was associated with the pungent aroma of the hot springs. Had they met there?

She was hard to visually forget -- even if he couldn't remember the specifics of their conversation, Mal knew that they had talked. It was another thing that had been pruned from memory in order to give space to the dire and dark things that had happened. Had they spoken when one of his children was missing? Before? Time was fluid. Too much bad, not enough good. What did seem obvious was that she was pregnant. It boomeranged back to his own family -- he had just wanted to be happy. Oh god it was spring. What happened then?

He did what he could to not be a jumble. He didn't want to have to explain, especially not with all the thoughts that got brought up in his mind. Too much, and none of it ones he was planning on sharing with her. It has been. Was it.. Maegi? Weren't you staying to the east somewhere? Or south maybe? Maybe. He wasn't expecting to see her either way, and it had been a while. Was it good or bad that more of those he'd met in passing were here? Going over updates about lives sounded painful but he was pretty sure they hadn't gone that in depth...

She gave a nod at her name, smiling gently. Blackfeather Woods, she clarified. And you were leader of a forest, too, right? So now we've both ended up here, away from our homes. Funny how fate seemed to bring wolves together again, even after moons and moons apart. 

What happened? Maegi inquired, her voice wry but not without empathy. If his world and pack had crumbled around him like hers had done, once, he must be in a vulnerable state. She understood all too well the feeling of failure. Luckily, the island was the ideal place to regroup and re-discover one's confidence.

The wraith was suddenly a little breathless, and sat, giving Mal a slightly apologetic look. Pregnancy had always weighed heavy on her slight frame, and she knew it would only get more difficult from here.

A nod. Yep, the forest. But oh, how things had changed. This wasn't how he expected things to be. At all. He wasn't entirely sure if her question was supposed to amuse him, or really be answered in the first place. But honestly, he really didn't want to go over it. So he didn't really say, he shrugged, rolling a shoulder. I'm here now. I can help Hua. He was far less chatty than he had been before. For her, whatever had happened might have been long enough ago that she didn't mind talking about it but right now the best solution to him sounded like not letting anyone else in. It was enough. 

What was left of Mal? Just his family. To be here with Aibreann and Hua and his children. Otherwise he had nothing. He had lost his home, he had lost some of his children. Long ago he had lost his sisters. More recently, other people he'd promised to protect.. Why couldn't he have kept everyone safe and with him?

It was hard to talk about, losing a pack. She nodded, feeling much the same about it. At least Hua gave them a purpose, a way to carry on and leave the burden of failure behind. 

How do you know her? Maegi asked, then added, Or were you familiar with the island first? I stayed here as a child, when it was still called Undersea.

Coelacanth had provided many a lost soul refuge, after all. Mal may well be one of those souls. She arched her back slightly, stretching, relieving (at least momentarily) the constant tug of her growing belly on her spine. She'd have to lie down soon, but for now, she waited for Mal's response, eyes kind but intent.

Mal still avoided saying anything about Maegi's state, but just the same wasn't sure if he should try to. It was all complicated -- hell, life was in general right now. But he also wasn't making any demands of her or anything -- he could do whatever, including just stand there like the awkward doofus he was, apparently, while feeling bad for himself.

His answer was again pretty cliff-note-y, leaving out some of the complexities of their relationship but at the very least covering the broad strokes -- or the ones he knew about at least. There was a thing or two that Hua would probably never tell him so Mal remained ignorant. So he shook his head, Not Undersea. Hua had originally gone around to make alliances with nearby packs, I met her then. And we have children together. They're visiting her sister. He wasn't as excited about that last fact, obviously -- or maybe not-so obviously, considering he was glum about everything. They were safe, sure, but again he'd missed out on being able to spend time with them. Hopefully they'd be back soon. Should he talk about their relationship, and Aibreann? Hua had seemed more shy about the whole thing (which Mal didn't really understand, but he didn't have the same cultural baggage). So maybe not.

Children together—but he didn't describe them as mates. Interesting— Wait, Maegi mused, a sudden thought coming to her. This must be the man that Hua had mentioned, the father of her children. So he had finally come to the island. . .

Maybe Hua would get her wedding in the sacred cavern, after all.

I see, she said, smiling gently. I'm sorry your children aren't here to greet you. I hope for your sake that they'll return soon. He was lucky in that he had living children to pine for—but she didn't say that. It did no good to toss her hurt in his face, however indirectly, while continuing to rub salt in her own wounds.

Instead, she took up a kind but neutral attitude toward the situation. It was better that way. I'm glad you are here, she went on, meaning it. We've had faces come and go. Hopefully you and your wolves will be faces that stick around.

He still needed to figure out what all to say to Hua, how they'd be moving forward now that they were all here together. He wasn't good at this part. Not at all. He at least now got to stay with Aibreann and their pups after the move -- finally with the whole family together -- but he wanted Hua with them too. That was how he wanted things to be at least. Of course, it would take work and learning. He was okay with that.

A slight nod, At least I know they're safe. Unlike the others -- not something he said aloud, but perhaps Maegi would extrapolate on her own. What had happened to all the missing? Were they dead? Would they show up at the forest and find it empty? He didn't want to think about it, moving on. We don't have any other place to go. I had wanted to bring our packs closer together -- but this was not what I'd been thinking. I guess it's easier. In a way. Sort of. If he said the wrong thing, that made it harder, though. But at least if she really was hurting from what happened to Moonspear (even if Mal thought it was more than they deserved), he was here to help her now. How long have you been here?

The answer further compounded her pain, but she said nothing, only giving him a weak smile and a nod in response. His explanation was not unfamiliar. She had done much the same with the remnants of Blackfeather Woods, when it grew obvious they were too weak to last out the winter. Taken them to the mountains—whether they joined her in Diaspora or not.

Several moons now, Maegi said in response to the query. The home my husband and I shared was lost to a fire. And not just the trees, either.

She didn't want to talk about Onyx Hollow, so she addressed his previous sentiments instead. When we spoke last, I was leader of a pack called Blackfeather Woods, she explained, not sure how much he remembered of her. We lost many to the earthquakes—do you remember those? Our numbers were too small to survive on our own. So we left, joined with another pack.

Her eyes met his. Curious; they both held bi-colored gazes, and she wondered whether he might be some wayward Melonii, at least some generations removed. It's not your fault, she continued softly. I blamed myself for a long time—I still do—but you have to do what's right. It's a hard decision, but your wolves will be safer for it.

After all, she and Mou and Elfie had enjoyed a relatively charmed existence in the mountains before they had departed to search for Sakhmet, eventually stumbling upon the Hollow. Failures were ever-present; it was what one made of them afterward that counted.

His ear twitched, an almost-glance towards the mainland as he tried to remember if he'd seen smoke around. He didn't think so, though. So if it wasn't the forest she'd mentioned before, then somewhere else? He wasn't going to ask and dig just based on the fact right now he didn't want anyone digging into his own pain. But at the mention of the earthquakes, he nodded. It felt like it was so long ago. Was it? It felt like a lifetime. Plenty of time and trauma between now and then. Things back then probably seemed so mundane by comparison.

But it was too little too late for some. In other words, good luck convincing him it wasn't his fault in the end. He'd tried, but things never went his way -- too many bad things had happened. He'd let everyone down. How many faces were gone, in one way or another, because of his inaction? Because he tried too long at something that was ultimately futile? And from there, he didn't know what to say. A moment of silence and he continued, with a shake of his head, I'm sorry. I'm bad company these days. I can go. It was that awkwardness -- he didn't want to inflict it on her if she didn't want to deal with it. Aibreann was the one who had to deal with his foul mood the most, and it wasn't fair to her either. This wasn't who he was supposed to be, but he was stuck here.

You think I don't know that? Maegi replied, outwardly calm, but with a slight edge in her tone now. She was a little irritated that despite her words, he continued to push back. Irritated that despite her words, she still felt much the same way. And there was nothing she could say or do that could convince either of them otherwise.

She looked down, ignoring his words about "bad company." Boy, he didn't know the half of it. She was the queen of bad company, and was content to wallow in her own sorrow. He had no exclusive right to wallowing, nor self-hate.

Two of my sons died right under my nose, she explained, her voice gone quiet—but not soft. One crushed by a tree, the other frozen to death out in the cold. And the awful thing is, I couldn't have done anything about it. When Anan—the first one died, I moved the pack away from the forest, to open ground. And then the second one wandered off one night and couldn't stay warm.

Maegi returned her gaze to Mal. It was burning, a heated mixture of anguish, frustration, loathing. No matter what I did or where I went, they were still taken from me, she stated firmly. I couldn't do anything right. I couldn't have done anything right. And neither could've you.

A sharp exhale burst through her nostrils and she fell silent, stewing in her own torrent of thoughts.

But this was a time where Mal didn't want someone to say that it could have been worse -- it sounded too much like she was trying to compete with his own woes. And she didn't know all Mal had been through -- it wasn't what he wanted to hear at all, that she somehow had things worse. His own list was so long it was virtually serpentine. Sisters. Parents. Children. Sisters. A brother. Friends, some lost in ways that were immensely painful because it seemed so unreasonable. And much of it was still raw and fresh. He wasn't in the state to curb his expression, he frowned. If it was just a few, I could believe it. But given just how much it's been -- my life is loss. The list of names keeps growing. It's more than anyone should bear, so how could it be anything but some failing of mine? Or some doom I bring? It's too much. He ended fairly tersely.

Mal had realized he was monopolizing it, it was why he stopped, why he had virtually volunteered to go away. He didn't want to pour out his history. He wanted to be able to forget it -- better if he could fix it, but he knew that was impossible.. It tore at him, he shifted uneasily and started to turn to leave, Have a good day. Maybe the words rang slightly hollow, but he felt like he needed to get away. He'd just make things worse if he lingered. He'd go inflict his bad company on emptiness instead, unless she stopped him. He wouldn't risk losing control of his words. Not now. He didn't need to inflict that on Hua's pack. He couldn't be near people in the state he was in, none of them deserved it.

It seemed that as far as pessimism went, she had competition. She watched him, feeling his words reach out, pry her ribs open, drive themselves deep within her heart. She knew those sentiments all too well. And she'd never be able to get her point across to him, because she couldn't even get it across to herself.

Maegi nodded, wordless as he gave his leave and began to walk away. Her eyes followed his retreating mottled form.

Then, with a sigh, she turned and continued on the path toward Mou. Her husband was a complicated creature, but, Jaes bless him, a quiet one. Language could be so confounding, and she found solace in their wordless connection; nothing need be spoken between them if their eyes could meet and their bodies could touch.

Her pawsteps were the only nearby sound, and soon, there was nothing here to hear but the distant surf.