Moonsong Glacier a dream within a dream

once she'd recovered here, bleeding tongue limp upon the eyes, waiting for death. that day, moonwoman had taken her speech—at least some of it—and what had meant to be a simple raid with Karst had gone belly-up.

she's older, now, and perhaps a little wiser.

and yet, as she stares at the shadow on the horizon that must be moonwoman's mountain (is it still?) she feels much like that girl who'd taken on the world and to hell with the odds. part of her still is. children and responsibility have anchored her somewhat, but her failure in the hinterlands had burrowed deep into her core;

had struck that angry little yearling who just wanted her mother, and nothing much else.

it's misty, and the moon is barely a sliver, but at least the snow's stopped falling. the white expanse lends some semblance of direction and place; she's still in heat, and her lover has all but worn her out on that front.

Avicus relishes the solitude, loping across the empty glacier, her strength finally beginning to return post-illness.

@Glaukos? ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °) set for the night of the 20th

He's made camp somewhere else, by now. The party is over and the bodies dispersed. There is no reason to linger in this place and he knows that his time is almost up — that Germanicus is expecting him and his report sooner, rather than later. He'd gone and found a safe, dry, hidden place for the flower Sialuk had given him; this is a precious gift that he will protect all the way to Mereo.

The soldier has scraped a sleeping place within the shadow of one familiar mountainside, and he looks up at the reaches of moonwoman's hold, expecting to feel -- something. He is not sure what. As his eyes drift down again and he begins to contemplate what to do for dinner - or if he should let sleep take him so that he is rested for his journey in the dawnlight - he senses something has changed. Perhaps it is himself, perhaps it is the very air he breathes; Glaukos doesn't know, but, he cannot rest yet.

As he roams from his camp, he crosses path with a strong scent that is somehow familiar and enticing at once. Without thinking, his path deviates so that he follows the trail all the way to an open expance of ice and stone, where he sees a red figure ricocheting. The movement entices Glaukos further, and he lopes close, hanging back with only the barest reluctance borne of habit.

and just like that, the solitude is broken.

her lips lift in a snarl, and she grows even more wary, picking up her pace, as the figure's scent wafts closer and identifies him as male. a great, burly man, built not unlike Prophet—but less striking, with pelt of various shades of gray—

her pace slackens as he draws closer, his face coming into clearer view, and his smell growing more distinct.

when they were children, they were on equal footing. now, even more than the last time she'd seen him, he looms over her like a mountain, and she a warning, flickering flame at its base.

even from the periphery, she'd know him anywhere.

you, Avicus spits, turning to face him head-on.

He lags on his approach as much from experience as from some misplaced sentimentality, because he knows that particular red shape, even if it has grown and shifted in a way he cannot identify. When she turns and sees him, when she slows, Glaukos feels the whiplash of her stare because he knows it — he knows her.

Avicus. The man drawls in his husky way, almost on cue with her own hiss.
The movement of her body draws his eye, although it is only a moment before he's watching her with more care; there is the deeply-rooted memory of the many lessons she had taught him as a boy. He is no longer a punching bag for her to lord over. He is no longer weak-willed, no longer mindless with his anger or his violence — but he could not be certain of her.

So he is wary, watchful — yearning, but he doesn't know what for.

the moment he says her name, everything comes flooding back: the childhood taunting, the search for him across the mountains, the fiasco at Moonglow.

Kar— she tries—but with the tip of her tongue had gone his proper name, too.

she is flummoxed, and angry, and shifts her paws, unable to meet his direct gaze.

you wi' moonwoman? Avicus asks instead, smelling myriad wolf scents on his pelt. many scents; he's been traveling, and fraternizing, and she can't form a clear pattern.

but they were near enough the territory to ask.

Recognition dawns and so Glaukos tenses, unsure of what to expect from her. From himself, even. They're both adults now and their history together isn't so fresh in his mind, but he cannot help feeling a familiar apprehension when their eyes meet.

Moonwoman? No. His reaction is visceral and sharp, his face a brief contortion of something only Avicus would recognize - loathing, maybe. Mereo. A soldier.

He was far from where he should be. Somehow Glaukos always returned to this place, only this time it was by happenstance — or so he thought. And you — the valley? Had she taken it over? He couldn't tell if she traveled far, as the air was thick with something else.

at least there's that. she relaxes at his firm denial, ears tilting slightly forward to catch the name he offers instead. she's not familiar with it.

it suits him, though; she continues to look him over. it's not as if he's grown from sapling to stalwart oak since they've been apart—but time has erased the weakling she once saw within him. he's big and rugged, having cast aside all hint of inferiority.

frankly, it impresses her.

no, she answers just as sharply, mouth tightening. merrick ihh' deadh. my ma deadh. bearclaw no more.

she supposes it must please him, given what he'd endured in that place.

whahh' you calledh now? Avicus asks. her tail moves, slowly, and there's a warming in her belly that shrieks just as loud a warning to return to Prophet—and soon.

Her father was dead and the valley was empty. This news surprised Glaukos, although he gave little indication besides the flit of his tattered ears, as if a bug were flying close. He is silent. Almost thoughtful, while she asks after his name.

The shifting of her body alerts him to something else, but he has no explanation for the rising hairs on the back of his neck. Glaukos. He states, raising his head as if to attention, with a soldier's bearing. The tension he feels adds a strength to his already bulky body, and he gets closer, drawn to her.

If not the valley, where? He didn't need to know, didn't really want to know — yet he wanted to linger, and this question could keep her from driving him away a little longer. Maybe he would have something worthwhile to report back to Germanicus after all? But the general was the furthest thing from Glaukos' mind right now.

He didn't know what he was thinking, if anything at all.

Glaukos. she can't handle the whole name, not with her mangled speech. Claw, she decides, then sticks out her tongue in illustration—in case he hadn't gotten the point before. moonwomanh, she explains, once she's retracted it. remember?

if not the valley, then where?

thank the gods, whatever they were, for Redtail Rise. without her claim, she might have wandered aimlessly in the aftermath of her parents' death, and of their failure to bring down Nyra.

as it is, now she has a home. a family. a legacy, perhaps.

she turns and points her muzzle northwest. over mountainhh', Avicus replies. Red'hhail. not too far from Ursus, but far enough that the spectre of her father's madness does not haunt her.

maybe he'll visit.

Avicus takes another few steps closer, and they are now within touching distance. she casts her eyes upward, toward his rugged face. old playmate punching bag, now warrior. she's happy for him, oddly enough. 

(well, maybe not so oddly. she'd gone out of her way to rescue him once, after all.)

gladh you are alive, she remarks, without malice.

He had noticed her slurred speech and would not have made any comment (or connection) without that show of her open mouth. Glaukos remembered bits and pieces of his time within Moonglow and vaguely, his rescue. He accepts the name without issue. Tooth or claw, he is always someone's weapon.

Avicus names her home and Glaukos hears it wrong - deems it Redhill in his head - which isn't far from the truth. He grunts an acknowledgement; then is surprised by Avicus' admission. Why should she care he is alive? Maybe because it cost her that tongue, which was quite an investment.

Are you surprised? She hadnt sounded such, but he thought to lighten the mood with his own attempt at humor - dry, serious, and grim.

she meets the question with as much dryness as he'd asked it, raising her ruddy brow at him, face bland but not without humor. yes, of course. how could she have predicted this, from the orphan whelp of the Valley?

he'd been lucky he'd never died at her own fangs, frankly.

Avicus nods, though, and smiles a bit. her tail sways behind her, and continues so as she turns, casting one last glance over her shoulder and adding, goodh luck, Claw.

if he wants her at all—if he's at all keen—she won't stop him. not after a small scuffle, anyway.

it's in his paws.

otherwise, she'll return to her pack and seek out Prophet. both options, in this moment, seem intriguing.

To say he was not tempted was a lie; he was a man, and she was a woman in her prime, and he knew himself to be strong enough to be a viable consort - but, his training forbade him. His adherence to the law of Germanicus, forbade him.

So when she said her piece, and when she chose to depart, he merely gave a nod and a stare after her. Avicus was strong. Her people too, must be strong for her to accept them. He knew these things of her - and trusted she would find exactly what she needed somewhere else.

When he was alone again, Glaukos let his mind wander for a moment and then straightened, and began his march away.