Moonspear So tell me how to do it; tell me how to love like that.

Glaukos had meant to return to Mereo; that was his intention, after the gathering and after his run-in with Avicus. He had proclaimed to her that he was not loyal to the moonwoman — and he had every intention of following his duty all the way back to the barracks, to give his report, to give over the flowers, and let things play out the way they were meant to. He knew it was not his place to make this choice; he had taken vows, he had no right to anything. Perhaps it was @Avicus’ influence that drew him back towards the mountain — maybe it was the promise of something different from @Sialuk, but even of that Glaukos could not be certain.

He had kept the flowers carefully hidden and well tended. They were beginning to dry out regardless; they weren’t as pristine as when Sialuk had first offered them. If he had departed when he’d intended, and gone the right direction, he would have brought them to @Germanicus and nothing would have been amiss. He had missed that window, though. He had been waylaid by something wordless, and drawn to the shadow of the mountain.

The scent of Sialuk was stronger the higher he climbed. The flowers clutched carefully in his teeth, tired though they appeared; he did not look anywhere but forward, even as more scents began to gather.

*plays whack-a-mole with threads*

The trio now resting, Sialuk took to the upper reaches of the mountain, setting aside time to speak to the ancestors and ask for their guidance. She strained her ears for their whispers, opened her spirit, and let the quiet feelings come to her. The answer they gave was clear: it was a time of transformation, of endings and new beginnings. As for the lost boy, they spoke of his inner strength, his instincts, and his resourcefulness. The raindrop took this to mean he was safe, though perhaps not in company that could support him. She would tell Meerkat when they next spoke.

But something else crawled alongside the spear, and Sialuk thought for a moment it was Raimo again. No, this wolf had undertones of grey, and he was much too large to be the untrustworthy one.

She began to descend to greet the other, and as she drew near, she recognized him—Glaukos! In his mouth, the gift she had given him. Had he returned to explore what might be?

You spoke of that night to the general? she asked, remembering his talk of oaths, of his being a soldier.

She appeared as if she was the mist that wreathed the mountaintop.

Her question was met with the bob of his head down — to place the flowers at his own feet, carefully, — and then as his eyes traced over her face, he shook his head. There was a moment where Glaukos thought he could lie; that he could say he’d been there and back already, and come up with something concrete to say to her, something which would sound Germanicus-esque or close enough that nobody would doubt. Instead he chose to speak the truth: I did not go back.

In doing so, was he a breaker of vows? No. Nothing had yet been broken. Delayed, maybe — but Glaukos upheld the expectations of Mereo. He had learned well, remembering the punishment stone and the toil he’d had to act out the last time. He knew better; yet, he was here.

His tattered ears pulled back across his head as he realized something in the stillness.

I do not know why I came here. His eyes finally shifted away from her. He was glum again, as if waking from a bad dream and finding himself far from his bed.

He handled the gift gently, placing it at his feet. A treasure to him.

"I did not go back."

Sialuk's forehead creased.

"I do not know why I came here."

The corners of her mouth drew downward.

She let the silence settle while she gathered words. Anger was the wrong word for what stirred in her chest. Sialuk did not wish to keep Glaukos from his duties with Mereo, even though his presence here was welcome. She wished to keep her village in good standing with the others.

When the sun rises, I go with you to Mereo. Meet this general; tell him of the new village that comes to Moonspear.

Tonight, you stay? Listen to the mountain, hear what she sings to your spirit.

She appeared... disappointed.

Not knowing what he expected, the downturn of her features made Glaukos question his own motives. He had been honest - he did not know what drew him to the mountain or why he carried these flowers with such care. He also knew he felt something close to ashamed for following his whims.

Sialuk offered him a night to rest upon the mountain. His head lightly tilted off-axis a moment before Glaukos straightened. His posture was low, rather than proud.

I have upset you. That much was clear to him. It had never mattered before; the world and all its people could burn if it meant Glaukos could be warm for the winter - and yet...

He faltered, sank, and Sialuk once again saw his spirit clouded. But she did not want him to feel so!

Glaukos, she said, her voice low and sweet, you do not upset me. Sialuk wished to assure him as much, and she lifted his muzzle with the bridge of her nose. But I wish for you to keep honor. Make good with this general, so that he does not seek you out. So that he does not think unkindly of my—our?—village.

She grinned, pulling away from him. If you upset me, you would have scars across your face! Sialuk flashed her teeth in a facetious snarl and reared up, still dwarfed by his enormous stature.

Honor? What did the girl know of honor or its value? He felt an unknowable emotion spear him sharply enough to make him want to speak, but, he held his tongue and the feeling passed. It would do no good to voice his thoughts in this moment and he buoyed himself on his soldier's training, choosing stoicism until he could trust himself again. Sialuk spoke on behalf of her village — that was all. That was sensible, and Glaukos breathed a little easier as he realized this.

She moved deftly to touch him, to lift his head, and at once Glaukos was too stunned to say anything or to think anything. For that hesitation his penny-brown eyes were wide and almost childish until she made her little threat, and play-snarled, and reared up, and he scoffed to himself. The very idea of little Sialuk doing anything to him — !

But he remembered next, Kukutux, and became again like stone. If there had been mirth at the white wolf's antics it died out with the revival of that particular memory. He was troubled for a moment longer, but relented: I will stay one night. In the morning I will go.

He glanced towards the flowers between them, heavy-hearted that he would need to deliver them to Germanicus rather than keep them for himself.

Good, Sialuk said, even sensing there was something beneath his words. She felt as though there were layers to him she did not—could not—see. Not now. Not without more time.

It would be good to speak with anaa, to hear what words she had of Glaukos. Soon, the raindrop would consult her mother on a great many things. But now, she would return to her ulaq. She would think of Glaukos and the others who whispered to her heart.

Goodnight, Glaukos, she said, touching him gently on the shoulder.