Bramblepoint The view from halfway down

Attn: @Njord

In a haze of pale mist, something materialized. Formless, shapeless, but golden. Transfixed on the luminescent being, he drifted weightlessly, hovering, as the shape began to evolve. Two amber eyes, almond-shaped and slightly slanted peered at him with what he thought was scrutiny, until the rest of its features appeared. And within the mauzy gold mist appeared two tall ears, a halo of glistening, gilded fur and a muzzle that smiled at him.

Amid his fascination, he first felt a light sense of relief. Whatever this deity was, it was glowing with fondness as it stared at him. It was only when the canine's lips parted to reveal three shining canines that recognition struck him. 

And at first, he was filled with dread. 

"Easy, son. You're not dead." A rippling laugh came from the disembodied, hovering head. It was unsettling to hear her voice again, and to hear that she was once again laughing at him. Gently, though- tenderly, almost. As tender as she'd ever managed to be. Nevertheless, his anxiety continued to rise and he struggled with the vision. He couldn't turn away, couldn't run. And it wasn't that he wanted to flee death- he wanted to escape from his mother's boastful gaze. Her voice swelled. "I'm proud of you, kid," As much as her voice was intended to be a purr, to him, it was a growl. 

No. 

He didn't want to make her proud. He didn't want to be like her- he didn't want to fight, and watch all of the wolves he loved die around him because of his stupid decisions. He didn't want to drive himself to madness and the fact that he was here and seeing her right now made him scream. This was where he was going. This was where he was headed. To live out eternity in a purgatory where his mother gleamed and glowed- a place where those who inflicted pain and suffering on others could exist and smile and mock and-

He screamed as loudly as he could, roaring into the everlasting abyss. It shuddered- and then the image of his mother vanished.

And from the stillness, the shivering mist swirled. He watched with dread, certain the gold tones would emerge and they did but- tinged with amber, brown, and two warm, bourbon eyes. Rose-gold, with gemstone eyes glinting with a faint peach glimmer. He saw a host of wolves- just the bare essence of their appearance, but with all the warmth of love he'd ever felt for them. Colt, Primrose, Wraen, Osiris, Hydra, and a line of others familial and friendly who had watched him grow, proudly. 

He felt sadness creep in, and he realized, then, that he was not ready to join them yet. Nor were they ready to take him in yet. The silvery mist turned to a shade of gold and while he braced for mockery, it was a faint, motherly touch to the top of his head that he felt- a kiss, that pushed him away from the beyond, and back into the world. For once, he didn't recoil from her touch. Perhaps he might forgive her, someday.

The world was hazy, blurry- greens and blues so vivid and bright he had to blink numerous times to clear his vision. He lifted his head only to find the swelling above his eyes caused an ache that resonated through his entire skull. He emitted a soft moan and lay his head back onto the ground, focusing first on his breath as he gazed across the forest floor where it was spattered with blood that had begun to soak into the moss and turn black. 

Moving his eye hurt, but he scanned as far as he could see slowly, realizing then that he could see nothing from the eye that faced the sky. He tilted his head slightly, gently, and licked his lips, feeling his tongue scrape against thick, drying blood and the tatters of tissue on one side. From his temple to his jaw ran four parallel clawmarks, that skipped his neck and continued down over the curve of his shoulder. The side of his face was swollen, filling in the socket where his eye had once been. Along his sides and flanks were more deep clawmarks, but it was the wound to his face that had knocked him out. There was a pinching feeling in the muscles of his neck, torn from the sheer force of the tiger's paw. 

He emitted a soft moan, hoping someone might hear, hoping that the tiger would not come back to finish him off.

A splash of red on the foliage and some orange fur was all that was left of the tiger as it retreated. The sound of rustling leaves faded… and then a hushed quiet, like a solemn church service, fell over Bramblepoint.

Njord’s fighting high quickly drained from his veins. New injuries, that he hadn’t felt upon contact, made his brain buzz in pain. He looked around for his daughter, but there was no sign of her or the pale warrior. Had she run? Had he spirited her away?

Njord, fearing the worst, began to locate Seal’s trail… but the sound of a wounded animal caused his attention to turn.

The fourth wolf, Bronco, was crumbled in a heap looking a bad way. Sunlight caught the side of his face and illuminated its bloody pulp. It was like Deja Vu. Njord hobbled to his aide as his gaze trailed the long, parallel marks the tiger had left upon the warrior’s body.

“Hang in there, son.” Son. A Freudian slip let the word escape. Njord was no doctor, but it was easy to tell that the cedar-colored man might not make it. He quickly began to gather moss. Pressure would need to be applied. An urgent feeling made the redtail’s stomach twist. He wanted to leave and find Seal.

He stiffened when he heard something approaching, though the ringing in his ears persisted alongside the throb of each heartbeat. He lifted his chin to see a grey figure approaching, recognizing him instantly (in spite of how blurry his vision was) by his sea-blue eyes and reddish tail. Blood gurgled in his throat when he inhaled, setting his chin back on the ground. Shock kept his pain dulled, but failed to solve the throbbing in his head. Merely the man's presence reassured him that the tiger was gone, though he had little hopes that he might ever see his home again. At least he wouldn't die alone.

Njord's words took a moment to sink in, and he tried to clear his throat. He coughed faintly, and a trickle of blood ran down his jawline. "Y- not old -nuff. Call me 'son.'" A paper-thin coping mechanism, when he felt fear begin to seep in. He didn't know the stranger, but he smelled of Moonspear, and of Meerkat. Perhaps this was the husband she'd mentioned, the last time he'd seen her- though it had been so long ago that the assumption felt wrong to make. The man gathered something green, something Bronco eventually recognized was moss. 

He thought to request that Njord send word to Brecheliant, as he hadn't the strength to howl- but he felt selfish asking such a thing when the concern should be placed elsewhere. "others?" He asked feebly. Frolic had been here- and the other child, too. How had the white wolf fared, and the coyote that had run away?

Njord quickly worked, with an unpracticed touch, to field dress Bronco’s wounds. A paw atop the moss… some firm pressure… the actions only known to the red-tail from time as a patient, himself.

However, the injuries to the other man’s face were open and severe. Would placing a foreign substance, like moss, help or hinder? As he tried to reach a conclusion, the fallen soldier cracked a joke – something Njord recognized all too well as a distraction from his creeping mortality.

Njord’s wry chuckle entertained the humor. “Och,” Njord retorted with a roughhewn Scottish burr. “If ye pull through this Ah’ll call ye whatever ye fancy,” he promised as he began to tend to Bronco’s face by lightly setting fresh moss. “Chief. Red Skull. Leannan,” Njord jeered to keep the man’s mind off of his pain.

Others? he managed to ask.

“Dinna fash, they all got away,” Njord’s voice fell quiet. It was a half-truth – the fate of his daughter and the white wolf was yet to be seen. He had to trust that she was alright. Certainly, the coyote and pup had managed to get away, too. “Tha cat’s been chased off, bloodied an’ scairt,” he said, assured. "We'll no be seein' him again any time soon." 

Then, Njord sobered and his voice welled with emotion. “T’was my daughter ye helped. Ah cannae thank ye enough.” Without Bronco’s strength, there was no chance that the tiger could have been injured to such a degree. It was likely that Seal, Shard, Njord would have all perished.

His focus racked to the present. Njord looked around. They were alone, but Moonspear’s ally, Brecheliant, was nearby. The man shouldn't, and couldn't, be moved. Njord mumbled to himself before he tipped back his head and howled for aid.

"Stay with me, dinnae fall asleep," he chided. "Tell me yer name."

He noticed then, the accent the stranger had, and amid the ringing in his ears he found the man a bit difficult to understand. The name he provided confused Bronco, who had already forgotten what he might mean by sharing them. He didn't have the strength to ask Njord to clarify what he meant and simply remained silent, holding his breath every time the man pressed something into his wounds or cleaned it with his tongue. His muscles flinched and shuddered, sensitive to the touch where they had been split open and torn apart. 

He breathed a soft, pained sigh of relief to know that the others had escaped. The white wolf had carried the young one away, and the cat (whatever it had been) seemed to be gone. Njord's confidence was reassuring, and Bronco was forced to simply believe him. 

When Njord admitted that that was his daughter, he looked up to eye the man's features with one golden orb. His split brow would have furrowed if it hadn't been torn so much, and given the fact he couldn't show his pain, he sighed again. Here Njord was, tending to him when he should have gone off to make sure his daughter was alright. He supposed Njord felt indebted, and was helping him out as a means of showing his appreciation. Bronco didn't expect it to last long- and he'd already made up his mind that he would rather die alone, and send Njord off to find his daughter, than to keep him away much longer. 

He didn't realize his eyelid had begun to fall when Njord spoke to him again. he'd heard a howl- it must have been Njord, calling for help. His energy had begun to flag, and he felt tempted by sleep, as Njord had suspected. "Bronco." He said. "Brecheliant." Just enough information, he hoped. His breath caught in his throat when he thought to add that he had a family, too. Children who would be waiting him, and a wife who had done nothing but bring him peace in his final days.

Seconds dragged on for eternity as the soldier’s breath became more shallow and ragged with every exhale. Njord prayed that his voice had carried far enough to reach Brecheliant’s ears and that, soon, help would be on the way. For Njord knew he could not linger here much longer… not until he learned that Seal was alive.

But, his name… Bronco. This wasn’t just any old wolf, but Meerkat’s kin. She had once called Bronco her brother, though it had become evident that the Redhawk family network was complicated and nuanced. Even though they might have not been related by blood, they shared a close relationship as siblings would. Meerkat often regaled tales of her early years traveling with Bronco and their life at Moonspear, together.

Plus, Njord knew that Killdeer, one of Moonspear’s own, was his son. Had the child, who escaped with the coyote, been his? This information changed the picture. Laying before him was a beloved father, brother, son, friend, and ally – a man in his prime who did not deserve a death so violent.

Njord’s lips parted as these thoughts dawned over him.

“Stay with me, Bronco, ” he urged in a sharp tone when he saw Bronco’s lid begin to shutter. He clutched one of Bronco's paws between his own. “Help will be here soon.”

Help would come, but Bronco did not believe it would come in time. He could feel his heartbeat becoming slower, quieter. Where it had once thundered in his ears making his head throb, he found himself drifting out of a world of pain, entering a cool, silk housecoat of numbness. Njord prompted him, and he blinked his one eye, and stuck out his tongue to wipe his lips, only to find that his mouth was dry. He couldn't taste the blood on his lips anymore, having become immune to it as the metallic taste had begun to hang on his breath. 

He felt cold, and his body began to shiver lightly. He strained to keep himself conscious, and forced himself to breathe a bit harder just to keep himself awake. It would take too long, he thought, for Eljay to come find him. Bridget had gone long ago, and he had no reason to believe that a medic with a magic touch would materialize out of thin air. 

He couldn't tell if time was passing quickly or slowly. He felt something clasp his paw and looked down to see that Njord was holding it- an unusual gesture that he knew from only two other wolves- Teya and Meerkat. The thought of them made him close his eye, squeezing out a tear. He grieved that he might not see them ever again. "Talk," He choked out. He needed a distraction. "Please."

blood.
blood.
blood.
the scent of — another pack, mingled first with frolic's scent. the ground was stamped and churned, and several trails led off. calling for her children, she told them to run to maia and to eljay, to tell them what had happened. 
heart pounding, teya gleaned what she was able from the ruined earth and dashed off in bronco's direction, tears beginning to well with panic.
she found him torn, another lacerated; she felt the sickening dizziness of fear clutch at her, and fell beside her mate in shaking panic.
"what happened? to both of you?" she asked of the man, leaning her muzzle close to bronco. "eljay can help. only need to get you home."
she was trembling as she reached out, to keep herself close, helping to clean blood from his wounds.

Njord squeezed Bronco’s paw, even as the man’s damaged body began to quake from shock. “Aye,” he breathed. A story, an anecdote, a memory… anything to stave the mind of its pain and bring relief. Naturally, the Sveijarn turned toward family

His tongue whetted his lips. “Ye may not ken me, but Ah’ve heard of you, Bronco,” Njord explained as his gaze rested upon the man’s face, but not his grievous wounds. “My wife, Meerkat, ‘as told me many a tale ‘bout the great man she calls her brother.” A sad smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “We ‘ad two children this year… our second litter. Both possess the beauty of their mother – her sunny character, too.”

He swallowed but continued on with a quiet voice. “These days, we’ve been thinkin’ of movin’ tae Sun Mote Copse... Tis a lush, bonnie place… I bet ye ken it well.” It was the place of his generation’s birth. The place of his and Meerkat’s childhood. “Och, tha wide river… fish jumpin’ from it. An ‘ow sunlight comes through the treetops….” Njord did his best to paint a beautiful, peaceful picture for Bronco.

But then – finally! A Brecheliant woman arrived. Njord prayed that more would soon follow.

Quickly, she drew near Bronco and Njord backed away. The tenderness of her touch alluded to a strong relationship between them. “T’was some kind of… hellcat… the likes of which Ah’ve never seen,” he explained in a grim voice as he measured the life left of the fallen man.

Njord's words danced in his mind like the narration of a dream. The melodic quality of his voice did very little to keep Bronco from drifting off, though the mention of his name caused him to peel his eye open the tiniest bit. His mouth opened slightly when his sister's name was spoken, and he uttered a soft sigh to know that this was the man Meerkat had married. A valiant fighter, a gentle and compassionate companion for the dying, and a handsome one at that. The news of childbirth might have brought him more joy if it had not reminded him that he had three at home who might never see him again. 

Sun Mote Copse; Bronco's first home, where his earliest memories and some of his dearest friends and family still slept. He could picture the way the golden sunlight trickled down through the leaves, making shadows that moved like fish below the surface of a calm brook. He realized he felt a longing for that place, where the air was humid and close, always still. 

He couldn't scent his wife with the swelling in his muzzle and nose, but he knew the sound of her footfalls. His eye widened and he looked up to see her approach with a mix of shame and relief. She mentioned Eljay's name, and moving. Moments ago, he had felt certain he would never move again- but a gentle word from Teya lifted his spirits. He could not give up, if she gave him a request. 

Slowly, he pushed himself up, head still hanging as congealed blood slipped from the deep gouges on his face. He could feel the protest of torn muscles in the back of his neck, strained and sprained from the whiplash, but his back and hips shakily lifted him to the ground once he'd sat up. He wobbled precariously, but like a great mountain placed upon giant rollers, he slowly began to move forward, one step at a time. It pained him to think of the slope of the Caldera, which would surely take more energy than what he had- but every inch he moved forward, he was one inch closer to home. 

His head throbbed, and his mouth was parched. He slowly turned his head as if to speak to Njord, though he hadn't the energy to summon the words. In his heart, he felt incredibly grateful. Every bit of strength now was invested in the perilous journey back to the Caldera.

through njord's accent and the story given, teya gained the great impression that she had come closer to losing her mate than originally thought. she felt herself come apart in the middle of the retelling; she forced herself to focus, to wind bronco close.
"thank you," in a voice gone even softer and more strained as she pulled her mate against her shoulder and tried not to look at the oozing gashes. "i —" and her eyes welled finally with tears, voice breaking, "maybe bronco not be here except for you."
shaking breath and the weight of brecheliant on body that felt as if it truly ached now, teya whispered to bronco and held him, step after step, as they made their way to the caldera and to eljay's medicines, to pain-leaves and a deep, blackened sleep after so much agony.
teya looked back once at njord, wanting to say more and finding no words. she would go to moonspear, the raven decided, someday soon, and repay in full what had been saved.

As the woman wept over her man, Njord was tempted to place a hand upon her quaking shoulder to steady her and permit the fallen wolf a peaceful and quiet death. But then, inexplicably, Bronco began to slowly rise like an ocean tide.

Clots of bloodied moss fell from him. It looked as if he molted a second skin, freeing himself from Death’s firm grasp. Quickly, the woman moved to aide Bronco and support his weight. She exchanged a few words, thanking Njord, but the redtail knew the only one indebted was himself.

“T’was Bronco who saved us,” he managed to inject as the couple turned back towards their homeland. His keen eye surveyed the way they moved together, steady but ramshackle, and whispered a small prayer to himself. “Buidheachas.“ Thank you.

Though his spirit found some comfort, some repentance, that he had done a kindness for the suffering, perhaps dying, Brecheliant man, Njord could not wait a moment longer to look for his daughter. The moment Teya and Bronco became half-obscured by foliage Njord turned and ran to begin tracking Seal’s scent.