Stone Circle Hey, hope this call didn't wake you

Late into the night after the events of this thread

She almost expected to hear silence of the night to be interrupted with more howls. More trouble. More calls for help. Vale looked through the canopy of Prisnálund. Many boughs had already dropped their leaves for the impending winter. In some ways, it seemed to have already arrived.

Breaking the silence herself, Vale crooned low for @Tauris. Selfishly, she cared to know how her friend was doing. Guiltily aware that she herself had not brought herself to the scene.

It’s a crunch of leaf she hears first but no move is made in answer, not until a low voice exhorts her from the deep shadows of Tréheim.

“Vale,” comes a hushed reply as her eyes adjust over her friend. Tauris may have held onto a thousand emotions, but all that she truly felt was nothing at all, and so like a ghost she flickers in and out of actuality within Vale’s presence.

“His children,” she takes a faint step, “I don't know what to tell his children.” Her silver eyes cling to Vale's, glimmering with something like fear.

Tauris's voice drifted to her, hollowed and wavering. Vale's voice died within her throat as her friend met her with a haunted expression. Blood running cold, Vale's mouth slackened. Golden eyes darting between silver. No words leavings her lips as her mind spun.

What do you say to a child when their parent is gravely ill?

Ears splaying, she moved to embrace the nornir, should she allow it. Collecting herself in the breaths that followed, Vale brought herself to answer, I don't know. I really wish I did.

Lump forming in her throat, she swallowed before it could choke her. I think only he knows what can be said.

She leans into Vale, steadied by the firmness of her and the traces of their wilderness from her pelt.

Gunnar would know what to say. They’d known this was coming, that his grey years had slowed him. But Faðir's mind transcends the weather in his age. Tauris had been hopeful for another year- maybe two.

“I thought we’d have more time," weak arms clasps her systir, “they’re so young.”

Gunnar's children hadn't lived even half a year. They weren't even old enough to start with the basics of hunting. They would grow into young adults without him to witness each new milestone. First loves, heartbreaks, any possible children of their own would all be without the Faðir's presence. Would there ever have been enough time to prepare them?

Vale's chin found purchase on Tauris's shoulder. Her voice low, it's unfair. So, terribly unfair. Her arms tightened around the nornir But that's why wolves form packs, right? So we don't deal with a bad hand alone?