Redhawk Caldera gembright

head in arms, slumped beside the grave.
when teya raised her head, it was to search for their children, their poor half-grown babes who had just lost their father before the hardest season of their lives.
the raven refused to break beneath grief again.
"what," she breathed out, "do you want to do?"
to @Ponyboy, to @Boris, to @Bronte; "we stay? we go?"
she wanted to leave. but she would not abandon them if brecheliant remained a source of safety and love for her pups.

Teya needn't look far. Young Bronte refused to let the resting place out of her father, for long. She kept a vigilant eye on her brother's too, so they would not go far. She kept close, trying to be a source of comfort for her grieving mother. Huddled near, gilded fur pressed to her tawny flank. Assuring her with just a touch, like the warmth of the suns rays.

But she struggled to hold herself in one piece. Their father was gone. Resting now in the earth, never again to wake up. She still didn't fully comprehend it. She hiccupped, sniffling. Fighting back tears. They'd never see his warm, sweet eyes again! Hear his gentle laugh or his stories. He would never be able to watch his children grow, their futures unfurling before his eyes!

Futures in which he would not be a part of.

Bleary eyes blinking, she looked up at her mother, who posed a question. To all of them. To stay or go? Her head cocked. She sniffled again, confused. "What do you mean? This is our home. It always has been..." Wasn't it? She glanced questioningly at her brothers, hopeful for support. She did not quite grasp what Teya was getting at. Not understanding that she no longer desired to lead.

Death wasn't something he could process very well. He struggled with the notion that he would never get to play with his father again, see him, speak with him, hear him...He was gone, and his body had been buried, never again to rise. He would not grow, nor would he see his children grow. Ponyboy would have preferred that his father had suffered forever, rather than leaving them like this, and it allowed a bit of resentment to grow. Life wasn't fair- his Dad had saved other wolves, and this was what he'd gotten in return. 

His emotions swirled in a mix of anger, guilt, grief and sadness. When his mother asked them if they wanted to leave, his impulse was to say that they should run away from the place and leave every bit of those bad memories behind. But he looked at the grave where his father lay, and somehow...Some part of him felt connected, as though part of his soul had been buried alongside his father, left there to root. 

If they left Brecheliant...They would be leaving Dad behind. 

He didn't want to leave Dad behind. 

Of all the emotions fighting, sadness won, as soon as he realized that above all else, he missed his father. Tears warmed his cheeks, and he avoided eye contact with Bronte as he wiped some moisture from beneath his nose. He felt paralysed, and had no idea what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to go. All he wanted was to have his Dad back again, and he couldn't believe, still, that that would never happen.

bronte spoke. ponyboy did not. teya exhaled and reached an arm to boris. how could she have expected her children to decide this? how could she expect to decide this? bronco was dead and every atom of her body screamed to get away, to run. but that was her response, not theirs.
where would they go? why would she take them from their birthplace — to run? to escape what? her own terror of being left yet again?
reyes' death. sorana's departure. the coolness of bronco's body. teya had replayed them so often she could no longer sleep.
"we will stay," she decided finally, clearing her throat. "but — but if later, you decide you want to leave, tell me. we find a new place, all of us."

She turned her head down to look at the earth. As if seeing deep within, long past the depths where Bronco's body lay, somewhere. Her ears flitted, she gave a small nod.

Mother agreed they would stay. But wanted them, her children to tell her if they ever did want to move. Bronte couldn't predict what the future held for her. Not for anyone. "I will. Promise." Was her quiet answer.

that was then all there was to say.
teya opened her arms for her children, and for a time only held them in silent pursuit of a moment's mental peace.