Porcupine Ridge ouroboros

It had started as a simple chase, a frenzied pursuit of small game near the edges of the territory. Never would those steps have been taken had he known what lie ahead.

Slipping, stumbling, sending brush and pebbles skittering downwards along with him—into the shadowed abyss of an alpine crevasse, with only the barest sliver of light to be had overhead.

Night came, and then day again.

Hex looked for a path upward and found no trail but descent, into the belly of the mountains. Darker it became, and darker still, a stygian black that seemed to bely the very existence of the sun.

Night came, and day again—but he wouldn't know it.

---

There were ancient things in the tunnels. Pale, rippling indents in the rock, remnants of ribcages of creatures long, long dead. Echoes of the past, a dull, aching whisper through the caverns.

Each step he took fell in harmony with the quiet pit-pat of water upon cold stone.

The shadow boy had never known such emptiness and monotony.

Day to night; day to night. Soon days blended together, and then perhaps weeks.

Moons? Years?!

---

"Witch."

When the hunger pangs ebbed, the spectral figures descended upon him, pale and dancing like morning mist.

Witch,

mage,

Mayfair blight.

The deep-set dread of his birthright, humming in his bones;

Hex did not feel the ground upon which he walked. He did not sense the walls closing in around him. Existence shrank to a singular point upon which he meditated.

If he gave into the ghosts, he knew they would take him away.

Still, they whispered.

---

Who am I?

What am I?

WHY am I?

It was Hex and his ancestors, now, walking alongside him in the endless maze he surmised to be hell. He'd died, falling down that slope; he had no doubt of it.

Now all that remained to be seen was how long this would last.

How long his torture would go on;

And for what?

"The madness," he whispered to himself, breath fogging in the frigid air.

Madness, agreed the spirits.

Hex did not fear hell, for he'd already lived it on Earth. Hell was pain, anguish, abandonment—and here he felt nothing at all.

so where am i now?

---

That singular point? It grew, eventually, into a tiny tongue of flame, and then a starburst of light—

A small opening in the mountain, covered by thorny bushes and dusty, jagged rocks. He pushed through, heedless of the snagging at his pelt, the ungainly slipping of his gait.

Dead man walking. . .onto the northeast edge of the ridge he had once dared to claim.

But that was yesterday—no, hundreds of yesterdays ago.

Today?

He was little more than a pile of unkempt skin and bones as he sagged back upon his haunches, his gold eyes devoid of anything feeling.

@Muskrat @Nutuyikruk

ref and/or joining tag! <3

sacsayhuamán returned.

yana cuchillo returned.

llanthuq'asa called them back as if they had not been gone.

but hex was reduced to little, his shoulders sharp, his head hung low. his spirit looked as if it had been partly torn from his body.

serpent's-eyes, glittering from the gloom claimed by this man, and then muskrat was enveloping him in her strong arms, urging his weakened frame to lie back against her shorter body. "be still," she said roughly, relief sharpening her tone. "here, muskrat. i take care of you."

she sent a high call for @Makono, a small coynote that flickered through the poured shadows. the shadowknife had come back from his dreaming, and eagerly she waited for him to say what he had seen. his eyes. had he wandered? where had he gone? what did it mean for the ridge?

she cradled his head against the sound of her heart and willed swamp panther strength back into his veins, her shark's-teeth glittering. "you have come back."

hex had disappeared along the slopes; she had hunted. but now she saw no marks of teeth upon him, no sign he had been captured. better, then, for she would leave none alive in such a raid for his honor.

Loyal Muskrat, first on the scene. He didn't recognize her at first, staring glassy-eyed at the diminuitive woman before his gaze sharpened slightly into something more coherent. It helped that she spoke in hushed tones, taking him to her breast in comfort.

Home. Home.

Lost inside the mountains, Hex replied in the barest whisper, voice muffled against her pelt. Dark. Spirits. Hungry, he added, and as if on cue, what was left of his stomach chimed in with an audible gurgle.

He attempted to take stock. Muskrat. Golden Eagle? And—

The girl? he asked, and a strange feeling of panic rose in his breast, as if she too had slipped away in the tunnels. He'd lost much down there—but that, he could not bear. She's here?

a galloping horse, a charging bull, the clashing of ram horns.

she saw within the coywolf a special kind of tenderness. the knowing of when to nurture or when to gut. makono wondered if she would ever be able to do that balancing act. yet she saw how the others blossomed for it. the young girl, the sunken shadows of the returned man. all nurtured by the knowing hands and acts of muskrat.

did everyone here love one another?

that she did not know but she found the thought settled heavier than stone in her stomach. how could it be bloodshed that bonded them when none of them had warred together yet? the only thing she could imagine was love.

if it was not blood or love?

well, then she was not sure and that also added to the sense of unsettlement. still she lingered and played witness to it all. felt some sense of detachment that was no one's fault but her own. she felt small embers of warmth as she witnessed the man being cradled by strong warrior arms. jealousy would have once rioted within her but she realized that was not her right.

not here.

i can be on watch or go gather supplies, her voice was for the one who had summoned her. the one who seemed to have held all of them, in one way or another.

there was a power in muskrat that might forever be unmatched by anyone else she would ever know.

maybe it did not need to be love or blood.

maybe there was more in the world than just those things.

"Hex!?"

Was it him?! Was it him?! Nutuyikruk raced through the mountains after hearing a call out for Makono. The urgency, she could feel, and as the voice of a familiar man grew louder and louder, her feet felt the sores beginning to form.

Be him! Be him! Be him!

Running harder, harder, until Makono's figure blossomed into view. Beyond her, the embrace of Muskrat and the shadow man held into a tight hug. Nutuyikruk's heart stuttered in place. It was him! It was him! It was him! "Hex!?"

Breezing beyond Makono and not thinking for even a moment, she cried out desperately for a third time, "Hex!" Tail, borrowing between both legs as the girl squeezed to wrap an arm around his now frail, frail body. Every day in the mans missing, there had been not a word from the girl. Quiet, accepting- accepting that he would not come back, or that the mountains had collapsed down on their shadow leaders body somewhere. Another had been lost. Another would not come back.

Hex came back and she could not breathe from the elation. Overjoyed.

"she here, hex," muskrat murmured, feeling the weight of royal eagle's eyes and turning up her chin now to glance into the knowing of that ageless look. around the shadowknife they gathered, two warming his form while the third stood close in protection.

"keep watch," she said softly, then glanced back to hex. "we make — small peace, with vale. but not trust," muskrat added. "not want viskani to see." she said it aloud; while hex recovered, they would see that he was wrapped in the center of their land.

"hungry spirits, they give dream?" the warrior asked after a moment, still imbued with a deep wanting to know what he had seen inside the mountains' heart.

A golden figure nearby—the Eagle. Muskrat still close. And then—

Nutu, he managed through a vise-tight throat, visibly relaxing as she wriggled into his embrace. It was tight quarters between the two women, but a sensation that couldn't be farther from the tunnels.

Warmth. Safety.

It was everything he had ever hoped to build for himself, and especially for those he loved, and a flood of gratitude suddenly overcame him. Even Muskrat's misunderstanding of his words went without notice; Hex was trembling like a child, lost for words.

Peace. Small trust, the warrioress clarified—but at least a detente with those below. 

Security.

The spirits have delivered me home, he murmured, and allowed himself to fully let down his guard. . .for the first time in a long, long while.

the detachment lingered still, maybe grew some too.

nutu was quick with cries for the shadow man. she watched them being reconnected once more. it was touching, truly. yet it left her with much to consider.

"keep watch,"

she did not need to be told twice. a task gave her something to focus upon, to feel grounded once more. she would go climb, go patrol. she would make sure no visitors interrupted this special scene between the three.

"You're here!" And so was she! And Hex! Not all people deserved tears, but they surely came when the girl's face was wiping then viciously away into the soft fur of his coat. 

Soon, jumping on both legs.

"You're here, you're here!" 

An affectionate, gross, damp nuzzle with a warm smile, a soft nudge, Nutuyikruk was toothy with joy! "I thought we lost you. Tell us all about what happened! Did a bear get you? A cougar?" She gasped, "A lynx!?" And went on many rambles and questions that filled the space away..

The three of them again.

as the eagle departed, muskrat looked down at hex as lynx girl began to question him in her bright voice. "ah, nutu," she said softly, stilling the words for a moment. "come. we bring him to safe place. then i bring meat."

her arms tightened around him for a moment. "can stand?" hex had dragged himself many pieces of time. was his strength gone? then let him rest here. either way, muskrat thought with great amusement, hex would be put to nutu's many inquiries.

idly, the narrow citrus eyes reached toward the shadows where the eagle had been.

One by one, Nutu drilled questions into him. He wearily laughed them off and was utterly grateful when Muskrat hushed her. As much as he loved being back, he wasn't ready to talk just yet. He wasn't sure how well the words would flow.

I can walk, Hex replied. To the rendezvous, at least. He allowed himself to be supported by the wiry woman and limped toward their heartland, eyes slightly downcast.

He would sleep like the dead when he hit the ground again—and would not rouse for several days.