Neverwinter Forest when the stars threw down their spears

threading with myself just for a quick continuity checkpoint pls excuse

The forest was empty, but the stink of strangers was slow to fade. White Elk felt a surge of vindictive pleasure — a feeling he was almost wholly unfamiliar with, and one he quickly pushed away. No, he was devastated. Even now, a full turn of the wheel after last setting eyes on her.

Callyope.

She had been a bright splash of color in an otherwise meaningless, uneventful life.

Bearclaw was married, now, to a man that Elk had never met. That was good. But he'd returned to the wilds to find the girl of his dreams married off, and had now returned again to find her not at all.

"She disappeared," said Valiant.

He'd been drawn to the edge of the hated forest by familiar, mournful cries. He'd always found the other male sort of uppity and pathetic, but he still felt sorry for the guy. In another life, perhaps they would have been family. Instead, Valiant had hardly any family left to speak of.

White Elk swung around to face him, tears streaking messily down his dirty cheeks.

"What?"

"Callyope," he said, his eyes tracing the bedraggled features of the younger man. He felt bad for being the one, once again, to deliver such news. Last time it had been that Callyope was married, and the time before that, that Ariadne was dead. Now, he feared that another sister faced the same fate. "No one's seen her for months. Solharr moved the pack to the quarry."

He's moving on. That remained unspoken, but it was clear from White Elk's expression that he understood — Callyope was not expected to return.

"Her parents died, just a few weeks ago," Valiant went on, his voice heavy, filling in all the tender cracks of the other man's silence. "The pack's in shambles. Vai's still sick. Things've been tough all around. At Moonspear, too."

Valiant sat beside White Elk. They both stared off into the dark woods.

"I'm sorry," Elk said at last, willing himself to awaken from his uncharacteristic stupor. His head turned toward Valiant; the other man seemed surprised by these words, for some reason.

"Your brother had just left, last time we spoke," he explained. "Now all this — I'm sorry. That does sound — tough. It sounds awful."

He did not ask after Valiant's daughters. He sensed danger in the exclusion of their names.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, though he hated himself for speaking such paltry words. He had been feeling that sort of thing a lot, lately. He hated himself, mostly, for the chance at happiness he'd lost himself. And now, for the horrifying possibility —

That Callyope might still be here, if he had been the one to marry her. If he'd abandoned his useless quest to stay by her side. If he'd been the one taking care of her, offering her love and companionship in these cursed woods...

Valiant was annoyed with them both — he had not come here to be comforted, even though the need for it seemed to fill him at all hours. He was silent for a moment, holding back on the cruelest words he could imagine: You've done enough.

He knew that White Elk could not be blamed for these misfortunes. Not even if it would have felt very good to blame someone, anyone but himself.

But even if he knew he could not blame him, he knew just as well that he didn't want to look at the man any longer.

"Go to Moonspear," he instructed. "Feed them."

With that, Valiant picked himself up and, gingerly, began making his way back home.