Moonspear ^___________________________^

The shadows lengthened as twilight laid claim to the wilderness. Treepie reached the lake on the far side of Bramblepoint and stopped to get a drink before she resumed her homeward trek. She crouched beside the water, dipping her snout down to lap at it. When she finished and straightened, she noisily licked the excess from her chops, though she went very silent and still as a strange noise permeated the evening air.

She tilted her head as she glimpsed movement in the darkling sky. Bats, she told herself, though there was only one shape darting and weaving in the darkness. Her yellow eyes tracked it as it came closer, circling overhead before diving toward the lake. That same strange sound vibrated in the air, causing Pie’s ears to sit upright. In her wonder at the peculiar sound, she lost track of the silhouette.

Shrugging to herself, Tiuttuk angled her snout westward and began walking again, aiming toward Moonspear’s outline just past the Altar of Twilight. She halted just pass the latter landmark when she heard that noise again, yellow eyes searching the sky. She gasped and recoiled when something fluttered very close to her face, then screamed a beat later when she felt something scurry across her foot.

She caught a glimpse of a mouse disappearing into the grass, then gazed upward again as her pulse beat in her throat. She saw the shadow flit toward her this time, Pie’s ears flying back as she felt the wind of wing beats pass directly over her head. She jerked her head to follow the bat—no, it was a bird—as it banked hard and finally landed on the rocky outcropping off to her left.

Cautiously, Tiuttuk ventured forward with a squint. It was the queerest bird she’d ever seen, though it was hard to make out too many details in the gathering dusk. Treepie stared at it, wondering how it made that noise. And why had it dropped a rodent on her? It must be a bird of prey of some kind, though that’s where knowledge and mystery collided in her head.

After staring at one another for a while, Pie said, Ummm, I have to get home, and felt a little foolish for speaking to the bird.

It couldn’t understand her, could it? She hesitated, just in case it acknowledged her, though it only turned its head and looked toward Moonspear. Chalking that up as coincidence, Treepie forced her feet to move. Her yellow eyes remained fixed on the avian until the outcropping began falling away behind her.

Finally facing forward, Tiuttuk soon crossed the borders of her village. She didn’t see or hear any further signs of the strange bird as she climbed up to her old ulaq without thinking. Of course, it was full of dirt and stones. Lips pursed, the Regent idly looked around and found her eyes drawn toward the shadowy profile of the den @Pala shared with Ludo and @Ignace.

Drawing in a breath, she walked quietly toward it, uncertain whether it was past the boys’ bedtime.

She had ushered her sons off to bed some time ago, and now Pala was left to think. She still intended to leave, it was just difficult to decide when. Ludovicus was up and moving most days, but Ignace was more content to laze about then den. With how big they were now she wanted them to be able to handle the journey without being carried, but she wanted to go before Ludo got too attached. That wouldn't be fair to him.

Rustling and footsteps outside the den pulled her from deep thought, Pala taking a deep inhale of the surrounding air before sticking her front half outside.

Treepie.

She only stared for the moment, Pala was unsure if there was anything to be said. The two of them hadn't spoken for some time now.

Her ears flattened and she slowed as she came close enough that they might sense her presence lurking beyond the threshold. Before Treepie could announce herself properly, Pala’s head poked out of the den. The Regent sipped in a surprised breath, then offered a smile that faltered when the woman said nothing.

Trying not to think about their last conversation, Tiuttuk offered, Hi, Pala, and then considered asking if now was a good time. But since it was long overdue, she went ahead and said, I’m sorry I haven’t come by as much lately. She wondered if Pala even cared, though she nudged that thought aside too and said, I’ve had a lot on my mind but I didn’t mean to ghost you guys.

There was a lot more she could say, particularly with the memory of Tiki’s angry tears flashing through her mind. But she bit her lip and let the other woman get a word in edgewise, her tail flicking pensively behind her.

There was no poison in Treepie's words, not that Pala had expected such behaviour from her. I'm not upset with you. We all need our space sometimes. Pala knew that better than anyone. Pulling herself the rest of the way from the den, she sat down. I needed to talk to you sooner or later anyways.

There was no avoiding it, but she could try. At least for a while. Do you want to tell me what's been bothering you? She would certainly rather speak about Treepie's feelings over her own.

Pala insisted she wasn’t upset. Pie found some measure of relief in this, though she once more wondered if it was because the villager didn’t particularly care. But then she started asking the Regent about what troubled her, so maybe that wasn’t the case at all. Treepie drew in a breath and quashed the urge to speculate further.

She considered explaining about her grandparents’ deaths and everything else—all of which had quite honestly preoccupied her—but it would feel a bit like an excuse. Tiuttuk folded her haunches and took a seat, sitting up straight and making herself look at Pala.

I’ve been dealing with a lot of different things but… honestly? You shut me down when I tried to get to know you better. I didn’t want to force myself or my friendship upon you, so I left you alone. But I’ve come to realize that wasn’t fair to either one of us or the boys. Maybe you just didn’t feel like talking that day. But it sounds like you want to talk to me tonight, so what’s on your mind?

It wasn't long after what happened at the borders, I wasn't feeling too high-spirited. She answered earnestly. It wasn't because I didn't like you, because I do.

Treepie wanted her to talk, but Pala wasn't so sure she was ready to say anything. Then again, maybe it wasn't that big of a deal. Releasing a breath, she wrapped her tail around herself. I need to leave Moonspear. She said, a frown painting her face moreso than usual. I don't know when, but soon. When I find somewhere to go. Another pack or an empty territory, it didn't matter as long as her children were safe.

Treepie didn’t realize she’d gone stiff until Pala’s next several words relieved the tension. It was so heartening to hear that. She felt much more reassured now and nodded. That made a lot of sense. Pie knew what it was like to be caught in a negative mindset and couldn’t fault the other woman for it.

Then her whole body went even more rigid than before when Pala went on to declare her plans to depart Moonspear. The Regent had not anticipated that and it showed when her head reared back. Her lips parted, though she was at a loss for words as she scrambled to reel in her thoughts.

Wait, what? Why? Pie demanded, her stomach tying itself in a knot as she wondered if she to was blame for this decision.

Alaric. Her answer came blunt, but she soon shook her head. Treepie and him were close, it wouldn't be fair if she did not provide more of an explanation. How he treated me at the borders was a complete disrespect to my character, and I can't tolerate that. It felt silly to say it out loud, but it had taken a long time for Pala to put her feelings first and she wasn't going to stop now.

If he was a regular pack member it could be fine, but Moonspear is his territory, and I can't have Ludo or Ignace raised in an environment where I'm constantly on edge. It wouldn't be fair to them. She could already see that her sons were taking notice and reacting accordingly.

Pala’s blunt response caught her off guard, though her words jogged Treepie’s memory. That scene at the borders had been very contentious. She’d definitely seen a different side of Alaric, though she was completely lost as to what he might’ve said or done to offend Pala, of all people. But that was probably because she’d left the scene to look after her boys.

I wasn’t there, she reminded Pala. What did he say…?

Tiuttuk recalled her own surprise at the Sovereign’s animosity but why on earth would any of it have been directed Pala’s way? Was it possibly a misunderstanding? Could a reconciliation be made? She tried to quiet her thoughts as she intently focused on the next words out of the villager’s mouth.

It didn't feel right to say all this to Treepie, like she was gossiping. Apparently Alaric had the impression that Chaudry had beat me. I never said that, but he blames me for his own assumptions. Was it alright for her to be upset about it? I would never lie about something like that.

Sighing, she shook her head. I know the mature thing is to forgive and forget, but with this I just can't. The pair of them hadn't spoken since it the words were exchanged, and Pala didn't intend to spark up a conversation. Speaking was never something she did well.

Glancing back to the den, she hoped both boys were still asleep.

Treepie realized she had assumed something along the same lines. What else would send a mother and her young pups seeking refuge in an unknown village? She thought back to Pala’s arrival, though she couldn’t recall many details about their exchange at the time. All she remembered was mention of a fight, though no details about whether it had been physical or verbal.

Her own words from moments ago replayed in her head. Part of the reason she’d sought out Pala was to nurture her relationship with an older female. But she had given the real reason at the time: “I want to get to know you better. Especially after what happened at the borders the other day, I realize I don’t really know you or your story in any depth.”

Maybe if Pala hadn’t been so cagey about everything, she and Alaric wouldn’t have made assumptions that proved incorrect. Tiuttuk felt frustration wash through her, especially when the woman doubled down on her intent to depart. She preemptively dismissed any notion of reconciliation and it reminded Pie of how she’d been stonewalled the last time.

You know what, Pala, I think that’s for the best, Pie said, careful to keep her face and tone neutral.

Those who lived in Moonspear should want to be here. They should feel at home, feel safe. If Pala didn’t, Tiuttuk didn’t think arguing with her would do any good. And if she wasn’t open to talking it through with Alaric, then there was no hope at all. It felt like an awful way to repay them for taking her in during her time of need, though was Tiuttuk really surprised?

Everyone bailed in the end.

The slightest change in Pie's demeanour and Pala narrowed her eyes, a habit she had picked up a long time ago. You'll understand when they start treating you like a woman instead of a girl. She spoke, pushing to her feet and retreating into her den. That was the harsh truth, one that Treepie would need to understand eventually; and she would.

She would prepare her sons and plan to leave in the next few days. Pala had stuck around out of worry for them, filling caches and keeping to herself, but she wasn't feeling all that generous anymore. She assured herself that she would be fine on her own; her children were older now, and she could defend against whatever threat came their way. She would allow herself that much confidence.

Her heart sank as Pala ended the conversation. This was probably the last time she’d ever see her… or her sons. Pie couldn’t even make out their silhouettes in the dark. She swallowed a lump in her throat, hesitating to turn away. But she wouldn’t call out to Pala; there was nothing left to say, was there?

Eventually, she turned and plodded away from the den site. Pala’s parting words didn’t make any sense, so she didn’t ponder them for long. Treepie only thought of how much she wished things hadn’t come to this and whether she could’ve done anything differently.

That same strange sound reverberated in the distance. Tiuttuk halted in her tracks, gazing at the dark sky. No, it’s not you, she decided, eyes panning over to behold the waxing crescent moon hovering over the mountain. She then dropped her eyes and shuffled away into the darkness. It’s them. It’s always them.