Want what you can't have.

Prior to the arrival of Velox to their mountains, Dawa had been doubting herself. It wasn't a palpable feeling. Nothing like the sharp pain that accompanied every motion that she made. But it was there, dull, at the base of her skull and deep within her mind. A doubt that festered and grew with each passing day. It was a new feeling and one that Dawa had not been completely aware of; yet now, having been changed by her time in the protected vale, Dawa could sense it. Explaining an emotion to someone who lacked the mental capacity for it was always going to be difficult - perhaps that was why she sought out Tenzin now. With her body wandering out of the makeshift den that had been created for the injured Velox (leaving her to sleep the afternoon away, after a healthy dose of drowsy herbs), Dawa sought out the scent of her best friend. Her steps were more fluid than before, but only barely. Her nose helped to direct her while sweeping little steps helped to gauge the condition of the terrain. When she was passing beneath a grove of pines, Dawa's nose was overcome with the scent of them. She slowed her pace to a weak crawl, then stopped. With a small whine forming in her throat, the woman lifted her head and bayed out - the screeching creature sound that the hybrid was known for - and called for the monk. There were things she wished to discuss with him.

Though gamekeeping was not his duty, the monk kept a mental record of their food stock because it was habit. In Jokhang, monks were primarily counselors and gamekeepers, helping with hunts and food storage. They were also skilled combatants, but not in open combat. Tenzin turned away from the stored meats they had and headed toward the opposite border. As he thought about his time in Jokhang, his face grew cold and stern. Once he had become an apostle, his assassination training began by night while he monk duties stayed relative to the daylight. When he first looked at a wolf he always smiled and greeted them warmly, but in silence he calculated their weak spots. There were some common on all wolves, but some had previous injuries that left scars or limps.

A whine pulled his from his thoughts and he stopped suddenly among the pines. His head lifted curtly and he swiveled his ears. Was that— her call came soon after and he took off quickly, kicking up pine needles that had rested on the ground. She wasn't too far away and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw her, coming to a halt and trying to hide his panicked breath. He was a master of self-control but her whines always sent him on a craze if he hadn't been near her when she first cried out. "Dawa," he breathed, the relief heavy in his voice. "What is it, my dear?" He approached her slowly and hovered just before her, knowing not to move any closer or touch her until she made contact with him first.

There was a pounding upon the earth. At first it was a feeling, perhaps a ghost of a feeling, but it quickly grew until the sensation became a sound, and then a scent. The man arrived and carefully poised himself before her; knowing her well enough, and keeping a certain distance. Dawa was surprised she did not have to wait long - another glimmer of a feeling, suppressed and forgotten a moment later. He was here now and she was once again at ease. When Tenzin spoke her name, she lifted her head and reached with her nose - seeking his scent in earnest, the warmth of his chest and the strands of his fur as they passed over her snout.

Dawa flinched away from the touch, but was soothed by his presence.

"Tenzin," The woman murmured, greeting him as best she could despite the issues with her sight. Her voice still monotonous and seemingly forced, unfeeling, and oh, how she wished there could be warmth there.

"I cannot lead." She informed him next, with the instinctive flattening of her ears; but her voice was speaking fact. Perhaps it would come to a surprise to him. "It has been brought to my attention that... I cannot see," Was that humour? Maybe an attempt. Although her voice was still lacklustre. "I began hunting lessons with Anemone. They did not go well and... She has not returned to teach me more," In all likelihood the woman had grown so busy that her sessions with Dawa had become intermittent; or perhaps she forgot. Either way, it was now brought to the Alpha's attention that someone may in fact be missing.

"I cannot hunt, I cannot see. My body is..." Here Dawa felt the words catch in her throat, and was overwhelmed by a sudden sensation in her chest; hot and spreading up her throat to her face. A stinging in her eyes - a wetness, what was that? Was something wrong? "Inadequate," The woman finally finished, choking out a little word with a squeak. There was no way for Dawa to know that she was crying. The sliding touch of tears against her cheeks stung in a strange new way, a deeper way. Something intangible. "I ask to step down. For the goodness of the Vale."

As the monk watched her approach, his features melted. He wanted nothing more than to have her accept him as a father, as something, but it was never something he'd push upon her. When she flinched away from the touch of his fur, he frowned. Something was ailing her and he could not comfort her. He stared at her sadly, knowing she wouldn't be able to see him, and hoping she wouldn't sense it. She started to speak and he listened carefully. Her flat admittance that she couldn't see brought a chuckle to his throat but he stopped it before it moved into a vocalized snort. He didn't know she was capable of jokes but perhaps he just never talked to her enough to hear them.

He made a mental note to thanks Anemone for her patience and assistance with Dawa. Tenzin felt rather relieved that at least some of the pack members made an effort to communicate with Dawa, even it was for a moment. When his ward started to cry, something within the great monk's body twisted. He reached forward but stopped himself quickly. He couldn't lick the tears from her face. No doubt they'd burn her skin, but adding in his own contact would only make it worse. Instead, he watched her suffer knowing it was only a mental ailment - the one he couldn't cure. It had manifested itself somewhere deep within her, somewhere Tenzin couldn't reach.

Though the monk was the epitome of self-control, he swallowed hard. "You may do as you wish, Dawa," he said finally, softly, "This is your paradise, dear. 'Bruh and I will take care of the wolves who guard it, your only job is to enjoy your life. You have no duties aside from your own clerics." Even then, that was something she loved. It was where she felt most at home, or though Tenzin had always assumed. He only wanted her to be happy.

"You are by no means inadequate," he added confidently. "We simply placed you in a job that was not yours," he continued. "Even I am getting used to being alpha. It is a very big change for us. Do not underestimate yourself," he pleaded quietly, trying to keep his voice as warm as possible despite having to watch her experience tears. He refrained himself again from reaching forward. "Please don't cry," he whispered, "Those tears must burn you."

If the Dragon had come upon them know, Tenzin would be dead. The monk knew that the first thought to cross the beast's mind would be what Tenzin would have done to cause its Llam to cry. The monk's ears rested back and he let out a small whine. "We only want you to be happy, just... don't be afraid to let us know when you need something—anything," he said fondly. "Do you know what rank you'd like to have instead?"

Tenzin listened to her and even granted her some asylum with his own words; calming her, or trying to. It was strange to feel the wetness as it spread down her cheeks. She thought maybe it had started to rain - the soil beneath her held a growing petrichor; but it was the rushing waters of her sadness which had caused this. The girl sniffed, blinking her blank-eyed stare and forcing a few more gobs of her tears out of her eyes. It wasn't until Tenzin told her not to cry that Dawa caught on to what was happening. If he hadn't mentioned it, she would have assumed something strange was going on - but she would not have identified this as crying. Had she ever cried before? Perhaps. Memories of the day that the dragon had slaughtered the clerics were vague now, as harrowing as they had been. The following few weeks afterwards were fogged by healing herbs which Tenzin had supplied, in his rudimentary efforts to correct her wounds.

The woman licked her lips and tasted the salt of her own tears, which was familiar, but that was all.

Another sniff, as her throat caught with sorrow she could not name, and Dawa nodded with careful consideration. "I will take any rank. You know me, Tenzin. I am obedient." Perhaps this was why being a leader had been difficult? Or part of the reason. Giving orders when one felt as insecure as she did - even subconsciously - must have garnered a great deal of anguish for her. "A middle rank would be sufficient. It is up to you now."

Dawa shuffled herself back a step and, with a small breathy sigh, flopped to the earth below. Her chin rested against her toes once she had stretched out her front legs, crooked though they were. As an after-thought the cleric muttered, "I am sorry to be a disappointment." For this place was supposed to be her fresh start, her haven. Logically she expected Tenzin to be just as defeatist about this development as herself, since it had been his goal to find her happiness. Was this failure? In the black-and-white mind of Dawa, yes. But she would not speak of such things aloud, not outright. It was her failure, not his.