Stavanger Bay Listen to Your Heart

All the smoke and ash had yet to clear from her lungs. It made her feel ill, and the day after the fire yielded little improvement for the young wolf. She had cleaned herself as best she could, but still felt miserable. The world as she knew it had been turned upside down. Ingram, luckily, had slipped off before the fire - that much Muses was certain of. She could only hope that the youth whom she cared for so deeply found his way to a place where he felt as though he truly belonged. Although he was a surly little fellow, she did not even once think that he had despised her, and whether or not she was correct in her assumption, she chose to remain blissfully ignorant.

Donnelaith and it's towering trees had not been nearly as lucky. Many parts of the forest had burned to the ground, although some trees were so tall and so thick that their outer shells had merely been scarred, and they remained standing upright and proud. It had not been utterly decimated, but those who remained of the former pack would not return. This was especially true given that their young leader, sweet Deirdre, could be found nowhere. Surely, no one wanted to insist that the worst had happened, yet with grave hearts, it seemed as though everyone had accepted that she would not return.

Foolishly, Muses clung to the smallest thread of hope that it was not true. She wandered from @Doe's side, stubbornly patrolling the sullen shores, her paws dragging through the cold waters of the tide. Up and down the bay she looked, out into the sea, and into adjacent forests. Still, there was no sign of her beloved friend. The stress from all the recent events was overwhelming. Her supply of milk had rapidly begun to deplete, to the point where she feared she would no longer be able to help raise the young as a wet nurse.

Frustrated, exhausted, and otherwise emotionally drained, the pale wolf, her fur still ashy and singed, curled up on the beach, resting her chin on her forepaws as she stared out into the dreary sea.

Doe, too, had been searching for the forest queen. Szymon had seen her leap into the waters, but the Wickedness had not deposited her on their shores, nor on any of the shore that Doe had trekked through in her searching. The forest queen had disappeared completely, and the rest of Donnelaith had gone with her. Only Muses remained, and though Doe was ardently thankful to have found Muses alive and relatively well, it was a hollow sort of victory - especially when she saw the pale woman curled up in the sand, obviously sick of body and spirit.

"We have been weakened more greatly than I thought possible," Doe murmured, coming to lie beside her. It was colder than it'd been all winter, and she had signifigantly less fur than she'd had a few days before. Hopefully, the mountain wolf would not mind sharing her warmth. "The forest has burned, our ranks have been decimated, and the sea... She is angry," the woman said, dipping her head in shame. "I fear for my children," she admitted.

Her ears flicked lazily back as she listened to another wolf approach. The gait of the smaller female was familiar, welcome, despite her forlorn state. She shifted her weight so that she leaned in close, happy to share her warmth and space. While most of the costal wolves seemed to lack a taste for the winter chill, Muses had often found herself longing for the silent deepfreeze that she had grown up with. "I know, Doe, and I am sorry." Her heart was heavy, but her words were sincere. Doe's whole life was within the area. Her mate had lost his brother, and there was no longer an alliance between the two nearby packs. Worse still, she assumed that they would want to move further away from the blight of what had been Donnelaith; somewhere safe, and far away from the rage of potential fires.

"I will do whatever I can to help you. Without Donnelaith, Ingram, or Deirdre, I have nowhere else to go, except for return to the mountains." She sighed, unable to bring her head up to meet the other woman's gaze. Exploring the nearby mountains was a choice, but she did not have the strength to do such a thing. She felt so weak that she was certain that the mountains would break her. "And I'm happy to help you with yours and Skellige's pups-" It was hard not to wince at the mention of the former Leviathan. "But I don't know if I can continue to produce milk." Her ears flattened, two copper triangles pressed against her crown in shame. The stress was taking a noticeable toll on her body.

It was a comfort to be so near to the familiar shewolf. Doe had come to care for her greatly during their time together in the Stone Den. Things had changed, and she was no longer the boon that she had once been, but Doe could not bring herself to feel sorrow, at that. There were worse things than this - her own children could be weaned, now, and meat would supplement the diet of Skellige's brood.

"We'll survive," she assured the other, grooming ash from where it'd fallen on her cheek. A glance up at the sky revealed that it would continue to fall for some time, but that did not mean they had to submit to it. "They grow so fast - soon enough, they won't even need our milk." But they would still need to be taken care of for a while yet. A rush of graditude seemed to chase away the chill hanging in her fur. "I'm glad you're safe, Muses," Doe whispered. "I'm glad you're here with me."

She leaned her head against the other for a moment before rising and stretching her legs. "Will you help me make an offering to the sea?" she asked, hoping that the woman would be willing to serve the Wickedness while she remained with them.

She nodded thoughtfully, basking in the comfort of her companion. Just a year ago, she too had been an awkward proportioned teenager. She had come a long way since then, and not simply because she still smelled so sweetly of milk. "Just because they won't need milk doesn't mean they won't need us." Muses remarked, her tone smooth, comforting. She wondered if Doe would miss the time when her offspring were so small and fragile, fully dependent on her for their survival. "I am thankful that my life was spared, but I do miss Deirdre." Such a sorrowful note lingered in her words that Muses was surprised that she did not simply shatter there and then. Missing someone made her miss the cold of her only love, the mountains, all the more, but she remained tight lipped after that.

Doe's presence was comforting, and she clung to it, allowing it to warm her heart, to fill it with love. She had half a mind to protest when the other stood, but was stopped by her words. "What kind of offering?" It piqued her curiosity enough to encourage her to rise, dirty fur clinging in mats to her frame. The smell of dried milk and soot made her feel ill, but she curled her toes into the sand and steadied herself. No wolves in Donnelaith made offerings, as far as she knew, but the concept was not foreign to her. She had done so as a pup, along with her siblings, parents, and other family members. Once, when she had still been very young, her family had made offerings to her, so that she may not be tricked when speaking the truth, when an outsider male had to be tried for reasons that Muses had not fully understood at the time. Expression solemn, she stuck near to Doe, as if the smaller wolf was all she needed for support.

"My daughter and I used to collect shark teeth on the beach," Doe explained, her heart twisting as she thought of the missing Qilaq. "They are precious to me, because I collected them with her... but they belong to the Sea, and perhaps having them back will appease Her."

She was at loathe to give up these reminders of her lost daughter, but if she was not careful, she could lose so much more. Her Julep, or her Isengrim, or even Szymon. After all, if Skellige had been taken by the wrath of the waves, could not her own husband succumb to them?

"Her anger... it must be saited," the red woman said quietly, as if the waters might hear her if she did not whisper the words.