The Sentinels When you come and break my heart, free my blood.

It was good that he knew where to find, her now. It gave Dagfinn no small amount of solace to know that, if he needed to, he could come and visit his sister. But it seemed that having this knowledge tucked away in his pocket had kept him from seeking her; the young male had never gone so long without seeing @Lotte, and it hurt him in a soul-deep way that Amber's betrayal and rejection had not.

Finally, after weeks of travel, Dagfinn arrived at Donnelaith's borders and howled for his sister, long and sweet and low. Already, the wounds littered over his heart were healing. Perhaps it was the forest pack's healing presence, but most probably, it was his close proximity to his most beloved friend.

Without Lotte, nothing ever seemed right. But it was getting there, now.

Snuggling powerplay; I can change it if you have other plans!

Unsurprisingly, Lotte shared Dagfinn’s heartache; it was mirrored within her, its presence betrayed by an uncharacteristic listlessness that dimmed her argent eyes and siphoned away her song. The disappearance of the Bear hurt her deeply, though she would never have admitted it, and she felt more and more with each passing day that the forest could not be her kohtalo after all. She had said nothing at the recent pack meeting, when normally she would have jumped at the chance to immerse herself in the culture of the forest wolves, learning all she could that she might pass this knowledge to her children in song and stories. What is wrong with me? She meandered through the forest, tracing the few memories she’d made with poignant fondness.

A long howl rose then, and it did not so much shatter her miasma as soar up through it, the warmth and light it engendered thawing the chill of inactivity limb by limb. Tipping her head back, she returned his call with one of her own — and just like that, the spell was broken. She approached the territory borders at a walk — then a trot — and then she leapt skyward and broke into an outright sprint that did not cease even after she had her beloved kaksonen in her sights. She slowed enough that she wouldn’t knock him flat and immediately butted her head against his chest and collarbone, starting low and arching upward like a particularly zealous cat. “Kaipasin sinua. Kaipasin sinua niin paljon!”

A shuddering breath eased out of him as Lotte's call answered his own. Until that moment, he hadn't know that he feared for her - or rather, that she would not be there. Even her scent painted along the borders had not been enough to convince him. He needed to hear her voice, see the midnight splashed over her face.

She was upon him almost as soon as he saw her, and a warmth that had nothing to do with her body heat began to flow through his veins once more. Dag felt time slipping away as he was thrust back into the whelping den, attached to his mother's teat with Lotte pressed against his side.

I missed you, she said, and Dag blinked his eyes open to the alien world she called her home.

"Kyllä, se on ollut liian pitkä," he agreed, burying his nose in her fur and breathing in ice and blood - even here, she still smelled like home. "Joskus Mielestäni meidän ei olisi pitänyt jättää kotiin."

Even as he said the words, the knowledge that home was not an icy tundra flowed through him. Lotte was home. Hunting and singing and rabble-rousing with her was home. Even if he went back to Dorthe and Askel's den, it would be just another hole in the ground without his kaksonen's voice to answer his own.

"Minäkin kaipasin sinua."

With the tip of her nose resting at the uppermost tip of the cream star that marked Dagfinn’s chest, Lotte forbore answering her kaksonen immediately. It wasn’t that she disagreed with him — things had been simpler back home, and the two of them had certainly been closer. “Karhu on mennyt,” she intoned quietly, getting her own news out of the way, “ja olen kyllästynyt ja yksinäinen. Mitään ei tapahdu täällä.” She did not speak of Arturo, for her feelings toward the coywolf were confusing and new; selfishly she wanted to keep her thoughts of him wholly to herself. She spoke of the Samhain celebration, and how she’d immediately thought of Dagfinn and Marbas. With a measure of reluctance, she drew back to look searchingly at Dagfinn, though she maintained the physical contact with a simple touch of her paw against his. She felt better when Dagfinn was with her, preferably in touching and gnawing reach, and she couldn’t deny her growing restlessness within the forest walls.

“Mitä olet puuhaillut?” she asked finally, her argent eyes imploring him to tell her of his many adventures, giving her the stories and secrets he had been unable to tell the last time they’d been together. Lotte had caught Dagfinn up with the goings-on in her life; now it was his turn.

Dag felt as though the earth had been swept out from under him at Lotte's admission. "Laerke? Hän on poissa?" he asked, though he needed no answer. His sister had spoken clearly enough, and 'twas true - the scent of the Bear had gone from the forest, just as he'd been worried Lotte's would be. Though fear and saddness warred in his heart, he was also very grateful that it had not been his twin to disappear. "Did he say goodbye?" he asked softly, wondering what could've happened to his stalwart older brother. He'd been so protective of them, but now he left them in a foreign land? Surely, something must be wrong!

But he could not say this to Lotte; he would not speak the worries she surely had in her own heart. It would only give them wings.

"I... loved a woman," he said in response to Lotte's next question. The words were meant to speak of the affection he'd had for Amber, but - he realized, belatedly - sounded a lot like an admission to something else. Something that he'd planned to admit to, anyway, but maybe not as the start of a conversation. "A lot has happened," he admitted, a look passing between them that expressed that not all of it had been good.

“If he said goodbye,” Lotte said a little bitterly, keeping to the beloved language of the Enok Tundra, “he did not say it to me.” It was easier to be angry with the Bear than to be afraid for him, so she kept her anger tightly gripped in the clench of her back molars and the glitter of her argent eyes. Dagfinn would understand — Dagfinn always understood. “I…loved a woman,” the wintry-eyed wolf said hesitantly, and Lotte’s moonbright eyes widened as she gently nosed at him. “Say on,” she urged him, though there was little playfulness in her warm, rich alto. She was serious for once in her short life, subdued by the look that had been silently exchanged between them, and she added: “When you are ready.”

Recognizing the accusation in her tone, Dag simply combed his teeth through his sister's fur, choosing not to speak on the topic. He had nothing bad to say about Laerke; it was not in his nature to hold a grudge or retain bitterness (perhaps why he'd felt so strange during his travel with Amber and Grayday, holding onto his emotions the way he had). Instead, he merely tried to offer what comfort he could, understanding that Lotte was as worried for their brother as he was.

His news, at least, seemed to rouse Lotte from her angry grief. Though he was not exactly eager to pursue the topic, he knew that he'd feel better when he'd gotten it off his chest. Telling things to Lotte always seemed to improve his modd.

"Her name is Amber," he explained, ears flattening in shame as he remembered all that had transpired. "She was in heat, and the scent... lured me." That was enough detail on that front. "And she said that I would be a father. I hunted for her and her pack, I visited her, sang songs to her belly... but one day, she called for me while she was with another male, and she said that he was the real father. She'd been using me as insurance, in case the other male didn't come back."

And that was not all; how he wished that the story had ended there! But no - he had been foolish, had followed after his unfaithful love and her mate. The journey had taken all the wanderlust out of him, it seemed.

"I went with them to the other male's pack, to make sure she made it there safely."

He didn't have the right words to explain what that journey had been like. He wasn't sure how to describe what he felt for Amber, now. It was all too strange, too new. He'd been doing his best not to think about it, in fact.

Lotte responded in kind to her twin’s gentle grooming, keeping utterly silent as Dagfinn spoke. Now and again, a murmur of surprise, sympathy, or interest slipped from her dark lips, but she made no interruption otherwise. Following her winter-eyed littermate’s monologue, there was only silence for a long, thoughtful moment. A very large part of her wanted to rip the throat from the female who had caused Dagfinn such pain — what sort of selfish bitch would tell such a vicious lie, especially to a soul as full of laughter and light as Dagfinn’s? Indignation brewed stormily within Lotte’s argent eyes, but she hid it from her brother, dipping her muzzle to preen comfortingly at the fur of his chest and throat. It wouldn’t do to berate the female, for no matter her transgressions, Dagfinn had treated her as the males of Enok Tundra treated their wives and the future mothers of their children — there was nothing easy about the welter of feelings he must now be experiencing.

For a moment, Lotte found it difficult to speak for fear of that indignation leaking out into her tone and making it brittle and sharp-edged. Sighing softly, “My twin,” she intoned in the language of their beloved home, grooming him as their mother would have, nuzzling firmly at the base of each flattened ear to force them to stand tall and proud. Lotte was sure of one thing: he had nothing to be ashamed of. “You did right by Amber,” she murmured, stamping down the angry little voice that said Amber ought to have done right by Dagfinn, “but your heart must be twisted in knots.” It was Lotte’s nature to speak frankly of emotion the same way she might have spoken of the weather or a great hunt, and she paused as she pressed a soft lick against her twin’s cheek. She did her utmost, but finally she couldn’t hold her tongue anymore: “I don’t like that she used you,” she informed him flatly, stating the obvious. She kept back her death threats, though, which was a miracle in and of itself. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, nosing lovingly at his shoulder.

"I don't like it much, either," he admitted with a harsh sigh. It felt like letting go. "But this too shall pass, no? I am hurt that she has done this thing, but in the end..." What harm had been done, except to his heart? He understood, now, that she feared for her children more ardently than she could ever love a man. He had seen it every day of their journey. And he could blame her until he was blue in the face, but in the end? "It is easier to forgive and forget. Like father said - 'unforgiveness is like taking poison and waiting for the other wolf to die.' And I have never been fond of poison."

By the end of the sentence, his words had shifted from frank to playful, and he gazed fondly at the beloved face that could untwist all his problems without even saying a word. "And what of you, minun Pörröinen Tassut Kuningatar? Have you felled any star-eyed boys lately? What happened to Ar-tur-o?" he asked, teasing now, and fluttering his eyes as he spoke the name of the man she'd named during their last meeting.

Pleased to note that Dagfinn’s heart already seemed considerably lighter, Lotte did her utmost to stow any machinations regarding Amber’s untimely demise. She succeeded — mostly — by focusing on how truly happy she was to have Dagfinn at her side, and by the time he asked his questions, she’d forgotten that she was upset with the Bear and furious with Amber and unhappy in Donnelaith. Sticking her tongue out at her twin’s wheedling query, “Well,” she hedged, feeling a bit guilty that her relationship appeared to only be beginning while her littermate’s had come to an abrupt and painful close, “he said he wants to court me.” Heat simmered beneath her skin at the mention of the Ceannasach’s name. “I told him I want him to court me, but only me, and only if he can accept I already have a soulmate in you.” Nudging pointedly at Dagfinn with a warm and loving look, Lotte drew back and tossed her head somewhat defiantly. “Is heat the same for females as it is for males?” she wondered. “I am not going to make moon eyes at everyone, am I?” Truth be told, the thought of losing control — even to the whims of her own body — frightened Lotte, not that she’d readily admit it. “I want to do only what I wish,” she muttered.

"To court you, eh?" Dag asked, speculation and teasing in his eyes. "Then I shall have to pay him a visit."

He gave her cheek a doting lick as she expressed her fears. There was not much he could say about a woman's heat - he suspected that he knew even less about it than Lotte did - but he did know one thing: "Don't be silly, lumi pusku. You will do exactly as you want to, just like always. So you must tell me: Do you want to make moon eyes at everyone?"

“Leave enough of him for me,” Lotte urged Dagfinn with a hearty laugh, her rich, warm alto dancing to silvery heights. In truth, she did not fear that her winter-eyed kaksonen would meet Arturo with aggression — unless the Ceannasach warranted it — but Lotte could not imagine Arturo ever earning a reprimand from the Laughter. She turned her head at her twin’s doting kiss, her muzzle parting in an attempt to capture the scruff of his cheek playfully between her fangs. She’d settle for an ear, though. Or a leg. Dagfinn was a wonderfully chewable companion. Through a mouthful of fur, “I used to,” she admitted. “I have not since meeting Arturo, but back home I was incorrigible.” She added with pride: “and the soturit wanted to make moon eyes right back!” She eyed her twin’s tail, her eyes brightening at the thought of capturing such a prize — but Dagfinn was fast when he wished to be. Testing him, she reached out a paw in a lackadaisical attempt to pin the appendage to the ground. “Kaunis suupaltti,” she entreated him sweetly, “I’ll trade a song for another story of your adventures.” Clearing her throat, she sang a few bars of Harmaa Talvi — Grayday’s song about dens and digging and snow and ice.

Dag narrowed his eyes as his sister began to sing, commiting the tune to memory. "That is not one of yours," he said blithely, tail twitching unconsciously away from her attempts to entrap it. "Where did you learn it?"

Lotte had surely composed new songs since they'd last met, but Dagfinn knew her style, and this was not it. Not that it was not beautiful and haunting in its own way, but still. Dag knew his sister, knew her voice, knew her heart. This one belonged to someone else.

"I joined a pack in the mountains," he revealed, relenting. "It's led by Saena - she reminds me of our mother - and Warbone. It's a good pack." Not like the last one, he thinks, but doesn't say. Lotte would probably hear it anyway. "Saena and I hunted a doe and were almost killed by the buck that protected her. It was strange. I have never seen deer act in this way before."

Soon enough, his twin would probably be spreading stories of monster-deer throughout the wilds. Dag grinned at the thought, his tail wagging happily. He was glad he'd come to see her.

“No,” Lotte agreed immediately, swiftly disowning the tune. It was not that she would have been ashamed to lay claim to such a fine digging song, but she and her family took great pride in the things they had created. To plagiarize was one of the lowest forms of insult, in Lotte’s lofty opinion. “A wolf named Gray from Silvertip Mountain taught it to me; he hails from a land of snow, as we do.”

She listened with rapt attention as Dagfinn spoke of Saena and Warbone, and a pack walled in by mountains. Her tail whipped eagerly behind her with such fervor that she had to adjust her fluffy butt for greater wagging capabilities, and her moonbright eyes sparkled gaily as she remarked: “it sounds far nicer than Arthendal. I shall have to visit your mountains someday.” Though she’d never lived on or beside one, Lotte loved mountains — the idea of climbing up to share stories and songs with the stars was infinitely appealing to her, as was the physical strain of pitting herself against gravity and stone. “A demon buck,” she suggested, wriggling her eyebrows appealingly as her imagination ran away with her, “driven mad by an ancient curse. When you hunted his female, you severed his last vestiges of sanity. He swore to hunt you always, you and your Saena, but — well, you laid him to rest and put the curse to sleep.”

Nestling close to her twin, “Dagfinn the Vanquisher,” mused Lotte in a deeply contented tone, humming a few preliminary bars. “Saena the — ” Quizzically she caught her tongue between her incisors. “Why does she remind you of mother?” she wondered, not feeling particularly qualified to sing of a female she had never met. If only she could meet the great she-wolf who had won Dagfinn’s fealty!

Dag did not recognize the wolf that Lotte spoke of as being the very one that'd stolen Amber away from him. Grayday was the name of that wolf - or Day, for short - and he came from a place called Easthollow. It was probably best for all parties if no one rectified the misunderstanding.

"Another beau?" Dag teased, but beyond that, made no comment. When asked about Saena, Dag pulled a face, the wagging of his tail belying his true feelings on the topic. "Bossy," he explained, rolling his eyes. "But strong and loving, too. Not as warm or kind as our mother, but she was very mommish."

“No!” Lotte protested, her broad muzzle snaking forth in a playful attempt to catch one of her twin’s paws. It wasn’t that Grayday had been unattractive by any stretch of the imagination, but the rapscallion’s infatuation with Arturo was still very new and it felt traitorous to speak of other beaux — even if they were not actually beaux — so soon after welcoming the Ceannasach’s courtship. She listened to Dagfinn’s description but couldn’t think of an appropriate title for Saena; Saena the Mommish didn’t really have quite the ring she was looking for. She tucked the idea away for a later day, along with the story of Grayday’s revolt against the crows. “I think I will leave this forest after winter,” she mused. “I thought I would find my kohtalo within these sequoias, but there is nothing to do here.”

Dag laughed at her too-quick reply, seeing that, even if he was not exactly right, his jibe had certainly hit close to home. But then, as Dag expertly dodged his wily twin's attacks, the mood seemed to change all at once. The dark male's heart ached to see his sister's listlessness. She was a wolf of action - and had been since she was just a little girl.

"Remember when we would wait for Laerke to come home from battle," Dag sighed, tucking his head against Lotte's plush bossom, "and mother would tell us to go to sleep, but you and I would sneak out and run out into the tundra - so far that we couldn't even see the den mounds anymore?"

It seemed like so long ago, but when Dag thought about it, he realized that it couldn't have been much more than a year's past, if that. But they'd been so young, and the world so large, and when Dag thought of home, he thought of him and Lotte under a blue moon, running until they were out of breath.

"We should be together," he said softly. "Like then."

Lotte hummed, a deep and undulating alto that wove warmly through the spaces between Dagfinn’s words. “I remember,” she said softly. “We haven’t had a good run for far too long.” They hadn’t been together for far too long. Life had taken the twins in different directions, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think of Dagfinn every day — miss Dagfinn every day. “I am pledged to Donnelaith through the winter,” she sighed, forgetting that she’d already mentioned that, “but we are together now.” Bathing his face in kisses, Lotte gently eased away from her kaksonen. “We are together now, and we should run.” She liked the idea so much that she embellished it with meaning it didn’t need: “Away from our obligations and our troubles, away from our fears and away from moldy forests, we should run — come on, Dagfinn, please?” Her restless paws danced beneath her as she nipped teasingly at her twin.

Dagfinn did not even speak before he took his kaksonen up on her plea. They had a constant competition over who was faster, better, stronger, and this time was no different. He raced off, out of her forest and into the field beside it. He knew that Lotte was nearby, probably on his heels and gaining, but he tried to ignore that in favor of going faster.

Eventually, though, their race turned into what it always did: a dance. Neither could best the other, and they remained side-by-side as they streaked through the land, weaving and bounding and leaping around each other as they removed themselves from the land where their problems laid and traveled to a place where only they existed. Only Lotte and Dagfinn.