Dragoncrest Cliffs a hundred stories, a hundred lives

The trip back seems to take longer than the way there but she finds more on her mind than before. She’d gone to the peak to clear her mind and make way for the upcoming war but she’d been thrown a curveball she hadn’t expected to ever see again. As much as she wants to question the past year, something keeps her from doing it. Part of her doesn’t want to know. Nothing urges her to find out. The commanders have gone quiet and by the time she reaches the fringes of Drageda, the morning sun brightening to the sky, and she glances back to see @Hvitserk in tow.

“You have no real place here yet,” she says, remaining in their native tongue before turning away and continuing on. “The edge of this forest borders our claim and it is where you will remain. There is another here, too. Arrille. Prove to me you deserve a second chance and you will be given your spot.”

And lord help him should @Eske decide to seek him out.

Cameo. Feel free to skip.

The bird winged just above the pair, making no effort to hide itself. Wolves rarely took interest in birds, just as birds rarely took interest in wolves - but if they did, what could they do? The bird was in the sky, and the wolves were on the ground. Even when it slept, it was safe and protected.

The bird looked in with open curiosity, landing on a nearby branch and hopping closer as the commander spoke. It had not yet learned the dialect used by this pack, but the situation was clear enough to the bird's learned eyes. The young male was a joiner - one that Heda had known before. One that was not yet fully trusted or forgiven.

But the bird was not interested in the male. Its black eyes burned into the back of Heda's skull, watching.

The journey back had been a quiet one, his brain still trying to work through what had happened the other night. After so long, he’d crossed paths with the Heda, as well as decided to return home with her. Well… sort of. It wasn’t really home just yet, the land entirely different from their previous. He didn’t know anything about it, didn’t know who was still there and who had gone off on their own. Was Portia still around? He had missed her terribly while away, but didn’t dare ask about her status within the pack, unable to risk hearing that she’d left. It seemed unlikely, the more he considered the possibility, but was unable to chance it nevertheless.

Hvitserk listened as she spoke, ears slicked back all the while. He understood why he wasn’t accepted back in with open arms, understood the need to prove himself, but it still felt… odd. Living on the outskirts of the pack, rather than being around everyone else seemed strange to him. Whilst he spent much of his time keeping either to himself or with Freyja as a goufa, that had been entirely by his own choice—it was different with it being an order. Still, he didn’t argue, simply nodded to show his acceptance. “Ai na nou sen klir yu daun... nodotaim,” uttered the yearling, ever so quiet. He would fix things, in due time.

I should mention all italics are her native tongue.

She notes the movement in the corner of her eye as the bird flies through her vision and settles somewhere out of sight. There is a familiarity to it she can’t necessarily pinpoint, knowing she hasn’t seen a bird anymore than normal. Thuringwethil brushes the though off a she returns her attention back to Hvitserk as he offers something pitiful in return. He speaks of his promises, instead of shows her, and she decides she’s as far enough into the territory than she wants him to go. “In a few days, some of us are leaving for Redhawk Caldera, and we are going to war with another pack east of them,” she tells him. Nova Peak gave her no answers but perhaps another warrior. “Rest the next few days. You’re coming with us.”

The news of a war catches his attention more so than previously. Although his training had begun at a young age, an actual war was something that he’d yet to be exposed to. He wondered what might have brought it on, especially since he couldn’t recall a time when the ranks were ever deflated. What group was bold enough to enter a war opposing Drageda? As his questions were internalised, his exterior reflected them as his head slowly tilted to the side, silently asking for a who. It sounded as if they would be fighting alongside Redhawk Caldera—although he was given the impression that he should recognise the name, he had no clue who they were—but who were they fighting against? It was doubtful that he would know about whatever pack or group it was but, still, having their name was important.

“Chit don kom au?” he asked a beat later. Why were they going to war? He would partake in the battle either way—he had to—but felt an answer was worth having.

She finds it easy to talk to Hvitserk, now that she is going. She hasn’t been one for words most of her life but she finds it difficult in her position not to have to talk all the time. And being a mother, too? Especially on her own? Eesh. In return, and she suspects it is going to be shortlived—something she doesn’t mind—Hvitserk has spoken more in the last twelve hours than he likely has at all and that’s including the entirely silent way back.

“A wolf from Blackfeather Wolves kidnapped Wildfire, among other things to other wolves in the wilds,” she says, this time her voice strains a little. Hopefully, she doesn’t have to elaborate anymore and that trauma her mate has gone through and be gathered enough. She does not like talking about it, especially with wolves that are not part of Drageda, but Hvitserk is still like family in some weird way she’s supposed to have forgotten. She’ll get a mixed bag of reactions from the rest of Drageda by letting him return but he’ll prove it once more. “She is recovering in Redhawk Caldera with her birth family.” She doesn’t like it but she’d made the mistake leaving her in the first place that she’s inevitably prolonged her return.

Just as suspected, he didn’t recognise the name of the offending pack. He was curious about how they had successfully kidnapped the fiery-coated woman and was tempted to pry. The strain in her voice had been picked up on, however, which smothered his curiosity with ease. Leaving it at that, he thought back to the pack’s name—Blackfeather—so that he could commit it to memory. Although he doubted that they would get too close to the coastal pack, he wanted to be prepared for the off chance that they did.

“Na em kom daun?” he asked. Hvitserk had never really been too interested in her but, from what he remembered, Freyja had. He liked to think that she would want him to do what he could to help her old mentor, which he couldn’t do if Wildfire never came back.

It is not the first time she has seen that look and likely won’t be the last for sometime. It’s a big part of the reason she doesn’t go into too much detail. Those in Drageda know already but Hvitserk has history with them, more than the others, and perhaps the look comes from actual concern over a former pack mate. Wildfire had been significant in their life when they were young, she’s just as significant now even with her absence in Drageda.

”Sha,” she says, one ear twitching for the sound of the bird nearby but it has gone silent and she wonders if it disappeared all together. ”Ai raun gon Eske. Em nou appa.” Thuringwethil then lifts one brow, curious to see if he has anything else to ask.

Eventually, Wildfire would return, though he knew not when and didn’t take the time to ask, either. The answer—however short—was enough for him, allowing him to think that he might eventually be able to help in some way; whether he’d be allowed to or not wasn’t yet considered, only what he felt he needed to do in place of Freyja. Yet, his thoughts fell victim to interruption at the mention of his other sister—Eske. She would not be pleased with his return, which was something he wasn’t entirely bothered by. Although they were related, and he would do anything to keep her safe if it came down to it, they had never been close and he did not feel as if he needed to prove himself to her. He had left whilst she had remained, he would never lie and say otherwise, but that didn’t make him feel as if he owed her anything.

Nodding slowly, he took her warning to heart anyways. Whilst Heda would always have the final say in what happened to him, he couldn’t help but think that Eske might have some input. Coupling that with his knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to properly defend himself against her—no matter the past, she was still his sister and he could never hurt her—should she attack made for a particularly cautious Hvitserk.

With nothing more to be said, he watched as Thuringwethil took her leave. He stared after her until his eyes could no longer reach as far as she had gone, then turned away and began his search for a comfortable place to rest.