Fox's Glade that’s just the waves slamming against the topsides’ sound

@Maegi

indra hadn't spent much time in the glade -- a few excursions, but not enough to become intimately familiar with the layout of the landscape. her purpose here was to curtail the abundant quail population nestled in the thicket; laurel's needs grew by day, and the puppies fat at her side demanded constant sustenance. indra believed that a fresh kill would be a good break from the monotony of the rotted cache -- as she prowled through the underwood, her ears flickered left and right for any sign of the quail's familiar warble.

she managed only one that afternoon, but a bird in her jaws was significantly more advantageous than no bird at all. adopting a dog-trot out of the snarled brush, she cut across the glade and headed for home.

vaguey vaguey vague

She kept to herself, preferring the quiet of this glade to the more populated valley she'd come across. And although this place was filled with foxes, their slim bodies fleeting shadows in the night, at least they weren't wolves. Wolves she didn't know.

Every new face and figure filled her with fear. She was a girl caught in a storm, wondering when and where the lightning would strike next. Anyone, anyone, might be the next to scar her mind and body. There was no way of knowing. No way of preventing it, except to stay alone.

But there was little happiness to be found in solitude. The misery from being separated from loved ones had faded into a dull ache that pained her only occasionally; mostly, it was emptiness, a yawning sense of being incomplete. She didn't belong here, but she didn't know how to get home. She didn't know where home was. Her sense of direction was wretched; she'd clearly gone the wrong way, for when she climbed the walls of Bearclaw Valley and looked out, she could not find Blackfeather Woods.

So much had gone wrong, in such a short time.

Her heart hammered in her chest, now, as a wolf she might have caught glimpses of here and there approached, trotting down the path on which she had been meandering. Bristling, Maegi sank back into the brush, mismatched eyes bright, spooky orbs in the darkness as she regarded the woman with the utmost wariness.

indra kept pace, content she would make it home before nightfall at this rate -- and she might have, were it not for the brush of leaf-litter, the snarl of brambles disturbed. she slowed, quail in mouth -- her amber eyes falling on two wide, fearful and mismatched eyes.

a lesser wolf might have quailed to meet such an intense, lanternlike stare -- indra felt a chill down her spine and instinctively squared herself, scowling into the thicket that housed those luminant eyes. there sat in those simmering pools of yellow and lavender a wilderness she was intimately familiar with -- fear.

anything indra might have said would have been muffled by feather and flesh -- reluctant to lose laurel's dinner, indra bobbed her head once at the bush with eyes, waiting for the creature behind them to reveal itself.

She'd hoped the woman would go by and leave her be, but instead she paused, a bird in her mouth, staring at her. Maegi shook her head at the gesture; she wouldn't emerge, leaving herself vulnerable to attack. She figured that the stranger was being protective of her dinner--her stomach rumbled at the scent of flesh--otherwise she'd have said something to the girl, right?

"I'm not going to steal your kill, if that's what you're thinking," Maegi responded quietly. She hadn't spoken aloud in some time, and the sound of her own voice unnerved her; it was different, lower, cooler. Foreign. A small shudder went through her, and she slowly emerged from the brush, reaching just her head and shoulders out.

It might have been comical, this bush with a head, had her visage not been so scarred. Dried blood still caked the left corner of her mouth; it kept breaking open, but those instances were growing fewer and farther between. Her face, normally pointed, was gaunt from hunger and fatigue, her eyes deep-set. She peered up at the woman. "Are you from the pack in the valley?"

as indra's eyes pried into the bush, it shook -- and spoke. fantastical as it was, indra knew it to be animal rather than spirit, and when the wolf underneath the arch of brambles spoke, indra dropped the quail to the ground. it had not even fully landed before she assertively placed a paw atop it. she had learned the hard way to trust the words of strangers.

never again.

the voice was young, but the figure that emerged from the bush seemed even younger -- indra watched with vexation as the bloodied face, followed by a pale body, extracted itself from the thorns. she did not notice maegi's bent paw, for her gaze was transfixed on the hideous wound that snarled her face. "i'm from the valley, yes." she answered, still studying the bloody tapestry of rent flesh. in light of maegi being adolescent, her gruff defensiveness was greatly diminished. "who did that to you?"

Her shock pleased Maegi. Not in a sick way--she took no pleasure from startling others, at least not yet--but it assured her that, unlike the woman in the meadow, this one was at least sympathetic to her plight. That perhaps she wouldn't be harmful, like all the others had. Relaxing the slightest bit, Maegi gave a shrug of her scrawny shoulders.

"This wolf in the mountains," she responded, voice unsure. "Called himself 'Skullchaser.' There was a group of them; one of them captured me and kept me there." She began to tremble, a fine vibration through her body, as she continued. "I shouldn't have left home, I just--I was trying to find my brothers."

Maegi had purposely kept from thinking of Ramsay and Euron for many days, now, and their names in her mouth brought the emotions to the forefront. She blinked, looking away from the woman, on the verge of a sob.

She didn't want to confront the fact that she had failed.

grimly, the woman received the news -- maegi did not even need to describe the foul beasts that had done this to her, for indra jumped to the conclusion she already knew. she looked away from maegi, her expression covered in a deep frown as she trailed her amber eyes along the bruised-blue ridges of the distant mountain. she had encountered nightstar not too far from here -- and he had been the one to first tell her of the monstrosities that habituated that darkened rise.

when she looked back to maegi, she thought she detected a hint of distress -- her features softened. perhaps it was because maegi seemed so abject and alone -- perhaps it was because she was young -- but indra felt her icy composure melt.

"i know of them." she said, though her tone suggested she had no love for the demons that prowled so close to bearclaw's cusp. maegi looked vulnerable to indra, and she caught the tremor that shook the young girl's body. suddenly, indra felt selfish to have been protective of the quail -- it seemed maegi needed it more than laurel. there was always the cache.

she nudged the rumpled carcass to the younger wolf and instructed firmly "eat." while the pale girl had mentioned brothers, indra would wait to press the issue.

Her mouth opened to protest, but the woman's command brooked no opposition, and she was quite hungry. Timidly, Maegi extracted the rest of her body from the thicket and set upon the quail, taking a couple of slow bites before diving ravenously into the flesh. A small amount of blood dribbled from her mouth as her wound opened yet again, but quickly mingled with that of the bird's, so she cared not.

When she'd made quick work of the meal, Maegi stumbled back, sitting on her haunches and licking her chops. Even as a wild animal already, she was quite feral, being alone for so long, and only remembered her manners after a couple minutes of silence, catching her breath.

"Thanks," she mumbled to the stranger, wincing as her tongue laved the gash along her cheek. She lifted her gaze to the woman, head slightly tilted in inquisition. "Who are you? How did you hear about those wolves?" She had run far, but perhaps not far enough. If Skullchaser came for her. . .

indra fell to contemplative silence as the girl took her offering. she knew that feral hunger well, and kept her gaze on the distant peaks. deep in thought, it was not until the girl stepped back and spoke again that indra's amber eyes roved from the shark-fin mountains to the pale wolf's disfigured features. she felt pity pang her heart, for it was gruesome wound and she imagined it remained quite painful.

"i'm indra." she offered her name freely, for there was no reason to lie. "i came across a wolf a few weeks ago whose sister was held captive. he told me they were dangerous." her gaze slid ruefully to the shadowed region again, and she continued. "your wounds don't look too good.." her voice fell and she glanced at maegi once more. she did not want to insult the yearling, but questioned how she would be capable of surviving alone. tentatively, indra broached the topic. "we have medics at bearclaw..."

Her words piqued Maegi's interest, and she murmured, almost to herself, "Nightstar?" She'd never met the male herself, but she'd heard Moonshadow mention him before--and who else could it be? Then again, who knew how many sisters those fiends had held captive. She hadn't seen many of them during her stay there, but they could have been hidden away somewhere, being tortured. . .

A ripple of disgust shivered through her frail body at the thought, and she glanced up at Indra, who spoke of medics. Uncertainty painted her features. "Yeah, it hurts," she admitted softly. And it stank, too, of something she didn't yet know--but would later learn to be infection. A minor one, to be sure, but still it festered.

"Why should I trust your pack?" Maegi asked matter-of-factly, hurling the same question at Indra as she had with the brown woman in the valley. There was no malice in the words; who could blame her for making inquiries. In just a few moons, her blood, her family's blood, spilled. Strangers ripping them apart. Chased temporarily from home. What evidence did Indra have to offer that she was friend, not foe?

the name wasn't familiar to indra and she offered a pained smile in response as she spoke. "i didn't get his name, sorry." perhaps it had been her own fault, to not press the distraught male for his name -- at the time, it had not seemed as important as the fact there was a band of malignant wolves at bearclaw's doorsteps. indra regretted not having the foresight to ask, but hindsight was 20/20 -- and this binch had a fair amount of hindsight collecting up in her wake.

indra did not even hide the flare of amusement that twinged her features at maegi's next question - could it be called amusement? it was wry, it was sad in its own way, perhaps a little proud -- if only because it was the very same thing she would have asked.

"you can't." she answered simply -- honestly. the baldness of her voice, the transparent roll of her shoulder -- all of it transferred into a contrite expression that clung to her muzzle. "you can't trust anybody, but yourself." she had learned that the hard way, and had earned the loss of a tail for it. never again.

"you can take chances, you can see for yourself -- but i can't tell you you can trust me, or my pack. things could change. you have to go with your gut." not exactly the most convincing at enabling strangers to come home with her, was she?

Indra's answer made her eyes widen slightly in surprise--a good kind of surprise, something she was unaccustomed to. Whether or not the woman thought she had made a compelling argument, that was no matter, for the girl had been compelled. Honesty, it seemed, was in short supply these days, and to hear it so frankly from a stranger, after all the lies she'd been fed, was both refreshing and a relief.

"I believe you," she said firmly, giving her a respectful nod. "Yes. You told the truth. If you were bad--if you were going to hurt me--you would have told me to come with you, that everything was okay. You would have lied."

She stood up, wobbling a little on unsteady legs but keeping her eyes locked with Indra's. "My gut says to follow you. But," she added, narrowing her gaze at the woman, "if I'm wrong, and you're all terrible, and hurt me. . .I swear I'll kill you." The words shocked her, and she fell silent for a moment, contemplating what she'd just said. She certainly hadn't entered that sentence intending a threat, yet there it was, hanging heavy in the air.

"So there," Maegi added lamely, tacking on something almost akin to a childish taunt to her warning.

indra wasn't sure what she expected when she finished speaking - the ball, effectively, was in maegi's court. she felt her fur prickle as she realized maegi had locked gazes with her; indra's amber eyes hardened as she sought a meaning for the firm eye-lock. she went to raise her tail and -- oh, wait, that's gone -- but the narrowing of the female's eyes caused some of her defensiveness to dissipate.

she let loose a sigh as she heard maegi's words, feeling her gums curl at the threat. 

she didn't know maegi well enough to know if she was capable of killing, but the threat wasn't well received. she tacked on a hard stare. "we'd only hurt you if you hurt us first." she answered, feeling the sympathy she had for the girl moments before wither. "besides, that's not the way you get strangers to help you." it might have been cold -- it might even have been hard-ass of her -- but indra no longer trusted strangers well enough to let them say whatever they wanted, or threaten her or her family.

"I'm just saying," Maegi argued, voice prickly, giving a shrug of her shoulders. Why should she care how others perceived her? She just needed some help, and if that help was conditional. . .she'd try to find it elsewhere. "Thanks for the food. And I do trust you. I've just. . .it's just sucked lately. Everything." She let a sigh slip through her nostrils, wisping white in the chilly air.

That was about as eloquently as she could put it. How else could a child explain what she'd been through? One day, perhaps, she'd have a way with words, but for now the words eluded her, giving rise to wordless feelings and thoughts instead. And there were plenty.

"I just wanna go home," she admitted, slumping a little. Her wariness had slipped enough to let Indra see some vulnerability. "I don't know how to get back."

the new vulnerability that maegi unsheathed caused some of the coldness in indra's firm stare to dissipate, though she still felt tension coil through her shoulders. all the same, she knew what it was like to be displaced from her family, and perhaps that was what kept the russet redleaf from turning sharp on her thin hocks and leaving the pale adolescent after her threat.

"where is home?" she asked, wondering if the girl had come from nearby. her knowledge of the neighboring packs and their names was woefully rudimentary, yet indra had logged thousands of miles under her weary heels -- and she knew most of the valley intimately from her time as a dispersal wolf.

"B--" Her voice died abruptly as she weighed the situation. After all, hadn't they just exited a war with several packs against them? Though she trusted Indra in this moment, who knew if this Bearclaw Valley was friend or foe to Blackfeather? It would be foolish to reveal her true allegiance, not just for her own sake but for that of her family's.

"It's a forest, near the mountains," Maegi said, looking over toward where the dark crags lie. "I thought I went the right way, when I escaped--but now I'm not sure. None of this is familiar to me." She sighed, feeling suddenly ashamed. "I just. . .got lost. And then they captured me."

indra hadn't missed the hiccup in maegi's response -- she cast one ear to the side as if examining the truncated noise, but did not inquire after it. truth be told, had maegi said blackfeather, indra might not have put the gut-splattered forest to the name.

being a forest near the mountains was not too specific for indra; there were many forests, and even more mountain ranges. she supposed she could press for a more detailed reply when the girl wasn't half-starved and nearly septic -- with a noncommital expression indra started to walk off. she wondered how blondine would have handled this -- probably with aplomb -- indra was neither as sociable, nor as friendly and she winced through the next thing she spoke: "well, i'm going to my home. you can follow, we can patch you up.. and then when you're feeling better, we can try to find this forest at the base of a mountain. come... or don't."

maybe she could have been a bit nicer, a bit warmer -- but the russet redleaf had learned too well how wearing one's heart on their sleeve went. she hoped inwardly that maybe maegi would follow - at the very least, so she could rest a bit and heal from the gruesome injury across her muzzle. and then, when she was ready, she could go -- indra certainly wouldn't stop her.

The choice was hers to make, and Maegi hung back a bit after Indra walked off, face scrunched a bit in concentration. She'd appreciated, greatly, the bald honesty the woman had given her, after so many malicious lies. They were taught, in Blackfeather, the value of lies--but she'd experienced first hand the ugly side of deceit, and had found it not to her liking.

She vowed never to be on the losing side of a lie again.

With paws of lead, Maegi followed Indra, trailing through the glade. She realized the woman had merely a stump of a tail, and cocked her head in fascination--how had she lost it? Stumbling a bit to keep up, she crashed awkwardly through the brush.

Don't let me down, she thought, narrowed eyes fixed on the woman's backside.