Nocturne Summit submerged in limbo

A low, thick fog lingered in the foothills of the summit, the sun already beginning its ascent towards morning. It was fitting to the chill there was always there, though that chill seemed more permanent now than it had in the past; a constant reminder of how quickly the summer had slipped through. It had been over a month since he had abandoned the weald altogether, an uncounted effort had been put forth to try and suss Nyx out but with little success—if she simply did not want to be found, then it would be so. While it pained him to see her move on, he did not hold it against her. Perhaps it had simply been for the best.

He was adrift once again, not that he ever had much direction to begin with. His spirits were holding together better than he anticipated, and any outward notion that he was anything other collected was absent. He slipped through sparse forests not unlike a wraith, following in the wake of elk that had moved through. Their steps were still fresh in the mud despite a healthy cover of frost; if he had to guess, they had passed through some handful of minutes prior, descending while they still could without walking into the waiting jowls of wolves and cougars and the like.

Moonspear still cut a considerable sight even against the rise of the summit; it seemed a fool's errand to even linger this close when he had given himself appropriate distance before. Yet he had not seen hide nor hair of @Hydra since their last encounter, and a distraction was certainly what he desired. With winter all but knocking on their proverbial door, he tempted fate on the chance she too, would be out to seek the herds as they migrated. But here, well, he certainly also ran the risk of crossing paths with any number of other potentially recognizable faces as well.

Time that she had typically deviated from Moonspear and devoted toward her favorite of agouti had been little as of late. With the return of Alya, her recent journey, and then the return of her father in an injured state she did not think it wise to leave the territory so soon. But with the coming of Winter meant the necessity of a hunt. The tracker, therefore, moved beyond the borders, seeking to draw nearer to a herd she had noted from the upper peaks of her home. 

She had found what she was looking for, though a far more interesting scent mingled among it in the wind. Thinking it familiar, Hydra instinctively found her path shifting. In thinking he was there, how could she not move to him? Her ears pricked as she navigated her path, throwing caution to the wind. Her own pawprints mingled with the fresh tracks the elk had left behind; she would pursue them with her sisters later (now knowing the direction they headed), and force their path at a later time. Dirge was not yet in her line of sight, but it was only a matter of time before he would be.

The wind shifted, stirring and scattering scents in every which way. It did not deter him from his path along the winding course, nor did the way loose foliage crossed his muzzle with the almost biting gale. He drew in a breath as it died down, renewing focus to a cause he knew he would have no part in. It seemed fruitless to track a herd when one wolf alone couldn't do much to take them down. Elk in particular were nothing to mess with, more likely to stand their ground than the spry deer that also lurked the forests and foothills.

Still, old habits die hard and all.

Ahead of him through the thinning of trees, he caught sight of the tail end of the herd. Though distant and relatively small looking, the forest and the descent betrayed their size. Grouping together here would be difficult, but a spread out, weak single file line was more likely where the trail narrowed and the slopes rocky. He licked at his lips. Slopes like these weren't exactly the best for hunting large game on, that he knew, but perhaps he could steer them closer to level ground for someone's pickings.

It took her little time to find him. He seemed to move after the herd, unlike Hydra who had abandoned the task. He was close to Moonspear, and she wondered at the pickings from his own chosen locale... her father would likely not be amused to see him here, hungry and alone. The Beta, therefore, slunk alongside him, tail twitching idly behind her. It had been a while, but it was easy enough to fall into this place. Hungry? She quipped, and her eyes turned to assess him. He did not look starving—not as Terance had, when she had seen him—but there was more to be told than what the eye saw.

In the moments to follow he became aware swiftly that he was no longer alone. Yet his course remained true to the path he followed, certain that if he were about to be accosted then he would get his lion's share of a fair warning. That was of course, until the dark body that joined him was a familiar face, complete with wry quip to go with her piercing gaze. He huffed an amused response as they mirrored their steps, but his eyes never left the ever shifting sight of the elk.

”For many things,” he murmured a response, light off his lips. ”Thought I'd busy myself today, torment the local herds. Perhaps send them your way and share none of the spoils.” How generous of him. ”Please tell me you've had a better look at the size of them, I've only been trailing the back end for a while.” For his waning luck, it would have been fitting had the herd been meager and stripped of anything worthwhile.

The corners of her lips lifted at his admittance, and her head tilted. He did not yet elaborate, instead saying what he had deigned to do in his hungry state, and Hydra could not help but feel her smile deepen as he suggested sending the herd their way, leaving him still hungry. You are a giver, she says with a grin and a quirk of her brow. She thinks of Alya for a moment, and her flirtatious wiles. Of her night with Bruges. There was a flashing thought that moved in marquee across her mind: might she share such a time with Dirge? 

I have, she rejoins. there are a great many. Enough to share, should we seek to split them up, I would think, she looks thoughtful as they move after the herd, though her own pace is leisurely. Not at all one of a hunter on the prowl. Or we could keep them together— her gaze falls to him, and her bright eyes flash as her nose seeks to meet his cheek, and you could come home with me, and you will never know hunger again. Of any sort, perhaps, she suggests, playful in demeanor. Hydra means it, each word—it had not been said without days, and nights, of consideration. But she did not believe he would take her up on it; why should he, what with his own obligations within the forest? 

But Hydra has always held onto her own hope that he would return to Moonspear, her keep. There was time enough to steal her away, but she had once again learned Titmouse was alive; Dirge was not at risk from the fool, she did not think, smart as he was... but she wanted him near. To know.

His focus wavered as her cool nose touched to his cheek—gods be damned, she was playing a temptress already. It was a struggle then and there not to let the tail end of the herd slip from his sight, to come to a halt and regard her as he had many times. The most he dared then and there was to side-eye her, a faint amusement to come creeping to his features and leave on a gusty exhale. Perhaps she would never abandon her own personal quest to have him return, much in the way he had yet to abandon his post of trying to lure her away into the wilds to keep.

Instead it was a brief patch of silence that filled the space, or rather lack thereof, between them. For all that had gone out of his favor in recent days he found the return of necessity budding and blooming in the wastrel hope. Her temptation did not disturb this nor smother it whole, but rather tempered a distinct stubbornness. It would have been easy for a more weak-willed individual to cave then and there and admit that yes, things were not as they seemed and all was not well, but Dirge was not that sort. At least not entirely, however his silence may have betrayed his heart.

A low tone rested in his throat, considering.

”A clever ploy no doubt, but I'm afraid my goals are far more loftier than your mountain's peak,” he said on next breath, ”and I would suspect there are those that would not be warmed to receive me.” Her father first and foremost and of course, he was sure that one sister had not been so fond of him either. Impervious to his charm as it were and unknowingly to him, a strong player in a part that had kept them at arm's length even now.

”I do have my sister to think of as well,” he continued, not letting on that she had been gone for a time. Never mind that Hydra could have called him on it—the mingling scent of forest and ilk alike had been lost on him. He was swift to gesture to the herd ahead of them then, in time with the distant call of a leading bull elk.

”Now which is better to guide them—downward with the slope, or along it?”

word count: 395

Hydra was disappointed in his lack of immediate acceptance of her words, but then, he would not be who she wanted if he were to do so then and there. Still, as ever, she was not to be deterred. You need not abandon your lofty goals to join by my side. You can keep them, just as we can keep one another warm at night, she suggested, her eyes flashing with delight at the thought. She had missed him; if he were to come close, she would keep him there. And then, you and I can achieve them, she considers, after a moment. She could not deny the fire he had started within her. A desire for more. 

It was a kindling, for now. More than a flicker, at least. She was unaware that soon, she might be sent fully ablaze, a terrible and all-consuming wildfire in the Spring to come. More. More of what? 

Well, for now, he seemed the proper answer. As for those who might be less than enthused, she grinned. You are returning. Who could be upset? You aided us well in the last Winter, and never abandoned us. We knew when you joined your desire to find your sister, but she was found, now... albeit, not around, she detected. Likely her own legs enjoyed a good, wandering stretch as much as her brother; Hydra did not consider abandonment and was sensitive to his familial desire. 

Think of her, then. Also with a full belly, she quipped. Why should she not join, as well? She inquired with a tilt of her head. And as they moved after the herd and he asked a question of her, Hydra considered before responding. Alongside it, it seemed to be their natural path, to begin with, though she knew trouble to be ahead. It'd give them at least one or two injuries, so long as the herd felt some minor pressure. 

What do you think? Came her own question, dual in its meaning, as she looked to him, wanting to see his features in full as he answered her.

If only it were that easy as simply tracking down his sister and carting her along again. She had followed him, willingly at that, for some length. Through a season and then some, and some time before that. But Nyx had greater demons to battle and it had seemed no amount of relocation or travel would fix it easily. The same could have been said of him and his ever shifting course over his own and naturally, the two had and would always share the same bullheaded trait to persist to the wants of their own heart. Or so he thought in passing, as he and Hydra both moved to follow the herd along the downward incline.

His gait picked up a little bit, an usher for Hydra to stick with him. An unnecessary gesture really, as she seemed keen to thus far. Brief silence filled the space again as he worked his way over loose stones quick and carefully—the only things that needed to turn an ankle and take a swift drop were the elk, not him—leaving him with a loose span of time to ponder her question. Yet the one thing that stuck out in his mind was her comment of wanting to find his sister; who had she crossed him with? Or was it simply another plan?

An uncomfortable sensation dislodged itself then, but why for he did not have an exact reason. How burdensome was the feeling of throwing up every metaphysical wall he could think of when he would have perhaps warmed to the ideas and possibilities she presented. Yet in the same vein, the same blood and drive he felt the overwhelming cascade of emotion to reach out and seize it, to snap at reasonable doubt and crush it between his jaws.

Aware of her eyes on him then, he met her gaze as their path evened again and did not consider for a second that perhaps whatever inner turmoil churning would be betrayed by his mask of stoicism.

”It is tempting,” he admitted, ”perhaps I can persuade the powers that be to make it happen.” As though there would be any real discussion to be had, the plan would always go as follows: stall and deliberate, pace the world once over, and relent. That was almost the half of how it had gone before and even he was not so foolish to entirely believe he could scrape through a winter alone. Still ever pretentious in some of that good nature residing in him, he donned a knavish wisp of a smile—why not just throw in and throw everything else the hell away?

”Though you do have me curious on this 'keeping one another warm' line,” he went on to say then, forgoing interest in the herd to draw his muzzle closer to her. ”Tired of teasing yourself finally, princess?”

word count: 476

Hydra listened to him, and observed his lack of a concrete answer. It was as it always was, but then the Beta was much the same as him. Still, she sought someone who would give her what she wanted. Ultimately, she hoped that he would come to her; her preference toward him was quite clear, and she would not be keen to see him go in another direction. That he might occurred to her, but he had kept so close for all this time. Would he not seek to bridge that gap completely? 

The powers he spoke of would lead him to her if it was meant; those very powers put so much in her path that was meant for her, and readily took away what would not serve her well. She had them to thank for her successes; Hydra had faith they would do right by her, if such a thing were to exist. Her father spoke of being a child of the stars; were she not also a child of the stars, but also a child of the mountains that forged her mother? Unbendable, unbreakable. 

As his muzzle drew nearer to her, Hydra gave a flirtatious half-smile and a curious tilt of her head. I do not know what you mean, Dirge, she teased in a low voice, Teasing myself? I only meant there are more ways than one to keep one another warm. Hunting together, side by side, for one—and feeding upon our still-warm kill, to name another she though her tone was quite innocent, suggesting nothing but that, the flash of her eyes told of the less innocent things that sprang to mind, things she had yet to experience or know for herself. She would not endeavor to explore such things with just any wolf, and certainly not one who did not boast the same pack scent as she; and so, tempt she would.

Her charade pained him, if only for the fact that it served to be so blasé. It was ever the swift blow to his ego, enough of a halting adjustment to cast doubt. His arrogance threatened to dig in its heels and press the topic further, but the distrusting pessimism that had eked in suggested he pull up stakes and drop the notion altogether. Chances were, she had a long list of suitors that were probably better suited to the concepts of duty and station and that was only provided she didn't simply hurl all of them off the mountain for entertainment when it bored her. That he could see her doing—perhaps their bones already littered the crevices they passed by.

Of course it was a reasonable wager that a more venomous sort would have considered taking what they wanted; Dirge was ambitious in spirit but keen enough to know where the line was. He had felt for it before and knew where it lied. He knew where it would lie if it were crossed and certainly even here it would not have been worth the trouble of lying broken in bits and pieces at the bottom of any one of the southern string of mountains. In short, his mood cloaked itself with the damper tossed over the embers of desire. He would not find the distraction he sought here either; this was a fool's errand disguised as chivalry and he would have to follow through.

”I believe you to be smarter than that, my dear,” he offered instead, his muzzle swinging away as he internally chided himself. He would save face rather than try and explain the obvious; it was easier now to pay attention to the elk and keep awareness of his footing—the incline was shifting again and the herd with it. It was a poor opportunity to take advantage of, but his options seemed few and the damper dared to sour his mood further.

”Ah, the herd moves,” he went on idly, not to miss a beat. ”What are your thoughts about harassing them here? Have you any talents in sending the lame over the edge?” The last question all tongue-in-cheek to come full circle, because of course she did.

word count: 373 words

He was right, of course. She was. She frowned at his response, though; she did so enjoy when he spelled things out for her. Made it obvious. His actions seemed to, and so did his words. Hydra huffed quietly, and her attentions fell where his did. Back to the herd. His inquiry was earned with an amused glance, and she admitted: I am quite good at that, before she looked down. Here, there was little space for them to find a solid way down to get to their earnings without meeting the same fate... but perhaps they could find a point. Hydra thought she remembered one, and said, if we push them forward more, there is a ledge that is easy enough to get to, should we be able to harass one of their less seasoned herd members in that direction. A fatal fall, and not too difficult a trip for us to take, she suggested, her nose brushing against the earth.

No surprise that she was in fact, good at flinging souls from the mountain. It amused him even in his funk that she would concede such a thing, but it gave them both something to work with. Hydra wasted no time in changing gears to what had been his original reason for being there—though very much still a lie—and assumed the lead, once more leaving him to follow and listen to her plans.

He too examined a series of ideas on how best to send one of their less seasoned ilk off the ridge in the quiet to follow. He considered suggesting they take a higher path and descend on them from there but quickly discarded it as too risky. They too could have gone just as easily off the ridge with speed not on their side, though the surprise would have surely worked. No, it seemed their best recourse was to stay where they were and bide their time, wait for the herd to stumble onto the mass of shifting shale and strike then.

”Perhaps we should find a weaker one to the inside of the drop,” he suggested, ”and maybe the shock of our arrival will net us more than one.” Crossing the lame through the back end of the herd might have worked, though he couldn't have attested to the method on the fly. The risk was still there, but the prize almost seemed worth the danger. Neither of them were green hunters, either.