Blackfeather Woods Let us sing when we can and forget the rest

While keeping his eyes turned outward, Ramsay missed a lot of what was going on in Blackfeather Woods. That Parvati would soon give birth to his children went entirely unnoticed; he still didn't realize that was how breeding worked. That @Maegi was equally gravid, he somehow overlooked. He remained unaware that Cassiopeia had whelped her two daughters in the glen. But for every three things that Ramsay didn't notice about the inner workings of the pack, there was one thing he did, and he sought to address it.

He was looking for the Nona in her usual places and was now straying out toward the altar. Even since returning to Blackfeather Woods and casting down the practices of its forefathers, Ramsay spent precious little time in this part of the forest. The air felt heavy here even now, like the weight of a thousand eyes rested on him as he waded beneath the boughs. It made him nervous, and nothing that made Ramsay Melonii nervous was worth spending his time on, so he often stayed away.

But if he could find Maegi anywhere, he reckoned it was near here. They needed to talk.

She knew as well as he did that Ramsay didn't much like Nightcaller Temple, and she didn't like to keep him close to anywhere he wasn't comfortable. A more pious priestess may have disliked his aloof attitude toward the gods—but this was Ramsay, and she was Maegi. Her brother was more important to her than any deity, even (forgive her) Peryite.

Hey, she greeted him, taking two steps to his one, trying to close the distance between them quickly so that he did not have to meet her halfway. It was quite the effort, what with her newfound rotundity. That and she was tired, so tired, and the appetite she'd harbored for weeks had dissipated. Now it was all she could do to keep anything down.

But she tried not to show her weariness, nor her lackluster health, giving him a beaming smile. Were you looking for me? Maegi asked, a little rhetorically—but perhaps she wasn't who he sought.

If Ramsay noticed the grotesque bloat that swelled his sister's belly, he didn't remark on it. Truth be told, he saw only perfection when he looked at her. Her crippled paw had never meant anything to him, just as his stunted and twisted form meant nothing to him and Euron's internal maladies meant nothing to him. It was always the more ordinary wolves that Ramsay knew as monsters: Vaati. Ithrik. Iliksis. Damien. Delight, to an extent.

So he overlooked it, because he would not have understood what it meant even if he had noticed. Yes, I was, he said, leading them on a walk through the swamp. He cast a wary eye overhead, but if the daedra were listening, he felt confident enough that they would agree with him. Titmouse had been stripped of his leadership as Ramsay had decreed following his massacre of the ravens... and then the Morta had seen almost nothing of him since.

We need a new Decima, he said, a suggestion he was certain his sister would not like, but it was clear in his tone he did not think that Titmouse deserved to return to the position if his response to criticism was to make himself extremely scarce (and he hadn't considered that perhaps there was a reason for all that).

She knew the question would come eventually. Mou's descent into madness was too marked to go unnoticed, and there was no recovery in sight. He would not return to his post anytime soon, and in the meantime, it remained vacant. Three leaders were obviously more effective than two. . .but who best to step up?

You're right, Maegi responded easily enough, perhaps surprising her brother. Even she, though, had seen the writing on the wall. But I'm not sure who would be best. Tundra, maybe? She seems able enough, and loyal from what I've learned and picked up on.

But she lacked longevity—they all did, really. There was no Wintersbane, no Kove, no longstanding servants of the forest to choose from. Just a ragtag gang of relative newcomers, who—for all their merits, and there were plenty—didn't have the depth of knowledge of the woods that Mou had. That other figures from the past had. No choice would be without apprehension.

At the same time, they couldn't very well leave the post unfilled. Maegi stared at Ramsay, wondering what (more importantly, who) he had in mind.

Had Maegi suggested that they split the duties of Decima between them, Ramsay may have seen value in it, but his inscrutable expression offered no suggestions. They had built the pack with three leaders in mind. He would have liked to hold that third spot for Euron if ever their wayward brother returned, but the impracticality of that spoke for itself. Titmouse had seemed a good second to Euron until he wasn't, and with what would soon transpire, Ramsay's trust in the man was likely irreparable.

So he would not have accepted Titmouse as a possibility for his former role despite expecting that suggestion, but his sister voiced another name instead. He pursed his lips, thoughtful. Tundra had been with them since the very beginning and stood with them when Damien somehow infiltrated their borders. She had been with the former pack too. She remained loyal to the woods above all, and his recent conversation with her was promising. There was no Kove but there was someone who had gone above and beyond for them. Yes. She would do nicely.

Tundra is a good choice, he agreed. I have asked her to suss out where our dear uncle is hiding. Should she succeed, she will have done more than most for the woods. Should she fail, then at least she was willing to try. Ramsay's accomplishments as a leader were limited to impregnating Parvati and while Maegi's were more noteworthy, knowing where Damien was would give them an advantage if their uncle came again. That's what he believed, anyway. If Damien came again and they knew where his pack resided, they could threaten him in return.

Yes. I think @Tundra is the best option. Moonshadow had too recently given birth to be of much help to the leaders for a while, and they needed someone who could be present now. Shall I call for her?

post #900 for you brudder!

Oh, well, that was that. Ramsay agreed. Maegi was pleasantly surprised—not that her brother and she had a history of butting heads, or anything, but that they had come to a unanimous conclusion choosing from a pack of relatively unknown wolves. Perhaps Tundra really was the standout, after all.

That's good, Maegi murmured, approving of the quest. It would be perfect for Tundra, and hopefully, this new role would be, too. Yes, you can call for her. We'll see if she's up for the job.

Couldn't do much worse than Maegi herself, really. It would likely be beneficial to the yearlings to have someone a little more seasoned with them at the helm.

Certainly, said Ramsay, who then tilted his entire body in his customary way and called loudly for @Tundra. His voice carried through the dark canopy, scattering a few nearby ravens who were listening in. He let it carry longer than he might ordinarily have, aware of the likelihood that Tundra wasn't at home, but still scouting for signs of The Melonii. When finally the breath in his lungs gave out, Ramsay clapped his jaws shut and shook himself stiffly.

Are you well? he asked in the interim, glancing curiously to his sister's sides and thereby revealing that he had taken note of it, even i f it didn't strike him as wrong. Perhaps the only wrong thing about it in his mind was that he hadn't been the one to make it happen; but he still didn't realize he had successfully procreated with Parvati, either.

While they waited for Tundra, Ramsay posed the question—and with a glance that betrayed his true meaning. She smiled almost demurely, glancing away, unsure of how to respond. She was sure that it would be fine, that he would be happy for her, but her condition was so new, so foreign. But this was Ramsay—all would be well. Right?

Good, Maegi responded, nodding. She met his eyes, then, shifting ever-so-slightly on her paws in contemplative fashion. I'm, uh, pregnant. You probably already realized that. They're Mou's.

Ramsay had never shown great love for the one-eyed man. How could he? The young Melonii man was Mou's antithesis, it seemed—consistent, grounded, stable. Nevertheless, she hoped Ram could love the children, at least for her sake. They would be family, after all.

They discussed that, and more, and then presumably Tundra joined them at some point, and the triumvirate was—for now—restored.