Emberwood the shadows whisper nothing

meant for ibis. others can join with Jitter's permission

The boy had been foolish, swallowed whole by the dripping sin that had claimed a hold of his entire kin, his bloodline. That ambition, the insatiable yearning for more, and for yourself to be the one to achieve it. Idle nothings had no place within his life. And so Kukulkan, coated in folly, had spent his time scouting the nearby regions as he could, with a simple goal in mind - rubbing the right shoulders. The Pirate Queen, his mother, had taught him so much when it came to the intricacies of political weaving.

All he hoped for was an undeniably fearsome start for the dainty girl. Something to give her to irrefutable confidence as she came into her own. As she became a queen, herself. But. just as it had for many in his family, his pride led him away when he had been needed most.

The boy meandered into the dense woods, soothed by the familiarity of the scents that surrounded him, yet at the same time anguished at how fresh these scents were. This was just the beginning. That is when your enemies will test you the most. When they'll strike the hardest. The cold realities lived by his predecessors hung in his ears, his warm and eager heart feeling that weight of suspicion reach, slowly, across it all.

Aside all this, the boy entered the words unafraid, though to say he felt no shame would be a terrible lie. Kukulkan entered the woods with intent, with a goal in mind, with a specific visage he wished to see. "Ibis... are... are ya there?" Would she even want to see him? To hear what he had to said?

But he pursed his lips - his intentions had never strayed. They'd always been for his good, for her good. For all of them together. He need only explain, surely she'd see.

Kukulkan meandered through the western edges of the Emberwood forest, passing scent markers and local wildlife alike as he pushed onward. He needed to see her. To speak with her. He needed her blessing to do what he can... what he must... for her.

"M'lady.... Ibis..." The gentlest, most courteous of tones this giant boy had ever murmured. They waited rather humbly...

@Ibis

There was a lot on her mind, as always. Before it had been the usual nerves: that she'd never see her brother again, although she tried her best to focus on the more optimistic chance that he was alive and happy somewhere. The struggle of gathering friendly faces and building something out of nothing, of keeping the peace (which had been the easy part really) and keeping them fed (much, much harder with the famine closing in around them).

Yet somehow a pack had formed. The strangers had become like a family unit and moved from the soggy marshland which Ibis had loved so dearly and now they lived in the woods, although for her the woods were not quite enough for her. They reminded her of the willows and subsequently of her mothers, and then she had to focus on the positives: that they were alright somewhere, living safe while winter blustered its way across the region.

Friendly faces came and went. Some she hadn't seen in weeks, but she did not let herself dwell on their absence for long. She couldn't let herself—lest there be sadness, loss, and all that to bog her down and make work that much harder. There was too much for Ibis to do alone; she did not know how to delegate well enough yet, and even with the celebration of the pack's formation still keeping her buzzed, she didn't lessen her hold on the important tasks.

So it was that Ibis roamed the woods. She hunted when she had the energy (and after being sick for the past week, that took some concentration) or tried to restock what herbs she could find. Most were frozen or rotting, blackened messes. Much of the forest was layered with snow now and the naked branches of the trees held sheets of ice and snow precariously overhead. It was a lot.

Everything was starting to feel like a lot. Especially the recent conversation with Bhediya. What did Ibis expect of herself and of her followers? How did she feel about having followers, even? And what about spring—there might be children to care for, and that excited Ibis a lot, but she was concerned too. Should they be her children? The only thing to break her from her routine and her many thoughts was a familiar voice; it startled her actually, that call, almost sultry. Kukulkan?

The girl turned around and headed towards the fringe of the territory where the trees thinned out, and before she could reach that far she found him. He looked healthy. Rugged, as always, and Ibis closed the distance with a little bark, coming to where the boy was waiting for her and pressing against him, nipping his cheek and doing all the typical wolfish greetings one might suspect—actions she'd anticipated performing upon her brother when they were gleefully reunited, but this would do nicely too. You're home! She finally called out, her tail a haze of movement.