Moonspear this soul's a stowaway

The rain continued and the heat a formidable annoyance with it.

If they were lucky when nightfall would eventually come, things would cool down. But even that had been a rollercoaster from sweltering, suffocating warmth to a bitter chill that grasped them if they did not begin to dry; Dirge had already had several thoughts that it were wonder none of them had fallen ill for as frequently as they were drenched from nose to tail.

A downpour would have normally kept him close to shelter, but instead this time it was the perfect backdrop for him to seem as viperous as his wife—he was hunting, but not for sport, and certainly not for murder. Somewhere he was certain Hydra had left @Keres to her own devices and rather than wait for either or to find him to pass on information, he took matters into his own plans.

Certain he had spied her at long last—and after shaking at least one childish follower off his trail—he had slunk low to the ground with focus locking her into view. Every movement followed, every action telegraphed to correct his own. A devilish smirk had wormed its way to his features as he drew near and sought his target: her tail. Without wholly knowing how he would be received, Dirge decided to deal with her the best way he knew how, and dredged up his favorite way to annoy any of his sisters—he reach outward with his jaws, and went to grab her tail through an explosion of waterlogged foliage.

Time was a thing that Keres did not take much notice of. She, of course noticed the time of days into nights, the change of the seasons, the circle of life, but those were ideas on a large, vast scale. Minutes and hours tended to slip away from the self proclaimed valkyrie, in such a way that she could lose herself in an investable task and become closed to the world past her immediate scope. It was something of a bad habit of her, one her late husband had once teased her about. Perhaps he had been right to. Perhaps one day, it would no longer be something for him to worry about, if he worried at all anymore. 

Many things startled her in the next moment, the sound, the spray, her own startled yelp as teeth bit down on her fluffy tale, some creature of the bog revealing itself and attacking her. Spinning to meet her assailant, Keres bore fangs openly, only to stop when she came face to face with a ghost from her past. It was a face she had seen from the first moments she had opened her eyes to every time he had bothered her, learned with her, grew with her... His eyes still had that same unique quality they always had, something that just said Dirge.

If he was going to play childish games, however, Keres would respond in kind, snipping her teeth towards his  ears, reaching so that she could roughly gnaw and slobber on one, much the same way he had her tail.

Her tail tore loose from his mouth gently; he anticipated the whirl around full of sound and fury, and met it with curling lips to display his teeth. This was the reaction he remembered and now it certainly helped that years of antagonizing Hydra gave him the foresight to narrow evade her teeth snarching his ear in playful reprimand. The string of the graze was still there, but it was little in comparison to the rumble of amusement under his breath as he stepped away.

"All these years and you still remember," he remarked, "though I admit yours is a face I did not expect to see again." He had left her behind in the depths of Winterheart what seemed another life ago, and perhaps it had been.

A derisive snort was given in reply, a psuedo-offended look cast his way. As if I could forget the antics of my childhood tormentor, Keres responded though she could not keep the smile from spreading across her maw, tail waving behind her gently. Studying him, the female noted certain things about his features, comparing and contrasting them with the face from her memory. He looked older, wiser -- maybe --, but most of all, he looked like the Dirge she knew and loved. The one she had missed dearly.

Nor I, you. I wasn't really expecting to find any of our family, especially not so many of us in one spot. And to find you married and settled down! And what better a woman to seduce her brother than the one that had met her at the borders and given her a home. True, the mountain was no forest, but she was an adaptable creature and her journies had given her much practice with such landscapes. Dirge, the family man, the Ostrega teased, stepping forward to make a quick pass of her tongue over his face before grinning toothily at him. It was payback for her tail!

Tormentor? In jest, he snorted and let the comment pass—he hardly considered himself a tormentor, not when he had long been outnumbered by sisters more likely to band together to harass him than the other way around. Perhaps his only saving grace had been that he had outgrown them at one point, not that size had ever been a deterrent.

What stuck with him more was the comment of family; a piercing feeling hit low in his stomach at the notion, though he could hardly dispute it. Instead he wished he had been the one to find her sooner, to tell her to hold her tongue on the talk of family like he had just magically infiltrated the ranks here to learn about them. But the time for that had long past and while he had drawn some conclusions of his own, he found himself fumbling.

The swipe of her tongue across his face was hardly enough time for composure.

But it was enough time to form a witted response.

“One of my many trades and talents, I suppose,” he murmured, “but being at the top of the pile lets me enjoy the fruits of my labor and the perks that come with such.” His lips curled almost into a humored sneer. “But I presume you’ve met Hydra then to know all that.” A feigning remark on his behalf; he knew that she had met with Hydra, but the ignorance of such was hard to leave be. A gentle probe into what she did know, what she had been told and imparted.

No, She responded flatly and with a wicked smile.I've been following you around for weeks now and you've just never known it. Such things were nigh impossible, especially with a leader as dilligent as Hydra seemed to be. Plus, the Dirge she knew and remembered would never have let someone lurk so close and go unnoticed.

A little bird told me I have some nieces and nephews to meet, too! At this, her voice gained its lilt once more, green eyes aglitter with what could only be a mixture of happiness, enthusiasm, and eagerness. Eventually, she would meet them all, she supposed; for now, she was focusing on settling in and find her niche within this mountain dwelling pack.

He made an appraising note to her commentary.

“The birds need to stop talking,” he said. “They should already know the hills have eyes.” And thankfully, the eye having hills were not made of cannibals, though he knew even now there were no doubt at least another set or two watching them. Perhaps their trademark of distantly studying one another, though it was mostly confined to Hydra and her sisters; he would not have put it past some of his older children to have taken up the art either.

Of course, the same could have been said of him, too.

“I’m sure they’ll be eager to meet you though. The youngest are a bit of a feisty bunch too, so I’d recommend you keep track of your ankles unless you’re willing to take on more tormentors.” This time he did sneer at her, in all its good nature.

Yes but the hills tend to sing, which gets a tad annoying after a while. Far easier for her to handle chattering than constant singing. Likely, Keres would have smothered such a song-spinning creature before it could become too much of a nuisance. She laughed though, tail waving gently again at the thought. They sound like our bunch. They had all been troublemakers as well in their younger days, in their own way.

Speaking of.

Have you heard from any of our siblings? She queried, curious to know if he had. Nyx had come back to Winterheart once upon a time but after she'd gone off again, Keres had taken off too and then... Who knew who had come and gone at that point.

He had never considered whether or not his children were anything like he and his siblings. Perhaps yes, in a way, they certainly were. But he wanted to believe his children had a much better childhood than what had been handed to them, or in what ways it had been taken away. Truth be told, Dirge did not recall much of his childhood, and what he did remember he simply wished would continue to fade away. Still, the smile that did grace his face was demure at best, conceding that she was right when the truth of it all was that he hoped they were better.

Their conversation rolled onward and it was there he gestured that they move along. Somewhere drier, if it could have been found, but simply to keep things in motion. The next topic was the sort he felt better about if they did move, no matter how natural it was to do so.

“I haven’t seen Saor since she left Nyx and I,” he mentioned. “We came to a literal parting in the road and she wanted to go her own way and we let her. I always hoped she would come back, and maybe she has and is out there somewhere… but I haven’t found her.” Perhaps she had settled somewhere, had found her little slice of paradise. Or maybe she had done the very thing that he had not, and simply kept going. If not for his children, he suspected he would have gone back to it. The call was there, never silent, but never quite as loud as it had once been.

“Nyx, on the other hand,” and here he stalled, debating how to explain—debating what to share and what to avoid, “Nyx is around. She lives to the east, in the other mountain range. There’s a pack there headed by an accented speaking wolf named Mahler. I haven’t seen her for some time either, and the last time was very brief; we had a famine linger last year, and we were both hunting.” Whatever mirth that had been there was stripped out of him; he had no clue if she lived, let alone if she had stayed with Mahler.

He shook his head dismissively—“Did you stay with Mother all this time?”

Falling into step beside her brother (who was much taller than she seemed to remember), Keres listened to him talk without interrupting. The fact that Saor hadn't been seen in such a long time weighed heavy on the silver Ostrega's heart, her eyes moving forward to examine the path ahead of them. Their childhood had been a massive wreck, really. They'd had each other and Mom. Otherwise they had been shunned, treated almost worse than outsiders, if only for the fact that they hadn't been just some strangers. To know that Saor was somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight, possibly alone... It just didn't sit right with her.

The news of Nyx being nearby, however, did serve to lift her spirits back up a little. To the East, with a pack led by Mahler. The information was filed neatly away for safekeeping; she'd have to make the trek to go see Nyx and reunite with her sister. Do you know the name of the pack? She asked between his news and his question.

Not quite, but for a while, yes. She had been heartbroken over the three of them leaving and Keres, then Grey, had not been able to leave in good conscience. Eventually, I moved to another pack but... It was hard. Leaving her there, I mean. Her words trailed off, perhaps sinking too far into the memories of their birthpack and supposed family.

“It was home for you,” he reasoned, “no surprise it would be difficult to leave.” His sisters had always had it better there; it had been easier by far in his eyes for them to find their niche, their calling or whichever and the mentorships above it. They may have been shunned but it had been far easier to overlook and know that they were less of a perceived threat than he had ever been.

He felt the prickle of that now in passing; a ghostly, ghast chill in the wind that may not have been there at all. A memory plain and simple, one better forgotten and left to perish along the wayside where it so desperately needed to be laid to rest and belonged. He instead turned towards the question that come off her lips prior—the name of the pack where Nyx resided.

“But I believe the name of the pack where she was staying was something like Sagtannet. Maybe. Foreign sounding place and a bit rough from my tongue, but Hydra knows more of them than I.” She had been the one to curry favor with them, and he only knew of them through what she imparted to him. Her ideas and plans, the favors they could and perhaps yet would obtain through alliance.

It hadn't been that it was home, so much as it was difficult leaving Mother. The only things that had placated her were that their mother still had friends within Winterheart and that she had given then-Grey her blessing. She had gone back to see Mother once and now, well. Keres was no longer sure that she was even still alive; this thought saddened the silver Ostrega, regretting that she'd never gotten the chance to introduce her children to their grandmother, among other things.

Her lips pressed together in a grim line as the two siblings fell into silence, for a moment before Dirge spoke oncee more, providing the information she sought. Sagtannet. A curious name but far from the strangest she'd heard. She was pleased, though, to hear that Hydra knew more than just their name, and made a mental note to pick the dark woman's brain sometime.

Tell me of your children. Your life here. He had made a legacy here and the valkyrie was overjoyed at that. Her brother, of all people, deserved such happiness.

Not for the first time, he was somewhat grateful for the change in topic. Of course his siblings had always been blessed with that innate ability to avoid the sensitive; it was as though somewhere in their upbringing it had been instilled in them not to ask questions they weren’t certain they wanted answers to, and that some discoveries were better left sought out on their own.

The topic of his life and his children, however, should have been an easier one to answer.

Dirge was not one to speak of himself or his achievements, at least in the company of strangers. His sister was not a stranger in the normal sense; she was family, though the years between them were a great deal now. The words should have come flowing out, but they were instead pushed about conversationally as though he had something to skirt around in her company.

“Well, I wish I could say that my life here has been idyllic, but we have been plagued with some bouts of unrest from outside our borders from time to time. But my children are a bright spot in the gloom, figuratively speaking—and literally,” he said with a managed wave of good humor. “There are eight of them for now, four that were born last year, and four born this year. Atlas, Antares, Osiris, and Vega are the eldest, Altair, Caelum, Mira, and Mintaka are the youngest.”

Generic, bland; he worked to find a way to spice it up.

“They’re a motley crew to say the least. Osiris is perhaps the most prolific in skills of them. He’s young yet but a good hunter, will make a good scout if not another able soul to mend our borders. Atlas is close behind him though, and Antares and Vega seem to enjoy slinking around but they do their part. The youngest are still finding their way in the world… Hydra and I have our hands full keeping them corralled with all this rain drenching everything, though I suppose I could say the same of anyone who dares to watch them outside of her sisters or I,” he chuckled. “But I won’t spoil the fun in you meeting them and finding out for yourself.”

And now it was his turn—he deftly turned the question back.

“But what of you? What have you been up to all these years? Why did you leave home?”

Keres was pleased to learn so much about her extended family all in one go. As he said the names, Keres remembered Hydra telling her the same, though this second round helped hammer them in a little more.

I look forward to meeting all of them. The statement was heartfelt and proud, glancing sidelong to her long lost brother with a smile upon her silvered maw. Fortunately, I have some experience with the young ones, so I am sure I will be able to handle any antics they might have. Besides, they couldn't be worse than their litter, though this was something she kept to herself rather than giving voice to such a notion; their childhood had not been the best and there was no reason to keep bringing it up, despite the fact that she herself had never quite reconciled with it all.

When the question was volleyed back, there was a falter to her expression, a crack in the pleasant and cheery facade of the Ostrega woman. Memories and thoughts swirled deep, a black hole that she could get sucked into if she wasn't careful. As Dirge had been careful with his wording, so now was she, something that was off-kilter and out-of-character for her. Whether he would pick up on that was up to his memory, and also the fact that they had been apart for so terribly long.

A common tale, I suppose. I fell in love and moved to his pack. Having pups there... To be frank, she had been staunchly against such a thing, and though it had hurt to leave Mother and Lestra behind, Keres had made the decision to do so anyway. I had a litter of four; one was stillborn, and another fell ill almost immediately. He did not survive two moon cycles. A grim smile, small and pained. And then it was gone. My daughters though, Delphi and Themis, were strong ones. Hard-headed and willful but smart. They grew into themselves faster than I could blink, I feel like.

Their dreams drew them away, though and they moved on to have their adventures. Erebus and I were planning on another litter but She drew a breath here, yet rattled and shaky. Another wolf betrayed the pack and pinned it on my Erebus and killed him in an attempt to gain favor with those who led. There was a bitterness to her voice, laced with a raw sort of hurt, the pain of a wound that had not yet healed.

The question she expected to arise would be countered with a quiet but fiery statement, a betrayal to the so-carefully-concealed burn of anger within the woman. I pissed on his remains and left them to rot.

Though he had certainly punched a hole through her happiness, she went on with the tale, and he listened. It was a curious sort of thing to hear, to imagine that she had actually lived a full and rewarding life outside of the realm that he could see. Of course, it wasn’t without it’s sorrow either; his ears splayed back as she spoke of losing two of her children, then of her husband to the cruelty of an other’s ambitious whim.

Still, the demise of such a creature drew a snort from Dirge.

“I would expect no less of you,” he murmured, “though I am sorry you had to go through with such. Hydra and I have been… fortunate not to have such things happen.” No usurpers in their midst that he could find, though he had worried after Alya for a spell and her disdain for him. That had seemed to smooth over with time; he thought of her more fondly now, at least. He did not speak of this, nor of how he and Hydra had come into their reign.

“Though some time ago a rather fiendish hag took her pound of flesh from one of our elder sons, Osiris. He’s since recovered but she has been a reoccuring problem for some time, and her companion. We’ve tried to suss them out from our neighboring areas but it would seem they’ve moved on, but they’re only one of several who try and test their luck here. If they don’t cause problems with us directly, they stir trouble with our neighbors,” and even then, their neighbors were often a mixed bag, he thought.

He sighed, and gave his coat a shake to loosen it of water.

“But aside from that there’s few things to worry of here, at least within our territory. I can’t speak for the others and most of our conflicts have happened in the glen to the north where we mainly hunt. This wilderness can be unforgiving, but thankfully we are well acquainted with such an environment.” A small smirk revealed itself then, half-hearted—it wasn’t truly all that bad, but he was sure that Keres could infer such on her own.

A silent touch of their shoulders as they walked was Keres' only acknowledgement of his condolences. She wished not to speak on the matter any longer, knowing full well the steep descent into depression and isolation. She had had enough of that in the last year and wished not to revisit it, if at all possible.

Her hackles did bristle and rise at the mention of Osiris' attack, brows furrowing together at the news that the attacker(s) had not yet been caught and dealt with. Even if that was one of the only issues, according to Dirge's next words, she would keep a vigilant eye about for the hag and her companion.

With a query as to whatever knowledge her brother could give her, the two reuinted siblings continued their walk, soon turning to more present conversation rather than that of the past.