Otter Creek iii Means to an end.

The remains of the fawn were tucked in to the drying hide and buried that morning. Kigipigak lingered over the burrow where the heaviest bones had been piled and with a raised leg he marked the surface. If he could not find much to satisfy himself during his travels he would return to seek this bundle.

Moving on was easy as nothing tied him down anywhere and had not for a while, so once the bundle was in place and suitably hidden in the wood he found a place to sleep and rested for a few hours, rising late in the morning, and marched north.

Kigipigak did not stop to investigate any animal paths he found on the way, his belly rarely swayed his decisions and it was filled with fresh fawn meat besides, so there was very little interest to the scattered wolf scents he crossed along the way - most on the edge of a dark wood.

He rested at a patch of riverside. The water was refreshing on his tongue and as he drank heartily of the mountain run-off he wondered what his next move should be. The mountains called to his spirit; they rose impervious before him and tapered off in to the hazy pulled-cotton clouds.

Otter Creek was the conduit into and out of the world beyond the woods. She had found herself here often over the years, usually in a state of distress—searching, voyaging, returning, mourning. . . And now, as the whispers within the trees grew too loud to bear, she arrived again, stepping into the sunlight with narrowed eyes, beams bouncing off her pale pelt.

She would find solitude for very long. Another just like her, drinking nearby. Maegi lifted her muzzle and drew in his scent. Unfamiliar, and not much clinging to it besides his own musk. He was big and well-muscled; could toss her around like a ragdoll if he wished.

But the Melonii claimed the forest just behind her, and she had always seen the creek as an extension of that domain. She felt no fear as she approached him slowly, with a chuff, waiting to see whether he'd respond with words or action.

A presence came to rest behind him. Kigipigak would have been ignorant to the woman had she not chuffed to gather his attention. When he heard it he raised his head and water ran streaking down his chin, dribbling back from whence it came.

He turned his head while his ears twitched, continued turning even as he came to rest solidly in place. His copper gaze lingered upon the pale figure. It was wraith-like and much smaller than he was used to for a woman. Two eyes stared back at him with different colors, one a sunrise and the other a sunset.

Kigipigak wondered if she could smell the fawn on him. Her scent was one of those scattered within the woodland and when he recognized it as such, his brow raised. 

You come out of your forest, He remarks—an observation and nothing more.

He seemed unaffected by the tattered condition of her left cheek, which was. . .different. She had long come to expect the second glances, the stares (though the pang had never gone away). Maegi turned her head that way now, unsure of whether she wanted a reaction or just was keen on getting it out of the way.

Sometimes, she replied, shrugging. A change of scenery is nice.

The pale priestess padded along the bank of the creek, keeping a fair distance away but closing the gap between them nonetheless. Do you live nearby? she asked, keeping her eyes trained on him and letting her paws and sense of balance do the work of keeping her on terra firma, rather than sending her tumbling into the water. 

Once, she had known all the faces within and around the forest. She had been away, though, for quite some time; he didn't smell much like this area, but he may have settled recently. Who else had taken refuge here?

The woman was crooked. She walked crookedly, her face was split, she looked normal until she moved and Kigipigak could see the malformation through the way she weighed her steps. Having never seen such a thing in Unnuakvik before Kigipigak was nervous of it; he eyed her as she stalked along the creekside.

Kigipigak wondered if his true feeling about his dispersal had summoned this aliuktuk - she who walks in dead places. For all he knew Kigipigak was keeping company with a ghost. 

I live everywhere, Kigipigak replies, wanting to sound proud of this fact. He had left Unnuakvik on good terms and with his mother's impossible to attain favor, which was all he had ever wanted. The change in his scenery had not yet warped him. This place is mine to roam and see, and there is much to see. Is your forest good enough for you? 

He did not follow after the ghost. If she wanted to leave him Kigipigak would not stop her. The last thing he wished was to be cursed, and so he played a friendly role.

Everywhere. She didn't think she could do that. Traveling was fine enough, but she needed an anchor point. The woods had been that for her since birth. Maegi felt his eyes burning along her scars and smirked; perhaps if she found humor in the shock and uneasiness, the hurt could fade in time.

He asked her a question, though, and the levity was short lived. She wanted to say yes, yes, yes — the underground tunnels glowing with strange organisms, the intoxicating poison tree, the altar and all its whispers. . . Blackfeather Woods was a treasure trove of things to see and to find.

But it wasn't everything. Not even close. It did not bring the peace of the island, or the joy of the now-singed hollow.

No, Maegi answered, swallowing back her grief. But it's enough for now.

A thin smile perched upon Kigipigak's face. He did not understand the shroud that descended across the mutilated woman exactly, wondering if he had caused such disruption, but then laid such thoughts to rest. Her life must be hard with her inadequacies—and they had nothing to do with him.

I hope the road is kind to you, Kigipigak says. His tone is friendly; he cannot help but look upon her twisted limb as he says it, his copper gaze flickering with thought. Whenever you should choose it. 

But he did wonder about the forest. What is this place called...?

She hoped so, too. She gave him a faint smile in return, not able to fully take in the words but appreciating the sentiment nonetheless. She could wallow in self-pity or she could, as she always had, carry on. 

Well. . .she could do a little wallowing. . .

Blackfeather Woods, Maegi answered, after a beat of hesitation. She didn't know this wolf; though none of the scents on his pelt were familiar, she'd been away for too long to trust that he wasn't an ally of their enemy. But didn't everyone know the forest, anyway? And the aggressors here long dead—

My family have lived here for generations, she explained. Her blood, and the whispers of spirits, were an inextricable tie to the dark trees. It is my home.

She gave him a long look, silent, pondering, before speaking again. I'm Maegi. You are. . .?

Kigipigak listened. The name was fitting, as the trees were dark and heavy with a ravenblack silence. He wondered if Stjornuati would enjoy hearing talk of this place—having taken an interest in his ravenhome upon the mountain.

My family have lived here for generations, the twisted woman explained. Her voice was heavy, too.
I'm Maegi. You are... ?

Kigipigak, he responded softly. He thought to add his usual introduction—proudly boast of his ties to Tartok and his mother—but saw little point in that. If this was the last survivor of a tribe then what good would telling her do? This woman was broken and withered, unlikely to continue her line with any man; what man would take her the way she was?

My home was in the north. I recently left to find my own way. He spoke beyond his prejudice.

North. She'd not really been much farther north than this. But she'd heard tales of it from Kove—a great, white, cold expanse. Maegi wondered if all wolves from there looked like Kove and this man, Kigipigak. It certainly suited them to blend into the snow.

Would she fit in there? Anywhere?

I hope you can find what you're looking for, she responded, well understanding the urge to strike out on one's own. Sometimes it worked out—she hoped for his sake that this journey was charmed. If—

She stopped herself short. Once, she had been the master, the Nona, of Blackfeather Woods, with the privilege to invite in lost souls and troubled hearts. She no longer had the power to proffer that invite, though; Rowan was now the master of the dark woods.

If. . .we meet again, on the road, perhaps you can teach me more about the north, Maegi changed course. Leader she may no longer be, but she was forever a student with a hunger for knowledge.

100!

Kigipigak hears the hitch in her throat and pivots his ears to listen closely. He is appreciative of her well-wishing for the most part, though a stain of disinterest seeps in to him slowly, caring very little of what this strange woman might have to say to him.

He doesn't dislike her, she is kind enough; more so Kigipigak puts up with her company because he has been lonely for so long, and she is like a charity case for him to visit, making himself feel accomplished. Except he does not feel accomplished exactly—intolerant, lusting to fill the void that his dispersal has left inside of himself, and rapacious enough to settle for a few minutes of wither-woman attention.

If we meet again, he answers, smiling softly; his usually warm eyes dull like forgotten pennies. I would happily talk of my home. I do miss it. He wants to say more, but cannot, knowing he might say something he would regret and he is new to these lands, thus Kigipigak does not want to cause upset so readily.

He dips his head in a farewell nod and begins to saunter away from her. The further he goes the colder he feels, the more focused, and his mind drifts to thoughts of Unnuakvik.

grats on 100!

Farewell, thought Maegi, as he turned to leave. The briefest grasp at new company had once more slipped away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. . .par for the course here at Otter Creek.

She dipped her muzzle low, seeking a drink from the cool water.

Bicolored eyes, muddled by ripples, blinking back at her. And a crooked perma-smile—

Maegi slapped her paw against the surface of the stream, sending her reflection shivering into fragments. She drank deeply and returned to the forest, finding no solace in solitude outside the woods.