Sleepy Fox Hollow Get my pretty name out of your mouth

Will archive as RO in 3 days if no response by then!

Wylla flicked her tongue against the cedar strip held still between her teeth, the end softened by her saliva. The taste of it was becoming a constant in her recent day-to-day life. Like a little girl's dolly, she kept it with her often, abandoning it only when she needed to hunt or drive an insolent scavenger away from her meal. She fell asleep with it tucked against her narrow wrist and woke up with it beneath her chin or chest. She thought she would kill any wolf who sought to take it from him.

She carried it with her even when some horrible nostalgia gripped her and dragged her up into the Sunspires, to a cave in a quiet hollow where once she had played twenty-one questions. Back then, she had wondered if she could ever feel the depth of affection that was felt for her, and worried that she would not measure up. How ironic that she returned now, feeling as though she had given too much of herself to someone who could never return the same to her.

She didn't know why she'd come here. She glared into the cave, allowing her sadness and frustration to well over into anger. Mahler had not come after her. She wasn't surprised. It wasn't like she'd been trying to play that game with him when she announced that she was leaving Sagtannet, but to have her worthlessness confirmed by the absence of him cut her to the core.

She placed her prized bark in the cave, intending to leave it there with the memory of him, but she made it only ten steps before she had to turn back and snatch it up once more.

Stag had managed his goodbyes, and in the morning left Sagtannet.

It was strange, leaving a world you'd become accustomed to behind.

He followed Wylla's scent, unaware of the token of her past life she carried with her. Her tracks lead up uphill, towards a cave. Thinking this was where she rested, Stag approached -- only to pause curiously as he saw Wylla come out of it with a strip of cedar in her jaws.

She didn't notice Stag at first. He blended with the mountain snow so much that he might as well have ceased to exist, but his green eyes popped out at her, causing her to falter. It was embarrassing to be caught in this old place with this meaningless trinket between her teeth. Whatever had possessed Mahler to gift it to her, wrapped around a collection of feathers, was not an emotion that touched his heart. If it had, she would not be standing here, reminiscing like some moon-sick idiot.

Attempting to pass it off as nothing, she dropped it and nudged it aside. It tugged her heart to do so. She would not leave it here. She couldn't. But seeing Stag reminded her that there were more important things to do than this, and her voice was brisk, business-like, when she spoke. There was a barely detectable quaver there that she hoped he would not notice.

I met some wolves in the valley down below, she shared, yearning abruptly to reach out and brush her cheek against his neck and find some comfort for her wheezing heart in a wolf's simple contact. She pushed it away. They call themselves the Watch. They live on a ridge overlooking the valley close to where the fairies used to live. Did he know about them? No matter. They've extended an invitation to us, if you're interested. It would keep us close enough to Sagtannet to visit Phaedra and Thade freely, but far enough from the cliffs that we shouldn't need to worry about them.

All of this was delivered in the rote manner of a news anchor reeling off a scrolling list of words. Very little of it held any emotion besides the cracked numbness that shaded her days now, the exception being the mention of her children, which speared her anew. I think it might be a better idea than wandering around on the cusp of winter, she muttered, but I value your input. After all, Stag had never followed anyone but Mahler, and maybe his father before him, if he'd been old enough to recall that time. It was a huge leap of faith. Wylla was skeptical of throwing her lot in with wolves she didn't know, but it had to be better than Sagtannet, at least.

To Stag, that strip of cedar was meaningless. When Wylla deposited it down and pushed it away, it became insignificant. Out of sight, out of mind. Just an idle chew toy to pass the time.

He turned his attention back to Wylla, an ear tilted towards the words that scrolled from her tongue in brisk, perfunctory fact. A pack nearby, lead by wolves who called themselves The Watch.

A daunting name. Stag repeated it a few times in his mind: Stag, from The Watch. Wylla, Watchman. It had a ring to it he could not quite place. It didn't matter his opinion, however -- much like Wylla, Stag felt the instinctive pull to let his roots settle close. Mostly for Phaedra. "Do you trust them?"

That would be his only question on the matter. He agreed a pack was better than braving the wilds alone -- but he also was sharply reminded of the last time he had hedged his life and faith into a pack. Look where that got them.

I don't think I'll ever really trust anyone but you again, Wylla admitted, a cold grimace tugging the corners of her lips down. Trust was unlikely to factor into many of her decisions going forward. Stjornuati had recognized potential in her, which was more than could be said for most, but much of him reminded her of Mahler. It would be a long time before she could ever trust that the cream-furred northerner was different than her former beau, but as long as he led his pack fairly, she could make do with that.

It's a place to start. If it turns out we don't fit well there, there may be other options. She pressed the edge of her tooth against her lip, thoughtful. If the Watch wolves were to be believed, the fairies were gone, which meant they would find neither safe haven nor trouble from them. Even if they were the best option, Wylla didn't think she would be able to bow her head to any wolf claiming to be a fairy. Besides them and Rusalka, she knew of no packs in the vicinity.

I might scout a little further and see what else there is, she said, faraway, like she was speaking in a dream. If you want to check the Watch out, they're on a ridge down the mountain. If you go down to the foothills facing Nova Peak and follow along the mountains toward the coast, you'll have no trouble finding them. Alternatively, he could do whatever he pleased. She had come here, to Sleepy Fox Hollow, to torture herself some more. Maybe he had plans of his own along the same lines. She hoped not, but she wasn't naive enough to think this wasn't hard on him, as well.

At least Wylla's answer was honest -- not that Stag had expected anything else. He considered her response carefully, wondering after these wolves on the Watch.

What was it they watched for?

He decided it didn't much matter. If Wylla had her heart set on going there, that is where they would go. "I trust you." Stag inferred, suggesting that it was, in the end, her call. He didn't want to go back to Sagtannet, but that was where his experience ended. The world was enormous and overwhelming, and he believed their best bet was to follow Wylla's judgment.

This is the most cop out blah post I think I've ever intentionally written, but I've written it thrice now because the first two times my effing cat stepped on my computer power button and I lost it. Can fade here, either with this post or one more from you!

Wylla nodded mutely, marveling at the way her head felt separated from her shoulders as she did so, like the rest of her body no longer existed. She wondered if she would ever feel normal again, and decided that normal was something she would have to redefine. Normal was waiting for signs of true love from a man with a history of emotionally abusing the women around him, even unintentionally, and it would take some time for her to adjust how she looked at her reality.

She hoped Stag would continue having faith in her and her judgment until then, even though she knew her judgment was questionable at best. I'm going to scout some more, she repeated, with a slightly firmer tone, as if resolving herself to something. You can come if you want, but you don't have to. She would return for the cedar bark later, when Stag wasn't around to witness how pathetic she had become, toting around some trinket to remind her of a love lost. With only a brief flick of her eyes toward it, Wylla turned and began heading back the way she'd come, intending to descend back into the taiga and continue on.

Been there, done that. F in chat for those posts lost to oblivion

The only one who questioned Wylla's judgment was Wylla. Stag was wholly, earnestly in belief that if she believed the Watch was where they should go, that was the only answer.

He'd forgotten entirely about the cedar, and didn't even catch the way her eyes flickered back to the piece of bark. "I'll come along." Stag offered, moreso for the company than for anything ambitious. He'd noticed a change in Wylla as of late and didn't want to leave her out of his sight, even if that sounded possessive or unhealthy. It wasn't because he didn't trust her (in fact, it was the opposite - he didn't trust the world at large), but given all the discord in their lives lately, it seemed best they stick together.

So Stag came along a beat after, following Wylla as they scouted the hinterlands for their new home.