Sunset Valley dreams

06/18/2023 - W243 arrived at our facility this evening, taken by lifeflight and given vital fluids in transit. Zygomatic fracture and extensive bleeding along the cheek; we checked for concussion and found brain activity to be normal.

W243 is a dark red-brown female, approx. 3 years of age. Her eyes appear dark blue (a recessive trait within this population? will require more research). Extensive scarring along her body, and upon further examination, the tip of her tongue has been severed. Heavy scar tissue; an old injury.

Specimen is extremely sedated; will examine behavior upon waking.

they drop her in
a valley ruled by
the wilderness of wild
beasts that rule here

wings beating fast
round; fevered; quick;
into the sky
into the clouds

she lies
sedated still
summer earth
still breeze

she
has
come
home

---

Avicus lifts her head with some effort—no, much effort. it weighs a thousand pounds, and an ache in her skull nearly prevents her from seeing straight.

but she sees—

open skies. open lands.

she thinks of rising to her paws but isn't sure whether she can, yet. her ears swiveling, wary, she lowers her cheek again, relishing the feel of earth against her face.

it's quiet. finally.

that spirit-place had not been quiet, ever. even at its best—an insistent, unworldly hum.

the silence thrums like blood through veins;

she drinks in the air, finding the familiarity intoxicating.

The stench of disinfectant fades, and the warm, glowing scent of grass replaces it. Licking his lips, Ksura tastes it- recognizing the scent of wilderness from what he could remember before he'd been taken into the Bitterplace. As he blinked, he could see no more shining silver teeth holding him in place. Amid the verdant green is a blurry splash of red, whose scent he recognizes instantly.

The area, however, is completely new to him. 

Vast, beautiful, and unfamiliar. 

The ache in his hip reminded him of what had happened, though he still felt no remorse. The small, wooly creatures had been delectable, even if he hadn't eaten them. One by one he'd felled them, moving on to the next with deft deliverance. The sharp bark of sound and sudden pain in his hip had stopped him, and within moments everything had gone dark. 

The next minute, everything was bright, bitter. Things....Happened. He never felt truly himself, but he ate the odd offerings that appeared within the steel jaws that confined him while he'd been injured. One more pinprick of pain and it was all gone, anyway. 

Awakened by the breeze, Ksura sat up and shook his head. This wasn't the Outdoors, not anymore. This was vastly larger. The red woman had awakened as well, and he wondered if she knew where they were. He sighed faintly, disappointed. 

"No sheep." He commented quietly to himself.

the painted man.

movement nearby alerts her attention, and she glances over toward him, whites of her indigo eyes flashing as she does so. he's speaking to himself; little wonder, the madman.

he'd been her company in. . .the other place, and she'd found him weak and ineffectual. and strange.

she has no patience for him now.

one breath in, two, and then she lifts herself, slowly, to her paws. every muscle burns; every joint creaks. but she does, eventually, stand aloft, and the wind buffets her pelt as she gazes over the sloping horizon, a wistful sigh escaping her lungs.

she turns, and begins to go—south? she wonders, trying to gauge the sun.

That look. 

His ears turned back, and he began to pant softly, a language of constant apologies he learned to speak the moment he'd first caught her eye. With nowhere to run but in circles, it'd been impossible for him to satisfy the need to move without causing himself other problems. Looking to her for direction or affirmation had never been of any use. He knew nothing from her but a silent but earnest cue to go away. 

So he'd gone in circles. 

He'd longed for freedom and yet when it was given to him he felt oddly insecure and small. She stood, and he lurched dizzily to his feet as well. His ears flicked forward, hopeful. He took a step, following precariously.

They trailed a pair of wayward does just past the grotto before deciding they oughtn’t go any farther. Masque slowed to a stop, toes kneading into the grass underfoot, brittle beneath the August sun. They stood there a moment before swiveling, enjoying the mild breeze that blustered against their back before they froze abruptly, head snapping around.

They sniffed the air intensively as their entire body pivoted in a single movement, Masque’s paws already winding into a ground-eating gallop before they even registered anything more than a familiar scent. Their heart pounded against their ribs and a small whine eked out of them on every other breath.

They caught sight of a wolf whose coloration made them think of @Relic. But it wasn’t him. Masquerade dug their heels into the ground, coming to a more abrupt halt as they stared at the stranger for a beat, two, three. Then their eyes skittered past him to the red figure of a she-wolf and their heart leaped in their chest.

The Caru scuttled toward Avicus like a crab, crouching and running simultaneously with their tail wiggling so fast it blurred. They whined continuously now as they nuzzled closer to her, ignoring the strange smells wound into her familiar scent as they moaned their happiness through kisses pressed to her chin.

her eyes drift casually along the lines of his body as he stands, and then snap away as movement catches her gaze. a blur of reds and blacks and whites—

and suddenly she is accosted, and she steps back quickly, chin raised in affront, bristling at the foreign touch.

who—

her nose has yet to adjust. a familiar smell beneath her, yes. . .

indigo eyes dart;

taking in each shape;

mack, she whispers, the single syllable clicking on tongue and teeth.

her. . .daughter? yes?

Ksura noted the stranger with a twinge of his nose, wetted with a nervous lick. Their eyes met for a moment, but were lured away an instant later by the red wolf. He exhaled sharply when the red-faced wolf bolted toward them,  flattened ears and tucked hind end indicative not only of familiarity but of subservience and glee. As the gap was closed, his eyes flicked back and forth from one to the other- noting that his enclosure-mate did not immediately ward the other off with snaps or snarls. 

She barely had time to react, but when she stepped back stiffly in surprise he uttered a faint growl, stepping one pace forward, reading the situation a millisecond at a time. He couldn't tell, at first, if a fight would break out or not. He'd never seen those indigo eyes look upon anyone else with anything kinder than disdain. He'd also never heard her speak, not that he could remember, anyway. So when her expression shifted and she uttered a soft articulation, he realized he was witnessing some type of a reunion. 

He hung back, anxious still to see her interact with someone in such a way. He wasn't ready to depart yet, bonded to her in some way from having been forced into the same, undersized enclosure day after day, and  yet he couldn't help but feel that he should flee, so that the two of them might not get the chance to turn on him.

It was surreal, seeing Avicus again; smelling her; touching her. She was here. She was alive. Masquerade veritably writhed as each of these revelations passed through their mind. They were so overjoyed, they didn’t notice the momentary tension. When their mother’s muzzle raised out of reach, they merely craned further upward.

“Mack,” they heard her rumble.

Mother, the Caru whimpered.

your daughter! yes

every synapse in her brain screams—yes!

but the baser instincts have her stumbling back, her throat rumbling slightly at this unknown presence. a wolf she knows, but a wolf she can. . .trust?

instinctually, she's shoved her body between the man and Masquerade, eyes flashing between the two.

mack, Avicus says again, as if in confirmation. you. . . i. . .

her words get lost in the quagmire that is her thoughts, and she frowns deeply, trying to summon something, anything. no words come, and she looks at her daughter in some helplessness, jaw not quite slack.

He could barely hear what the yearling said, and yet he knew instantly the connection between child and parent. It had been obvious enough when he'd first seen her that she'd had pups, and while he'd never asked about them, he'd assumed her longing had been part of the reason why she'd been so quiet. Ksura saw a yearling, a sign that the woman was creating generations that would live on in her legacy and that more than one litter had been left behind when she'd been brought in.

He looked up to the sky in the moment of their intimacy, and toward the leaning shadows in the distance, knowing in an instant that he would never look up to see the stars rise above his homeland again. The angle and length of both light and shadows told him all he needed to know. The mountains had strange faces, the evergreens had different nettles, and even the sandy earth beneath his feet was a different texture. 

He felt a pang of jealousy as his gaze rose to see the woman address her child again, looking for the words to explain. He frowned. Somehow, he felt it was more likely that the woman would be forgiven by her family. Perhaps she too had been a sheep-killer; he would never know. It wasn't his place to find out, but it seemed as though she was in better company. Ruefully, he wondered why fate couldn't have smiled on him too, and put him back where he'd come from. The thought was quickly dismissed; he knew he couldn't quit old habits, and so had the ones who had wounded him.

He inhaled lightly, and turned, exhaling as he gave the  horizon a look of longing before he swung his head low, and began to tread away.

Avicus pulled away and Masquerade finally noticed her discomfort. They stilled, the joyous expression on their face slowly slipping into one of concerned confusion. Before they could properly process, the former Wealda moved again, putting herself between Masquerade and the stranger. They had forgotten all about him until this moment.

He began to lope away and the Caru immediately looked back to their mother, watching Avicus’s face twist as she struggled to articulate. Masque held still, trying to be patient, but when their dam stood there in helpless silence, they slithered closer again.

What is it? Are you hurt? they asked, noting that peculiar odor again.

They yearned to nose every inch of her to make certain she wasn’t injured. Not for the first or last time, Masque wished they could summon Ashlar. But he was gone. So was Redd. The rise had never been the same since its Wealda had vanished.

But she was back now and even with all the unknowns, Masque’s world had already shifted back onto its proper axis.

the multi-colored man makes his exit; she casts a brief glance his way before returning her gaze to her daughter, questioning insistently, sniffing around her frame.

no, she says, though there's some hesitation to her voice—she had been hurt, and although the wound had healed, she still feels this sense of. . .vulnerability?

no, Avicus repeats, stronger this time. home. lehh' go—home.

with a sudden fierceness, she presses back into her daughter, taking Masquerade into a tight embrace that's totally unlike the woman. breathing in her scent, the smells of the Rise. her other children. 

home. love.

when they separate after a few moments, she points her nose southward, and takes an impatient first step.