Stone Circle No time

@Gunnar I'm sorry I can only do shrimp phone posts right now
“We're going to get help, ok? You're going to be all right." She falls to Faðir's side, clutching desperately at his arm, tears soaking her cheeks and falling onto his as she searches his graying face for a response. He is fading quickly. She fears they have little time.

“@Skáld!” She calls, her voice rising from his name into one long frightened howl.

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Skáld had been dangling a little flower above the childrens' heads, smiling fondly as he had the two of them more or less mesmerized by its movements when Tauris called out for him. He dropped the flower immediately and stood up, his unruly curls full of petals from the many flowers he and the children had plucked apart. He knew that they could sense his panic, but he gave each child a kiss on the top of their head, before he carefully pulled away, and bolted through the woodlands. 

Leaves fell all around him; the gilded forest had begun to wilt, past its zenith now that cooler temperatures had begun to creep in. He flashed through the stream, and zipped up over a knoll, to find Tauris with Gunnar, and he approached, out of breath, creeping forward with a shivering, fearful whine.

Daddy didn't play with her as much anymore.
He disappeared more; he grew weaker as the nights stretched on longer and as the days grew cooler, as Astrid and her brothers aged. And with Astrid being Astrid, she thought to be angry with him; why was he so sick? What was up with him? He wasn't really sick, he just didn't want to deal with her! She knew it, that's what everyone thought!
But intuition was a strong thing.
Something was wrong.
The panicked, strung-out yelp of auntie Tauris sends a cold feeling into her tummy. She knew without needing to ask. She hurtles toward the voice, the scents; brothers left behind in the chaos, prepubescent limbs carrying her to—
Tauris? Skáld? she feels sick. Tauris! her heart pangs, flutters, and she fears it may stop;
What's wrong with him?

She can’t leave. She can’t amend things with Swiftcurrent. She can’t go to Riverclan. She can’t be gone from her children.

Her boy is blessedly swift and her heart hitches in a moment of relief to see him. “I need you to go to Riverclan. We need a healer. We need medicine,” her paw over Gunnar’s own tightens.

“Will you do this?” She turns to him starkly.

Then came Gunnar’s daughter and the nornir stares helplessly into the girl’s fearful face.

“Astrid- I don’t know my darling,” She says earnestly to her niece. “Please, will you go with Skáld? We need help for your father so he can get better, ok?”

Tauris gives him a task, but it means leaving behind Gunnar when he looked so tired, frail and weak. He hesitated, especially when Astrid arrived as like any other who loved the man, it tore his heart into pieces to stray far from his side. He whined softly, and reached to brush his chin across Astrid's shoulders, gently nudging her toward her father. 

His eyes welled. He looked upon Gunnar and felt his cheeks burn hot. What if it was the last time he ever saw him again? He nodded silently to Tauris and wiped his muzzle against his shoudler to clear his vision. He stooped forward to kiss Gunnar's cheek, holding his breath and holding back the thousands of words he wanted to say, knowing that if he didn't go now, none of them might get to tell Gunnar just how much he was loved. 

He hesitated only long enough to see if Astrid would accompany him, or if she would choose to stay. Then he would make a beeline for the borders, and head immediately toward Riverclan.

Panic split the still autumn air with the familiar call of his aunt’s voice. Twisted into a chilled note that did a better job at running his blood cold than the changing season.

His father had not been home for a number of days. Leaving Ujurak and his siblings with their mother when they weren’t up to their own games. His father’s absence weighed heavily on the boy. Recalling how his father ailed with his sight and never walked well.

Astrid rose to the call far more quickly than he. Astrid! Tumbled from his maw as he scrambled after her.

His paws weighed him down. Heavier than he was used to. He knew it was bad. Ujurak’s eyes bulged from his head as he tumbled onto the scene shortly after his sister. Many words rushing forth. To spill out as questions, only to dam themselves in his throat. Ujurak barely choked out a whine, coming to Gunnar’s side. Fadir?

He scarcely registered the instructions that Tauris was dealing. Blinking once. Twice. He approached her trepidly. Is there anything else you need help with?

Riverclan? Leave— what?
No! her head shakes fervently as her little body sinks to the ground. No, nonono, Faðir, Dad, Daddy— no, I'm not leavin' him. You can't make me.
Crawling, hunching, she sprawls out in the softsweet grass as Ujurak's voice hammers in the back of her head, trembling paws thrown over the gray-mottled neck. I'm here, daddy, I'm here! I'm here, I'm not goin', her breath catches in her throat, lungs tight; he hasn't opened his eyes. it's okay, I'm here.
I'm sorry.

“It’s all right, Astrid, come here,” she whispers to the girl, ears tipping to receive Gunnar’s son now.

“Ujurak, please,” she asks quietly of him. Skáld knew the way to Riverclan, he was capable of traversing the lands between, yet still, she did not want him going alone. She holds the young boy in staid question, breath catching when she realizes much he looks like Gunnar. "Will you?”

cameo

Sven heard the call and ran towards it. Wide gun metal grey eyes in his head a softly uttered oh.

He creeped upon his belly towards theur fadir and sister. A tremble in his toes,  he had known father was elderly, but he had been certain there was more time. He curled hia chin upon his father and another paw wound around Astrid.

Ujurak's eyes glistened as Tauris turned to him. Astrid wouldn't go and the fact that he would leave both her and their father behind nearly pulled his heart into two. It thundered in his chest and he could feel the wetness drip down his cheeks.  His tongue seized so he sniffled, ran a paw over his nose, and nodded to Tauris.

Moving to follow Skald, he looked at Astrid. How she held onto their father. His stillness tied a knot in his gut. Blinking fiercely he forced his paws forward to join their elder brodir.

Skippable unless prompted.

He stands like a fucking fool not knowing what to do.

Because he was one.

Words charge through his ears, all in a tar-like slowness that glued upon his head and clogged it with acid. Weeping, and the stiff air shattered by sniffles, cries and the ruckus of broken movement. He did not know why he could hardly hear any of it, or why he could do nothing. Why he felt as if he could do nothing. Why he knew he could do nothing. The berating, pounding words and corroding doors that sealed shut paths to never be opened again, and the rusty smell of a new kind of reality touching him. Like a pulling of his pelt, and a sickening within his throat, that he could not possess the truth that there was change happening. It was all too fast- this was all too fast.

Why wasn't it stopping? Why wasn't it stopping? Why wasn't it stopping? He choked, and his throat tightened until he was breathless. Then an eerie still, until he could no longer control his body.

What had he done?

Cameo

Featherlight his breathing, but he still breathed. He felt the movements against his side, his paw. The voices in and out. Oh how he loved those voices.

He dug deeply, as deep as he could. He was far too tired to wake fully, but he squeezed paws and shifted just enough, just enough. So they knew he still lived for now, but he wasn't certain.q

“We’re all right here, and help is on the way. You’re going to be ok,” she whispers into Gunnar’s stirring cheek, and kisses his temple softly. Then she rises to make room for his children, stepping hollow past Bonnie and out into the open air.

She calls for @Figment.

short posts so I don’t hold anything up

There was urgency in the call and so Fig wasted no time hurrying to answer. The scene he came upon was full of tension and fear. So many were gathered, all around Gunnar. And Gunnar…

”What’s happened?” Fig asked as he stepped to Tauris’s side, leaning against her to offer some comfort, knowing without being told that it was needed. In the next moment, after more observation, he amended, ”What can I do?”

She sinks her face into his obsidian neck, breathing deeply. He smells like puppy.

Away from the others he is lead to where the children cannot overhear what is next said.

“Gunnar’s not in a good way. He’s stepped down as alpha. Our relationship with Swiftcurrent is deteriorating,” she lifts her chin to look into his eyes. “I know I ask too much of you, Fig... but I need help.”

“In a couple weeks when the pups are weaned (and tazi is back from vacation), I want to make amends with the creek. Whatever’s happened, I do not believe it’s not worth severing the tri-pack alliance. Will you come with me?”

She asked for his help, and though Fig was entirely certain to what extent she meant, he gave her a steady nod. He would always support her. He would always care for her. Whatever was in his power to give, it would always be hers.

”Yes,” he agreed, ”Skald can watch the kids for the day.” He had no fear the young wolf would care well for their children. He looked over again at Gunnar with the rest, his heart aching. He was not close with the man, but he would not be unaffected by this.

Commotion, clamoring, so much noise;
And through it all, Astrid did not move.
Tauris's grapple to pull her close is met with a neat snap of her teeth; not once did she stray from her place cupped at the curve of her faðir's neck, like how she slept when she was small enough to bury herself there. Sven, Sven is here, and for what felt like the first time ever, she accepts the touch.
She wished this wasn't happening. She wished she could disappear.
The cries around her start to make her feel like she's drowning in a thick, tar-like feeling that encases her body entire. Confusion, dismay, despair; she focuses hard on the raspy, slow breaths coming from — pabbi. In... out. In... out. He is still here, he is still warm.
The chattering, the talking, more bodies crowding them— anger. Searing, red hot anger;

EVERYONE SHUT UP!

She surprises even herself with the ear-shattering volume. Shut up, please, please shut up! Please! Please! her chords all but snap and she can't breathe and she just wanted him to open his eyes or say something just something and—
She cannot stop the barrage of sobs before they start. They are brutally unforgiving and they tear her apart from the inside out.

He didn't care. He didn't care about the screams, and how Astrid made despicable noises over his body, disturbing his rest. He did not care, god forbid, that Gunnar's exhaustion showed at large. It wasn't his fault. Gunnar made his decision. Bonnie warned him enough. There was no peace. There was no aid to a seeping wound. Astrid may have now felt like tar was enveloping her body, but long had Bonnie felt tar constricting his head until his brain was close to a slick pop.

He heard mumbling. He didn't care.
Gunnar was fine. They could quit their sobs. It wasn't his problem. It was frankly pathetic.

Was all he could try and tell himself as he turned away and left, with a mind too destructed to conjure a thought to begin with.

I'm sorry.

I think I am making some minor assumptions, so feel free to boop me if I’m off base.

 

Calls for help had filled the air outside of Riverclan. The dark star lifted his head to listen. Someone was injured. They asked for a healer. 

Part of him wished to turn away from the calls for help. He had enough to plague him. Crowfeather did not need to deal with these kinds of things. He still had not found Stormpup. Shadowpup asked to learn about Starclan. And he still burned from the things he had learned, the ways he had learned them. 

The tripod moved to answer the call from Kvarsheim. He called back that he was on his way. Stopping only for herbs that might prove beneficial, Crowfeather rushed to their allies. 

To the young ones who sought Riverclan’s help, the shadow halted. 

Take me to them. To whoever is suffering.

Skáld is skippable <3 I will reply if someone interacts with him. 

Skáld was nearly breathless by the time they returned to Kvarsheim. The sprint to Riverclan had tired both him and Ujurak out, but they had done it. The medic had come prepared, and when he asked to be led, the boys brought him back across the plains toward the Stone Circle where the gathering of wolves had grown. For a moment, Skáld feared they might be too late. He whispered and gestured toward the wolves in the distance, congregating there around their ailing father. 

As for him, he would need a break. He huffed to let Ujurak know he could go on ahead if he wanted, but Skáld would need about fifteen minutes to finally calm down his breathing, and a drink of water before he was even capable of handling what Gunnar's diagnosis might be. He settled down into the grass, a small distance away from the group, huffing, puffing, and occasionally yawning to gulp in a bit more air.

Ujurak lagged several strides behind the older wolves. Each toe aching and his legs threatened him with collapse. His tongue lolled with each gasp. Blinking to Skáld, he forced himself further. His eyes upon his fadir. His sister. His brother.

Ujurak took his place besides them. Finally settling on the side opposite to Sven. One paw reaching across his siblings. The other reaching down to his fadir's paw, his eyes firmly affixed to the old wolf's face. Waiting for the slate eyes to open again.

“Thank you,” she speaks into his jaw, parting with a kiss there for only a breath. Astrid’s cries move her and then a trio of wolves sprinting through the mead still her.

“Thank you,” she lifts into a breathless run for them, “thank you for coming.” Her voice is straining but she swiftly leads the dark man to where Gunnar lay. Tears unanchor and her body convulses. Why does he look like that?

Thank you, she wants to speak to Ujurak, but can no longer manage it between sobs. She tears from the den to look for Skáld.