Rattleskin Redoubt april is the cruellest month

Don't let 'em down, he murmured to himself.

The lithe darkling had grown somewhat more loquacious, especially in the presence of his lover—but nearer the lands of his birth, the words began to dry up—

Dry up like any moisture in this air, baked by the sun, the emptiness. . .

It was perfect for him. Just him, though. They'd be looking for something more enticing, with food and greenery and promise;

That wasn't here. 

But he'd enjoy it for now.

He sat beneath the curve of an ancient arch of sandstone, reds and golds and even purples striating throughout the structure. His paws ached with the journey; the sun seemed to soak into his dark pelt like summer rain into soft loam.

Just a break. Just a breather.

He'd not moved this much since he'd left the creek behind for good.

@Tarantula had advised her against traveling into these barren, sun-dried places, but Long Rain was not one to listen, and her father had never given her any true boundaries. His style of parenting seemed to be centered on the phrase “let go and let God,” leaving her alone to make her own mistakes and learn her lessons the hard way – even if it meant her death.

So far, she’d managed to luck out on the staying alive part, though these day-drenched paths were certainly some of her worthiest adversaries.

Long Rain was extremely tired and thirsty by this time, having left her father far behind on greener pastures. She had pondered going back the way she came, but stubbornness kept her path straight, and at the next nearest overhang, the stormcloud girl picked up into a trot and loped for cover.

It was already occupied. A wolf even darker than herself lingered there, and he seemed young; something that would have delighted her if she were not so thoroughly exhausted. Panting, practically gasping, Long Rain flopped down at the edge of the shade, wordlessly imploring the young fellow to share his space.

rolled a 2, so you get a very subdued LR lol

A cloud on the horizon; no, a girl. Black-and-gray together, her pelt rippling across working muscles as she trotted into his orbit, and he drew himself further upward, tensing.

Not much younger than himself, and eyes of vivid blue.

He regarded her warily, coolly, waiting for a signal to exit.

When none came, and she dwelt in his space without word, he settled only slightly, and continued to watch the girl with an impassive golden gaze.

You are? he asked, the words feeling dark and heavy on his tongue.

Catching her breath, Long Rain gazed out into the heat, not an ounce of cautiousness to her splayed form. When the shadowy figure in the corner of her vision spoke, she turned to look at them again, though this time she seemed to regard him a bit more studiously. Wild, golden-eyed, dark, darker, darkening still…

Her tongue lolled as she looked out unto the baked terrain again, perhaps looking for someone. She Who- Dances- in the Long Rain, she said between breaths. Swallowing her spit, she gestured towards him in wordless query. And you?

For one born of few words, only grasping onto what meager sentences were offered before finally discovering the richness of rhetoric, he was rapt. That name. . .tumbled like rain itself, or a massive waterfall, shimmering off rock and crag into fine mist.

Only after a few seconds of slightly-slack-jawed attention did he realize his cue to speak had now come.

Juh. . .

”No, darling. Not the name they gave you.”

He felt the gentle prick of teeth upon his neck and sighed, and with that sound escaped—

Caligula.

The first time he’d said it aloud. It tasted like hot blood in his mouth.

Are you. . .from here? he went on, each word slow as if navigating a minefield.

Long Rain glanced towards the shadow again, wondering what he had been about to say. Though uneducated, she was far from unintelligent, and it was her innate sensitivities that had kept her alive… so far. She wasn’t aware that this sort of emotional attentiveness came from having a birth mother who did not speak to her in words, nor could she know that her own upbringing of few words could possibly mirror this boy’s.

For a moment her breath stilled as she regarded Caligula over her shoulder. His name invoked something ancient and powerful in the mind’s eye; a cavernous, toothed maw looming ominously beneath the placid surface of a black lake, or some fathomlessly dark creature who summoned the very shadows to the mountain forests. A shadecaller.

He wore it like a child wearing a too-big suit to their first middle school dance.

But he could grow into it. And if she were older, she may have thought about how nice it would be to see that happen.

Verdigris and azure glinted at him, then she resumed her panting. Father says so, she answered him with a shrug. Big lake, past mountains? Long Rain gestured west of the Sunspire. I not remember it. Licking her chops, she shifted on her elbows and flipped her hind legs so that her body curved towards him now. She jerked her muzzle upwards in a prompting motion. You?

She gestured as she spoke, and he followed the movement, peering toward the mountains that loomed in the distance. Mountains he'd seen—not crossed. The land flattened out past his birth pack, and he'd avoided an alpine journey—

Maybe it would be good there, though. High up, safe from harm.

Her query came wordlessly, but he answered with words in kind. . .well, one or two, anyway.

Yeah, he replied. Yes. Once.

The clipped syllables should have told her all she needed to know. His face was reticent, gaze far off. 

Anything short of bringing him back to his mother's breast would not mend the tattered agony that was his early boyhood.

I am looking for a home, Caligula said. His voice was dark and halting; a young raven's croak. Must find a good place.

Maybe he didn’t remember his home either. Whatever the case, Long Rain wasn’t very curious about it. Her attention wandered from thing to thing at this age, and nothing yet could satisfy her long enough to find permanent interest in it. She didn’t want to be held down…

She wanted to lead the charge.

But it was important to belong somewhere, though. There would be no leading of any charges if there was no one there to follow. She was reminded of this when Caligula mentioned a home. I- look for home, too, she confided, her breaths finally slowing. But following is- mmm, hard, for Long Rain. For an instant, a smirk creased one side of her muzzle. Long Rain was a dauntless filly on endless open plains; there felt to be nothing but room to gallop, and rebellion was welded deep through the steel of her veins.

He lifted his chin, brows drawing together in puzzlement at her statement. Why? he asked. Only follow to home. Then. . .it's home.

Caligula was utterly clueless about wolf hierarchy. Being born to the alpha male of a pack, he'd never had to worry about any competition other than from his siblings—and he'd hardly paid them any heed.

Then, with Agrippa, there'd been no status quo at all. Just the two of them among friends, living as equals, as lovers. . .

I think I'll go to the mountains, he continued, nodding toward the peaks and giving voice to his previous musings. Good there. High up. Safe.

Maybe she'll come with me.

But he'll never put any semblance of faith in someone sticking around. Never.

Why?

This single word is enough to still her desiccated lungs and bring her sandpaper tongue fleeing back into her mouth. She couldn’t understand a home without a proper hierarchy. But maybe it wasn’t following that bothered her. Maybe it was something or someone else…

If only for a moment, she seemed stricken by the query, but then resumed her labored breathing at an almost-normal tempo. She looked out onto the sunbaked lands. Maybe following not so bad… Long Rain- She corrected herself, having met enough wolves in her travels with Tarantula to know that no one but him and his people spoke in reference to themselves. I do not want to obey Father.

The corners of Long Rain’s eyes grew tight as she thought of her father: Thief! Saboteur! Monster! But he had been honest with her, terribly honest. She almost wished he hadn’t.

Caligula drew her attention once more. She studied the slim, youthful line of his jaw, the sliver of hope in his far-off gaze, the sinewy curve of his spine down to his dust-laden claws. The mountains would certainly suit him, she thought. Mountains make us strong. Make worthy homes, she agreed, nodding. I would like to have mountain home, one day.

One day.

First, I want to see lake. The one claimed by my mother.

Her speech was as funny as her name sweet. Not that he minded much, for obvious reasons. Words didn't quite suit him. Even when he was with loquacious Agrippa, he let his lover do all the talking.

Perhaps this girl was the same—simply unused to voicing thoughts aloud.

He smirked briefly at the mention of her father—he felt similarly about his own—but the expression dissipated as she seemed to draw inward for a moment. He barely breathed as he awaited her response, and when she finally did speak, it was with words he was pleased to hear.

A potential recruit, already. Agrippa would be proud.

Is your mother there? Caligula asked, the all-too familiar pit in his stomach yawning wide as his mind turned to Jakoul.

Where have you gone?

Long Rain shrugged and gave a discontented shake of her head. I not know, but I find out. Curiosity was the only thing driving her forward, not certainty.

Now that her panting had eased off to a more normal pace, she could scent her companion better. There was the smell of another wolf, recent but not entirely fresh, mixed in with Caligula's personal brand of cologne. She probably carried a similar intrusion, since it had only been a day or so when she had left her father behind. You walk with others?

He nodded solemnly. At least there was potential for her. He knew his mother was gone, for good. No body. . .but he knew it in his soul.

Yeah, Caligula replied. Agrippa and friends. Looking for a home.

And it was his responsibility to find one. 

Caligula took a delicate step along a tightrope and posited: Come find me after? 

His golden stare was blank, guileless. Not expectant, but not invulnerable.