Sun Mote Copse Starchaser

The lowlands were last to change. Frost hardened the earth and snow had begun to dust the ground at night. The last of the autumn leaves had fallen and left their boughs bare among the tall sequoias. Njord knew that, soon, winter would be in full swing.

He marked the Copse’s borders. Ever since Meerkat and Ajei’s harrowing encounter with the lone male, he spared no moment to instate their claim on this land. Let no wolf ever mistake it again.

As the sunlight began to wane in the sky Njord tipped his head back and howled at the low-hanging moon, spirit and heart full of life.

Meerkat enjoyed entertaining visitors, though inevitably they moved on in their ventures. Even Towhee and @Phox weren’t permanent figures, though they never seemed very far. Maybe @Killdeer or @Peregrine would want to stay here, though she wouldn’t hold her breath. Perhaps she should’ve felt more concerned about that, especially as winter made itself known, but…

Is it bad that I kind of like the idea of it being just us and our children? Meerkat said by way of greeting, sidling up beside her husband after Njord’s voice had faded into the cold quiet. I know I should want to build a bustling village and I’m not opposed to that idea. But I’m not hellbent on it either. I think we will be happy here, one way or the other.

She wondered if her mate might not share her idyllic vision. It would be challenging for a single pair to raise a litter without additional support. Meerkat felt certain they could manage it but what did Njord think? Her eyes sparkled as she canted her head to look into his handsome face.

Hi, she added, reaching up to hide a kiss behind his ear.

A special, fond expression, reserved only for his mate, painted Njord’s face when Meerkat found him.

He, too, enjoyed the rotating cast of family that shared their Copse. He was happy to provide Phox and Towhee a soft place to land in the wake of Caracal’s passing. Plus, Peregrine’s appearance was like the silver lining of a terrific storm cloud.

Njord’s husky voice hummed in agreement. “Ah’m feelin’ tha same way,” he acknowledged. “It feels… natural. This copse… Ah ken it will be a forever home for our family.” He touched Meerkat’s cheek affectionately. “Tha village way… it is a good path, but it ‘tis tha way of Sialuk and her kin. We can do whatever feels right tae us.”

He settled back onto his haunches. “Though, Ah’d hoped Seal or Orca would have joined us,” her husband admitted. “But… Ah’m happy our girls are charting their own paths. They are becoming strong an' confident women.”

Her eyes sparkled when he said he felt the same. She really hadn’t been sure he would. Meerkat wouldn’t have minded. But it warmed her heart, knowing the two of them were on the same page.

It is our forever home, she agreed with quiet emphasis, nuzzling nearer. I miss them too, she continued in the next breath. I’m so proud of them for being so independent already. That’s the goal, isn’t it? Even if it’s hard.

She mused for a moment, staring out into the starlit woods. It was preternaturally quiet. Meerkat’s ears pricked, as if straining to hear some sound, yet all was still.

Soon, though, we’ll hear the pitter-patter of tiny paws, she whispered to herself, glancing at Njord and grinning. I know winter’s barely begun but spring’s not far off. Soon we’ll have new children. And I bet someday, some of our older ones might come by as well. Wouldn’t it be nice to see @Ray or @Mercy, hear what they’ve been up to?

Meerkat thought about mentioning @Swordfish too. She couldn’t bring herself to think of him as dead, though she realized her hope of a reunion had gone to rest at some point along the way. Her lips pursed thoughtfully.

Njord listened thoughtfully and uttered the words his wife would not, could not.

“@Swordfish, too,” the father affixed with a forlorn expression. Quennell had made it out of Dragoncrest and Njord never lost hope that their son had, as well. Faith in their child’s return burned like a small light in the redtail’s heart… maybe because he couldn’t bring himself to imagine a world where their son did not live.

He leaned into Meerkat and his gaze scanned the treeline as if he were searching for any of their beloved children, even now. The thought of Ray or Mercy appearing from the forest gave him a bittersweet feeling, telegraphed by the distant look in his eyes. “Aye,” he agreed with a deep, poignant breath. “That would be.”

Yet the man knew he had already spent a great deal of time on melancholy energy. He blinked away the sobering mood in exchange for a happier, wistful look. “Ah ken all of our children ‘av found their way,” he assured. “Who knows… maybe, this year Fish, Ray, or Mercy will be havin’ wee bairns of their own, makin’ us grandparents.” Oh the horror! Njord felt too young for it, yet.

Perhaps because they weren’t right in front of her, Meerkat honestly hadn’t given much thought to the possibility Njord raised now. Her eyes widened in the gathering dark. Oh, but any of them would make brilliant parents, particularly her Ray of sunshine.

But I’m not old enough for that, she scoffed, suddenly remembering Njord’s former title in Moonspear and teasing, Although I suppose you might be, elder.

She threw her head upward to nip at the soft furs lining her mate’s face, more than a little mischief glimmering in her eyes. Meerkat swiveled then, her tail giving his legs a sound thwack! as she darted deeper into the copse. She shot a flirtatious look over one speckled shoulder.

They might be grandparents come springtime but they were both still virile creatures, she knew. Their fresh claim on this land was proof enough of that. And soon they would people their village with a fresh batch of bairns, a thought that struck gladness through her heart as she sprang through the nighttime forest.

The sun’s last rays disappeared behind the trees until only the faint magenta of alpenglow refracted against the belly of the night’s dark sky. With it, the temperature dropped and their breath became like wisps of smoke.

The cold reminded Njord that winter was a time for courtship. A time for love. And from that romance, children would arrive in the spring.

“Elder!” He jeered, challenged to chase his paramour beneath the waning crescent moon. Season after season, day after day, he diligently tended to the precious bond between them. But now, more than ever, he wanted her.

Yet Njord was a patient man. A proper man.

He was at her heels, running so close that a hair on the tip of her tail could tickle his nose. At any moment he could pounce and catch his wife, but the game was so much sweeter to savor.

Once, the two of them had chased one another across a sandy beach, the surf licking at their paws. Later on, they had pursued each other up and down the slopes of a snowy mountain. Now they ran in tandem through the sleepy copse, frosted leaves crunching underfoot to break the silence. And Meerkat felt a joyful sense of peace as they traversed their final frontier.

An owl swooped past overhead, a silent specter. Meerkat grounded to a halt, taking care to sidestep lest her husband bump into her. Without saying a word or making a sound, she pointed upward as the ghostly bird drifted through the trees and quickly disappeared into the dusk.

Still catching her wind, she caught Njord’s eye a moment later and breathlessly asked, Well, what should we do now, mo chride?

The faint moonlight illuminated their backs as they ran together through the lowlands. With each turning bend, their positions changed until the couple ran abreast through the Copse.

Their Copse.

A place of limitless possibilities. A place that would become their home and hearth for generations to come.

His mate stopped as a hunting owl silently floated overhead like a shadow in the dark night.

It was a good omen. A sign of a healthy land and ecosystem.

Njord’s barrelled ribcage heaved with great breaths. Awake. Alive. On fire.

Meerkat posed a question and he rested his chin across her back. “Oh, there are many things Ah’d like tae do with ye, mo graidh,” Njord’s husky lilt crooned as he began to preen the familiar fringes of her chestnut-tipped coat. His red tail flagged in the air flirtatiously, telegraphing his interest.

However, it was only the start of winter. The beginning of their dance and courtship – there was still some time before Meerkat began her estrus.

Tenderly, he smoothed her fur. He knew he would love this woman until the world’s end.

“Let us find a den. Before the ground freezes,” he suggested. Meerkat had been born here… perhaps there was a heritage site for them to claim and raise their children.

She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes glimmering when Njord made a suggestive remark. Her season was some months away, though she would’ve happily trysted with her husband anytime. For now, she supposed they ought to conserve their energy for other pursuits. It seemed he was in agreement with her there too.

Don’t you mean a ulaq? she teased, preening at his ruff. That’s a wonderful suggestion. But you know we’ll have to warm it once we find it, don’t you? Meerkat flirted.

Chuckling under her breath, she turned her head to assess their surroundings. She immediately thought of the den colloquially known as “The Nest.” It sort of resembled their ulaq on Moonspear. She was sure Njord had come across it during his patrols, though she guided him there now with soft steps.

Have you been inside yet? she asked when they arrived. It’s much roomier than it looks from here. I think it’s big enough to house an entire pack, Meerkat mused aloud, falling silent as she glanced to her mate, wondering what he was thinking.

Njord chuckled at Meerkat’s euphemism and passed her a feisty look as if to say anytime.

But then, an idea struck him. “An ulaq…” he repeated as if testing the word in their new homeland. It was a northern phrase, and the man wondered if there was a synonym more aligned with their low-land territory. “We could call it a taigh,” Njord floated the idea past Meerkat as he trotted beside her. “Tis a simple word for a cottage,” he explained. “Though sometimes, a dweller comes up with a more descriptive name for their home… like Bonn na Cnoc meanin’ ‘at the foot of tha hill’.”

Then, they came upon it. They shared the same mind, for it did resemble their ulaq on Moonspear. Though the species was different, Njord would be smitten to live beneath a grand tree and her roots because it evoked many happy memories.

“Tis Bonnie, mo chridhe,” Njord whispered, astounded. He moved closer to investigate the gentle, well-worn curves of the den entrance. It was clear that had been a beloved home for many generations. “Who lived here before us?” he asked.

Truthfully, Meerkat resisted his suggestion at first. Using some of the terms they’d picked up in Moonspear felt like a wonderful way to pay homage to that era of their lives. But when Njord elaborated, she found herself pulled. The word he wanted to use came from his mother tongue, it seemed. That filled her with a sense of rightness so absolute, she could never suggest otherwise.

Go inside, she urged at her husband’s question. It’s large enough that an entire pack could live here together, she repeated as he ventured forth to see for himself. And that reminds me of the Hobbit Hole, back on the caldera, she mused, lapsing into a thoughtful silence.

While she gave Njord a chance to explore the interior, Meerkat loitered outside, thinking. They had an opportunity to establish pack customs all their own. What if they didn’t just change the term but the entire approach? She nibbled at her lower lip, wondering what she thought of her idea as she prepared to share it aloud.

We could always invite the pack to live here in The Taigh together, she said eventually. I think I’d still want to find a whelping den to give birth but then we could move them here after a week or two, raise them in properly communal way… Meerkat thought aloud, seeking to capture her husband’s gaze. It’s just an idea, though. What do you think?

Njord walked into the cavernous den. It was, by far, the largest he had ever seen. However, its size did not subtract from its warm and cozy feeling. Organic, curvaceous walls of clay had been softened over decades of use. The ceiling was decorated with a filigree of tree roots from above that, in some places, snaked down along the edges to the floor. A comforting, earthy scent complimented the appealing interior and, most importantly, the den was dry and free of water rot.

He took a few laps around and carefully inspected every corner. “This will make a fine home,” he approved. “Tha wind, rain, an’ snow willnae come in and tha ground is dry and soft. An’ you’re right… a whole pack could fit inside.”

Meerkat shared her thoughts and Njord did not hide the spark of surprise on his face. “Communal way, hmm?” he mused. Njord’s eyes looked up as he imagined this. “We havenae done this before,” he pointed out. Their family had always been strictly nuclear, and pup-rearing had never fallen to anyone else.

Yet the soft gaze towards his wife and the gentle cup of his ears telegraphed that he was open to the idea. “Tell me more, mo chridhe,” he asked. The red-tail did harbor insecurities about fatherhood that would never go away. But, perhaps now, he had grown beyond them.

He flopped on the ground and opened his arms to invite Meerkat into his embrace. "Paint me a picture of what our life... the life of our pack... would look like."

She gladly eased into his embrace, tucking herself against her mate’s larger body and basking in his heat as she pondered his question. Meerkat’s eyes slipped closed as she tried to picture it, in order to describe it to him.

I don’t know where this idea came from, really, I guess I… She paused, eyes still shut, murmuring thoughtfully under her breath before articulating, I want to maybe offer something else, try something new. Or old, depending on how you think of it, she acknowledged, thinking once more of the Hobbit Hole.

Her eyes opened, rolling to seek Njord’s gaze as she leaned against him. Did that make any sense? Was there any merit to it? Meerkat liked some traditions, though she supposed now that it was their time to call the shots, she wanted to embrace the opportunity to shape their village.

I feel like, she continued, not forgetting that Njord had wanted her to paint him a picture, we should find another pair to help us settle it. That’s probably very idealistic and all, not to mention it flies in the face of what I said earlier. But imagine if we built the village around our families. We’d still welcome others, of course, and do everything we can to make them feel like they’re just as important, because they are.

Meerkat paused for a moment, shifting her weight a little. Although she had enjoyed relaxing in her husband’s arms, she stiffened her spine and sat up a bit to better look him in the face.

We’d have to vet newcomers very carefully and perhaps only allow them to live here in The Taigh once they’ve achieved a certain rank… along with our trust. But imagine having another pair of parents to help sit the pups. Don’t they say, ‘it takes a village’? Then some others—hunters and guardians, a healer too—all living under one roof, sharing everything. There’s room to store some supplies here, along with other caches.

Meerkat slipped into his arms and Njord held his woman tight. His full attention was attuned to her every word, though he planted kisses on her neck when able.

His partner’s voice was filled with possibilities. Njord admired her limitless imagination as she combined all the elements that brought them happiness. Camaraderie. Collaboration. Coaching. She envisioned a place where their past selves would have thrived… How would their lives have been different if they had found such an Eden in their first year of marriage? Maybe Njord and Meerkat could create a village for the next generation to find peace and fulfillment.

She sat up and Njord regarded her seriously. He lifted a paw to brush a hair on her temple back into place.

“That sounds… perfect.” Njord was so moved, that he practically breathed the word. “It is…,” his blue gaze searched, “a true expression of our spirit. Tae teach. Tae share. Tae help. Tae raise one another up an’ grow together. As a village. As a clan.”

Njord, too, propped himself up. A movie played in his mind. “I want families tae join us. Together, I want tae celebrate tha milestones of life, big an' small. Marriages. Partnerships. Coming of age… an’ I want us, an’ others, tae have babies,” he nuzzled her. “Watch them grow. Teach them. Guide them. Help ‘em find their passion. Their love. Grandchildren, too…” a multigenerational pack.

"We will make this happen," Njord assured her. "Your plan... tae find one family tae help settle... sounds like the best start. We will grow slowly." He began to run faces through his mind. Perhaps Kukutux knew of a pair looking to spread their wings.

Does it? she asked, eyes glowing as their gazes held and she found herself falling more in love with this idea alongside her husband.

He took the proverbial brush and painted more detail onto the canvas she had conjured. She listened, heart lifting more with every word. This land was already theirs. They only had to people it. And that was exactly what they would do. It would be a bustling, tightly-knit commune, even if it took some time for them to build it to match their vision.

What if we found a younger couple, one who doesn’t have children yet? We could guide and support them when they start their family, Meerkat mused. But, of course, I wouldn’t want that to be a requirement. Just thinking out loud.

Did they know of any other pairs, new or old, who might want to make this their homestead too? Surely they did, though Meerkat couldn’t think of any off the top of her head, especially not with the way Njord was holding and mind-melding with her so perfectly. It was rather distracting.

I’m okay with a slow burn, she murmured, reaching up to nibble at the tender spot where his jaw met his throat. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she added, Should we officially christen The Taigh, my love?

Afterward, they could look for a whelping den, someplace small and cozy where Meerkat could deliver their next litter and stay just for a week or two. Perhaps, she thought, they could even use the log where Towhee had taken her during her first few weeks of life.

Meerkat’s vision breathed new life into Njord’s ikigai.

“That sounds gran’, my love” he agreed, though the bittersweet feeling in his heart returned, wistful for their elder children to gather their budding families around this new hearth. However, Njord knew he would not let this feeling impede the knowledge, kinship, and wisdom he wanted to share with their future village. Every minute, his excitement for fresh village faces -- and their future bairns -- grew as a new chapter of their story began to be inked.

Then, Meerkat posed a question. The water blue of his gaze mingled with the molten copper of his wife’s and a baritone note rumbled in his chest. Njord’s strong arms squeezed around her as he breathed into the furs of her neck, eager to renew their intimacy and affection.