Hushed Willows I wake up screaming from dreaming one day I'll watch as you're leaving

I know we have the Mae thread but I'd love a @Kyrell whenever you have time <3

She hadn't spent much time with Kyrell yet — and that was a shame, Reverie thought. She still thought of him fondly from their first meeting, when she'd invited him to stay. And it seemed that he and Boone got along just fine, too; that was a relief, after the pack meeting.

Today Reverie brought him a small gift, a squirrel which had ventured too close to her den. She shivered lightly under the cold breeze, trotting across the meadow toward the glade where she hoped she might find him. She wasn't sure what part of the territory Kyrell frequented just yet, but she'd caught his scent there not long ago.

A whine squeaked out the back of his throat as his jaws parted into a yawn. A trail of vapor billowing away only to be replaced with his steady breathing.

A cold day to be sure.

Rising from the hollow he had chosen for a nap, he blinked fiercely against the sunlight. Rising with a leisurely stretch of willowy legs. With a brisk shake to clear his pelt of snow and debris, he took a moment to acclimate to the waking world.

In that moment he caught wind of Reverie. Orientating himself with her scent, he strode into the wood. Ears swiveling, he listened. Beyond the crunch of his own footfall, there was a breeze through the branches overhead. A distant caw of some corvid type bird and the rare squirrel chattering as he passed. And soon, there were footsteps that were not his own.


Through the glade soon came view of the familiar gilded pelt of the Coach. Kyrell moved to join her in the clearing. Emerald eyes catching the prize she held close. Looks like you had a good morning there!

It didn't take her long to find him, at least. Her eyes lit with joy and her tail waved merrily the moment she laid eyes on her friend. Reverie noted, too, the direction he'd come from; the forest toward the outskirts of their territory. She would have to remember that.

It's - Reverie dropped the squirrel. Oops. It's for you! She promptly scooped it up again and walked over to place it at Kyrell's paws. Then she stepped back, ears pulling forward as she addressed him again; I wanted to um, to see how you're settling in! And - if there's anything you need.

What a surprise!

A warm smile uplifted the features on his face. A gentle wag to his tail as she approached. Squirrel fur brushed against his paws as Reverie passed it to him. Gaze flicking down to briefly examine her gift.

Aww. Well aren't you thoughtful? You didn't have to do that! His gaze then traveled back up to her face. The typical playful gleam to his eyes absent. Mischief replaced by sincerity.

Thank you, Reverie.

He meant it.

He then pondered her reason for checking on him. His head tilted slightly. A quiet hum in his throat as he rolled his shoulders. Still a touch stiff from squeezing into a hollow to rest Thing's are going alright. Awful season to carve out a den though. Ground's tough, but there's nothing we can do about that.

He shrugged and turned his attentions to Reverie. How's everything going with you?

She hadn't expected his warmth; a surge of her own followed it, and a brilliant smile lit her features. You're welcome - I wanted to, Reverie assured him softly. I'm grateful you're here, you know?

I um, I found some caves that might make good dens, She added at his mention of struggling with carving out a den. I'm not sure what's in them, though. I was thinking about - getting everyone together to explore them sometime, maybe. Reverie wasn't certain everyone would take to the caves, but it was an option while the snows kept them from other alternatives.

And - I'm doing well, A polite lie, but what else could she say? Cold, more often than not! Reverie laughed quietly as she said it; anyone who looked at her could see that she was lacking in the winter coat department, another mark of her domestic heritage. She cast a brief glance around them. I wonder what this place will look like in spring. It was already kind of late into fall when we got here...

Not a bad idea to have a group for spelunking. Wouldn’t want to wake up a sleeping bear or something. At least, not by yourself.

Kyrell thought he heard a pause in her voice as he turned the questions onto her. He studied her quietly before she carried on. He couldn’t be sure, so he didn’t delve further. Returning most of his attention to their conversation, he snorted as she mentioned the cold. Hope you’ve already established a den for yourself then. I think we all prefer you unfrozen.

He followed her gaze into the forest. His mind began crafting. Attaching leaves to bare branches. Plucking familiar boughs from places he visited prior and grafting them in place. Dressing the willow trees with green curtains and melting away the snow to let that water soak into the ground until it pooled. Comfort warmed in his chest at the thought of gentled dappled sunlight across the forest floor than the gnarled shadows from the naked trees.

I’m sure it will be green and lush. A spot in the sunlight would be prime real estate.

Reverie brightened a little when Kyrell praised her idea for exploring the caves; she hadn't been entirely sure of it. She might have said as much — but instead found herself giggling at his next words, adding cheerfully, That's what I have Boone for! If her husband minded the cold feet pressed nightly against his chest and back, he never said so. Sometimes, when it was particularly cold, she woke to find herself wedged almost entirely beneath him. How either of them slept that way was anyone's guess.

I'll be glad when it's warmer, though, Reverie continued, gaze following Kyrell's wistfully. In - the place where I was born, The Gilded Sea, we never had snow. Just endless fires. She shivered a little as she said it. After a moment, her eyes found Kyrell again. What was it like where you grew up?

He couldn't suppress his own shudder.

Endless fires? His ears piqued. I don't mean to be literal, but that sounds like hell.

His head tipped upwards as he thought of his own childhood home. Was it home anymore? Likely not. His eyes flashed quickly to the wood in which they currently sat.

It's not too different from here, actually. Forested anyway, not so much for marshes. But even the forest ended. There was enough land for us and our neighbors to avoid them but human-folk were settled not far beyond its borders. He splayed his ears briefly before snapping them back to their original position. Bringing attention to the tags binding the inner frames of his ears. They didn't always keep to themselves.

Reverie couldn't help but laugh at that. It kind of was, She agreed, but fell quiet when Kyrell continued. Her gaze flitted to his ears as he moved them, and she noticed the tags for the first time. That was odd. How had she never seen them before now?

But they reminded her of something; a time she desperately tried to forget. Human-folk? Reverie echoed in spite of herself, in spite of the faint prickle of cold along her hackles. Some part of her felt that she already knew — but she'd never heard that word before. What's that?

He is reminded again that many of his experiences were not universal. His eyes flickered back and forth as he considered how best to answer. Letting the words pool in his mouth as he mulled over them.

Humans are... unique creatures. You don't really need to have seen one before to know that they are, well, different. They don't have fur like you or me, not a lot anyway. Mostly bald. They wear strange hides on their bodies to make up for it, I think.

He was looking internally. Standing besides his kin, watching one traipse through the woods. None the wiser to its invisible audience. They left it alone as it wandered, just watched the strange beast exist.

His eyes widened as he was looking back at Reverie again. Lifting a paw high in the air. Oh! And they only stand on their back paws. You know how bears 'll stand up and get bigger? Like that, just all the time.

His paw found the ground again. The excitement in his eyes hardening. Most tend to leave you alone, but sometimes they take wolves away. And when that happens, that wolf may or may not come back.

He added hastily, But I've neither seen nor scented one in the Teekons here.

Reverie was quiet as Kyrell spoke, but recognition flickered behind her eyes well before he'd finished. The emotion sparked in him by the recollection only further confirmed her suspicions; she knew what that was like, that combination of fear and intrigue and excitement to be witness to something so strange and wholly unknown. And —

Sometimes they take wolves away; yes, she knew this story, perhaps too well. I've seen them before, She said softly as he finished. That happened to me once - me and my family. Well - Blossom and um, my first husband. I was married once before Boone. We were just about to break up, actually, but then um... those - those creatures took us away, and they - did things to us. Another small shudder ran through her, but this time it was a deeper fear than any fire could ever light in her.

I was sick before that. I think they healed me. But it - it was still awful, Her expression turned slightly thoughtful, though she couldn't shake the claustrophobic feeling that always accompanied these memories. After a moment her eyes found the tags again. Did they...? Reverie abruptly felt sick, and found that she couldn't finish the question.

They had shared more in common than he realized. With that revelation a gentleness softened his expression. The seriousness retained, but the cautionary nature replaced with empathy. He had given her a new word with which to understand her own experience. If he hadn't the collective experience of his pack, how would he have felt? This consideration took the forefront of his attention.

It's seems that you met some good-willed ones. I'm happy that you still have Blossom with you. A consolation, even if it was meager when compared to the magnitude of such an event. He was careful not to speak on Reverie's previous husband. The look in Reverie's eyes told him it was a delicate matter.

The gilded woman then turned eyes of sunlight to him. The gaze of inner reflection starting to round in horror and he was swift to answer her question before it took root.

No—no. I was never taken from my home. He leaned down and brought a paw to an ear, toes brushing against the tag. Where I'm from a lot of wolves—not just me or my family—actually have these things. 'Tags' is the word we use. Wolves that have them aren't taken away, but humans point these longs sticks to put a wolf into a deep sleep before putting these on. They don't approach us when we're awake.

He straightened out his posture before continuing, We don't know why they do it but they seem to have an idea on who's important in the local packs. A lot of leaders and parents have them. The makings of a smile creased his eyes. His tone uplifted with a scandalous note. You know, I think they're just trying to tell folk apart where I'm from. I got my tags and shortly after they got my dad too. But he got tags and a collar. He was absolutely fuming!