Redhawk Caldera Vessel

To wrap things up! tags are an invitation <3

In the darkness, the boy stirred. 

At first, it was simply the usual trademarks of a dream- the flinching of whiskers, the errant twitch of a paw, a quiet boof every now and again escaping his lips. Beneath his heavy eyelids, a flurry of movement- scanning back, forth, up and down rapidly. For a growing boy, it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Until consciousness flooded in, but his body refused to wake. 

Panic flooded him in a giant wave, consuming him. 

He tried to scream- soft whimpers escalated into a strained wheeze that came and went with every breath he took. It was the best he could manage- and yet still it was all too little. With every exhale came a note of pure but quiet fear, strumming his vocal chords lightly though he begged them to awaken and make enough sound so someone could hear him. 

A deep tremble seized his muscles, and his eyes rolled back beneath his eyelids. While there was no pain, there was only fear, and it was all-consuming.

She lunged for the child, again and again. 

Here, in dreams, she could be anything- and she chose the form of a great, golden tiger, with flaming red stripes. She'd seen it in glimpses here and there when she had become aware of her son's presence in the Awakening- and chose it now for herself for the sheer opacity of fear and pain that it caused the child. It leaked from him, and she fed on it, devouring that which could only make her stronger, and more potent. 

She called with a roar to summon the opening in the earth- dismayed to find that it did not heed her call as swiftly as she would have liked. A crooked thread of darkness began to open, like the one she had found after she had intervened in @Teya's dream. Bit by bit, it grew- but she could bide her time. 

His terror kept him in a state of paralysis, and she would not let him escape. Here in his own mind, he was a prisoner. She pressed in toward him, lashing her scythe-like claws at him and bellowing his fire at him when she roared. 

And there was nothing he could do to escape her.

This was what had killed his Dad. 

Having never seen it with his own eyes, his surprise did nothing but fuel his fear. The creature was still out there- and the dream was realistic enough that it felt like it was happening- that it was actually happening. He tried to scream, but his throat was clenched. He tried to run, but his legs felt like lead, and it felt as though he was tethered by his tail to a stone that was almost impossible to tow along behind him. 

"MAMA!" He screamed- but only in his dreams. "DAD!! PLEASE!!" He begged. The tiger's eyes flashed, a vibrant shade of honey-brown, though the rest of the animal almost looked as though it was on fire. It reached out with a huge paw to smack at him, and that was when he noticed it. 

The ground- there was a crack in the ground, and it was getting bigger. He could feel the earth protest as it was forced to open, and he could hear a low, loud, rumbling sound. Something that smelled sour and hot filled his senses and stung his eyes. 

And here he was- pinned between the two, with nowhere to run, and no way to fight back. The tiger leapt for him again, and he wailed, almost silently. 

**

In the den, his body continued to quake. The whispy moans continued with each breath; he remained locked in a duel with his sleep paralysis demon.

She had been hunted, for what had felt like eternity, given the fact that time stood still for the dead, like a frozen soldier. While she had roamed across the earth and saw all that it had to behold, a shadow had crept after her. At times, she hid and slept in a place where she would be difficult to find- places already teeming with other spirits, a place that that shadow seemed to want to avoid. 

Coming back to her home grounds, she knew, would be dangerous- but a malevolent spirit had once given her the notion that the shadows who searched for her could be bought, and that her own bloodline could potentially be the thing that frees her from the hunt. 

Now, she had one cornered, inside his own mind. The split in the earth grew into a wedge, and as narrow as it looked, it gave the impression of being unfathomably deep. 

She lashed her tiger-tail and roared at her cowering grandson, and held at bay the walls that threatened to close in on them at any moment. 

They were in his dream, after all. She could only hold him inside his own mind for so long.

"My blood. MY BLOOD!" 

She leapt again.

"DAD!! PLEASE!!"

He'd been resting, but he recognized the plea the moment he heard it and his head snapped up. In an instant, he rose to his feet and gazed up the incline toward the Plateau. He and @Killdeer had made it this far, and he felt himself beginning to fade a little bit. He wondered if Killdeer noticed- though he had said nothing thus far about just how much he'd grown. 

He was himself- the way Killdeer would have remembered from his youth- but without any scars or injuries. 

"We have to go, now!" He bugled, and began to race up the incline. He rushed with haste that lent wings to his heels, and with the effort, he sent little pebbles flying from every kick of his paws. With each bound, he felt himself growing stronger, more corporeal; he was practically glowing as he crested the final ridgeline and began to bolt toward the mossy Rendez-vous site. 

He heard something roar- and recognized it as belonging to the macabre, striped panther that had ultimately caused his demise. "No no no no no!" He panted on every exhale, pleading an begging with anyone, anything that was listening- to give him enough time to save them. 

When he arrived, he saw no sign of the tiger- but his son lay on the ground, his eyelids fluttering, shuddering in paroxysms of terror. It was a dream- but it was a dream that reeked of sulfur. 

Without any hesitation, he leapt for his son- and sank in, heavily, fighting his way through the thick, hazy mist that had no doubt kept his son from awakening. 

The tiger leapt, reaching for his son with outstretched limbs. Bronco threw all of his weight toward it, assuming it might simply disappear like a puff of mist- only to find himself slamming into something that rattled and clacked like an articulated skeleton of brittle bones. 

The tiger's physical disguise remained, but once Bronco had rolled clear, he regarded the panther with a widened gaze. 

That wasn't the tiger that had killed him- but it was someone he had fought before. 

It lifted its head and levelled him with a honey-hued stare. A small, faint smirk of amusement gleamed in those eyes. She looked through him and into their shared history, to the day when he had failed so miserably to protect himself- a day that had caused him to refuse to fight in future altercations. Now he was right back to being at her mercy again, and he knew that mercy was not something she was capable of knowing. 

When the tiger growled again, he felt as though it was laughing. It turned its gaze back toward Ponyboy again, whose mortified expression flicked between the two of them. 

He moved to bar his mother's view of Ponyboy, and snarled in spite of the fear that prickled the fur along his spine. He wasn't sure now, which he feared more- the behemoth of a tiger, its sides aflame with light, or the honeyed eyes of his mother that regarded him with glittering glee.

Something bludgeoned her in the side, and she felt the guise of light and fire fail when her bones were hit so hard, they rattled. She tumbled to the ground, splaying her massive paws and pulling herself up with a jerk of her head, only to see the perfect, scarless coward of her firstborn scrambling to his feet as well. 

She thought he'd never fight again- not after their last spar. She chuffed, and uttered a low growl, lightly amused but also irritated that he would intervene even when he knew she was more powerful than him. She could taste their fear, and would feed on it. She inhaled to taste more of it, only to find that it waned and faded. She flicked her gaze from father to son, noting now that as Bronco took his place between them, the panic had slipped from Ponyboy's features. 

He'd cut off her supply; and now, the walls began to fall all around them. 

With a scream, she leapt again- this time, straight for Bronco.

Ponyboy cringed as the tiger leapt toward him, only to hear a jarring, crackling noise and the sound of bodies hitting the stone floor. When he looked up, he was no longer alone with the tiger, but a wolf had come in as well, knocking it aside. A wolf with tawny fur, a dorsal stripe- kind, golden eyes but-

His breath caught. 

It couldn't be. 

His Dad had tattered ears, and so many scars and clawmarks on his face...His Dad had a bit of a limp, and coarse, shaggy fur. His Dad had looked thin, frail- and in his worst memories, his eyes had been sunken and lost their glimmer. It was the only way he had been able to remember his Dad looking when he went through his memories- and it was why it hurt so much to think about him at all. 

The man stepped between him and the tiger, and he caught a glimpse of the man's eye, long enough to see the affection it held. 

And it was just the drop of recognition that his memory needed to get a good kickstart. 

He remembered seeing his father- incredibly fuzzy at first, but he smelled of fresh air and cedar and lightly of fish too. The image sharpened as he traced his way through later memories- to see a man with a face covered in scars, but so full of mirth and happiness, too. He saw a broad grin, he heard his father's buoyant laugh, and heard the dulcet tones he used when he spoke to Mom. He remembered the little squeeze he'd be given whenever he offered an apology, and the rumbling sound his Dad made when he was beat at a game of Bobstones. 

Healed and whole, this man was 

"Dad?" 

He barely whispered it. An ear flicked back, but the man didn't tear his gaze away from the tiger, and the next minute, it leapt. 

"Dad, NO!"

The sound of his son's voice nurtured his soul- which, all things considered, was all that was left of him, really. He saw the tiger square her paws, and crouch. He mirrored her posture, laying flat his ears in preparation, and just as the tiger leapt, a scream split the air- and simultaneously, it split the fabric of reality and dreamscape, too. 

He leapt for the tiger the moment she leapt for him, and felt the rush of cool air sweep in as their momentum carried them out of the boy's dream, and into the cold night. 

Both of them were hurled far from one another, far away from the child who had finally been able to wrench himself from his dream, once his fear had subsided. 

He pulled himself to his feet. 

"You can't hurt him now." He growled. 

The moon had begun to rise over the horizon; its light a pallid orange glow that threatened to pale to silver as it lifted. The eyes of both ghosts were drawn to it; and then back to one another again. 

He saw her return to her own, wolf form. She was as dreadful as she was beautiful.

"Go." He said. 

Time was running out; he could feel himself fading in the moonlight, as though it threatened to pass right through him. He could hold it back for now- but he wanted every last moment with his family- and that did not include his mother.

She knew it was not going to work out the way she had planned the moment she realized the boy feared her no longer. Still, she had her son to deal with but he faced her with such conviction that her resolve was shaken. She leapt, nevertheless, just as the boy's shout tore their false reality all to shreds- 

She felt like a ragdoll as she was tossed from the dream. The strength she had devoured had been stripped from her, leaving her hollow. The disguise faded away and she became nothing more than herself- and yet, at one point in her life that had been enough to make her son tremble. 

When she looked at him now, though, he was a different wolf. Probably the wolf he'd been meant to be, had he lived a different life- and almost unrecognizable when he told her, confidently, to leave. 

She uttered a dark chuckle. 

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. See-"

She slammed one of her paws against the ground and almost begrudgingly, the dark, jagged line began to appear again. It grew, and spread, reaching toward the den. Everything that was in its path was engulfed completely in darkness. A devious grin spread across her face. This line grew much faster than the one in the child's dream- it would be opened enough to swallow a wolf whole within minutes. 

"I've still got a little trick up my sleeve,"

She whispered darkly. 

She turned her head toward the den's entrance, and her expression changed. She fidgeted with her jaw for a moment, and when she spoke again-

"Ponyboy?"

It was with Bronco's voice.

He inhaled with a gasp, and lurched to a half-seated position, wide-eyed and panting. He coughed a couple of times, clearing his airways, and felt a little bit light-headed. The memory of the dream was vivid, and it felt like something that might stay with him all day. His heart raced and ached simultaneously, having been frightened so profoundly by the tiger, and catching one last glimpse of his father, the way he used to be when he'd been healthy. 

Smiling, scarless, brave...His eyes welled with tears. He squeezed them shut, and moisture dripped down his cheeks. He would have to fight to remember his father's face that way, but he knew he would never see it-

"Ponyboy?"

The sound of his voice. 

He turned his head and looked out into the pale light. It had a rosy hue to it. He reached down to nibble at his elbow, pinching the flesh there to make sure he was awake. He'd been so frightened in his dream, though, that he wasn't sure pain meant he was even awake. 

Trembling, he moved toward the den's mouth, staring out into the open. A light mist covered the ground, and there in the clearing was a beautiful, golden wolf he didn't recognize. 

He looked toward the moon- an eerie orange as it hovered close to the horizon. When he looked back toward the golden wolf, she was already charging toward him.

The crack in the earth- it was back. 

It had seemed such a minor detail in the dreamscape, perhaps just a way to keep Ponyboy from simply running and running, but now he saw it was something she intended. It grew and spread, devouring everything as if it was a liquid strip of velvet ribbon. The scent of sulfur came from it, and he felt dread spread through his spirit. 

It was a pathway- a pathway that only went in one direction. 

He looked up when he heard his boy's name called- and with his own voice. He opened his mouth to call out, to find that there was nothing there to speak with. Niamh had stolen his voice! And his sweet young boy was summoned, looking sleepy still and shaken from the terrible dream. He wouldn't recognize Niamh- he likely wouldn't even know her name- and there was no way for him to warn his son before she lunged for him. 

The crack in the earth widened like gaping jaws, ready to catch a meal. 

Niamh landed and drew up, balancing on her hind limbs as she pulled one forelimb back, ready to strike the child off his feet and send him tumbling into the yawning abyss- but not before Bronco collided with her. He tackled her about her midriff, sank his fangs into her musty, golden fur, and carried the both of them over the edge and down into the impossibly dark crevasse. 

It slammed shut the moment they passed into the shadows. 

The moon was a fair shade of peach, now.

It might not have been the Blackthorn she had intended to sacrifice, but it had indeed been one of her bloodline.

I'll put this on pause a bit- would love if @Teya, @Bronte or @Killdeer could pop in; no worries if you can't, I left this super last minute <3

He winced and shrank to the ground as the wolf pulled back, expecting to feel the hefty smack of her paw any instant. But when he opened his squinted eyes, he saw a flash of golden as she was tossed sideways- carried by the force of his Dad, who tackled her to the ground-

but not to the ground, into it. 

The great, jagged crack in the ground swallowed them whole, and then slammed shut without any sign it had ever been there to begin with. Horrified, he stared at the ground for a moment, before he bounded forward and began to dig furiously. 

"Dad! Dad, no! Come back!" He pleaded as he scored the ground with his claws, sniffling and crying, begging over and over again for his father to come back.

There was no getting around it. He was absolutely, positively TRIPPING BALLS. 

It started with Coltan's transformation from boy to man before his eyes, but before he could ask about it, the shrieks at Brecheliant drew his attention. Coltan—no. . . Whoever he was?

Anyway, the dude charged well ahead of Killdeer. Even in as good of shape as he was, he couldn't match the fevered pace of a man bound and determined to save his—

"Dad!!"

Dad?!

Thus arrived Killdeer at the scene, slack-jawed and horrified at what played out before him. Golden wolves wrestling, a flurry of limbs and teeth and snarls. 

And then—nothing. They were gone.

Killer sidled closer to the desperately digging boy—yes, this was definitely a kid—but couldn't find any actions or words beyond, well. . .

What the fuck.

Everything went dark. So impossibly dark, that he could not hear, see or feel a thing. Even the sensation of falling left him the moment the chasm had closed up around them, and the shrill squeal of his mother's voice was cut off. While he had some level of awareness, he could not tell where one part of him began, and another ended. He was left alone with little other than his own consciousness, until a voice finally appeared in his mind. 

"I didn't expect that."

He didn't really know how to reply, and when he tried to shrug, or fumble for words, he found it impossible. It was like wrestling inside a cocoon. He felt a light pulse of pressure, before it released, and suddenly, there was more sound; a light ringing that made him aware that more existed than just the darkness. 

"I'm sorry, what-?" 

His voice sounded the way it should, but...A bit more gritty, he thought. 

"I didn't expect for you to be the one delivered to me," Came the voice again. 

He could see nothing in the darkness and as though it was reading his thoughts, light spilled in- not from any source in particular, but soft, like moonlight. There was a figure, a tall wolf that looked almost impossibly perfect. He couldn't tell what colour their fur was, or what colour their eyes were, as if anything visible was made of light in its purest form. 

He was silent for a moment, struggling to figure out what was going on- and what this wolf was referring to. It seemed to understand, and in an instant, he watched it all play out before him again. 

He saw Niamh reach for Ponyboy and he took a step forward- only to see himself lunge out of the darkness, and bowl her over, into the crack in the earth, which blinked out as it shut. He remembered now. 

"Ponyboy- he's-"

"It's a ridiculous name." The wolf informed him. He couldn't read their expression, but he thought he heard light amusement on their androgynous voice. "But he is fine."

"What did you mean, 'delivered to you'?" He asked. 

"Here. Well, not here; I stopped you before you fell through." They admitted. They began to circle him, taking stock of him in his form, which felt more like a wolf again. "She was due to pass through into...Well, you do not have a correct name for it, but it is- where she is meant to go." The figure's tone dipped low. He felt as if he understood what was being implied. 

Essentially, his mother had finally been sucked down into the depths of-

"It's not quite 'Hell' but it's not 'Heaven,' either. And yes."

Before he could even think it, the question was answered. His mind was easily read. He felt himself anger when he realized not only where his mother had gone, but what she had been trying to do- and he struggled with the realization. 

"But why?"

"She wanted to make a deal. Send down one of her bloodline, and she could get more time to drift." The wolf sounded irritated, as though offended by his mother's bargaining. "We are not above making bargains, of course. We make them all the time. Your kind- and many others- make sacrifices all the time...Those aren't deals, per say, as we don't agree to every demand made for the price of innocent blood but they get sent to us, regardless and then is it my job, as True Death," The figure's outline flared "To send them in the right direction."

He studied the figure, who regarded him with the same impartial look he'd had since the light had come back in. 

He wasn't sure what question to ask next. 

"You were unexpected. Not the sacrifice that was offered, but one you made on your own, for the sake of your child." Did the creature look amused? It was impossible to tell. The wolf swept toward him, as gracefully as a swan on the water. "You will receive what Niamh asked for; but it will not be long." Their muzzle hovered above his forehead, and breathed warmth into him. "You will walk with me again soon."

***

He looked down at his feet when the ground appeared below him, and in the silvering light of the moon, he realized that he had returned to the earth, not far from where he had fallen in. A patch of ice beneath him caught his attention, and his eyes widened to see that he was not only semi-transparent, but aged. It made his heart ache to see how he would have looked had he lived to the same age as his father. He felt a tugging sensation in his chest; a small flare of pride that he had ended up becoming more like Colt. 

While he did not feel weak, he felt the wind slip through him, and wondered if it might carry him away soon. True Death's voice whispered in his ears, and he knew that he would not have much time left. In the patch of ice, he saw the moon, and understood its meaning; once it rose to its zenith, his time would be up. 

He heard a voice, and turned, realizing that both of his boys were finally reunited; Ponyboy scratched away at the earth, and Killdeer looked stunned. Appropriately so.

"He already knows that one, Varmint," He said, smiling. "So if you wanna teach your brother some foul language...You're gonna have to come up with something more inventive than that."

He didn't have much time left- but he was absolutely going to be himself in that time, and use humour to try and wade through whatever this heavy feeling was.

His claws barely made an impact on the hard, cold earth. He ripped grass up by the roots, and made long, jagged marks in the dirt with his claws, but with every rake of his paws he felt the earth tighten. His father had been buried elsewhere, but his ghost had been trapped just here, and he felt determined to keep digging until he could catch a sign of it, and pull him out. 

None of it made sense. He whimpered and sniffled, tears spilling down his cheeks as he dug feverishly, startling when he was interrupted by a surprised voice. He whipped his head up, inhaling sharply at the sight of a wolf he'd never seen before. At first, he felt he should cry out- this was surely a trespasser, and he felt both vulnerable and frightened to realize that even in the wake of such a horrifying nightmare, worse things could actually happen in real life. What if this guy had come here to-

"...He'll come by some day, and you'll know him when you see him. He's got a white chin, that makes his smile look even bigger than it already is...White forelegs too. Most of his fur is pretty dark, kind of like his Towma, who would be your great-Towma. But he's got brown on his shoulders, like a superhero in a cape..."

"You're-" He blurted, as the memory of his father's voice recited the man's description, word for word. 

And then the ghost appeared again, and Ponyboy gawked at him, mouth hanging open. 

It was his Dad, but he was...Old. And he was almost see-through. He looked weary, but there was a gleam of fondness in his eyes that made Ponyboy's defensive stance relax. "D-dad?" He asked.

Before the boy could react, they were joined by something. . .extraordinary. Killdeer marveled upon the aged form of Bronco for a few long moments, barely registering his words, before realizing the transparency, the differences. . .

Dad, Killer echoed his younger half-brother, shaking his head. Seriously. I'm totally tripping, because you—why do you. . .look like—?

He didn't believe in ghosts, or at least, he didn't think he believed in ghosts. He was ambivalent about the whole thing, really.

But then, what was this?

I found your son, I think? he went on. Not you, he added, glancing at Ponyboy. He said his name was Coltan. But I guess there was something. . .off about him? And now he seems to be gone?

Killdeer had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, bless him.

Bronte came rushing to the sound of a great commotion at the den. She was blind to the great battle that had unfolded. All that mattered was the frantic yelps, screams and snarls. One of the voices belonged to her brother, Ponyboy.

When she had at last arrived, the battle was over. A wolf she didn't know, but whom seemed oddly familiar, was there. Her brother looked shaken up, but un-hurt. She was confused. In shock. Then, rendered speechless as her eyed laid on the vision of none other than her dad.

Dad!

He was here! But how?! He shouldn't be! This wasn't possible, was it?

She stood wide eyed, paws frozen to the ground. Her legs locked at the joints. 

"D-dad...? H-how?"

The breath was taken from her voice. The salty water, pricking at her eyes.

He winced as both of his sons turned to him, disbelief in their eyes, and smiled weakly. He had no idea what he was doing, and began to feel as if his kids might all be better off if they didn't see ghost-dad tackling their abusive grandmother into an endless abyss. It was worth rescuing Ponyboy, but it might still mean that all of his kids might need therapy for the rest of their lives. 

He thought that perhaps being dead might make him poetic, like Wraen- but she had been well-spoken while she had been alive, as well. His little brush with True Death didn't seem to gift him with any additional skills or knowledge. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost,"

It certainly hadn't improved his weak dad-jokes, either. 

He heard the sweet voice of his daughter pipe up, and looked to see her- noticing the little things that had changed about her since his death. How was it that children grew so fast? He'd missed so much- months, for Killdeer, and weeks for Ponyboy, Bronte and Boris. 

"My little girl," he crooned, melting at the confusion and sorrow in her eyes. 

Killdeer mentioned another- and he realized then that there were other matters for him to fix, and he grimaced lightly. 

"Yeah that...That was me. I didn't expect to come back as a kid, I just..." And then he realized. He'd been playing Coltan while they'd travelled, in order to spare Killdeer the grief of learning the truth. Now, here he was- translucent, scarless, and aged. His features fell. "I'm so sorry, Varmint. I couldn't figure out how to tell you, I just wanted more time..." His voice trailed off, and he looked to Ponyboy and Bronte, past them to the den, wondering if Boris and Teya might appear as well, though he wasn't sure he would have the time to explain, or say all of the things he wanted them to know. "I'm so sorry, kids. I loved you so, so much."

Two others called Bronco by the name Ponyboy knew him by. One was his littermate- and he sidled closer to her, watching her gaze as if to make sure she was looking at Bronco, too. He wondered if she was seeing the same thing as him, if Dad looked as old to her, or as see-through. And then there was Killdeer, a young man who had been the subject of many stories, though it felt unfamiliar and strange to have someone he didn't even recognize refer to Bronco as Dad.

Things were strange enough as it was. 

"Are you gonna stay?" He asked, his voice thick with dread.

insomnia had taken her from the den, but when teya returned, it was to hear the little sleep-cries of a fitful ponyboy.
the woman who had come for her now came for her son, and teya felt the fire of the tiger-stripes though she could not see them. her thin frame thrust into the den, hovered over her son, but 
gold/smoke/snarling/ponyboy heaving under her arms; voices/shouting/something pressing on the bleak spiderweb which had never left teya since niamh's entry into her mind, darkening, spreading.
when she blinked, killdeer was there.
when she breathed, bronco too.
teya retreated into the farthest shadows of the den and found she could not breathe, and equally strong was her desire that her children would heal to see the loving shade of their father. but for the raven, it was the third ghost, and perhaps that moment she went completely, stunningly mad.
take me with you, her eyes pleaded as they turned toward him, sunken circlets of exhaustion and a pain that would not release its bite. and she knew how selfish it was! she knew she — bronco, don't leave me here again, all in a mind for her jaw could not speak. even as love spread through her to quell the shock and the dread, even as she climbed from the den to join bronco and bronte and ponyboy and killdeer, her gaze asked if it was possible.

this is going to be the last Bronco post from me <3 thank you for being a part of his little journey!

His son asked him a question that made his insides tie in knots. He stepped forward to brush his son’s forehead, hoping it might evoke only positive emotions, the way it had when Wraen touched him. He thought of the first moment he saw Ponyboy, of laughing wildly as they chased each other and it brought a smile to his lips. 

From the darkness gleamed two sad, sore eyes, tear-laden and scarlet from sleepless night. 

”Teya,” he breathed as the moonlight made her look all the more winsome and fair. It was upon her shoulders that the grief of their three children had fallen and he knew then that he had failed her. She was not ruined, but succumbing to a darkness he knew all too familiarly, now. 

He padded toward her, and stood with his grizzled muzzle to her ear, eyes closed. 

”I love you with all my heart. I would run with you, forever, in eternity.” he stepped back, and in hushed tones, spoke again. ”But until then…Teya, my one love…I want you to live- live long, and live happy. It will come to you, I-“ He was not permitted to tell her what he knew, ”promise, you will live a long and satisfied life.”

He felt Ponyboy’s stare, and looked back to his youngest son and daughter. To them, a poignant moment as they saw each other for the last time. It felt like he was being torn as he moved from the darkness near the den and out into the light; he was a shade more transparent now.  

”I can’t stay; but I’m not going far.” A white lie, now that he understood what the process was. ”You two take care of each other and Boris, alright?” His voice trembled.

He wondered if True Death was listening and felt an uncharacteristically warm breeze. 

”Soon.” a warning, he knew, that only he could hear.

He moved to Killdeer, head sweeping low. ”I hope you’ll forgive me, Varmint. I think that protecting my family was my unfinished business but…I’m glad that I got to go on a little trip with you.” His tone became misty and wistful as he spoke. 

The wind rose, and the moon had climbed. He turned to say something to them as a group- but they were gone, and so was the moonlight. 

To them, he was gone too- slipped away as if it had all been nothing more than a shared dream.

Slowly, things clicked into place. The final puzzle piece came accompanied with the breaking of his heart. 

No, he whispered, shaking his head. Sudden tears blurred his vision; he felt like he couldn't breathe. God, no! How? When?

He should have come sooner.

I love you, Killdeer managed, and took a stumbling step toward the shade of his father. He barely registered the others around him. 

Varmint. Would it be the last time he'd hear that in his voice? 

I love you, Dad! he forced through the lump in his throat, shoulders beginning to tremble with oncoming sobs.

Before he could do anything further, Bronco had disappeared once more.

He watched, awe-struck as his father moved to speak with Teya, who had grown dreary and secluded with her grief. He did not see her eyes light up with joy to see her husband again- but saw tears spring fresh to saddened eyes. 

Still shocked, he nodded briefly and sidled closer to Bronte. A hitch caught in his throat as his father spoke with Killdeer and then-

”No!” He too cried, when the moonlight spilled right through his father, and he disappeared. Killdeer’s question fell into silence, and his pleading fell without an answer. Ponyboy realized slowly that Killdeer hadn’t known, and that he was only hearing now that his father had passed away, too. 

After nudging Bronte’s cheek, he moved toward his mother, but something inside him felt wary of just how profound her grief was. He looked to Killdeer, and then to Bronte. He cleared his throat, and beckoned to his older brother to come join them- for them to all come together.

together they came in mutual warmth and love for those who had passed.
but teya could not feel it.
and when their arms had separated, she turned away from them all to seek the newly turned earth of bronco's resting place, to assure herself that he laid there and had not risen in flesh.
that she was not slowly losing all of her sanity.

She swallowed, choking back a sob as her father spoke. He couldn't stay, but he promised he would never be far away. Leaning in close to Ponyboy's side, she nodded faintly. Of course she would look out for her family. They all would, together!

Then, it was over. Bronco was gone. His voice lost to the wind, his image no more. The world fell away beneath her, the cries of the others drowned out by the white noise filling her ears. Without seeing, clouded by the tears in her eyes, she turned to the embrace of her family. Dad was gone, but his love remained.