Noctisardor Bypass veida

small pp, lmk if i should change! <3

waking to the bouquet of sea-lavender and salt each morning had done wonders for heda. 
she became aware that the world had narrowed to just she, just their children, just druid, just fiona. and it was not as if she truly minded.
heda felt sand beneath her paws as she stepped to the den-mouth and leaned against the entrance. "@Druid?" she asked softly, wanting her sister to join her for a moment.
her voice felt far-away, blurred. the sensation comforted her.

For once, both Den Mothers were awake while all six of the pups slept peacefully. Druid would’ve said they were unoccupied, though she was rather preoccupied with the stinging in her mouth and the terrible aching in her elbow. They were concerning for other reasons beyond the physical sensations themselves, though Druid only had so much bandwidth.

When Heda spoke her name, she slowly climbed to all threes and hobbled to the den’s entrance. Ignoring the aching sockets in her gums that caused her entire muzzle to feel tender to the touch, she nuzzled her sister’s cheek. Unlike Witch, Heda was really here… and Druid knew she needed her to be more present too.

Heda… something happened, she said quietly, ignoring the urge to cover her split lip and the gaps in her teeth, mostly because she didn’t have a spare paw for it.

something had indeed happened. fiona had gone with instructions; now the red-nape was blinking herself into wakefulness. fear speared her with a sickening lurch.
"what happened, druid?" she asked calmly, softly, the dreaming-haze removing her from flesh and soul and allowing her to speak while she watched her mortal figure embrace druid, pull her close with loving care.
her belly lurched with a sickening worry that she was about to be propelled from the trance which had kept her safe these past days.

Druid gritted her teeth when Heda hugged her, biting back the grunt of pain that launched from her throat. Holding her bad leg against her chest, she hid her contorted face against Heda’s neck, pressing into the embrace before drawing back with a little gasp she couldn’t quite suppress.

Glaukos kept hurting everyone, so I told him to leave, Druid said flatly. It was rash, I know, but it was the right thing to do. We don’t need him, Heda. I know things have been… rough. She paused for a breath. But I have you, and you have me, and…

too rough, too fast.
heda watched druid with a mixture of worry and a new, emerging thing: pragmatism.
"i haven't seen etienne in a while. or anselm. is that who you mean by everyone?"
 glaukos had hurt etienne and batted anselm aside as if he were nothing. not a defense by any means while children young enough to just be opening their eyes still demanded round-the-clock attention.
voice even. steady. dollhouse. empty.
"because if they're gone, we do need him, druid."
glaukos made sure of that when he hurt her sister. tears slid silently down the hollowed stepford face, for why would he leave? six children to his name and a vast, rich territory with his mark stamped to it, no male competitors, and the only one who had stood up to him, hurt;
"he did this." she knew. she wanted to hear druid say it. to watch her sister realize what she did.

Yes, he attacked both of them, she replied in that same matter-of-fact tone.

She couldn’t quite read Heda’s expression. Druid gave her some time to process and formulate a response. When Heda pointed out that they did need him, the gray woman’s heart sank, though she did not refute her sister. She said nothing.

Not until the pointed question did she open her mouth to say, I brought it on myself. But Etienne and Anselm, they didn’t. She paused for two breaths, watching the tears fall and seeking to reassure, We have Fiona, Dinah and Ava. John will be back with your sons any day now.

"no." her voice wavered. "we don't have ava. we don't have dinah. nothing you did brought this on you, druid," heda whispered. "but you need to look at who is actually here. you. me. fiona. and the puppies." john wasn't here and her sons — it hurt to even think about them.
she wiped her tears at last, and sighed out, and cleared an aching throat. 
"you can't hunt. fiona can't nurse the pups. i can't do both. so, we need to think, druid, please," she wanted to go back to the dreaming place, the island, "about what we are going to do without anyone else. i think we only have a couple of choices."

Her lips parted. She’d noted the girls’ absence on some level, yet hadn’t realized they were gone. Heda listed those left in Rivenwood—a scarce number, the absence of Witch’s name causing a pang—and reasoned that they couldn’t fend for themselves. She said they only had a few choices in a tone that implied she was about to present them.

Druid tipped her sooty snout, urging Heda to continue. She wasn’t sure what to say for herself. And she couldn’t speak for anyone else. But if only some of them would find their way back here—preferably anyone but the brute she’d commanded to leave—then she thought they could manage.

and they needed etienne. 
heda was panicking; trembling now. but a glance to the pups strengthened her. "if fiona and i do the hunting, that will leave you with the puppies most of the day. alone, for longer times."
she wasn't sure how to broach what she'd seen, or rather, what she hadn't, in druid's interactions with her children. "i figure it might take you the same length of time to heal as it will to wean them." the soft, thoughtful older-sister voice went on, as if a veil had fallen across her vocals. 
if druid could do it, they could stay afloat while new members were sought.
but if that was a torment, she could not in good conscience trap her sister inside the close walls of the den for five more weeks, attached to six cubs in a way she had not been before.
her breath shook.
"the other is that — i can — i can go. i can find him. i can — ask him to come back. he — he never sees me, druid." and he's never struck me. i can find the place he wants me to stand in and stand there.
a wife. a wet nurse. more than that and her mind blanked. but the clock ticked comfortingly. "you and fiona can leave. you would be — free. and i could keep them safe, druid. together."
she could rear them all. she could do it. god had given her another chance. this time she would not be chasing all over christendom for those scattered pieces of herself. she would remain. she would abide. look at druid. her sister couldn't do that, turn her head while glaukos ruled. 
but heda could, just as long as the six were safe. precious sons and daughters. and her sister; "druid," she said softly, "i'm saying this because i think he'll be back for them."
do you want to be here when he does?

The first option knotted her stomach with a familiar dread, though on this point, they didn’t have any choice. Druid nodded her understanding, her tacit agreement. She might lose even more of herself, but if she couldn’t hunt, she had to take the task she could feasibly manage on a purely logistical level.

Who? she prompted when Heda volunteered to find him, then shook her head. No. We should go after literally anyone other than him. He’s harmed three of us now. He didn’t even really mean to hurt me, Heda, but he did. What if he does that to you? Or them?

She gazed down at the gaggle of puppies, then back to her sister to hear the third and final option. She blinked slowly, trying to make any sense of it at all, yet Druid couldn’t. Something about it offended her deeply, though Druid thought she probably deserved that.

Heda, she said after her sister’s final words of warning, lifting her one good foreleg to clasp her pale shoulder and looking her in the eye, I know I’ve not been myself. But for you, I can do this. I can look after them while you and Fiona hunt. If you two want to use some of that energy to track down the others—minus Glaukos—then I’ll watch them then too. It won’t be easy. But we can get through this.

It was the first time she felt optimistic about anything since time immemorial, it felt like. She squeezed Heda’s shoulder, then released her to settle back on her haunches. Everything still hurt, yet she was determined to reassure the other Den Mother.

I can’t say what Glaukos might do. But if he comes back, I’ll tell him to leave again. So will Fiona. She paused. And you, I hope.

if druid had been here, minding the pups instead of interfering, she would not have been in such a situation. heda recognized this thought for the dire, cruel sentiment it was; she simply could not fathom why druid's world had simply not narrowed to block glaukos out. he no longer mattered beyond the eight weeks it took to rear children. heda had almost been the fourth, a fact she could not remember mentioning to her sibling. 
he was not a husband. he was barely a father.
heda was becoming frustrated; her sister was not listening, in her opinion. a man who harmed would harm again. three times it had happened. they could tell glaukos to leave all they wanted; if he decided to come in then there was no one here to stop him. if he had not even meant to hurt druid, suppose he wanted to do it later?
but she was once more being unfair, because she was tired, so very tired. rivenwood was supposed to have been a final, peaceful stop. the clock ticked and she clung to its sound, fighting the surge of resentment. all her sister wanted was the same: a respite. heda was willing to capitulate to have what she wanted, and her sibling was willing to struggle to have the same.
"of course i will, druid."
anger choked her, anger and horror and worry. she didn't want to struggle again, she wanted a haven. a rest. the tears threatened but this time she kept them back. "we'll start tomorrow, then. as soon as they all start walking, i think -- i think we can put them on a little chewed meat." weaning would have to be early to relinquish demands upon two hunters who needed to put on weight and then prepare in a couple of seasons for winter.
she didn't want to struggle. staying here alone with glaukos and six kids was preferable to the grinding routine of no one sleeping and surviving mostly off small game. she remembered the grit of raccoon meat in her mouth, and her entire being rebelled against the concept of starvation, of scrambling and rationing and fearing and worrying, and all while trying to be a mother to children who slowly began to hate their mother for their own suffering.
"can you rest for now?" the floating voice replaced the brief passion; she crawled into herself and huddled there, watching druid through an expression that slowly closed.

Still she couldn’t tell what was going on within her sister’s mind. Druid thought she saw a dozen emotions flicker across her pale features as more tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Bracing herself against the pain that would shoot through her jaw, she leaned forward to nose them away.

Her sister ultimately agreed, so Druid assumed this meant they would go with the only plan that made any sense to her. Heda even began to set an itinerary for them. The gray woman’s stomach pinched again at the daunting days ahead of her, though she would really pull herself up by her bootstraps and do whatever her sister needed her to do.

Wondering at herself—wondering, actually, if Glaukos had somehow knocked some sense back into her when he’d made her punch herself in the teeth—she braced a shoulder on the den wall to free her good foreleg. She reached out to clutch at one of Heda’s slim paws.

Yes, she agreed, and I want you to know I’m going to get better. Druid paused, squeezing her sister’s paw. I’m going to do better. And we have each other. We don’t need him, she reminded her with a note of determination and finality.

they may have not needed glaukos, but they needed a man. here heda's traditionality butted up against her sister's insistence they could do this alone. a man whose sole purpose was hunting and guarding could free each of them up sooner. she and druid, reeking of milk, would be seen as easier targets when they left rivenwood.
and what about fiona? suppose nature interfered and they ended up with three litters of varied age between them?
she wanted to cry, to sob that she didn't want to do it again.
instead she covered druid's paw with her other and offered a smile of acceptant hope into that beloved face. rage burned in her for what glaukos had done.
"i believe you, druid." 
and where had belief gotten her?
heda was being cold and cruel and unfair. fiona and druid leaving to another place, another pack, would give her sister time to heal. let her keep the bear-man distracted, perhaps even docile.
but no. it would be struggle again, for all of them.
she would lie with druid a while, cleaning the wounds and untangling any matted fur, helping to wash the babies and change their bedding. an hour before dawn, she would nurse many of them to fullness before slipping out into the starlit darkness to start her hunt.