Ouroboros Spine every day it's getting higher

@Vairë — let me know if I should change anything!

He'd recognized the voice of Ariadne, and he'd frozen in time with his wife as they settled the girls down for a nap. The wordless meeting of their eyes conveyed nothing but shock, but somehow, Valiant knew to stay where he was. He kept his mouth firmly shut while she departed, fussing over the girls who were in turn fussing over the absence of their mother.

He had them all asleep when she returned. Valiant watched her, feeling, for once, as calm as the woods. He would be as steady a rock and as safe a harbor in this storm as he possibly could.

Valiant pushed himself to his paws, carefully extracting himself from the puppy pile, and stepped outside of the whelping den to stand with her.

Vairë came back shaking.

The world was a watercolor blur through the tears in her eyes, though she stoutly refused to let them fall. She reemerged in the repose, downtrodden, quiet. Valiant rose to meet her.

Vairë, quite suddenly, broke under the weight of her own feelings, and pressed into his chest to hide the sob that wanted to break free.

My sister, my sister has returned. She tried to get out, but it sounded more like a babble than a sentence.

My sister has returned, too late to see my babies be born, like she had promised. My sons make strides to be men, and she did not see them off. My daughter works as midwife. My new daughters, they grow and change. And she missed all of it. Her words broke around a sob, and she hid all over again.

It was difficult for Valiant to separate his own feelings about returned sisters from the situation at hand. He held Vairë tightly, tucking her against his aching heart. He had not been in a position to counsel her when Ariadne had first left, though the thought had certainly occurred to him. He was not sure he ought to counsel her now, either. Perhaps only his support was necessary.

Still, he felt compelled to speak.

"There's still more for her to see," he said at length. "She's here now to see it."

He did not say it, but Valiant knew that, all too easily, she could have been lost to them for good.

"And to hear what all she ought't've listened to before she went and runnoft," he added, not wanting to gloss over all the hurt that Ariadne had caused.

I told her, Valiant. 

Vaire struggled against the tears, trying to be succinct in her words, but unable to find that peace.

I told her how mother and husband both left me, and she took those words, and did it too. What was I supposed to think? What was I supposed to do? She covered her face with one of her legs.

What do I do now? Can I trust her to not run again? Here, the fawn legged girl dripping tears made her home against the hurt caused by others, and tried to withstand the storm. And she had not. She had run to the deer, and they had returned her scarred.

His throat burned. He wished for more or better words to soothe her. But all he could say was, "I don't know." The world was a frightening place. Very few things could be counted on for sure. "I think you did everything you could've. You did everything right. She didn't give you no choice on what to think. She ain't given you any reason to trust her, either."

He rested his cheek against the crown of her head.

"She came home, though," he said to her. "And, baby, not everyone does. You know that as well as I do. I don't mean to say you gotta forgive her and make nice just 'cause of that. Just — she must know she's done wrong. She must know she's hurt people. What she probably don't know is whether you want her back here or not. And I think that you do."

I do. It was easy enough to admit, but tears wet her cheeks like fallen stars, her wheat fur becoming beige with saturation.

But I do not know how to face her again. I do not know how to look at her and keep the angry words away. I fear.. And here she swallowed.

I fear what I will become, when the words become angry enough. I wish I could forgive her. I wish I could forgive her like anaa. I wish I could hug her and release it all. But I can’t, and I do not understand why I feel such.

Valiant gave a swift shake of his head.

"Don't worry about forgiving her just yet," he said, his voice firm. "Let's start with wantin' to. Or wantin' to want to. Let her apologize. You've got good reasons to be angry, and you ain't just moondoe right now. You're her sister. She let you down. She put herself in danger. It's her who's gotta face you."

He felt great tenderness for Ariadne, even if she was not a wolf he'd been given many chances to actually like. She was a wayward sister, and now she was a sister returned. The parallels would not leave him, but neither did he forget the differences in his and his wife's situations.

"Let her come to you," he suggested. "And then hold back until you've heard what all she's got to say for herself. After that..."

He felt some trepidation. His wife was a fierce woman.

"Well," he said after a moment of uncertain silence, "it ain't as though she don't deserve a piece of your mind."

She snorted, feeling the sound bubble from her nose as Valiant spoke.

She deserves my words, that husband of hers deserves more. I will not hurt her in that way, but he is.. She probed for the words she wanted. Far too old for her, lashed to a culture so different from their own that deified war, and yet she remembered when he was in the good graces of the moonpeople, when she hid behind his legs at the border as a girl.

Vairë couldn’t help but wonder what had changed so severely from then.

Not what she thinks. Anaa might have accepted him before, but she will never now. Ariadne has torn our family, and she can patch it, but I fear for the future. Vairë could feel the piercing gaze of Old Doe from over her shoulder and she closed her eyes against reality. Where she may not be moonmaiden, but a vanquishing shadowmatron, a cruel matriarch. Even if the cruelty could be justified to herself.

His expression was suddenly grave when Ariadne's husband came up. He understood that his wife and her family believed this man had led her astray — something that Valiant thought was all too likely even with his narrow dealings with the young woman. Why a man his age would want to take a girl like that far from her family was puzzling to the isbjorn. Troubling. It was difficult for him to see anything but poor intentions in everything that had come to pass.

"Not all stories end happily," he said at last. "Things bein' the way they is — I guess it's a question of what kinda trouble he can cause here, and what kind of trouble it'd cause to send him off someplace else. I can't say I know which would be better for her. For the family. But whatever you decide, I've got your back. And if you want him gone, I'll send him wherever it is you want."

I'll kill him.

It wasn't quite implicit in his words, but Valiant knew that he would, if it was what his wife thought was best. His inclination was toward forgiveness and moderation in almost every situation, but a man who would drive a wedge between sisters?

He didn't plan on letting Vaire lose anyone, ever again. Not if he had any say in it.