Phoenix Maplewood graphite

The rain did not deter Redd though it ensured no trail would be found.  The damp scent of new life and greenery surrounded her, dripping from vibrant trees overhead, but she pressed through without pausing to check for trails.

Wealda would need to return soon.  Until then she sought @Gavrel.

They were bonded, and with this claim she knew he would not have left by choice. Not without intending to return.  Perhaps he tracked the herds beyond.  Perhaps he had been separated from return, forced to travel another way amongst the mountains.  Perhaps the earth had swallowed him the way it had her.  This last triggered a distress that the previous had not.

She lifted her head and sent up a powerful, searching call.  There was a desperation to it, a loneliness that only Redd could feel, yet was natural in its depth.  She had chosen him as match.  To match was to bond for life.

In time, if he did not return, the needs of Wealda would press her to decide.  Perhaps this had been his choice; she had failed to enter her season and thus proven herself unfit.  She preferred this, and held it close as she called once more, then listened for a response.  The only sound was the rain.

Better that she be found unfit.  Better that he be waylaid.  She could not dispel the thought of Avicus struck down on the hunt.  This was a dread she did not wish to dwell in.

For the first few days after relocating the sextet to Sequoia’s Spot, Druid didn’t stray too far. She didn’t even know why. Was she concerned for the pups? Did she not trust the other members of the pack? She certainly wanted her freedom back. Maybe she was afraid that once she took advantage, she would overindulge and end up neglecting her own children.

Whatever its root cause, Druid decided to get over it today. She wrapped a patrol near the north side of the bypass, then roamed toward the nearby woods. She decided she would try to rustle up some small game. She would probably not kill it outright, only wounding her prey so she could take it back to the rendezvous site and let the Butternuts practice their own hunting skills.

She saw a flash of red through the trees and paused, then proceed with caution. Druid realized it was a she-wolf seconds before the figure halted, prompting her to freeze again too. She watched as the stranger tossed her head skyward, her neck arcing swanlike as she sang a searching song.

Druid drew in a breath as her eyes traveled from the woman’s face, down the curve of her neck to her slim shoulders. She was muscular but lithe, her pelt a striking blend of bold red against a more muted, earthen palette. Druid swore she caught a glimpse of golden eyes.

She barely believed in love of the romantic variety, much less love at first sight. But something about the woman—maybe even her song of longing—hooked into something deep inside Druid. She felt compelled to push forward through the brush, as if she contained a magnet and this stranger its mate. It was so strange, yet she did not put up any resistance as she stepped into view.

There was a stranger, though it was clear in a glance that the wolf was not who she sought.  Redd pulled up short and stood, appraising the other wolf with a silent stare as rain continued to slowly gather on her pelt.

The other walked with purpose, though what her intentions were Redd could not tell.  She lifted her head with a wary touch of authority, but did not reveal her teeth just yet.  This was not a place she sought to defend if she was not threatened first.  She did not make a sound and instead waited, watching, the question clear in her look.

Why?

She hadn’t really paid the light rain much attention, though as she neared the other woman, she noticed it beading on her striking coat. Druid didn’t get to appreciate this visual for long before the stranger faced her with a pointed look on her cunning face. It halted Druid in her tracks, in part because her stomach began dipping and swooping wildly.

The other she-wolf raised her head a little and Druid sensed an air of dominance that made her heart thump a little harder. She beheld the wary expression on that beautiful face for only one of those swift heartbeats before she dropped her gaze. Her head followed, dipping ever so slightly in deference.

I’m Druid, she managed to get out a few breaths later, of Rivenwood. She didn’t feel as collected as usual, though she managed to turn her head to point south of their current position. Facing the red stranger again, she added, Who are you? with a touch of unguarded admiration in her tone.

Redd did not know why the stranger stared but was not bothered by this.  She was small, thin in a way that spoke of recovered health.  This was familiar enough to Redd that she knew such a wolf shouldn’t be underestimated.  Especially when she drew closer.  Her body language shifted from wariness to curiosity, tail and head lowering to a more neutral hold in the process.

Her coat was a pattern that was unfamiliar, and her eyes were two different tones.  The place she came from was unfamiliar as well, but by the scent, she was either mother or Caru.  That she was out scouting while the pups remained safe spoke of her strength and the strength of her pack.  Wealda did not allow her gaze to linger into challenge because of this, instead allowing her focus to drift beyond.

Wealda.  Of Redtail Rise.  More and more it was the only name that mattered.  Your claim is near?  She would avoid it in her search if she could.  Soon she would turn back regardless.

She walks divided.  The concept of association came to her, as such things sometimes did.  Her pelt, her eyes, they all spoke of someone walking the edge of sunlight and shadows.

The woman—Wealda, as she introduced herself—relaxed a little. Druid tried to do the same, though she felt nervous in an unfamiliar and not entirely unpleasant way. Redtail seemed particularly apt and Druid wondered if the pack was named in her honor. Although it had eased some, there was still a commanding air about the other woman.

Yes, it’s in the bypass south and a little east of here, she replied with a soft swish of her tail. Where is Redtail Rise?

And what brings you here? Druid wondered, though she stuck to one inquiry at a time. Besides, she sort of knew the answer: Wealda was searching for someone. Who? the Den Mother’s inner voice pressed. Even inside her own head, it had a slight twinge of jealousy.

Northwest.  To the direct north was the river pack.  She would search this forest and then return home.  He would not be lost if he were in a place with allies, unless he was lost by choice.  If this were true then she would gain nothing by finding him.

Wealda tasted the breeze again but only found damp and new growth.  She would seek a trail on her return and bring down a kill.  Moon Runner’s illness and the few disappearances left them with few hunters to spare.  Their bonds were strong, their members sure and skilled, but her task was to provide.  This search, she knew, would not happen again soon.  Already she wasted strength.  Redd chafed, unwilling to see it as such, but Wealda knew the truth.

He would return or he would not.

She had no questions, but did not press to leave.  She appreciated knowing the lay of the claims around them and the wolves who resided within.  It allowed her peace in the understanding that boundaries would be respected.  This meeting held nothing but reassurance; there would be no forthcoming trouble here.

She didn’t bother looking northwest, her two-toned gaze riveted on the woman in front of her. Druid wondered if she was calling for a lost mate or perhaps a child. Wealda’s call had been so earnest and full of yearning. Despite the bizarre jealousy Druid felt, her chest tightened in sympathy.

I heard your call, Druid said. She wanted to offer her help, though she hadn’t seen anyone but her own pack mates in recent memory. Maybe I can help, she said, unable to resist, if you want to give me a description of whoever it is you’re looking for. I plan to get out and about more often. I could keep an eye out.

Wealda regarded the other woman for a long moment, gratitude warring with futility.  The reason behind the latter won out.  The other woman held responsibilities of her own.  Clearly she was leadership in her own right, whether Wealda or Caru, guiding her own pack’s future.  This was where her strength belonged.

He will return or he will not.  If he needs help then he will ask.  And if he did not ask then no help would return him.  She did not blame him; only herself, as her body had not only betrayed her pack.  Mateship deserved fulfillment.

Your claim is strong.  Hold it.  It was not meant to be an order despite the odd pattern of words that she chose.  She meant it as a compliment, a recognition that Wealda understood the offer and what it meant.  She simply could not accept it.

Wealda’s response intrigued Druid. It seemed almost impersonal in stark contrast to the perceived tone of her call. Perhaps she only meant to protect the identity of this wayward wolf from a stranger. Druid couldn’t be sure, though she did get the sense this woman was searching for a mate who had gone missing.

She sipped in a breath, trying to think of what to say. Before she come up with anything, Wealda said something else that stoked Druid’s curiosity. Her head canted. It was such an interesting thing to say. She hardly knew Druid—something which the Rivenwood woman wouldn’t mind remedying—so what had prompted this small declaration?

I wouldn’t necessarily say that, she refuted with a small smile and a gleam in her eye, and I’m curious why you would. What makes you think so?

Redd tilted her head inquiringly, unsure what about the words seemed a surprise.  Was it not clear that her pack held a future?  She did not understand that other packs held different customs from the Rise.  It was all she had ever known and to view the world in any other way would be to go against her very nature.

Your pack has pups.  They are yours and you are here.  They are defended.  Yours to her meant to care for, apparent in the faded scent of a nursing den.  It did not matter if she was their actual mother.  You do what is right to you.  Your pack allows this.  They acted as one, united in the protection and care of that which was most important.

She continued to watch curiously.  She had not misjudged?  Even Avicus had remained somewhat confined, and now, the hunt wife even moreso.  She was Caru and thus chose it, but there were also few alternatives, and those left were tasked with hunting and scouting the borders.  She could not imagine New Snow wandering so far.

Druid did not interrupt Wealda’s assessment, though her two-toned eyes widened a little. She could tell all of that from—what, her scent? She was impressed. She pondered the rest of her new acquaintance’s inferences. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

You said my claim is strong, she said, but it isn’t. Yes, there’s several of us, but we’re hardly united. And I’m not even sure where I fit in, especially as the kids get older. My sister and her… situationship… they’re the ones who fit the more traditional mold: parenthood, leadership, all of that. Me? Not so much.

Case in point: the magnetism she felt today. Druid suddenly wondered if there was any possibility Wealda felt it too. She doubted it. And unless her own deductions were way off base, she had a male mate. He might be gone but Wealda was clearly hoping he would return.

Not for lack of trying, Druid continued after a beat, and I love Rivenwood. I was born there. I hope to die there. I’m just not sure where I belong in the meantime, you know?

No, she probably didn’t know, Druid thought with a rueful smile.

Wealda could not relate.  She was strong and did not doubt her pack.  There was no alternative for her against the path she walked.  She was Wealda and this meant she led without fear.

Redd felt the words like a familiar chorus.  All of them had echoed, at one point or another, within her own mind.  Her sister's suitability and her own perceived shortcomings.  Her inability to truly unify disparate factions within her own family.  The belief that she would never truly measure up.

How could anyone else ever be Wealda?

These were weaknesses she could not show her pack.  They were truths she could not reveal to anyone who might upset the peace of the Rise, even if their intentions were for the benefit of those involved. She had hidden these thoughts from Masquerade, from Mountain Boulder, from Mulherin, and even Gavrel.

This stranger posed no threat. Neither Redd nor Wealda feared rivalry here.

Wealda's duty is to be a mother. I failed this. The words came like acid after being withheld so long. The release she felt in voicing them was stark, and for the first time, she understood some of what language was. My sister was heir. Now she leads with children in another place. I did not know why she named me Wealda and then changed her mind. Redd looked away, her expression calm despite the tenor of the words. Now I do.

Masquerade had seen in her what the others failed to. Redd did not know how to be a mother. She did not know if these desires belong to Redd or to Wealda, and if only the latter, how were they right when she was unworthy of the name?

A mate was not enough. I am Wealda because no one challenges. It will not stay. And who would support her over one more suited? Not even she would expect it. Like her they would know the pack came first, and a Wealda who could not build the strength of the Rise was not fit to command her slopes.

She hadn't known she carried so many words within her. A part of her had forgotten she was speaking aloud at all.

She should stop blathering and let Wealda return to her search or—considering she’d sounded rather done with it—home to the rise. Yet Druid found she wasn’t ready to part with this wolf who evoked such peculiar feelings within her. Her lips parted, though she said nothing, fighting an inner battle with herself.

Wealda’s voice cut into it. Had she just spoken in third person? Druid didn’t have much time to ponder this. Her ears pricked as she listened to every word shared, increasingly realizing that they were a revelation. Maybe Wealda hadn’t even planned to share them. Druid felt strangely honored.

She immediately wanted to tell Wealda that motherhood wasn’t the only viable path in life, that one need not obey the biological imperative. Take it from me, Druid would say, I speak from experience. But she held her tongue. What if the red woman wanted them? Many she-wolves did. Druid was an exception to the rule, she recognized this.

I thought Wealda was your name, Druid said, taking a tentative step closer, but it’s a title. It wasn’t a question. It must be synonymous with an Alpha female, a queen, et cetera. You say you’re not enough, that you failed at your duty. Do you want to be a mother? she questioned, eyes and voice both soft.

It was a title but also who she aspired to be.  In this moment it did not suit her.  Redd.  She gave her name quietly, then did not immediately follow with an answer.  She did not know how to proceed.

Redd wasn't sure.  She wanted to be Wealda, and for this there was only one way.  She had never considered what she wanted because in her mind, there was no choice.  She would find a mate, have children, and bring strength to the Rise.  She would continue the legacy of Wealda and assure that their ranks were bolstered by those loyal to the pack and bound by blood and kinship.

I want to be Wealda.  More than that, she wanted to be deserving.  This meant there was no alternative.

Surely the stranger understood.  In all packs, this was the way.  Unity came from those who commanded respect, and those who commanded respect did so by earning it.  Parents earned this right without question.  New Snow's claim, should she make it, would overwhelm her own in an instant.  Redd would not even fight for it.  She would know the truth too well to try.

It might not matter.  She had no children and her mate was gone.  If she did not find another, and he did not return, then next year would be no different.  She did not think she could stand another year in that shame.  If her body betrayed her once more, and submitted to those more worthy, then she would do the same.  She would be Wealda no longer.

The name suited her, of course. Druid found it easy enough to shift gears, think of her by it rather than Wealda, though she understood she was both. At least, Redd wanted to be both, though it sounded like the crown was heavy and she was struggling to bear it up.

She noticed Redd did not answer her question directly, though perhaps she considered them so intrinsically synonymous that there was no other alternative. Druid frowned thoughtfully. She didn’t believe the implication here, that a woman was only worthy if she bred, but she also knew that many followed the instinctive directive that told them only the most dominant wolves could reproduce.

It matters to you, she countered in that same quiet voice, but help me understand something: why do you want to be Wealda?

Druid truly wondered. There were many possibilities, naturally. Despite her failure to answer the question directly, maybe Redd desperately wanted children and thus needed to jealously guard the title that would permit it. Druid hadn’t missed the earlier mention of her sister, the heir, which made her wonder if there was some line of succession at play.

Her frown deepened, mismatched gaze lingering on Redd’s vulpine face. She was such a beautiful woman, with what sounded like an incredible burden. Druid’s heart drummed against her ribs. She didn’t know if she could do anything to help, besides listen, but oh how she wished she could.

No one had ever asked her this. Redd watched Druid with surprise, then a slow gratitude that grew. She had not expected to share such things, but the stranger’s easy presence allowed it. She felt a kinship and understanding, but also an ease that she had not felt since Wealda’s death. It should have troubled her to feel this way around a stranger and not her pack, but she knew this was the burden she bore. It was one she had knowingly accepted upon claiming her rank.

For the pack. To keep them as one. She lowered her gaze, the guilt within these next words eating through her. I was the wrong choice. I cannot change it.

She had been sure, at the time, that this wasn’t true. She hadn’t seen the shortcomings Masque had clearly felt, and in driving her sister away, she had denied the rise a true Wealda. Admitting this would invite weakness. She had to carry it alone, but it would always exist, a shadow of shame between herself and the one she’d once been closest to.

You lead. Why? Was Druid’s answer different? She had said her pack was not united, yet still she tried. She must have felt this same loyalty, this same need stirring within.

Druid sipped in a breath at Redd’s answer. Wasn’t there someone else—this heir or even another—who could do that very same thing? She tried to think of a tactful way to phrase that question when a few more words poured off the Wealda’s tongue. Her brow scrunched. What seemed like a rather simple problem at first now presented itself as a bit more complicated.

It took Druid something like three minutes to come up with the right question: Who can change it? Because… She paused, eyes moving thoughtfully over Redd’s face. Please correct me if I’m wrong, Redd. Her name was sweet in Druid’s mouth. But it sounds to me like you might be happier if you broke away from this Wealda thing.

She had to laugh at the question posed to her, because the same logic sort of applied to herself. Druid’s situation was simultaneously similar but very different. She didn’t envy Redd’s sense of responsibility. Not for the first time, Druid thought it sounded so heavy.

I don’t know anymore, honestly. I think of Rivenwood as mine, a birthright of sorts. It’s always been my home, the only one, even when I was away for years. But Heda—that’s my sister—it’s just as much hers. And now it’s our children’s. Once they’re a little older, I really won’t need to be there anymore, she realized aloud. And I can go back to what I really like to do: kicking it on my own.

She’d toyed with these thoughts, though there came a certain clarity in speaking them aloud to a stranger—well, a new friend. Druid wondered if Redd felt the same, if that’s why she’d spoken so openly. She considered this for a moment before deciding to speak aloud a thought she’d had earlier, that may serve the Wealda.

I didn’t want kids. Then I had them. And it was the worst time of my life. I don’t regret them—they’re great—but it took everything from me. Starting with my mind, she recounted, thinking of how she’d so willingly submitted to Glaukos’s attentions. Then my body. Then my soul. And I figure, it’s probably worth all that to most women, at least the ones who really want kids. But for me, it was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I scraped by on my own for years, dealing with all sorts of life-or-death challenges.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she thought Redd should know this. Druid fell silent, wondering if it would make any difference or if she was just rambling again. Perhaps it might help if she provided a moral to the story.

All that to say, being a leader and/or a mother isn’t the only way of life, nor the best one, at least for some. It can be hard to break out of that pattern but… well, I’m doing it. And you could too, Redd, if you wanted. You only have one life to live, after all.

Wealda wanted to argue.  She wanted to deny that she had not earned this, that she was not the best to carry this.  Her teeth were bared within Redd’s mind, but for once, she did not make herself known.  Instead Redd sat down as defeat relaxed the slope of her shoulders.  She knew that Druid was right.

If she thought the pack needed her she would gladly remain as she was.  Instead she knew it was only a matter of time before one more suited replaced her, and in biding her time, she divided them.  If she could not trust her pack then she was no leader.  Her presence as such only lessened them all.

Maybe it would be the hunt wife.  Maybe one of her children.  Maybe it would be Berserker’s mate whenever one was taken.  Perhaps it would be the blood of her sister, returned to the Rise.  At some point, someone would come along with the ability and desire to breed.  They would dethrone her and Redd would only feel relief.  She would no longer need to feel the ghost of her mother’s presence, nor recognize with each day that passed how little she resembled her.

I don’t know.  It was an answer to everything after Druid finished.  She didn’t know who could change this.  She didn’t know if she wanted children.  Everything she had ever done had been for the Rise alone.  She did not know what her life looked like without that driving force.

That wasn’t everything.  She knew there was more, but the words wouldn’t come.  The realizations here had finally shattered the core of Wealda’s presence for the moment, leaving only Redd behind, and Redd did not know what she was meant to do next.

Redd said very few words by comparison. Druid didn’t mind this. She shot the other woman a reassuring smile, just barely denying the impulse to reach out and offer a comforting touch. It was too familiar, too forward. She ached for it, like resisting the magnetic force inside her was actually painful.

It’s easier said than done, Druid acknowledged, still speaking in that low, soft cadence, and it sounds like a decision you shouldn’t—and very likely couldn’t—take lightly. But I hope talking to me about it has helped you hash things out a bit.

Still she directed that little smile at Redd, though her thoughts suddenly took a turn. “A mate was not enough,” seemed to confirm Druid’s suspicions about Redd’s search. Who was he? Why had he left? Was his departure the reason Redd hadn’t been able to bear young? Or was it the other way around?

I know we just met, she continued after a moment, gently deflecting her own train of thought, but I know talking to you helped me sort out some of my ish. Thank you for that, Redd.

None of her words had addressed any of Druid’s own troubles, yet she said the speaking helped.  Redd did not understand.  Perhaps it was similar to the way that she felt more lost than ever, sitting here, and yet somehow more at peace too.  Finally she had recognized what had been wrong all this time, if no solutions yet.  She had time still.

Her mind went to Gavrel.  She had chosen him truly, and had he remained, she could have loved him without hesitation.  If he returned perhaps she still could.  Now she wondered which she mourned more; Gavrel or Wealda.  The man she had or the woman she might have been.

Both.  But she had held Wealda longer, and she knew in her heart what her cries had been for.

A strong pack chooses its leader,  she said finally, allowing her gaze to rise and settle on Druid once more.  The Rise is strong.  Rivenwood is strong.  What’s needed will be.  It gave her comfort that no matter what happened, Redtail Rise would continue with the hunt lead and his blood.  Perhaps she would remain and serve what came next.  Perhaps she would be driven to find her own path.

Her tail lifted, this time in a friendly way, signifying her intent before she pressed forward and butted her forehead to the other woman’s shoulder.  It was an affection usually reserved for packmates and kin, but Druid had given her something here that she still did not entirely understand.  Her gratitude couldn’t be spoken.

Druid’s lips pressed together when Redd insisted that a strong pack chose its leader. That wasn’t her truth, yet she did not refute her friend. Maybe she was right about both packs being strong, maybe not. She didn’t say anything to that either. She did nod her head to concur with the conclusion Redd drew, supposing that much was true. Que sera, sera, she thought, trying to remember who’d taught her that phrase.

Everything about the Wealda’s body language telegraphed a readiness to depart back to her life, which made Druid suddenly—and very disproportionately—very sad. She didn’t want this rendezvous to end. The hunt could wait. The pups could wait. Rivenwood could wait. This was Druid’s time and she wanted to savor it—

Her mouth fell open as Redd’s head touched her shoulder. She felt a shock of warmth spread through her. Druid didn’t even think, only reacted. She turned her head, ignoring the slightly severe angle of it as she touched her nose to the Wealda’s jaw. She wanted to press it to her cheek, though the little show of submission felt so much more appropriate.

The touch at her jaw elicited a low sound of pleasure from her throat. In that moment Druid went from other to one of her own, not of her pack, but instead of her spirit. This meeting had marked them as kindred despite no other bonds to hold them. She did not know why this was, she only knew its truth.

Redd nosed at her ruff, instinctually committing her scent to memory. When she separated to give the other space once more, she glanced back in silent invitation. She intended to hunt and Druid was welcome. Perhaps they would find more success together than alone.

Druid felt that growl deep in her very core. She answered it with a breathy one of her own that tapered off into a whimper. It was such a silly sound, though she didn’t feel embarrassed. In fact, she repeated it when the Wealda’s snout moved to her ruff. This time, the noise became a low rumble of approval, though sooner than she would’ve liked—well, she would’ve been thrilled in that moment forever—Redd drew away.

She just barely swallowed the whine of dismay that wanted to eke out of her next. Would the Wealda return to her castle now, perhaps to await the return of her prince? But, no! Druid’s heart leaped when Redd very clearly invited her to come along. She didn’t know where she hoped to go or what she hoped to do but there was no hesitation on her part. Druid fell into step beside her.

Taking advantage of this touch barrier they’d crossed, she pressed her shoulder into the red woman’s. Her tail remained lower than Redd’s, swaying from side to side, feathering over the other wolf’s leg. Every point of contact thrummed with some energy Druid didn’t understand. She embraced it for all its unfamiliarity, leaning into it the way her body leaned into the Wealda’s, moving in remarkable synchronicity.

Druid’s eagerness and subtle fawning put the remainder of Redd’s anxieties to rest.  She would think of them again when she returned to the rise, but for the moment she lived only in the present, moving and tracking as one.

This sureness was what she so missed.  She could lose herself here easily but the Rise always drew her home.  It was not in her to abandon it.

There was no speaking now.  As they tracked she lingered close, the casual mingling of their pelts a welcome reminder.  Some part of her was tempted to draw Druid into play instead, probably inspired by the sudden lightening of her mood.  If she did not need to bring home a catch she might have given in.

Instead she would focus on the hunt and the joy of experiencing it only as Redd, yet not being alone.  Whatever was caught they would share when they parted ways, and the lightness would linger, even as worries returned.

this seems like a good place to wrap?  Unless you wanted a hunt thread!  (Also I love them a lot)