Emberwood carolina

The simple clarity that Redd had missed in the rise, somehow, she found here.  Although they moved life was simple.  She roamed with Ruckus.  She hunted with the pack.  She grew stronger.

The days grew shorter and the nights colder.  As Ruckus slept, Redd stared upwards, observing the stars with a calm contentedness that seemed all encompassing.  Truly; all she needed was this.

An owl sounded nearby.  Redd stood and silently made her way past, seeking a space where the sky was more open.  The shadow of the same bird wheeled over, then disappeared, as she slipped into a small clearing.  Here she settled once more.

She would remain only a short time before returning.  As content as she was, there were things she missed.  The stars helped her to remember.  They all felt closer, somehow, despite knowing things would never again be whole in the way they were.

Morwenna stepped quietly into the clearing, her gaze drifting upward to where the stars scattered across the dark sky, mirroring the thoughtful quiet of the stranger before her. She noted the muted gold-gray of the woman’s coat, softly lit by the faint starlight, and the calm presence she carried, a sense of peace and longing interwoven.

After a moment, Morwenna’s voice drifted softly, respectful of the silence they shared. The stars have a way of grounding us, even when everything else feels far. She left it at that, a simple truth spoken without expectation, as if the stars themselves had offered their quiet companionship to both of them tonight.

The woman who approached was not pack.  Yet in this moment, there was no urge to drive her from here.  The pack that she now ran with held no claim in this place.

Above that, she was not Wealda.  None knew her as heir, as blood, as kin, or even as Redd.  No ghosts or shadows obscured her.  She was no one.  Only one of them.

It was a freedom unfelt since before her mother’s death.  And in other ways unknown all her life.

There was not much meaning she could glean from the statement but she let the words hang, unchallenged, as she turned to stare at the stranger.  She carried the stars in her pelt. Perhaps this was why she spoke like them.

She could ask who the woman was and why she was here.  Who the scents she carried were, how far she had traveled to be among them.  None of these felt necessary.  After a moment’s appraisal, Redd’s attention turned back to the sky, her tail giving a light twitch behind her.  It was neither invitation nor a dismissal.  The woman was free to do as she wished.

Morwenna stood a respectful distance away, her gaze tracing over the stranger’s form as she turned her eyes back to the stars. There was no tension in her posture, only quiet observation. She hadn’t missed the faint scent woven into the woman’s coat, a scent she knew well enough—Sun Eater. It stirred something in her, a flicker of curiosity tempered by a practiced caution.

The woman’s presence here was quiet, her focus drawn to the heavens, and for a brief moment, Morwenna felt a kinship with her. There was a certain freedom in the night, away from duties and burdens, a chance to simply exist. But still, questions lingered, unbidden yet insistent.

You run with Sun Eater, she remarked softly, her voice drifting between them as she held her place, allowing the woman her space.

She didn’t push further, letting her statement settle gently in the cool air between them, her gaze shifting briefly back to the stars as if they, too, might offer an answer.

Her ear flicked round but this was the only sign she’d heard. The silence stretched between them, long enough to doubt she’d answer. Finally she made her decision.

He leads. We follow. she responded quietly, a simple statement of truth. This stranger knew of him but did not follow either. Was she the reason they traveled here? Or were they merely familiar by proximity?

Interpack bonds had always escaped her, even when the ones nearby had been her own sister by blood. A pack’s duty was to look after their own. They could not do this by looking outward.

You do not. She added, another statement delivered in the same soft tone. It did not demand an answer. She only wished to lay all as it was.

Morwenna’s gaze softened, though the guardedness lingered. She finally spoke, her voice carrying a quiet steadiness.

He was kind to me, she said simply, meeting the woman’s eyes. Swiftcurrent Creek looks after its own, but Sun Eater has offered a… bridge. Her words held a weight of caution, as though she tested their edges even as she spoke them. We’ve agreed to hunt together, so long as the caribou stay.

She allowed a beat to pass, her expression thoughtful as she regarded the stranger. You run with him. I don’t know what that means, but it seems… Her voice trailed off, a flicker of curiosity mixing with wariness. Are you bound by him or do you run beside him?

The question hovered, laden with a rare openness, as if she’d invited the woman to step across a boundary not often breached.

More words of alliance and cooperation.  Redd saw no need; they were strong in hunters.  But if her pack claimed nearby, perhaps their aggression reached past borders.  If this was his choice then she saw no reason to question it.  Not unless it posed some danger to the well being of the whole.

On the next question, however, her attention moved back to Morwenna and remained there, sharper now.  At first she was confused at what was being asked.  Then, more so, curious as to why.  Did this woman seek to leave her pack to seek prospects?  These things were natural.  She would no doubt be accepted as hunter.  Where Redd still bore effects of starvation, she stood strong and hale.

He has my loyalty, she answered, still unbothered at least in answering.  Her insecurities lay deeper, in the memories of another man, a mateship lost without explanation.  If she were found unfit then she would seek again, as nature intended.  And doubt would accompany as an unavoidable partner.

He will claim as he wishes.  As will we all.  With the spring she would decide.  There was no guarantee she would choose him either, even if he made a pursuit.  Such a partnership was a bond to be agreed.  She would not settle for less than what was deserved.

Morwenna listened, nodding in quiet understanding as the woman’s words drifted into the night air. She turned her gaze upward, letting the stars fill her vision, their quiet brilliance casting a rare peace over her thoughts. She wondered if a falling star might grace the sky, and, if it did, what her wish would be. Perhaps for peace, perhaps for the strength to navigate the uncertain alliances of these lands.

After a time, she glanced back at the woman, a soft warmth in her expression as she introduced herself simply, I am Morwenna, She allowed her words to settle into the night air, offering no more than was needed, no less than she felt was right.

The silence stretched once more, comfortable and respectful, each wolf holding her own thoughts beneath the stars.

As will we all, kindled a flame inside of her. She felt an independence from the Saatsine woman.

Cooperation, she knew, was not always necessary, yet proximity often demanded it. If the caribou moved, if the land grew less generous, then perhaps they would indeed need each other’s strength. In this woman, Morwenna recognized a kindred spirit—a determination not to settle for less than what was earned, and the resolve to face the seasons as they came.

A name, Morwenna, was offered.  She considered her own.  None had been offered on her joining, as she had spoken few words to her packmates thus far.  In this place she could be anything.

Redd. she replied in a quick decision.  There was little to contemplate.  It was the name her mother had given her, and somehow, Avicus felt even closer here.  In the anxiety of upholding her legacy Redd had lost sight of that quiet strength.  Despite the endings, we remain.

You wander? She asked, deciding that perhaps the question was warranted.  Did her loyalties remain to those whose scent she shared?  Or did she roam for other futures?

Morwenna’s lips curled faintly at the edges, her gaze steady as she listened.

The hesitation—Maybe,—hung between them, grounding them both to something neither could name but perhaps understood. It was a familiar ache, the searching. A quest for roots that defied simple answers, growing fragile and determined all at once.

Home isn’t a thing one stumbles into, Morwenna replied quietly, her voice softened by shared experience. She understood the way some wanderings took root in the heart before they ever found earth to grow in. Not for me, anyways.

For a moment, she met Redd’s eyes, finding in their depths something that went beyond territory or loyalty. It was the strength to endure, to remain, even if all else faded.

Redd felt the same kinship, though the warmth was distant.  She was reminded in some ways of Masquerade.  A sister she had relied on but whose path had diverged to something new.  After there had still been fondness, but reliance could not be assumed.  Morwenna had others to run with.

We choose it.  We build it.  She paused, suddenly heavier with the experience that this was not always enough.  We hope it chooses us.  This trust was the hardest to come to.  Here things were simple; she was chosen because she was capable.  The spring, no doubt, would cause all to become uncertain.

She did not think she would resent, should things remain as they were.  But she had not thought she would ever resent her home.  One could never tell how the seasons might change them, nor the things they loved.

Or we become what it needs.  This was what she had failed to do before.  When they ceased to need her she had failed to adapt.  She could only try not to repeat those mistakes.

Morwenna’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding glimmering in her eyes. She felt the weight in Redd's words, the way they resonated with that familiar ache of loyalty and change. The threads of kinship, once woven with certainty, had a way of fraying, twisting in directions unforeseen. It was a silent wound, the distance between what once was and what remained.

Perhaps, Morwenna said, her voice quiet, we’ll meet again when the world shifts, and run side by side. There was a gentleness in the offer, one born not of promises but of shared hope. Her path had been littered with those she had fought beside and lost, with loyalty questioned by time and distance. To find another with that same enduring strength was a rarity she felt blessed by, however briefly.

She looked up, following the pinpricks of starlight that began to pierce the gathering darkness. Beside Redd, she lingered in the quiet, each of them silent and watchful. For a moment, it felt as though the vast sky stretched above them with a knowing, ancient patience, watching as they, too, drifted—just two wolves beneath the stars, suspended in a single, fragile peace.

fade/exiting for mo! thank you for the thread, she's wonderful!

Perhaps.  Redd would not hope for such a thing, but she would welcome it if it occurred.  The choice would need to be the right one, both for her and the home that she chose.  It was not an easy thing, to break a loyalty that had been given.  Had her own not left her behind Redd might never have truly parted ways.

She shared the silence until the night deepened and she knew they had been here long enough.  She should return to join her shadow.

As Redd rose to leave, she first stepped towards the other, brushing past and allowing both scent and fur to mingle just a moment.  A quiet appreciation, a moment of camaraderie to carry with her on her return.  If she chose not to return, then she could at least go with the well wishes of one who ran here.  She also wished to know those Morwenna called pack, a recognition she could make in the future if encountered.

Then, with a final glance and no more words, Redd departed into the night.