Hushed Willows A Silent Retreat

Kirain moved with a languid pace, weaving through the willows as their long, delicate leaves danced in the evening breeze. The soft rustling above her was like a whispered lullaby; the sight of the cascading greenery brought a fleeting sense of peace. She paused to breathe deeply, savoring the crisp air laced with the faint, earthy scent of autumn. Before long, the willows would be shedding their golden leaves in earnest, and the landscape surrounding it would be barren, a faint shadow of its beauty. She resolved to enjoy this tranquil retreat while it lasted.

It had been far too long since she'd allowed herself even one moment's respite from the relentless demands of her journey. Her limbs felt heavy; each step weighed her down with the dull ache that came from constant motion. As she looked around, her gaze softened, considering where to find a brief rest. The surrounding woods loomed, offering silent reassurance, promising safety, if just for now.

Kirain found a soft patch of grass nestled at the base of a sprawling willow and approached it, her steps measured and cautious. Her gray eyes swept the area, scanning for any signs of danger, before she allowed herself to exhale. The quiet seemed real, unmarred by the rustle of predators or unseen threats. Satisfied, she lowered herself slowly, her weary muscles protesting as they finally succumbed to rest.

With a soft sigh, she settled her body, sinking into the cool, damp earth, her tail tucked around herself, its comforting weight curled close, as if to shield her from the world. She laid her head on her outstretched paws, and looked out at the willows. The long, tender shoots danced rhythmically; the light wind whistling through them was a melody only the forest could create. It was a view, placid and unchanging, which slowly disentangled the knot of thoughts in her mind and hushed her into a seldom occurring moment of respite.

Loathe as he was to disturb another’s peace, Winter’s Wake did not presently realize that he was approaching the temporary bed of an unfamiliar wolf.

He moved in a predatory slink, quiet himself as he touted his latest catch: a plump raccoon that had feasted to excess on this land’s autumnal bounty. The rouge hunted for the perfect spot in which to bask while enjoying his dinner. The atmosphere had turned sharper as the sun continued to sink towards the horizon, and the wind trickled through the trees in a cold hush. It was well sheltered here, and the swaying willows provided a soft, almost musical ambiance that seemed unique to this area.

Because of his fresh quarry between his jaws, he could not smell the resting wolf ahead of him. He would practically tread on them if they did not notice him coming from around their chosen tree…

Under any other circumstances, she would have reacted defensively, wary of the stranger’s intentions and presence. But exhaustion weighed her down, sapping the strength needed for such caution. Instead, she remained low, her wide eyes fixed on the unfamiliar wolf. He appeared oblivious to her presence, his attention consumed by the fresh kill held within his maw.

Kirain couldn’t decide whether she hoped he would pass without noticing her, or if his company might be a welcome relief. Her journey to the willows had been long and lonely, but experience as a loner had taught her to remain vigilant until all threats were ruled out.

Good evening, stranger, she said, her voice kind yet laced with caution as her gaze tracked his every movement. She steeled herself, preparing to act if necessary, though her body rebelled against her efforts. Each attempt to tense her muscles sent sharp jolts of pain through her weary frame.

Wake froze at the voice, muzzle snapping in its direction. He was not a wolf easily startled, though his eyes fell wide upon the pale figure, surprised to see another there.

She was a diminutive thing, most of her white as pure snow. Her eyes, sunken with exhaustion, were a color akin to the softest stormclouds, warily regarding him even as she addressed him politely. Her muscles had tensed in readiness, though his hawkish eyes noted the way she trembled with the effort. What a poor, precious, little thing, his blackheart hungered.

The winterwolf dropped his catch and swept his tail up into a wag. Ave, and my apologies. I did not see you there. Wake took a few steps back with the hopes of minimizing the threat his very presence naturally presented. He even left his meal temptingly wide open, should she prove to be a snake herself.

I am Winter’s Wake, he introduced himself with a small incline of his muzzle. Who might you be?

Kirain wasn’t sure what to make of the figure before her. He didn’t appear threatening, but her mind, dulled by exhaustion, struggled to assess him properly. Her muscles finally betrayed her, and she sank helplessly into herself, frustration bubbling up as she cursed her weakened state. The fur along her spine bristled with anxiety as she kept her wary gaze on this Winter’s Wake.

I am Kirain, she murmured, her voice tinged with weariness as the last vestiges of her fight drained away. Come and take your kill. It would be a shame to let it go to waste while it’s still fresh.

She attempted a reassuring smile, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. Her body no longer obeyed her commands, leaving her unsure if she projected the calm she desperately wanted to convey or something far less composed.

With feigned concern, Wake watched her tremulous posture until it crumpled, offering the flightless bird a sympathetic look as she tried to save face. His gaze traced the raised hairs along her spine, then fell upon the smile she had hung with great effort to mask her discomfort. This was no tiny viper, but a pitiable dove.

No matter. Wake was flexible.

Kirain, he repeated softly in that low, low voice of his, warm as steam. Have you eaten? Wake slid down to his belly, physically acquiescing to her anxiety even if he did not verbally call attention to it. I would like to share blood with you, if you are not too full.

With a large forepaw, he dragged the raccoon carcass to his chest and pinched open its still-tender belly with a scalpel’s precision. He lapped up a single mouthful of the innards before rolling it gently in her direction as a tentative offer. And without caring for her actual answer, he scooted forward to nudge the meal more than halfway towards her, before wriggling backwards again to his original distance.

That’s very kind of you, but I must decline, she said, her voice steady despite the tension lingering in her chest. I don’t partake in kills I haven’t earned. Besides, I ate yesterday. Once I’ve rested, I’ll hunt again.

Her nerves remained taut as she kept a careful eye on him. His offer was generous, and it was clear he wasn’t blind to her pitiful state. Despite his kindness, she couldn’t shake the sting of embarrassment that came with being seen so vulnerable.

Once more, she cursed herself for pushing her body beyond its limits. No strength remained within her, not even enough to move, let alone accept his offer, even if she had wanted to. A soft sigh escaped her lips, betraying the frustration simmering beneath the surface. She struggled to maintain the calm facade she had so carefully constructed, though the cracks were beginning to show.

I don’t partake in kills I haven’t earned.

No? The rogue hunter’s brows lifted. Perhaps if you did, you would not be so fatigued. It was said matter-of-factly, without judgement or cruelty. Do you not eat crow food? Wake tipped his head, genuinely curious.

Was it not natural for a lone wolf to take what they could get? He sympathized, certainly, as a man of great arrogance himself — but he was not so prideful as to deny himself a free meal if he shared her current state.

Perhaps his scrutiny and eye contact unsettled her; so he would relieve her of it.

He looked down at his paws, bloodied from wrangling life from the raccoon, and casually began to groom them. Where I am from, it is customary to share blood with strangers to form bonds, the snowfox went on.It is an ill omen for the giver to be rebuffed.

Kirain winced at the blunt truth in her companion’s words. If she had been eating properly, she wouldn’t be in this sorry state, unable to even stand without struggle. Shame washed over her, and she lowered her head, ears flattening against her crown. The stranger wasn’t cruel, merely honest and unexpectedly kind. And yet, his kindness only deepened her embarrassment. Who was she to refuse such generosity?

An ill omen, huh? Well... that won’t do, for either of us. Her voice was soft, almost tentative, as she forced a faint smile. Thank you. Truly.

Feeling small but determined, she willed herself to move closer to the raccoon’s remains. Each effort felt monumental, her frail frame trembling violently with every inch gained. Pain radiated through her body, sharp and unrelenting, her progress slow and laborious. By the time she finally reached the kill, her breaths were shallow and ragged, her chest heaving as though she’d run for miles.

A groan escaped her lips, tinged with both exhaustion and embarrassment. This is not how I expected today to go, she thought bitterly.

After a moment’s pause to steady herself, she leaned down, mirroring the stranger’s actions. She took a small, measured bite of the innards, a gesture of respect both for his offering and the life taken.

His manipulation won out; his false altruism seeded. Though it was true that his folk were generous to outsiders, it was not out of kindness that these things were done but out of necessity. These small acts were meant as lures — a small taste of glory to reel in the rudderless, the faithless, the despondent. Bodies for the cause. Prospective loyalists for his court.

For every being could become a conduit for the Rhythm, and the foundation of every connection was built stronger through beneficence rather than force.

Wake tried not to watch or otherwise interfere as the girl strained to partake in what was freely given. He continued to wash his paws with casual focus, keeping an ear angled towards her in case she spoke.

Once she had chewed and swallowed properly, she nudged the raccoon back toward him, her tongue flicking across her maw. Unease still gnawed at her, partaking in a kill she hadn’t earned never sat well, but she reminded herself to accept his kindness without disrespect. Thank you, she murmured softly.

Curiosity tugged at her thoughts. Wake was here, but why? As far as her nose could tell, he was packless. Still, it wasn’t her place to pry. Others were free to roam as they pleased, and it wasn’t her business to question their paths.

Though his company may have been too polite to pry, Wake held no such reservations.

What brings you here, lady Kirain? He moved forward to commandeer the carcass once more. Running away from something? Or perhaps towards something else? He took a large bite of the raccoon, then scooted away again as he settled to scarf down what meat he had torn free. He licked his chops as he casually observed her response, gaze searching for a lie.

Kirain let out a weary chuckle. No, not running. Just… searching. For something, anything, really. Just not to be so alone anymore.

The last words slipped out like an afterthought, soft and fragile, her gaze drifting to the side, unfocused. Her mind wandered through recent memories, long days spent traveling unfamiliar lands, empty and silent, dotted with strangers she didn’t dare approach. When had she grown so hesitant?

She remembered a time when she greeted everyone with boundless warmth and exuberance. But now, paranoia clung to her like a shadow, whispering doubts in the quiet moments. Had isolation made her this way? Or had she simply pushed herself too far, burdened by her own intentions?

Yet, she couldn’t deny the warmth Wake’s unexpected company stirred in her chest. Companionship had always meant so much to her.

She sighed, shaking her head as if to clear the thought. Being a loner isn’t for me, she murmured to herself. It never was.

Not running. Searching. And for what, she did not know.

This was the plight of those without the Rhythm. This was the directionless life those who did not know of it were often destined to live. A life of endless wondering; a life oblivious to the paths laid before them; a life spent fumbling blindly in the dark to find a way forward.

And how could they live any differently? When they were not aware of their own purpose. Were not aware that searching was part of the divine plan. Part of their True Fate.

And how could one ever truly find satisfaction in their life if they did not know it was their duty to hunt for it? (Sheer luck, Winter’s Wake supposed. But wasting ones days waiting for Lady Luck to happen upon them was a task for lazier wolves.)

I feel as you do, the snowpanther admitted. I come from a vast place, where I knew many wolves. Being alone does not suit me either. But unlike his companion, Wake had a goal in mind. His loneliness was intentional, and he held in his mind a clear idea of what he worked towards. But I am here to raise up a pack of my own. I hope not to be lonely for long.

A pack of your own? I wouldn’t even know where to begin with something like that… Have you found many wolves?

Her voice was soft, her eyes bright with curiosity and a flicker of quiet hope. A pack. Now that was a thought, one she hadn’t allowed herself to entertain in many moons. A place to belong, a sense of purpose...

Kirain sighed, the weight of the longing settling over her like a familiar cloak. What she wouldn’t give for such stability, such comfort.

Wake shook his head. It is difficult here, he answered without shame. There are several packs already settled in the area. Most of the wolves I have met already belong elsewhere. It begged the question why he chose to remain here, but the winterwolf had his motivations for wanting to stay in such a populated area.

That being said, he was also not so delusional as to think that the lonely Kirain might want to stay with him when there were clearly better options for herself to currently consider.

I can point you towards one of them, if you are looking for an established home of your own.

His words made her shrink, the sting of rejection gnawing at her heart. I guess even lonely wolves don't want me, she thought, a bitter edge to her sadness. She offered Wake a small, weary smile and murmured, That's alright. I'm sure I'll figure something out eventually, just as you will. You seem the capable sort.

She tried to sound encouraging, but the effort felt hollow, the bone-deep weariness clinging to her soul like a shroud. With a small shake of her head, she tried to dispel the dark thoughts, unwilling to let them poison this fleeting moment of companionship. She wanted to hold onto it, to savor its warmth before solitude reclaimed her once more.

Wake’s eyes flashed curiously over her dejected face, his ears flickered forward at the diminished tone of her voice. Where had the sting of rejection come from?

I thought you might prefer the company of many than to that of just one, he observed, intuiting the reason for her reaction. But if my company is enough for you… He let cold air fill the space between them. He allowed the thought of further loneliness to plague her. You could stay with me.

You could stay with me.

Those simple words sent a wave of relief through the little white dame, easing a burden she hadn’t realized she carried. Perhaps solitude had made her heart more fragile than she cared to admit.

If you'll have me, I would be honored to stand by your side. Her voice, though still tinged with weariness, held a newfound warmth and calm. I have no preference for one or many. Now that I know you, at least a little, it only makes sense to me to stay.

The thought of shedding her isolation, of finally stepping out from beneath its suffocating shadow, was a fragile hope she clung to desperately, unwilling to let it slip away.

The tense set of Kirain’s shoulders seemed to melt away at his words. The rogue smiled to himself, pleased to see alleviation creeping up on her features. She was scrawny and heavily fatigued—a paltry first recruit—but Wake felt softened to the dove. Wolves were social creatures, by and large; he understood the enveloping depression of being alone.

Then it is settled, he decreed. You are one of mine, and I am one of yours. At least until she had the strength to prove herself as an asset or detriment. Winter’s Wake was many things, but he did not suffer charity cases for long and without reason.

And this is how sharing blood successfully wards away ill omens, the wolf chuckled. Her acceptance of his gift had turned both of their fates in a positive direction. Please, finish eating, and we shall rest here for the night. You will need your strength in the coming days. He stretched against the ground and rolled over onto his side. We have a foundation to build.

Although exhaustion clung to her body like a heavy cloak, it couldn't suppress the joyous wagging of her tail. The prospect of acceptance, of working toward something greater, a true purpose, filled her with elation. A relieved sigh escaped her lips as she reflected on his words. Indeed, the sharing of blood had woven their fates together seamlessly. She filed this observation away, sensing its future importance.

Are you certain? she asked, her voice a blend of concern and embarrassment. Her eyes darted down to her paws, unable to meet his gaze. I... don't wish to take what you need from you. The thought of sharing kills again after so long on her own gave her pause. She exhaled sharply, giving her head a small shake as if to clear away the remnants of her solitary past.

Ease your worried mind, Kirain, Wake sighed, dismissing her fears with a brush of his tail against the ground. One thing you will learn about me is that I never say anything unless I am certain of it. He angled his head against the earth so that he might watch her, noting the sheepish way in which she averted her gaze.

Besides, if we are to live as a pack, then we must take care of each other. I start now by taking care of you, and one day, when I need you, I shall pray you are there to do the same. It was easier said than done, of course, and many other factors could complicate things between them, but this was the most natural way to build trust and loyalty.

Eat now, he commanded softly. And between bites, tell me about yourself. Tell me all that you wish me to know, and keep whatever secrets you must. I promise not pry. A pause. Much.

His words offered a measure of comfort, and Kirain acknowledged their truth. The solitary habits ingrained during her time as a loner would be challenging to shed, but her determination was unwavering. With a resigned sigh, she inched towards the kill, her movements cautious to avoid aggravating her overworked muscles.

Leaning down, Kirain tore a chunk of meat from the raccoon, chewing thoughtfully as she contemplated her response. After swallowing, she met Wake's gaze, her voice soft but steady.

I hail from the far north, where snow is the land's constant companion. I belonged to a nomadic pack... A veil of sadness clouded her eyes as she offered a small, bittersweet smile. That was before the illness struck.

She let the words linger, their weight palpable in the air between them. Returning to the raccoon, she retrieved another mouthful, savoring not just the nourishment but the long-forgotten comfort of sharing a meal and conversation. Memories of hunts with her former pack flooded her mind, echoes of laughter and the warmth of camaraderie bound by shared blood.

I was younger then, Kirain continued, her voice barely above a whisper, apprenticing as a healer. I... I watched them all fade from this world, powerless to stop it. The pain of recollection etched itself across her features. My inexperience, my uncertainty, my fear, they all conspired against me. I failed them, and it's a burden I'll carry always. But I swear, I will do better.

The words seemed to physically pain her, yet she pressed on, driven by a deep-seated belief in honesty and transparency. She understood the vital importance of such openness in forging the bonds of trust and mutual reliance that would be crucial in the days to come.

Kirain was forthcoming and detailed with her story. A communicative lamb under the protective shadow of his shepherd’s staff. Wake was thoroughly bemused by her openness, though kept his face smooth and attentive as she spoke, taking in her words without apparent judgement or overreaction.

It was not a happy tale she spun, nor did she attempt in any way to make herself seem particularly favorable. He searched her anguished expression for signs of deception, but there were none to be found. She was either painfully honest or a superb actress. Either way, Winter’s Wake felt no pity for her.

This was sometimes just the way of things. This was the Rhythm of the world. He merely accepted the weight of her words and parsed her story into two categories: useful and burden.

It was useful that she had been an apprenticed healer; it was a burden that she carried much self-doubt from her experiences. Regardless, Kirain was not a lost cause in his eyes. He saw how she looked forward to the days ahead, how she made promises to herself, promises that he now had a vested interest in seeing kept.

That is a hard life, Wake admitted at length, lifting his head to regard her seriously. Especially so young. I commend you for carrying on. It was a hard thing for some to do, so it deserved recognition. He laid his head back down, dark eyes never leaving her. We shall see to it together that the past strengthens you. As opposed to dragging you down.

He blinked against the ground, thoughts whirring for a long moment. After a pregnant pause, he spoke again to ask her a question. Would you like to meet other healers? He knew of at least one she could meet, maybe to learn more of her chosen trade. And if she could not learn there, then he would endeavor to find her elsewhere to collaborate with other healers, if that was his lamb’s desire.

What else was I meant to do? Lie down and accept it? Kirain’s voice held a quiet edge, her tone resolute. There’s nothing courageous about simply enduring life. I intend to carry their memory and legacy with me. It’s the very least I can offer to those who are gone. She exhaled sharply, the weight of her thoughts pressing as heavily on her mind as it did on her body.

I’d love to meet other healers. She hesitated, wincing slightly before continuing, My learning was... cut particularly short. Her lips quirked into a faint, self-conscious smile. I know winter flora fairly well, identifying plants has always been one of my strengths. It’s the application I need more practice with. I like to think I’m a quick learner, but I suppose we’ll see. She tilted her head to the side, curiosity lighting her features. Do you have something in mind, Wake?