Firefly Glen ^________________________^

Though there were not so many gathered for the nuptials, Tiuttuk lingered where she was most comfortable: at the fringe. She only planned to stay for the ceremony itself, heading back to the quiet of Moonspear before the subsequent feasting began. She hoped the newlyweds—and all her kin, for that matter—knew it wasn’t that she didn’t wish to celebrate the union. She would simply never be comfortable in a crowd, forever destined to be the Ostregas’ requisite wallflower.

After the vows were exchanged, she slipped away into the shadows of the darkling glen. Treepie took her time wending her way back toward home, smiling at the sound of happy voices as they gradually faded behind her. Fireflies danced in the dark as she sent silent well wishes to the couple, then blinked skyward through the leafy boughs to wish for her own happily ever after someday.

. . .

A little while later, Pie still found herself lingering in the glen, seated now beneath the branches of a tree swaying slightly in the breeze. She listened to the distant sounds of the wedding party, even caught the occasional waft of comestibles on the April night air. All of it eventually faded, leaving the yearling to bask in the afterglow—literally, considering the fireflies that still winked all around her.

Her ulaq called to her. Pie pushed onto all fours, stretching and yawning as she prepared herself for the climb. She resumed walking toward Moonspear, only for her stomach to growl with such sudden ferocity that it actually startled her. She froze, eyes wide in the dark, then started laughing. She hadn’t even realized how hungry she was until now.

She glanced over her shoulder, wondering… would there be spoils left over from the reception feast? Would it be in terrible taste—pun not intended—to go back and pick through them? Before she could make up her mind, Pie pivoted and began walking back toward the area cleared for the venue, mouth watering at the unmistakable smell of provender.

sobeille did not have much energy for socialization. as the party's warmth buzzed and waned and people came and went, sobeille stayed along the fringes. once the crowd died down, she planned to visit the dredges of the feast and snag enough to give her the energy for her trip home.

a laugh and then the distantly approaching figure of a she-wolf commanded sobeille's attention. she paused upon the trail, fireflies winking around them. it was dark and all she could discern was the luminance of those yellow eyes -- reminding her of a very different gaze miles away.

she straightened herself and stepped back from the trail, figuring this partygoer was probably returning from seeing a man about a horse, and not interested in talking to strangers in the woods.

She scarcely paid any attention to the myriad scents of wolves still lingering in the cool air, much too interested in the smell of food. But she had the presence of mind to slow her step and creep quietly toward the site, just to make sure nobody was still there. Pie wouldn’t mind bumping into a friendly face or two, though if she really was about to raid the proverbial refrigerator, she would prefer no witnesses.

Slight movement caught her attention and she froze, yellow eyes shifting to catch a glimpse of someone in the trees just off the path leading to the clearing. For a split second, she thought it was Tikaani. Pie’s lips parted to say her best friend’s name when she realized her mistake. Although she shared the sisters’ palette, Treepie had never seen the stranger’s face before.

And it was a striking face, Tiuttuk couldn’t help but think. Perhaps that was narcissistic of her, considering the resemblance, but she found herself trying to blink away the gloom of the night just to get a better look at it.

expecting the she-wolf would waltz right on past, sobeille froze as the other did, catching the fleeting glimpse of -- was it familiarity? -- that came and then went across the hooded figure's face.

sobeille knew she should not stare, but she did - sizing up the stranger as the stranger did in turn. were it not for the wash of seafoam white cresting her spine and belly, she could pass as sapphiqian.

'ello. arrested by the crisp contrast of canary yellow against black, sobeille felt her cheeks flush.

She suddenly realized she was being rude, staring—squinting, rather—at the stranger. Treepie blinked and dropped her eyes, clearing her throat at the same time the woman uttered a soft greeting. Ever the linguaphile, the accent immediately recaptured her attention; and she was staring again.

Catching herself a second time, Pie had to laugh and say, I’m sorry, I’m being so rude. I’m only staring because… Well, you’re beautiful, she thought, though that seemed like a very forward thing to say when first meeting somebody. You remind me of my sister slash best friend, she explained, smiling around the half-truth as she mentally added, Who happens to be a total babe, like me!

She had to bite her lip against the laughter which threatened to bubble up her throat. You really are a narcissist! Treepie scolded herself inwardly. Even the tooth snagged in her flesh could do nothing to mute the rumble that suddenly rolled through her stomach, a demanding roar that ripped through the dark quiet.

Ope, Pie muttered, admitting, I was just going to check for leftovers. Were you at the wedding? I only made a cameo myself. She paused before adding, I’m Treepie Ostrega.

not until the hooded she-wolf looked away did sobeille blink; the intensity in her eyes captured her entirely.

she forgot where she was for a moment -- who she was -- aware only of a growing heat fanning out from beneath her belly.

but then came a bout of insecurity: did this wolf see through her?

she scarcely had time to explore that line of thought before an eruptive rumble sounded from what sobeille presumed was the she-wolf's belly.

a wide grin played her shadow-darkened face. but it took her a moment to collect her scattershot thoughts, and respond (appropriately, mind you) to what she felt was a myriad of information thrown her way.

you be hungry, den. a pause as she regathered the thoughts that now galloped like startled hares across a field. an' yes, i was at de wedding. i be ajei's friend. and arrluk's kill-sister, but she didn't share it. who your sister be?

Treepie chuckled, nodding. It took her a beat longer to parse the stranger’s words, though she couldn’t get enough of that accent. She transposed some of her parts of speech, which made her even more interesting. Pie wondered if it would be rude to ask her about it.

For the timebeing, she stuck to answering what was asked of: Her name is Tikaani. She paused, to see if the name elicited any recognition, and realized the woman hadn’t offered her own name. Does Ajei’s friend have a name? she queried lightly, tacking on, I’ve only seen Ajei in passing, though I actually helped Arrluk with his bride price.

She shifted her weight, hoping her small attempt at banter went over well. Tiuttuk found herself wondering if this intriguing, mysterious stranger came from one of the Moon villages or perhaps an ally’s. A little quiver of her nostrils gleaned whiffs of seasalt and something vaguely fishy. It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, especially wrapped in hints of animal fat.

Tiuttuk’s stomach unleashed its loudest snarl yet.

as a beat or two of shared silence spread between them sobeille found herself struggling to read the cues briefly flashing across treepie’s expression. was it something she said? before she could give it much more thought, treepie turned the full sweep of her gamboge gaze on sobeille, eliciting a subtle flip in sobeille’s consciousness.

tikaani wasn’t known to her. opening her mouth to say this, she clapped her jaws shut as treepie revealed she’d forgotten to share her own name in the process. sobeille believed in etiquette, but it was her own strange species of it - she appeared visibly flustered for several seconds before her composure returned.

i be sobeille. another loud grumble rippled through them. sobeille motioned in the direction they’d both been going and began to walk, one velvet ear turned to treepie. what did you ‘unt with arrluk?

Her ears swept backward at the noise, which sounded extra loud and humiliating in such close quarters with a new acquaintance. Treepie flashed her—Sobeille, such an avant-garde name—a sheepish smile. She looked a little flustered too, perhaps embarrassed by her faux pas. Pie bit her lip, feeling a little bad for her comment now.

But Sobeille motioned for her to come along as she began to walk. The simple act of falling into step smoothed some of the awkward tension from the exchange, as did Sobeille’s question. Pie blew out a breath, grinning now at the memory of rousting a wolverine from the crevices of Moonspear.

A wolverine, she replied. It was ferocious. I was mostly there as a distraction. He was the one who actually tangled with it. He took a lot of hits, but he beat it in the end, Pie recollected, picturing his bloodied chest quite vividly in her memories before brushing it aside and quipping, I’m actually kind of bummed Ajei didn’t wear its hide as her wedding dress.

the noise was loud, but sobeille opted to ignore it in favor of the sheepish smile illuminating treepie's face; the gentle tuck of one lip against a vividly white tooth.

how many throats has that pierced? came a bolt of thought as sobeille began to walk. she turned one ear towards treepie as she blew out a breath, face bright with a smile sobeille found very engaging.

dat must 'ave been a spectacle. sobeille recalled the splatter of blood staining arrluk's chest; a bib of scarlet at once profane and scintillating.

treepie expanded the once-ferocious wolverine had been subverted into a handsome hide. mebbe she will wear it for 'er next one. sobeille couldn't help the wry joke before it slipped her mouth; she forgot that marriage was only supposed to be once. such a strange custom to a sapphiqian!

she slowed as they came closer to camp. the soft murmur of voices nearby informed her a small group had split off for provisions. waiting for their shadows to fade, sobeille abruptly changed topic. do you believe in fate? dat some'ting 'igh up pulls us all together?

Tiuttuk didn’t know what to make of Sobeille’s quip. She felt herself making a stupid face in response and quickly neutralized her expression, though the question marks still flashed in her mind. Arrluk’s and Ajei’s love story was one for the ages; they would be together until one of them died. Pie thought of her grandmother, marrying Aiolos after losing Blackfox, but that didn’t seem like something about which to joke.

The murmur of voices nudged that thought to the edge of her mind, then Sobeille’s next query pushed it out entirely. She turned her face fully toward the other she-wolf, her head tilting slightly as if listening to something in the distance. But the voices had faded into the night, leaving the spoils for the taking.

Striding toward them, Treepie mused, That’s a big question. She smiled, to show she didn’t mind it, but she wanted to give it some proper thought. I come from a spiritual family, though I’m not as devout as my forebears. I do believe in a higher power—or powers—of some sort and I like to think we go on after we die. But I also think there’s a lot of magic in the mundane too.

She hoped that made sense. There was a vague nervousness in the flicker of her yellow eyes as they panned over Sobeille’s face. Had she answered her question satisfactorily? Had she answered it at all?

Why do you ask? What do you believe?

reading conflict in the dark shadows of treepie’s face, sobeille quickly looked away and cursed her own inability to react normally. treepie wouldn’t understand. no one did. why had she even opened her mouth to say it?

quick to move past her blunder, sobeille kept treepie’s bright gaze in the corner of her vision. she saw her head tilt and her gaze turn contemplative; almost as if eavesdropping the chatter moving through the forest.

without answer, treepie began to move. sobeille followed, pace quick and expression that of someone impatiently pressed upon the trigger. treepie’s smile partially reassured her, but only just. sobeille wondered if treepie had ever learned to bone read from sialuk; would that change her belief or only further cement it?

i dunno. it be a big question. i ‘avent made up my mind yet. sobeille’s gaze dropped to the ground briefly. what do you t’ink de ‘igher power be like?

Sobeille admitted she didn’t have a ready answer either. This put Treepie a little more at ease, though it drove her curiosity higher. What had prompted the question then? Her yellow eyes roved back and forth over that masked face as they approached the spread of scraps, finding Sobeille very intriguing in her mystique. Even as Pie folded her haunches, she kind of loved the avoidance of prattling table talk.

You know, it’s kind of refreshing, skipping the small talk, Pie acknowledged with a light laugh, and I’m going to make a confession: I haven’t thought too deeply on this subject. I know my mother and grandmother believe in a goddess called Sedna, that they perform rituals around their belief and things like that. I love learning about them, though they are more like stories to me.

She paused. Would that offend Sialuk? Kukutux? It was the truth. And with her anaa gone, Tiuttuk didn’t imagine she would explore her faith much more deeply. She enjoyed her grandmother’s company and respected her sacred observations. She found many of her family’s religious practices beautiful and couldn’t help but wonder at concepts like the dancing lights. But Pie tended to be more pragmatic on the whole.

My beliefs feel less… definitive. Do you know what I mean? I sense there’s more, more to life than meets the eye. More to death than ceasing to exist. But it’s ambiguous, probably because it’s all so much more that I can’t possible grasp it. Am I making any sense?

sensing the roving of treepie's gaze over her features, sobeille could not help but straighten as they arrived at the stone laid out with the remainder of the wedding feast's scraps.

she'd never been good with small talk - her manner was too direct - which often put her at odds with strangers. hearing someone address this positively was foreign territory. small talk be a waste of breath. sobeille couldn't help but interject, ear turning as treepie segued into the beliefs of her relatives.

sobeille spent much time among moonwomen. she nodded at sedna's mention, sharing a similar respect for tradition, but carrying no belief of it in her heart. i do know what you be meanin'. sobeille acknowledged, pulling a strip of venison towards her feet. on second thought, she offered it to treepie, yellow eyes climbing the stark contrast of black covering her face.

i 'ave 'eard many religions. sobeille sank to her haunches after extracting another thin strip of venison from the pile. an' dey all 'ave deire sednas an' deire dancin' lights. only wit' different faces, an' different names.

Sobeille assured her that she wasn’t spouting nonsense. Pie felt more at ease with every passing moment, each word exchanged. And then the other woman singled out a morsel of meat, which she then passed to Treepie rather than eat herself. Something about this gesture caused a tug low in her belly. The night air suddenly felt a few degrees warmer.

She smiled her thanks, though she didn’t interrupt as Sobeille talked through the gesture. Cheeks warm, Treepie tried to concentrate on what she was saying. Sobeille essentially corroborated her impression of religions. The names could vary, though the gist of it all remained synonymous.

She didn’t feel quite so hungry anymore for some strange reason, though Pie’s stomach made another noise. Besides, she didn’t want to offend Sobeille. She nipped the sliver of venison into her mouth and chewed, gaze flitting around the glen before naturally drifting back to her companion’s face. Her eyes tracked the movements of Sobeille’s own mouth as she helped herself to a bite.

Now her stomach did a funny little swoop. Tiuttuk felt a stirring in the bowl of her pelvis and shifted. She realized she was staring yet again, though it took a conscientious effort to drop her eyes. She made herself look at the spread of food, though she didn’t really see any of it as heat began creeping along the back of her neck.

as she chewed another strip of venison, sobeille felt pie’s eyes upon her. the back of her nape rippled with a strange energy — it was not often that wolves held her in full with their gaze; often, she was the one accidentally trespassing some ancient boundary by allowing her to eyes to linger out of fascination.

they were quiet for a time. sobeille continued to eat, savoring the noise of flesh ripping and chewing — though she noticed pie seeming distracted.

eating enough to sustain her for the return trip home, sobeille turned back to pie. she ran her tongue across her teeth, thinking. do you ‘ave many siblings besides tikaani?

She willed her body to calm down as silence—broken only by the sounds of eating—stretched between them. Maybe if she didn’t look at Sobeille for a few minutes, Treepie could stop the response that not only embarrassed her but also clashed with her entire sense of self.

Sobeille finally spoke, inquiring about her siblings. Tiuttuk looked up at her without thinking, the sight of her tongue running over her teeth causing her to stand quickly and shuffle her hind feet closer together. Subtly—she hoped, anyway—she tucked her tail between her legs.

And then the words actually registered, a mild sadness spearing through her and very effectively dowsing the warmth gathered in Pie’s core. She thought of Pauk and Kaujimaq, their faces eternally youthful in her mind. She realized with a pang that it was quite difficult to picture them at all. Then there were her older siblings, whose names escaped her at the moment.

No, she said, because she didn’t feel like dwelling on such sadness right now, even if the subject matter had taken care of her little problem. It’s just Tiki. How about you? Tell me about your family.

Slowly, Pie folded to a seat again. She just hoped that if she didn’t look at Sobeille too much and kept busy talking, her body might not betray her again. It would be strange anyway, wouldn’t it, to get turned on while talking about their families? All the same, she kept the brush of her tail firmly positioned between her legs.

just the one sibling sounded lonely to sobeille. with pride she thought of sapphique’s great network; how even those that dispersed often went to eresta a day’s travel away.

something in pie shifted. sobeille couldn’t place it, but she noticed the firm way the wolf’s tail seemed to clamp, and then when she sat it was almost as if something was being kept from her. but what? eagle-eyed sobeille was not sharp enough to discern just what.

susceptible to a nature that could be described as self-involved or at the very least proud, sobeille didn’t dwell. well, dere be many of us. too many mebbe to name. but i be de eldest. my littermates come an’ go. reminded of how she was the sole constant, sobeille’s chest puffed. someday i ‘ope to ‘ave as many children as my maman. and you? do you t’ink dere will be children in your future?

#400 for you!

Tiuttuk kind of envied Sobeille. She was the eldest of her generation, branching from what sounded like quite a vast family tree. Pie supposed she had quite a network of relatives too—many of them in attendance today—though her natal family had shrunken down to nearly nothing over this first year of her life.

Her lips pursed at the next words out of Sobeille’s mouth. It sounded like she knew what it was like to have loved ones come and go, though her lighthearted mention didn’t match up to Treepie’s feelings on the matter. Perhaps because there was a lot more going than coming when it came to Moonspear.

Oh, yes, she immediately replied when the topic shifted to children. Being an anaa someday is perhaps my biggest dream, she shared with bright eyes, gladdened to hear they had something so precious in common.

But then her anatomtical situation sucked the light right out of her gaze. Treepie looked down, overly aware of her own traitorous body. At least she wasn’t about to get worked up again. If anything, she felt a little sick. The food turned to stone in her stomach as she reflected on the days’ events. Were such things as matrimony and childbearing even within her reach?

I think I’ve had enough to eat, she said quietly, dragging her eyes upward again. Thank you for the company and conversation. I think we both have long walks home, so I won’t keep you, Tiuttuk said, standing carefully. She paused, then offered a heartfelt, Good night, Sobeille, and take care.

<33

an anaa. sobeille heard this word before, struggling to remember. oh -- yura -- memories flashed to the surface as she recalled her last meeting with kukutux.

it be a profound dream to 'old. sobeille mused, finding rare kinship in pie. there were not many who held the same zealous interest in legacy sobeille did; legacy sprouted from children.

treepie's shift puzzled sobeille, but sobeille failed to catch the way treepie gazed down at her own body -- almost disparagingly. she was too busy thinking of yura and kukutux's last words and wishing they'd been different, entirely unaware of the poignancy of that line of thought.

was it dismay she felt when treepie inevitably pulled the metaphorical shades on their chance meeting? sobeille wrestled with this, offering a small smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. enjoy your walk 'ome. a thousand other things she should say in that moment died upon her lips.

compelled by something unnameable, sobeille paused to hear the heartfelt emotion in treepie's voice. good bye, treepie ostrega.

she would ponder this girl her entire walk home.