Redhawk Caldera Whatever's left of you

He called it the pilgrimage.

Wagtail knew better not to ask questions for which she wouldn't receive an answer. She knew Whip-por-will Redhawk best for his silence; a glance, a look -- it was all she could ask for, but it was enough to cross the gulf between them. The mutual understanding could only be so obstructed by the milky cataracts forming in his eyes. He did not leave. He stayed by her side as long as she could remember, but the old man needed her as much as she needed him.

Perhaps more. She was not so young anymore. 

"We're close," he muttered, nostrils flaring to catch a scent on the wind. He couldn't rely much on sight these days. Nevertheless, he seemed confident in his path. However, for Wagtail, this was wholly unfamiliar territory. She'd never traveled so far before, but she made her complaints few and infrequent. Whatever this journey was, it was important to Whip, and she owed him that.

He pushed on, and Wagtail followed close behind through rock and stream. Until her legs hurt and her stomach tied itself into knots. Whip, however, continued single-mindedly. 

"Can we--?"

"No. We'll rest when we're there."

Wagtail huffed in protest, but found herself swallowing her words.

They continued through the evening, mostly in silence -- until Whip finally stopped in his tracks with only shreds of daylight left. 

"Here," said Whip. 

In the distance, an unfamiliar rise reached for the darkening clouds. This was no safe place to stop, she reasoned as the smell of a claim lingered faintly here. He could smell it too; she could tell by the clinical scunch of his face -- then, his hard expression softened as if he'd found something familiar.

"Dad?" Wagtail whispered, concerns evident in the unease painted on her face.

"It's fine," intoned Whip. "Just -- just let me talk."

"Dad??" She hissed, demanding clarification, but instead, Whip only howled to announce their surprise arrival.

The Caldera had been quiet despite Killdeer's search. Cinar had hopped from place to place in recent weeks, filling gaps where he could and keeping his promise to Amalia that he would fill caches to the best of his abilities. It was his new sense of responsibilty that sent him to investigate a howl on the borders despite reservations brought on by his time in the lowlands.

Two strangers, and somehow that brought him relief. One a young female, and the other an older male that made him wonder if Towhee was still the oldest wolf he knew. You've come to the edge of Redhawk Caldera. He kept a reasonable distance, looking over each of the pair with a calmed demeanour. What brings you?

He thought to call for Amalia, or maybe to find Towhee, but given one was nursing her young puppies and the other seemed to be a bit 'out of order' lately, Cinar decided it was best to first assess the situation on his own.

"What --- what do you think you're doing?" derided Wagtail through gritted teeth. Every instinct, every experience, suggested calling in the cavalry in some unknown place was not only a bad idea, but a terrible one. It had been the first lesson her father had bothered to impart: never rely on the kindness of others. It was a resource like any other, and it was often in short supply.

In her discomfort, she leaned on the stable footing the rules provided. Rigidity. Structure. "We should leave -- before they come. We still have time if we go now--"

"We're going to wait," Whip replied decisively. His voice was rough like gravel, and the sound made Wagtail flinch. "Running off now wouldn't be very polite, would it? "  

Ears falling back, Wagtail sank into uncertainty.

"Trust me," the elder implored. "I haven't gotten us killed yet."

"There's always today."

He smiled wryly.

"There's always today."

***

When the rider came, the sun was nearly gone. He seemed cautious, and this didn't surprise Wagtail -- she was always cautious of strangers; and here they were, a strange bunch, an oddly proportioned coywolf and a crusty geriatric. 

It was Whip-por-will that answered back. "The prodigal son returns home to roost." he called out over the distance. "My name is Whip-poor-will Redhawk, and this is my daughter, Wagtail."

Wagtail bowed her head, but stuck close to her father's side.

"Any Redhawks still call this place home?"

Relatives, then. It wasn't quite his place to invite them in or turn them away. Cinar instead closed the distance for an easier passage of speech. I'm one of the few who is not. Towhee along with Killdeer, his mate Amalia, and their new children reformed the pack. That was his understanding.

Do you know any of them?

It was difficult for his curiosity not to be peaked by these two, not to mention the few poor ideas he quickly sweeped from his mind. Just how many Redhawks were out there, anyways?

Three names came; Wagtail did not recognize a single one of them. Whip didn't have family. Whip had Wagtail -- and Wagtail had Whip, and that was all she knew and all she had ever known. 

"Towhee? Well, that's a name I know," Whip wheezed. "That old bird's still knocking around here? I'll be damned." 

"Who's Towhee?" whispered Wagtail, uncertain of what to make of all this. Dad was hardly an overexplainer; he kept talk brief and simple, but she was not used to being left so totally in the dark.

"You have an Aunt, Child. Congratulations."

So was that all this was? Some odd family reunion? 

Then, Whip huffed and turned his attention back to the one-man welcoming party.

"Well -- you gonna get 'er?" he rasped, raising an inquisitive brow.

Cinar wasn't so sure of these two, the older man's tone was something he didn't quite appreciate. But while he was no doormat, he did think it was fair to let the man to his family.

She'll be resting. I can take you there. He responded, gesturing for the two to follow him before dropping back into the Caldera below.

He assumed that @Towhee would be resting in the hobbit hole at this time, though she often seemed to linger there these days. Cinar made a quiet bee line for the den, wondering if it was okay to be bringing the strangers this far at all. He wouldn't bring them inside, not with the children.

"Great. Great," Whip affirmed, nodding.

Wagtail couldn't help but wince as a result of her father's cavalier tone -- but thankfully, it hadn't been enough to trigger an incident on the border.

"Come on then," he instructed, and Wagtail followed suit, falling in line with the other man- what was his name again? The stranger hadn't said, only that he was not a Redhawk himself. Then again, Whip hadn't even asked. 

"I'm sorry," Wagtail spluttered, rounding past her father and up to the side of their guide. "Dad can be a bit--"

"A bit what?" interjected Whip. "I was born here, it's as much my home as--"

"--An asshole. You're being an asshole," chided Wagtail in clipped tones. She cut her eyes sharply in her father's direction. "We're guests. Act like it."

They followed the rest of the way in silence, settling a proper distance away at the behest of their guide.

It was a necessary evil, she supposed, bringing outsiders so close to the den. Both she and @Amalia were rather bound to it. But Towhee absolutely hated it. When it happened yet again, she pushed onto all fours and wearily slithered out into the daylight to assess whoever was being brought before the caldera’s heart today.

She stared dispassionately at the two unfamiliar wolves, doing a slight double take when the older one struck her as familiar. Towhee couldn’t place him, though. Biting back a sigh, she flicked her orange eyes to Cinar. She waited for him to provide an introduction and explanation.

Cinar was much happier to offer polite smiles and nods rather than making conversation today. The caldera had been grim as of late, and it was even reflecting on their sparkliest of welcome wagonners.

He found Towhee exactly where he knew she would be; barely out of the den, shaky and looking like she was seeing the light for the first time. These wolves say they are your family, he offered, glancing to the pair. Whip-poor-will and Wagtail. It took him a moment to recall the name of the older man, but he got there. At least the other was relatively easy.

He didn't expect a particularly warm welcome -- the time for those had long passed. Towhee may have been Whip's sister and the last living link he had (as far as he knew) to his parents, but feelings of kinship were likely in short supply -- after all, the day Towhee and her siblings had been born was the day Whip had decided to leave the Caldera behind. 

"I forgive you if you don't recognize me," Whip muttered. "My sight isn't what it used to be either." His demeanor had changed with a sober realization. Gods above, she was old, too. Everything and everyone he remembered was gone, and there was no bringing it back.

"It's been -- so many years."

There was an unspoken tension -- she could feel it in the air. She could see it in their faces. Hear it in what remained unsaid. She had always been an intuitive girl. Obtuse as her father could sometimes be, Wagtail often had to be willing to follow the throughline to the truth. 

She was silent. It was Whip's family, after all. She supposed it was her's too, but having never met another Redhawk before outside of her father, it was hard to differentiate them from simple strangers. 

Nevertheless, she knew what she was: the veritable elephant in the room. The half-breed.

She cleared her throat and nudged Whip's side.

"Oh -- I have a daughter," Whip remembered. "Her name is Wagtail."

Towhee squinted, particularly at Whip. Under normal circumstances, she might’ve scoffed at his remark. But she looked back and forth between the two, barely a hint of recognition still registering toward her elder brother, and only one question bubbled to the surface.

Are you here because—do you know what happened to Killer?

Maybe it was merely a coincidence but Towhee had to ask. Her orange gaze continued flicking between them, caring about little else but whatever information they may have brought about Killdeer’s fate.

His part was done, he had brought them to Towhee and now they could have their reunion.

I'll let the three of you speak alone. He decided. Towhee, call if you need me.

Sparing another glance to the stranger Redhawks, Cinar left to go linger nearby.

Tag if you need him back!

"Wha--"

He squinted and cast an uncertain glance toward Wagtail. He couldn't quite tell, but he knew his daughter well enough to know that she would be even more confused than he was. He had lost all control over the conversation (not that he ever had it to begin with), and it was hard to say where it was going now.

Did she really not know him? It had been so long --  but he was a Redhawk, and he would always be a Redhawk. His name had been all that was left after the Sirens of Themiscyra took everything else. In his heart, Towhee was not the arbiter of this, but in reality, he had to acknowledge that she was. She held the land, and the remnants of the Redhawk family followed her -- he had abandoned his imagined birthright on a rainy day in December, long, long ago.

"Who's Killer?" piped Wagtail, breaking the silence.

He knew enough killers for one lifetime. He didn't endeavor to know anymore.

"No. Whatever it is you want, I -- I don't have it," he answered. "I just wanted to come home." 

Ryan indicated I should skip Wagtail this round. :)

Towhee didn’t notice when Cinar left. She was too busy squinting at Whip. She felt indignation burning in the pit of her stomach like a hot coal. But it just didn’t catch. She didn’t have the energy for any emotion outside of her angst over her grandson… which came over her in a fresh wave just now, when it was clear these two knew nothing about his fate.

Welcome home, Towhee thought bitterly, her tongue curling against clenched teeth so she wouldn’t say it out loud. These two had chosen a wild time to appear, though she knew she shouldn’t fault them. Had Cinar explained? She glanced his way, only to realize he was gone.

You can stay, she said simply, orange eyes drifting between Wagtail and Whip. We’re going through a hard time. One of the others can explain. I just don’t have it in me right now. And I’m going to head back inside. I’m sure you can find your way around, she said, mostly to Whip, seeing as he’d been here before.

She didn’t glance at them again before slithering right back into the Hobbit Hole, letting the blackness of grief chew at her before swallowing her whole.

…welcome to RHC! LOL.