Chimera Fields to be hid

Haedwig was on the search for feverfew this morning, and in a field like this she couldn't imagine facing much difficulty.

Thyme was still tangled and tucked into thick neck fur from the day prior, and while the smell was pleasant it was more the convenience of it for Haedwig.

There was a soft breeze today, a break from the summer weather as they came into the cold season. Most wolves would be glad for it, but Haedwig couldn't help but be bothered by how it made her legs ache and stuffed up her nose. If she had any hope of putting her failing scent glands to use, the cold had completely ruined it.

He'd scent-marked the edges of the plateau before heading out, tired of waiting around for his errant nephew. The kid was around — they'd exchanged a few howls over the past several days — but it was clear he had his own agenda. Kindle had half a mind to wash his hands of it, and the other half to grab the boy by the ear and drag him along.

Instead, he took a break from waiting and headed down into the valley. Perhaps he could find his own trouble to get up to in the mean time...

Or perhaps he could find an old lady. Kindle stood watching her for a long moment while she snuffled through the field. She had plants tangled in her fur like some kind of bog witch, and Kindle immediately liked her. He began wandering closer, and soon approached wholesale, his body language polite but chipper.

"Good morning, ma'am. What are you looking for?" he asked her. He was ready to stick out and elbow and help her cross the street — not that she looked like she needed it. It was just the done thing, and Kindle loved fiercely to observe these social mores.

It seemed to Haedwig that she must be a magnet for wandering children. Maybe it was a sort of punishment, and a cruel one at that.

This one was older than the boy she met in the woods, but not yet mature. The way he spoke reminded Haedwig of the young boys in her pack, sucking up to her at the wishes of ambitious parents who hoped their child would find themselves in a high rank. It felt strange, given this one had nothing to gain. Nothing she could think of.

Feverfew. She responded, eyeing him with her full judgement. You know what that looks like, boy? Little white flowers? Haedwig scanned the land left of her, spots of white poking out of green grass.

Kindle did not, in truth, know what feverfew looked like — but it was described to him quickly enough, so he gave a businesslike nod. The whole act of gathering plants and making them into potions was a bit strange and a bit silly to him, but so mysterious that he could not write it off entirely. He'd always been fascinated by the physician and apothecaries that had visited them in Round Valley. Even his mother had taken well to one or two — and Kindle was rather certain that one of them had been responsible for the two younger brothers he'd left back at home.

So he began looking around, lifting his nose as if he might find it by scent, despite not knowing what it smelled like.

"What is it used for?" he asked, wandering a ways off to examine a flowering patch of green. It did not smell very strongly; not like the plants that other healers had toted around.

Haedwig couldn't help finding his question a bit silly. What do you think? It's in the name. It couldn't be that hard to put the pieces together.

Stalking towards the spots of white as though they were the most precious of prey, Haedwig narrowed her eyes for a better look. They were white flowers, sure, but not what she needed.

I haven't seen too many wolves around here. Eyeing the boy, her question was implied; why are you here?

Kindle's expression clouded and then cleared; he hadn't realized, and evidently, he found the convention quite clever now that he had. He began looking again, nosing around in the grass until he found some small, white flowers. The scent was still ambiguous to him; he plucked one anyway.

"Me neither," he told her, scanning the field once more. "A couple. Well — a couple wolves and a dog. And my nephew is running around here, somewhere. With a girl."

He brought the flower to her and dropped it before her.

"This one?" he asked, his tail wagging.

Feel free to decide whether it's the correct plant or not.

Haedwig furrowed her brow, a dog? I haven't see one of those in years.. strange creatures. She had never liked them much, in her experience their domesticated cousins only brought trouble.

The boy brought her a flower, and upon observing it Haedwig nodded. He had gotten it right - metaphorical gold star for him. She made a bee line for the patch he had taken it from, eager to dig up the plant.

You don't look too old yourself, so just how young is your nephew? Shouldn't be off with girls if he isn't old enough. She asked, clearly feeling a bit nosey now. Silently, she recalled the boy from a day earlier who had been called off by his uncle.. what a coincidence.

Kindle silently agreed, even if he did not share the same distaste. Cosmo had still been very strange, and he wasn't likely to forget the dog anytime soon.

He accompanied her, loosely, back to the patch of flowers and observed a moment to be sure he knew what needed to be done with them. He'd likely never be too interested in digging around for herbs, but it didn't hurt to know things.

"Oh, I suppose he's plenty old enough," he said, though inwardly, part of him quite agreed. On the other hand, perhaps the best time to be interested in girls was when you couldn't get them into trouble — but he had been taught that all babies were blessings, and he trusted Katmai well enough to stand by that, if it came down to it. "Just a few months younger than me, and this'll be my season, too."

His interest in it had waned as the months passed and he found himself still looking for a suitable partner — he was happy enough to meet strangers and to pal around with his cousins and his nephews.

"He wants to start his own pack," he added, inviting the woman to be amused by this fact. Kindle thought it was a fine and lofty goal, of course, and he didn't necessarily doubt his nephew's follow-through — it was just that he'd never shared in that sort of ambition, and he found it just a little puzzling. Just a little quaint.

"I'm Kindle, by the way," he said, beginning to copy her actions with the feverfew. "At your service."

He did so love to be helpful, after all.

Haedwig tore into the ground, yet for all her intensity she was careful to avoid the roots of the plant. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, then. Though in truth, she understood. That understanding was why she would always advise against it; making a kid was much easier than raising them, and they certainly were not all blessings in her eyes.

She supposed there wasn't much sense in telling him off, though. Haedwig had been his age, she knew that you tended not to listen to your elders until after a mistake had been made.

Her brow raised at the idea of this nephew starting a pack. Really? Does he think he'll be able to gain that sort of respect? It was hard not to come off as judgemental.. but that's because she sort of was. Young wolves weren't known for their excellence in raising packs. Tail beginning to swish behind her, she couldn't help letting out a snicker that ended in a cough. I suppose I shouldn't judge until I've met him. You don't hear about that kind of thing often is all, not outside of established packs anyways.

You can call me Haedwig. My friends call me Honey Badger. And he wasn't her friend just yet.

Kindle rolled a shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with old fashioned," he said, thinking about being very young and very confused when his cousins had asked where his father was. He supported his mother in her independence, and certainly, he'd never felt the lack of a father figure.

As far as he was concerned, however, what Katmai was doing was about as old-fashioned as it got. Disperse, find a girl, settle down —

He blinked at Haedwig when she spoke of respect.

"How do you mean?" he asked, his head tipping to the side. "There's plenty of space — I doubt he'll be fighting anyone for territory."

A pack, in Kindle's mind, was all family. Parents and children, and the children of those children, and then their children, of course. Children respected their parents well enough, didn't they? And even if he wasn't currently worthy of respect, he likely had several long months after the cubs were born to shape up.

But perhaps this was simply the musings of a strange woman. One who made sure to remind him that he was no friend of hers. He smiled to himself, digging a little more intently to unearth the flowers without breaking the roots. He doubted he would impress her, but he wanted her to have no reason to complain.

Haedwig shook her head. That wasn't quite what she meant. But won't he want others to follow him? Most do. It was a quick way to grow the pack. Family like you is one thing, and wolves my age won't bite the hand that feeds them.. but ambitious folk might underestimate him. She had seen those kinds of bloody battles more than once.

Wolves can be cruel, men especially. Haedwig paused, eyeing Kindle as though to say 'don't be one of them'. So if you believe in him, you need to be there to defend your family. She supposed that if his nephew had enough support from relatives, then he might be alright.

Moving aside the dug up flowers, Haedwig eyed his work. You haven't done too bad. Have you done this before? Most broke the roots on their first try, it took practice to avoid them like this.

Kindle considered this, halting his progress in order to process the concept. His own family had always been intensely protective of their packlands. Visitors were welcome enough, but it took love and dedication to become a true and trusted member of the pack. Usually, it happened by marriage or adoption. Respect, then, felt like too trifling a matter. Respect was implicit, wasn't it?

"I'll be there with him," he assured the woman, his tail whisking at his hocks. "Out of love, if not out of respect," he allowed. But — "I'm sure that anyone else we would welcome in our home would stay for the same reason. He'll want to raise children there, after all. Who can you trust with your children other than the ones that you love?"

This was what he'd always known.

His tail whisked a little faster as he was praised.

"No, ma'am," he replied, "We don't do much with medicines, where I'm from. But we do plenty of digging." He did not say that he likely had sharper eyes than she did, young as he was. "Where you come from?" he asked her, curiously. "Did you study with a master?"

Haedwig wasn't so sure. Not everyone was so good natured. Well, if it works out maybe I'll come looking for you. Something tells me that the winter will be difficult this year. It would be for her, anyways.

She couldn't help raising a brow at his response. No medicines? She wouldn't look too much into it today. I guess you could say that. It was my mother that taught me. She responded, her eyes glazing over for just a moment. It was the only job women were allowed where I was born. A disappointment, really. Haedwig thought she could have a made a great tyrant. I can't complain though, it's gotten me this far.

For all her complaints, Haedwig couldn't say that she was upset with how her life had turned out. She was a good healer, the skillset had treated her well and brought her nothing but pleasant things after leaving home, in the grand scheme of it all.

Kindle beamed at the prospect. He liked Haedwig, even if she was a bit grumpy. It was good to have someone older than him around, too — being good and helpful was its own reward, but he was accustomed to the joy of an older woman approving of him, and he had missed it since leaving home. He didn't think that Haedwig yet approved... But there was a certain joy in striving for it, too.

"You should come along!" he agreed, golden eyes friendly and bright. "Neither of us know medicine. I heard his girlfriend does, but she's hardly more than a yearling, too."

He vowed (silently, to himself) that he would make this the easiest winter ever for Haedwig, if she did come with them. That would surely prove that he was Good and Honorable, and then she would admire him. Perhaps she would say to his mother, oh, yes, we could not have made it without young Kindle, and the blackbear would respond, smiling indulgently, [i]he has always been a dutiful boy. I am glad to see what a dutiful man he has become.[/i]

She had never said anything less, of course. Kindle had never been deprived of praise. Somehow, he still craved it as if he were starving.

"That sounds stifling," he said of her natal pack, trying not to sound too terribly judgmental. He was only vaguely familiar with such practices, having come from a largely matriarchal background. In theory, men and women were equal — but it had always been his mother and his older female cousins who held power in his life. Yet another reason they ought to have Haedwig around. Truly, Kindle had very little respect for his nephew, aside from the basic respect he afforded to every wolf he met.

"Did you ever want to do something else?" he asked, though he assumed also that healing did not preclude a wolf from doing anything else.

Haedwig nearly smiled at his response.. nearly. I have something to take care of first. Unfortunately, that was the truth.

She supposed that it wouldn't hurt to stick around some younger folks, especially if they were all as eager to please as Kindle was. She missed the youthful energy of the group who had followed her to the Teekons, it could be so refreshing.

Snickering, she couldn't help but agree with his observation. It was, that's why I left when I did. They would still have me pushing out kids, and I wasn't made for motherhood. She had made that decision long ago, but it still hurt to say it sometimes.

I'm not sure. I like my work. That was the truth, despite all of her whining. It got me labelled as a witch, and then in my last pack it turned me into a prophet. I can't complain.

Though he watched for it, he could not decide how she felt about the offer. It was not quite denied, at any rate, but it was certainly not accepted. He nodded in acquiescence and spoke of it no more.

Haedwig had enough to say to hold his interest. He could not imagine the world from which she'd come, and could hardly wrap his head around the ideas that she was expressing. Had she been made to bear children she didn't want? Where were they? He wondered, but knew better than to ask after such sensitive topics.

"A prophet?" he asked, bewildered. A witch, sure, but a prophet? Did herbs grant the power of prophecy? "Have you made many prophecies?" he asked, though he regretted it a moment later. Women held mysterious magics that he had always been taught were none of his business.

Haedwig had come to expect the questions. She couldn't blame others for being curious. Sure I did, that's why I'm here. It had taken her time to believe it herself.. but she had predicted enough from rumblings in the sky or how the wind blew against the trees to stop denying it.

Then again, maybe it wasn't magic. It could just be good intuition and an understanding of the world.

I predicted the end of my last pack, and I was right. Rock slides, battles, and all. I came here with a group hoping to rebuild. Given Haedwig was now alone, that clearly hadn't worked out. She had made her peace long ago with the fact that, maybe, the Corax line had just been doomed to die out.

She did hope that the others were still out there, though. They were too young to die.

A tiny shiver went down his spine as an untoward thought occured to him: perhaps she had not predicted the fall of her pack, but had somehow willed it into reality? That was the difference between prophets and sorcerers — and Kindle shook the thought off and chose to believe quite firmly that she was only a prophet.

"Well — a prophet certainly would be good to have around," he told her, once again in invitation. "If you finish with your task and find yourself in want of company, I would be happy to have you among us."

He nosed his own pile of feverfew toward us.

"Or if you need my digging skills again, feel free to call," he added, just a little bit cheekily.

Haedwig gave him a smile this time, a sign of a job well done.

I should get moving. She decided, carefully taking the feverfew in her teeth. Thank you for the help, Kindle. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon.

He had softened her up, just a little bit. With a final nod, Haedwig turned to hobble away to her next destination.

He had sensed the encounter drawing to a close, but he was still disappointed when Haedwig excused herself. Still, he parting words sounded promising. He allowed them to bolster his mood.

"Be well!" he called after her, his tail wheeling in quiet hope.