Moonspear it's real quiet here

Katmai had done as he'd promised. He'd done little else, truth be told. Even as he heard his family moving around him, he'd felt somehow frozen in place. He had to come to a decision about what sort of place he wanted to live — and yet, he found himself thinking often of Treepie, and of the scarred, lonely mountain.

He returned to it today, his steps slowing as he neared. His head tipping back to take in the damage that was hardly visible from this angle, and then not visible at all once he found himself within Moonspear's shadow.

A cold chill coiled around his shoulders.

Haltingly, Katmai tipped his head back again and called for, @Treepie.

It had taken a while to calm down and shove that scent from her mind. Tiuttuk felt removed from the situation by now, though she couldn’t quite escape the voice whispering in the back of her mind. Well, we know your man parts work, it reminded her as she walked slowly along a narrow trail, but what about your lady parts? You can call yourself a woman all you want, but you can’t argue with nature…

She paused in the shadow of a boulder. Only time would tell if Treepie could become a mother. She hadn’t hit sexual maturity, she reminded herself, and so anything could happen. She just needed to stay positive and not worry about things she couldn’t control. Pie sucked in a breath, shook her head lightly, and began walking again.

She stopped again a few minutes later when a thought struck her. Naturally, she wouldn’t find out if she could bear offspring for a while yet. But what if she… experimented a bit before then? A canine sank into her lower lip as she immediately thought of Alaric. She could trust him with this, she knew, but she couldn’t ask it of him, not after what he’d told her.

Another man’s voice cut into her thoughts, causing Tiuttuk to snap to attention and glance toward the borders below. Her head reared back when she saw Katmai standing in the mountain’s long shadow. Her tail twitched as she quickly changed course and climbed down toward him, wondering if he’d found what he was looking for.

Greetings, Katmai, she said as she approached. Have you and Kinusi found a place yet?

She simply assumed it wasn’t here. She couldn’t fault him, considering she’d thought about what he’d asked and decided against it. Tiuttuk wasn’t going anywhere.

Katmai watched her progress down the mountain, admiring the fluidity with which she moved. He hoped that her headaches were better — she certainly seemed surer on her feet! Perhaps, though, this was only wishful thinking.

"Peace be, Pie," he replied, his tail whisking. She got straight to business, which got him off track for a moment. He put a pin in his questions about her health and her family and answered honestly: "No, not exactly. I found the plateau that my grandmother grew up on, but I felt no more drawn to it than any other place."

He had begun to worry that something was broken inside him, and that he would never find a place he might want to call home. But he had no trouble attaching to other wolves — so he would just have to live in the places that they loved.

Perhaps Moonspear was the answer.

"I have been thinking a lot about what you said," he told her. "I want to know if you still think that your mountain would be a good place for Morningside. And if you do — "

His smile was just a little tight.

"...I just have questions," he said, deciding that they could also wait.

Her head tilted ever so slightly at his negatory reply. Pie remembered him saying, “I will know the place when I find it.” Yet he hadn’t found it, which made her wonder how he’d know. He’d mentioned something about spirits singing… but before she could reflect upon it any further, he said something else quite distracting.

She didn’t try to hide her surprise, nor the tentative smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth. Before it could reach her yellow eyes, he hedged that he had a few questions. Treepie bit her lip for at least the second time today. She felt hopeful, though there was a flicker of reservation that she supposed Katmai must share.

I know this is a good place for a village, she told him earnestly. What questions do you have for me?

He was relieved when the topic seemed to bring more pleasure than trepidation, but the trepidation confirmed something for him as well. It would not be so simple to come here and settle this place, and it would not be right to simply call it Morningside when it had been and always would be something else as well. And Katmai still wasn't sure of the idea at all — but he knew he wanted to try.

"There are many," he cautioned, a faint smile curving his own dark lips. "But perhaps the first is the most complex. Will you tell me about your village?"

His eyes were bright and earnest.

"Who lived here before? What do your people celebrate? Where did you gather, and why?"

He wanted to know more about her culture, to see if it resonated at all with his own.

That’s fine, she assured, motioning for him to proceed. That’s a broad one, she acknowledged with a good-natured huff, her expression growing thoughtful.

She glanced at their immediate surroundings, which consisted mostly of rocky ground. Treepie caught his eye and gestured for Katmai to follow her, turning on her heel to begin ascending the mountain again. She had already given him the grand tour, so she didn’t worry about finding someplace with a view. She sought comfort instead.

A little while later, they found themselves on the open, grassy plateau that had once served as Moonspear’s official rendezvous site. Pie led Katmai to a patch of shade below a cluster of grand fir trees. She settled on her haunches, then waited for him to get comfortable before opening her mouth.

My mother, Sialuk, was born here and lived here until the strange storm struck. She and her anaa, Kukutux, founded Moonglow after that. Some time later, anaang returned to reclaim her birthright. Under her rule, Moonspear was a spiritual place of healing, among other things.

She thought of the healing ulaq, now crumbled nearly to dust on their borders. Then her mind traveled to Sialuk’s personal ulaq, which Pie had more or less buried. Tiuttuk felt a shadow pass over her spirit as she considered how to word the next part of the story.

Anaang grew unhappy here when I was still young. She and I decided to go on a field trip of sorts. She decided not to return; she was happier elsewhere. I did come back and eventually came of age and stepped up into leadership beside Alaric, who had served alongside my mother. But the village never really flourished after anaang left, she had to admit, a painful truth.

That brought them to the present day, more or less, even though Tiuttuk constantly had to remind herself that Moonspear had been vacant for months, not just the weeks she remembered. She took a deep breath, glancing into Katmai’s face and wondering if she’d answered all his questions. Her yellow gaze anticipated more to come.

He was glad to depart the outskirts for more comfortable climes, and found the plateau pleasing in appearance. He could imagine cubs chasing each other through the field, even without being told that this was where such things had once taken place.

He settled easily, lying sphinx-like across from Treepie to listen.

It was a story seasoned with sorrow. Katmai noticed that there were few high points, though he assumed she must have been very happy here at some point.

"This place has belonged to your family for many, many years," he noted, his eyes lifting to take in the scenery for a moment. He imagined the generations of Treepie's ancestors that must have tumbled here in their youth.

His eyes found hers again.

"Can I tell you a bit about my family?" he asked her.

Yes, she agreed with a faint twitch of her lips. Kinusi’s too, Pie reminded. We’re not related by blood but Alaric was a dear friend of my mother’s. And now he’s a dear friend of mine.

Her earlier thoughts flitted through her head. Once, she would’ve said Alaric was like a father figure to her. She had long since buried that notion, even if wasn’t sure if she would ever broach the topic of romance with him ever again. It was a shame, for Alaric’s sake much more than her own, as the Ostrega could easily picture him as husband and father material. She’d witnessed as much.

Katmai’s querying tone drew her attention and she quickly nodded and said, Yes, of course.

This time, the shadow that Treepie sensed was corporeal. She glanced upward to see Wyvern flapping by overhead, winging in a circle over the mountain clearing. Pie barked a greeting to the bird, then refocused her attention upon Katmai, ignoring the dull pounding starting in the back of her head.

The bird caught his eye as well, though he would have taken no more note of it had Treepie not greeted it. He wagged his tail and a confused, stilted greeting of his own, and then felt rather silly for doing so.

But Treepie was gazing at him attentively once more.

"We are plains hunters on my father's side, and seafarers on my mother's," he said, simplifying things as much as he could. "There have been very few healers, and fewer still spiritualists in my line. We focus on what is in front of us, and on the memories we hold of each other, and pass on from one generation to the next. There have been many great hunter master, and many more traveling singers and storytellers, and everywhere they go, they find wolves who are lonesome and adopt them into the family. They give them the name of Morningside to carry with them and use as they please, so that they will be recognized as family when they run into others."

He was proud of the family that he came from, even though he was compelled by the urge to venture forth from it. But despite his pride, he knew that it was not everyone's way, and that Treepie might not want it here after all.

"Do you think that our families could fit alongside each other?" he asked her. It didn't seem impossible, but they still knew very little about one another. "I don't want to settle here if it would crush what already lives here. I know already that I couldn't settle here and name my village Morningside, as I had planned for the plateau."

He offered her a tentative smile.

"But perhaps something new could be made," he suggested. "Something with a little of both our families."

She listened raptly as Katmai spoke, paying little attention to the growing headache—business as usual these days, really—and the queer sense of dread that momentarily filled her at the menton of seafarers. Although Tiuttuk had come from a line of devout wolves, she had grown to become quite secular in practice. She thought it was probably due to Sialuk’s departure, for better or for worse.

Nothing lives here, she pointed out quietly, amending, I mean, Alaric, Tiki and I sort of haunt the place. But there’s no village anymore. Pie paused, once again thinking carefully about her words. Moonspear fell, in part because everyone left. We can pay homage to that legacy, of course, but at the same time, it sort of ran its course. I wouldn’t mind something fresh, at this point.

She felt a little guilty as she articulated that. But her anaa had left long ago. So had many others. Tiuttuk had tried desperately to keep Sialuk’s legacy alive only for it to slip away in the end despite all her efforts. She had done all she could and come up short. It was perhaps why she had no stake in leadership, should a new village bloom where Moonspear had faded.

I can only speak for myself, of course. Alaric and Tiki may feel differently and I encourage you to seek them out and speak to them. But if you and Kinusi want to put new roots here, I wholeheartedly welcome that, Katmai.

Although they might not be traditionally spiritual, Katmai still carried with him generations of deep superstition. He appeared just a little skeptical when Treepie claimed that nothing lived here — for he believed nothing that had so recently held so much life and that for so long had held one family's history could truly be empty.

There were ghosts and spirits here. He wondered if Treepie meant to hide that from him, and then decided that would surely not risk angering them.

Perhaps she believed that they, too, would welcome a new start for their mountain.

He would have to speak with Kinusi, and with Alaric and Tiki as well. But if they all welcomed it as well, Katmai thought he had the answer to all his wonderings and wanderings.

"I will seek them," he told her, his tail swishing through the grass at his hocks. He seemed just a little shy, then, when he told her: "I have been thinking... Dawnspear. It is a good, strong name for a village. For something new."

It had come to him in a strange voice, as things often did. A different voice than usual. Kat's voice, actually. She said in in Discord. Credit to Kat.

Anyway. End of post.

Tiuttuk nodded. She could call for them, though she would leave it to Katmai to seek them out and introduce himself. She’d told them about his first visit, though she hadn’t gone into great detail about what she’d suggested to him. Now that he’d taken her up on it, she wondered if she should’ve consulted with them more properly. Moonspear wasn’t hers alone to offer to anyone… but, then, it didn’t belong to any of them. In any case, the decision ultimately belonged to Katmai and thus she felt he should take ownership of those conversations.

Nodding absently to herself, Pie couldn’t help but offer a small smile at Katmai’s proposed name. She appreciated the gesture and would not begrudge him a moniker he clearly liked, though part of her would’ve preferred he give it something entirely new. She couldn’t really say why, other than the reasons she’d given already. Despite losing time, some part of her must be more than ready for some closure.

Before you go wandering off to look for anyone, can I ask you a personal question? If it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

He couldn't tell if she liked the name or not, and immediately began to wonder if he'd offended her. He wasn't sure whether to press the matter or not, and hadn't yet decided when she asked him a new question. A question about a question.

Katmai couldn't think of anything truly personal about him, except for the harrowing time he'd spent away from home in his puphood. He couldn't see why she would ask him about that, however — how would she even know?

Even so, he felt a tiny thread of trepidation.

"You can ask," he replied, willing enough to hear the question. He kept careful track of his expression, lest it answer her question for him.

He seemed open to hearing her question. Treepie flashed him a grateful smile.

You mentioned you wanted Kinusi to lead the pack—Dawnspear—with you. I was wondering… She hesitated, though only for a beat, reminding him, Remember, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to. But I was wondering if you two are romantically involved?

It would probably seem like it came out of nowhere. It sort of did. But if they were destined to become pack mates and fellow villagers, that meant this acquaintance would become a proper friendship. And though Pie didn’t necessarily have any designs on anything more than that—though it was intriguing thought—she already trusted Katmai with “her” mountain.

Perhaps, in time, she could trust him with something even more important to her.

Despite his best intentions, his expression did slip quite immediately out of his careful control. He was not, it seemed, very adept at subterfuge. His mouth popped open and his ears pinged to the top of his head.

"Oh — well — " His tail had started whisking at once, and he forced it still, now. "I hope so, one day," he said, and he even managed to say it quite calmly. "I believe she understands my intentions. But we are still young. I haven't felt those — urges. Yet."

But he knew (he thought he knew) he wanted that with Kinusi. She sang so freely, and she danced when she walked, and her heart was bold and beautiful. Katmai was smitten, and he could not imagine the feeling ever passing.

"I have been taught to treat women with the utmost respect," he assured Treepie, his tail wiggling more nervously, now. "I would not force her if she didn't... If she truly..."

Oh, it hurt to think the words!

"I only hope," he finished, a bit lamely.

Perhaps not.

She was too distracted by Katmai’s evident bashfulness to feel too disappointed by the potential being nipped in the bud. Her head cocked and, despite herself, Tiuttuk fought a smile. He clearly cared deeply for the young woman she considered a cousin. It was rather endearing to watch him fumble his words a bit. Pie felt a little envy hit her. Would a man ever stutter talking about her?

Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, she said, still smiling. I don’t know you well, but I think Kinusi is lucky to have caught your eye. And of course I know you’re lucky if you catch hers in turn.

Would either one of them be open to sharing? Tiuttuk couldn’t stop the thought before it ran through her mind with all the grace of a bull moose. She had been raised to accept both monogamy and polygamy as normal. But she’d always sort of liked the idea of finding one true love herself, so she wasn’t even sure why she was thinking about this. This was an impasse; he wasn’t an option.

All the same, Pie figured she might put him at ease by sharing an intimate fact about herself: I’m too young for all that too. But being an anaa one day is my greatest dream. She sighed. I should probably find someone to be their taataa first though, she admonished herself with a self-deprecating laugh.

He still felt flustered, but he considered the question a fair one. Still, he was relieved when the matter was allowed to rest.

"I feel lucky already to have her friendship," he assured Treepie, feeling suddenly quite grateful for her as well. Now that his anxiety had passed, it was all beginning to feel quite serendipitous. He only hoped that Kinusi would feel the same. Ultimately, he knew he would want to follow her.

His heart warmed when Treepie offered up a bit of herself in turn.

"That is good," he told her, grinning widely. "I want there to be many, many children in our village." It was a desire he held even more deeply than having children of his own. They just needed to exist here! He would be happy with that. But! An idea occured to him. "I have a cousin about our age," he told her, his grin (impossibly) widening further.

She supposed her fate wasn’t just in Mother Nature’s hands but Katmai’s and Kinusi’s too. But there was no need to fear the two of them prohibiting her from seeing it through, should biology favor her. She swallowed thickly at his words, offered up so easily. The sentiment meant much to her.

Oh? was all she could think to say when Katmai mentioned a cousin.

Despite her own lighthearted remark a moment ago, Pie felt a queer resistance to the inference of a potential match. She didn’t know the first thing about this cousin, hadn’t known he’d existed until just now! But it was more than that. Tiuttuk’s brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out her own inexplicable feelings on the matter.

She caught herself and carefully schooled her expression, putting on a politely interested one instead. It wouldn’t hurt to hear more about Katmai’s cousin, she told herself, when suddenly that voice in the back of her head—maybe the headache, personified—whispered nonsensically, Too bad he’s not a girl.

That didn't sound like interest to Katmai, who read into her slightly pinched expression a little too much. He remembered her headaches again, and was distracted by the thought as he answered, "Well, yes — but he's sort of fussy, come to think of it."

There were ruder words he wanted to use, but he kindly refrained. More because he was in the presence of a lady than out of respect for his cousin. (It was just embarrassing to refer to Kindle as his uncle — the other boy was hardly older than him!)

"How is your head doing?" he asked her instead of expanding on that notion. "I meant to ask earlier, but I was distracted."

She couldn’t help but laugh as she repeated, Fussy?

She was morbidly curious about what that meant, though not enough to ask. And when Katmai quickly changed the subject, inquiring about her head, she felt her already good opinion of him inching upward.

It’s better than it was, Pie told him. I get headaches pretty often—maybe even every day—but they’re not as debillitating as they were at first. I’ve learned to live with them. I have one right now, actually, but I’m doing my level best to ignore it. She huffed a dry laugh. Thanks for asking, by the way.

Her current cephalagia wasn’t anything particularly disruptive, though Treepie eyed the shade beneath the nearby firs and thought it might be nice to take a nap. Katmai probably wanted to go track down Alaric and Tikaani, among other things. But before they parted ways…

Is there anything I can do to help this endeavor? We’re already here, though we haven’t bothered marking in a while. I could start doing that, if you like?

He could feel the conversation drawing to a close. Though he didn't think he'd offended her, Katmai couldn't help thinking she didn't like it when her condition was mentioned. It made him preemptively anxious for times in the future where he would wonder endlessly about her health but feel as though he should not bring it up.

A nervous but good-hearted laugh escaped him.

"I think you should, if you're going to live here either way," he told her, his voice warm. Her support of him and this endeavor warmed his heart, and he felt more than ever that this was the right path to be on. Still, there were customs that needed to be observed, and he knew that others might not feel the same way she did. "I will speak to your sister, and to Alaric and Kinusi as well — and if they approve, then I will join you in this."

His tail spun. On a whim, he leaned forward to knock his head just gently into Treepie's shoulder.

"Thank you, Pie," he said, his smile wide and his voice earnest. "Even if they do not approve, I should like to keep visiting you." His head tilted to the side. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked, a thread of desperation sneaking into his expression. "With your..." His eyes darted to her forehead. "... with anything?"

They wouldn’t have bothered without the intent of a formal claim to back it, though Pie didn’t mention this moot point. She bobbed her head, biting her tongue against speaking on her companions’ behalf. They could and would speak for themselves, though she doubted Katmai would run into any resistance.

The touch surprised her, though Tiuttuk supposed she didn’t mind it. They shared a common goal now, along with a territory.  They were soon to be pack mates, which not only implied a casual touch here and there but both camaraderie and concern.

Breathing life back into this mountain will help me, she told him, meeting his eyes before dropping them, a gesture of deference. Your concern means a lot. Alaric has done everything he can for me as far as the headaches go. All I ask is for understanding when they prevent me from being the best possible villager.

There was something else he could do for her, though Treepie didn’t feel any need to mention it again. Katmai had already given her his answer, a favorable one. She would hold him to it, in future. She didn’t mind sharing her homeland or deferring leadership. As long as she could pursue her dream of motherhood one day, she would be content.

And on that note, I think I need to rest for a bit. I’ll catch up with you later?

His expression softened, despite the sharpening of his concern. He was ever sensitive to the pain of others, be it spiritual or physical, and the more he came to care about Treepie, the more he worried for her.

"Of course," he said to her, firmly. "This is your home, Treepie. And a village should be a family. Family takes care of each other."

He stepped back from her, now, unable to hide his worry. "Of course," he said again, his tail wagging. "Peace be, Treepie."

Katmai turned to depart, sneaking one last look at her over his shoulder to see which direction she went. He would be keeping careful, probably obstrusive track of her, despite his best intentions not to coddle or annoy the older girl.