Moonspear run away

After the relatively awkward climb to the site of Kindle's pack, Haedwig only remained through the night before departing to gather the herbs from her previous den. The trip had lasted a few days before she returned with her things.

Thyme purposefully caught in her fur, poppy and feverfew tucked neatly behind ears, wild garlic clutched in her teeth. An old bear den was the final piece, the perfect place to squeeze into.

First tossing in the garlic, Haedwig began to quietly unpack the rest of her plants, putting each piece inside with a bit more care than the last. Everything about this den was undesireable, and that made it just right for her.. so long as the bear didn't choose to come back for it this year.

This was nothing like the Silver Court, unsettlingly so. Haedwig missed it dearly, but knew better than to complain. They easily could have turned her out; just because she didn't hold much respect here didn't mean it wasn't worth holding onto. She likely wouldn't survive winter on her own.

Not long after bumping into Arrluk, Pie still felt rather sociable. The weather had improved a bit too, the rain petering off midday and the clouds beginning to clear shortly thereafter. The world was still quite wet, though, which intensified all the smells in the air. One—rather, a blend—caught her attention and drew her forward, nostalgia building in her breast. The herbal scents made her think of her anaa.

She found herself approaching a lair tucked among the rocks. Her yellow eyes skirted over its entrance before focusing on the figure darting in and out of it. She even looked like Sialuk somewhat, though she was a good deal taller and stockier. Her fur was a few shades… Treepie hated to think dirtier, though it was apt.

Her nose twitched as she stepped forward and offered, Greetings. Are you one of Katmai’s recruits? She paused for a beat before adding, I’m Treepie.

The approach of a strange face had Haedwig wary after being introduced to Kindle's dog just days prior. But head turning back, she decided that this one looked relatively normal. She couldn't quite smell them over her mix of herbs from where she stood.

Haedwig. She responded, her look that screamed suspicion fading for the time being. Kindle brought me here. Since arriving she hadn't actually spoken to Katmai, though they had met previously, unbeknownst to her.

Sliding out of the den for a proper meeting, she managed to get a better sniff in. There was something strange about this one - but nothing that upset Haedwig. They were still a wolf, and it was nothing she hadn't come across before. If you're asking, can I assume that you are a recruit? She raised a brow to keep the question pointed. It was impossible not to be curious of who her packmates would be.

There was a wary look on the woman’s face when she turned, her aging features taking Tiuttuk by surprise. She thought fleetingly of her grandparents and ducked her head in an instinctive display of respect. The she-wolf introduced herself as Haedwig before stepping out of the den to properly acquaint with the Ostrega.

The question earned a flickering smile from Pie as she admitted, Sort of yes, sort of no. I was already living here when Katmai was searching for a territory to claim. I suggested the mountain. There was a village here before, but it had disbanded. I’m glad for the opportunity to rebuild.

Her yellow eyes skirted past the woman’s slightly grubby shoulder, toward the mouth of the cave. She realized Haedwig must be stashing herbs. Her heart skipped a beat. The healing ulaq was now nothing more than a memory, like Sialuk’s Moonspear, but this was a promising sign of a brighter future.

I followed my nose here. Are you a healer? Treepie guessed.

This one had been here for a while, then. Haedwig had to wonder if the forming pack would give Treepie any sort of boost in status for it, out of respect for what came before. It's good to meet you, then. She wouldn't comment on it further, it wasn't her place.

I am. She responded, eyes turning to the cave behind her. This isn't where I want to keep my herbs, though. A bear's den isn't very welcoming. She would move out of it once her season passed to search for something a bit more desireable. Whether that would happen in weeks or months, she didn't know.

But if you've lived here for a while now, you can tell me something about mountain life. She moved on from the topic, looking up to the peaks of Moonspear. I haven't lived on one since I was much younger. It makes me worry for my bones. Either she would stay close to the mountain's base as she was now, or move to where the majority denned and not come down more than a few times a month. That was how it went in her head.

Sialuk would approve, Treepie thought, though she supposed such things didn’t much matter anymore. After confirming her trade, Haedwig pointed out that this wasn’t her ideal place for storing herbs. Pie’s jaw tensed at the mention of a bear, yellow eyes flicking past the elder before finding their way back to her face as Haedwig spoke of her old bones.

I wish our healing ulaq hadn’t disintegrated, Tiuttuk said on a sigh. I think this place should serve you well. I don’t think any bears have used it recently… She blinked, shuffling her paws. As for mountain life: it can be tough on the body. I would recommend doing daily exercises—climbs, specifically—to condition yourself.

Muscles could be strengthened, she knew, but what about bones? She supposed Haedwig would know more about that. If she ended up spending most of her time near the mountain’s foot, she might miss out on some things, though many of the pack’s activities took place on the lower reaches of Moonspear.

We used to keep our ulax higher, near the rendezvous site, but they’re all abandoned now. There’s no reason we couldn’t find new locations for these things, which suit its current residents. Might be worth a conversation with Katmai and Kinusi. Remembering what Haedwig had said about Kindle, she asked, Have you met them yet?

Haedwig couldn't help her 'humph' when Treepie spoke. She didn't need conditioning - her muscles were as magnificent as ever after travelling! As magnificent as they could be on an old woman. It was going to be the chronic pain that got to her, she needed to find something for it soon. But, she understood that Treepie meant well.

No, she admitted, I haven't met them. I was a bit startled when I arrived so I didn't stay long, I only just got back. The trip to retrieve her herbs had been refreshing, however. She didn't regret it.

Clicking her tongue, she waited for a moment before asking Treepie a question which she thought to be rather urgent. Is it true that they're keeping a dog here? She had seen and heard it right in front of her when Kindle picked her up with.. it, but Haedwig still didn't want to believe that pack leaders, even if they were young, would be so reckless.

Before she could ask what had startled Haedwig, the older woman made an inquiry of her own. Tiuttuk blinked a few times at the unexpected question. She wasn’t entirely sure what a dog was, much less whether the leaders might be harboring one. She drew in a breath, pondering how to respond, particularly as she intuited a hint of disapproval in Haedwig’s tone.

I’m not sure, honestly, she replied. She deliberated asking more about dogs, then decided to ask her original question instead: What startled you?

Why do you think I asked about the dog? She said in response to Treepie's question. I saw it right in front of me, but I still find it hard to believe. Maybe I just don't understand how new generations are doing things.

When she was still young, her pack told stories of the domesticated canines that painted them as horrible creatures. Wolves who were loyal to the two-legged beasts who hunted them as prey, slowly shifting into lesser beings as years went by and they lost what made them lupine.

But those were only stories. What made Haedwig truly nervous was the diseases they carried.

Beggars can't be choosers, though. I'll learn to be comfortable with it. The same way she had learned to be comfortable with coyotes. Her birth pack had hated them, too.

The dog had startled her. Tiuttuk licked her lips as she began to feel wrong-footed. She still didn’t know the first thing about dogs, nor why Haedwig clearly feared them. She could gather that a dog was a creature of some kind, of an ilk that Katmai and Kinusi might welcome in the ranks. Perhaps it was some kind of canine, similar to coyotes or foxes (which she incorrectly lumped in with the others).

She mulled another moment, then decided to confess, I don’t know what a dog is, exactly. Is it some sort of canine? She paused to let Haedwig answer, then tacked on, What about them makes you so uncomfortable?

Treepie knew some wolves disdained aforementioned smaller canids, though she wasn’t one of them. She vaguely remembered her anaa talking fondly of a coyote she’d known prior to Tiuttuk’s birth—perhaps a potential sire, if her parentage hadn’t been so obvious. She couldn’t recall his name, nor whether she’d met him or any other… wait.

She could never forget Quail’s peculiar face, nor the strange tales she’d told. Some of her words floated through Pie’s memory now: “…made to live with dogs…” Treepie’s yellow eyes widened.

Oh, so Treepie didn't know what they were. Haedwig frowned, supposing that it made sense, she hadn't seen much in the way of dogs or beasts since arriving in the Teekon Wilds.

They are canine. She responded, contemplating if she should tell Treepie the old folktales she was subject to. What harm could it do? They walk beside two-legged beasts who hunt wolves. In my birth pack, they said they lost their identity and began to look stranger and stranger through their generations because of it.

They're cursed. Their brains are different, wired to respond and obey. Sometimes they try to return to the wilds, but they carry diseases that bring danger to wolves.

Haedwig snorted, as though dismissing her claims. But we used to tell stories that coyotes were nothing but thieves and pup killers too, now coywolves are around every corner. But coyotes had been untamed, what they did was for survival. Haedwig knew dogs to kill for the pleasure of it. Like I said, I'm probably just old.

Seconds after recalling her uneasy exchange with Quail, Treepie had another, much bigger revelation, triggered in part by Haedwig’s present mention of two-legged beasts. Unfortunately, she caught nothing else after that as her eyes glazed and a peculiar feeling—not quite painful, more like a flicker of light—arced through her head. Following this metaphorical flashbulb, imagines began to develop like photographs in a stop bath.

Suddenly, she could remember meeting her newborn siblings at Redhawk Caldera, followed by her foray to the nearby lake. Then there were glimpses of a forest and a wolf with an orange stripe, though she could not remember his name. The familiar murk rose up beyond that, though Treepie had the distinctive sense that those shadows would be repealed in time too.

“…I’m probably just old,” Haedwig finished right when Tiuttuk resurfaced from the fixer with a bitten-off gasp.

She realized her whole body was clenched and drew in a deep breath, then exhaled as she tried to coax the tension from what seemed like every single muscle. She felt slightly trembly in the aftermath and her head ached dully, though that was nothing new.

It turns out, I do know about dogs. I believe I met one. She told me about those same two-legged beasts, Pie said, hoping her lapse hadn’t been obvious.

She shuddered, though whether that had to do with the talk of humans or her resurfaced memories, she couldn’t be sure. Treepie blinked a couple of times, trying to gather her thoughts and focus, even though part of her wanted to look inward, explore the newly shrunken edges of the black hole in her mind.

Her stories frightened me a little, though Quail wasn’t so bad herself. Her looks caught me off guard at first, she admitted, not mentioning that she’d thought her downright ugly. And she wore this strange… thing around her neck that unsettled me. But she was perfectly well-mannered.

Her memory of that night seemed to sharpen with every passing second, to the point where Tiuttuk could admit to herself that she hadn’t necessarily been very polite to Quail. A tooth sunk into her lip and she glanced to the side, hoping perhaps she could redeem herself if she came across the dog who supposedly lived on the mountain now.

Haedwig watched Treepie with a frown, wondering if she had either spooked or bored her from that glazed over expression.

A collar? She raised a brow at the mention of something worn around the dog's neck. They're a mark of the beasts. Shame worthy, certainly. I'd say you should do her a favour and tear it off if she was really so polite, but I don't think you'll see her again. Dogs don't survive long out here. Not alone, they didn't.

Sorry, you probably don't want to hear that. Haedwig pushed out a breath, glancing towards the bear den. I need to rest my bones. A polite way of sending the younger wolf away. Treepie had managed to make a good impression, and Haedwig planned to call on her sooner or later.

Tiuttuk filed “collar” in the cabinet in the back of her mind, suppressing a small shudder at its association with the beasts. It was an apt word for the image her mind conjured. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it—Haedwig’s frank words chased it away. Pie stared, then swallowed.

Quail had been a strange creature, though she didn’t deserve such an awful fate. Before Treepie could think of what to say, Haedwig announced her need for rest. Almost instinctively, the yearling backed up a few steps, acknowledging the elder’s dismissal.

Rest well, she said simply, dipping her snout before swiveling and departing.

She glanced back over her shoulder once, then faced forward, her brow knitting. Surely Quail wasn’t the dog living on the mount, so who were they? Haedwig clearly didn’t approve, not to mention her certainty that a dog could not survive the wilderness. Pie pondered this for a moment as she strode away. She considered seeking out answers, though her social battery was officially drained.

Instead, she set that aside as her mind quickly turned to her resurfacing memories. Tiuttuk sought someplace quiet to settle down and concentrate, already bracing herself for the pressure headache she could feel building at the base of her skull.