Arrow Lake ❝—by my blood & bone.❞ (lbr.)

looming distantly against the high ground and in part concealed by the hunched figure of a gloomy hillock, stigmata paused to observe the activity thrumming at the mouth of aurëwen's birthing den, and all at once he knew life had taken root in diaspora. he took more pride in the moment than he should have - perhaps taking false credit for the small family's continued survival - but mostly he just felt an overwhelming sense of contentment; able to forget for once the shadows constantly eating away at him...

he perked up as two figures emerged, prepared to approach and ask for news, but the hunter general, for all his proposed omniscience, nearly imploded when he realized that it was olive there beside mahler - her belly taut with a beginning roundness. it was the first time his mind went utterly blank. no cogs turned; no clever insinuations about the situation occurred. in fact, the only thing that even managed to occur to him afterwards was a visceral flesh memory he felt down to his very skeleton: the feeling of her beneath him, and a burst of passion he could not describe or replicate.

an intense wave of guilt washed over him next - and he thought that his stomach would curl up so tightly he could never eat again. his shame turned quickly to indignant anger, and were he a younger wolf, his temper would have stolen him before the tactician's more sound processes had had a chance to return. as quickly as he'd come, stigmata crept away from the scene, silent and disturbed; unwilling yet to face any consequences until he absolutely had to. 

cameoooooo