Hushed Willows Stranded Lullaby

Dante had had a difficult time keeping track of his packmates as of late. It wasn't that he had gone suddenly blind or had lost all sense of direction within the territory (not that that wasn't a common occurrence- what could he say? The willows got proper confusing sometimes,) but rather that the rain had been so incessant recently that it had begun to become harder to track the scents of fellow faeries. Ever the adaptable young man, he'd found other ways to manage to figure out the location of his peers. This mostly consisted of trotting around the territory as often as possible and observing the most popular resting places, which was not as easy as it may have sounded (he never said it was an efficient alternative). Lumiya, though, was by far the easiest to find despite the showers. It seemed almost as if there were a part of her, just the smallest piece, lodged somewhere in Dante's heart, always being pulled towards the woman by some odd magnetic force.

It was this magnetic force that found Dante making his through the willows that day, a strange tug in his chest (which some might believe he'd only imagined- after all, how could he possess such a sixth sense?) setting him adrift in the territory. He was wandering, sure, but it was as though there was something to be found that he just hadn't quite discovered yet. When the trembling melody of her cries found his ears, Dante was certain he'd come across what he'd been unknowingly searching for.

His step picked up instantly, the boy moving on fleet feet to the cries of his love, only to be led to the exact tree under which they'd professed sweet words of fondness to each other many a night ago. The sight coupled with the current situation sent an ache straight through Dante's being as he pushed his way through the lavish curtain of fronds. The vision he beheld only made him hurt more than before; his wisp had draped herself against the base of the tree, tears flowing down her face. Dante glanced to her feathered companion, throwing him a worried look before rushing forward, wet pelt and all, and pressing his nose under her chin, gently nudging her face to meet his. Keep your head up, love, he whispered, the playful tone he attempted coming out more sad and fond than anything. What's happened, darling? What is it, he continued, his words cloaked in concern as he did a brief check for injuries on the woman. It seemed as though her pain wasn't physical, but something weighing on her mind instead, and he desperately wished to relieve her of her burdens. Searching her wildflower eyes, Dante awaited her response with gentle patience apparent on his face, apprehension seeping through.