Lost Creek Hollow don't you weep and don't you worry

Though the season of winter had passed unceremoniously, there were still bouts of coldness that dared to linger.  Yet in spite of that chill that greeted him both day and night, the flowers prospered and launched themselves headway into bloom.  That could not have been said of what was quickly becoming of the pack he and Harlyn had founded and if inward feelings could conjure enough strength to hold fast to the weather, then perhaps Mordecai himself was reason for the lasting chill.

Their numbers had faltered once again, though he did not entirely attribute it to inaction or lack thereof.  Ilya had perished, Luke had spirited away mysteriously, and the cougar still plagued and lurked through their ranks still.  He could not, and tried not to, fault those that had fled from their ranks.  Whatever luster the territory had held for him was absent, much like his priority to be out there and among his wolves.

But the borders were still tended to, he still partook in the spirit of the hunt.  It just seemed better somewhere along the line to focus on the core of their pack — his family.  Like the flowers, his children prospered and grew astonishingly.  It was as though for each new week there were new words and worlds to explore, questions to be stumbled upon and answered.  He did not lurk far from the den at their most active.

So when the first tinges of nightfall descended down upon the valley and the hollow itself, Mordecai dared to venture a bit further out.  @Harlyn was bound to be near and the time had come that it was her company that he sought in their role reversal.

nathaniel rateliff — i've been failing

The cougar had sent yet another of her wolves back home damaged both physically and spiritually. And while Harlyn knew there was yet another of hers in the demon cat's clutches, part of her hoped that Ishi would not return for the simple fact that she could not bear the sight of yet another packmate dragging themselves across the borders, broken and dying while she looked on, helpless to stop it.

She had dreamed of him again last night. She wasn't surprised at this of course; she dreamed of him every night. Thoughts of him kept her awake well after the sun set, and when finally she did sleep, it was thoughts of him that brought her jolting back awake long before the sun returned. Harlyn's dreams continued to urge her to find Luke, but she was too exhausted. Besides, now she had Shikoba to look after, and though the spirits told her that to save her pack, she needed to find Luke, the healer told her to stay and save one of the few packmates she had left.

It was in a state of hopeless exhaustion that Mordecai was to come upon his mate. In all of the turmoil their pack was going through, she was at least grateful for the attention he gave to their children. She wasn't sure how she would have pulled through without his help in at least this part of their lives. It was this that she tried to remember when she felt the strain of being the sole alpha; this that she tried to recall when it fell to her to direct the hunts, to make the decisions, and to keep their dwindling members together and happy. It helped her to keep at bay the disappointment she felt in his behavior since the loss of Ilya, and the doubt that plagued her when she thought of how she had chosen him, and had thus lost Luke seemingly forever.

Harlyn shut her eyes against the waning daylight and swallowed hard as the venomous thoughts began to creep into her heart. She prayed that the gods give her strength to hold on. They had chosen this path for her. They had given her all of the desires of her heart. They would see her through this as well, if she could simply hold on as the path twisted wildly before her.

He was not completely oblivious to the turmoil that Harlyn rolled through. He felt it too, though at some certain point he had been able to compartmentalize it all away, storing it and shoving it somewhere that it seemed it would serve it best to be forgotten. Yet it was all but forgotten, ever lurking in whatever shade or recess it could find in the riddled pathways of his thoughts, an ever constant reminder that things were far from all right in their neck of the woods. Like a picketing protest group, they displayed signs and hurled slurs as the funeral procession—that was better known as his outward expression—passed by.

He found her just as he had predicted, not at all too far away from the latest of their suburban forestry homes. There Mordecai found himself holding back for only a moment, all too familiar with the urging to compose oneself; though beneath that he wondered what horrors lied out from them to discover this evening, as it would have seemed in the latest of days there had been nothing but one after another, after another. Perhaps not quite at that rate of course, but nonetheless all ran together and pooled in whatever notch along their waters and quaint wood. It must have boasted at length, as he had not heard the cries of the unfamiliar; perhaps the cat had picked them all off.

That thought was enough to spur him forward, no longer willing to let Harlyn have her uninterrupted moment. His presence did not come without sound, but he hoped it was something of a comfort as he slipped alongside of her, drawing his scarred muzzle to drape along her shoulders and teeth to tousle the downy hairs of an ear.

Harlyn heard him approach and the sound drew her out of the darkness of her thoughts. He moved to the edge of her periphery and placed his head upon her, teasing her fur with his teeth. She did not move to look at him, nor did she react to his ministrations at all. She sat still as she had before his arrival, staring out into the woods without really seeing any of it.

She wanted to say something to him, but for the life of her she couldn't think of anything to say. Shikoba came to her mind. She could give an update on her. She could ask after the pups. Had there been any sign of Ishi? Of Luke? How was he feeling? She suspected his old injuries pained him sometimes still, was he doing alright? Her mind spun for a few seconds at the options, but soon enough fell into the usual muted buzz of wearingess. Her lips remained sealed, though her gaze did fall to the ground.

When she did not respond to him, his actions came to a slow cessation.  This time, concern pierced whatever benevolent expression he carried towards her, yet at first the only thing that came about was a bubbling and hushed vocalization at her lack of response.  Perhaps for a moment he feared she was displeased with him but cast that off, as had there been anything that pressing she would not have allowed him so near.  So it was something else, something tucked away in the burdening pack that sat squarely and invisibly at her shoulders.

He jabbed at her shoulder closest to him with his snout, as though the action would have spurred her into what it was that he wanted in some form of play.  Instead this time it was merely precursor to speech.  "What happened," he queried in hushed tones as though defeated — and hardly in the way of a question.  But it was not forceful and perhaps it was more than simply asking about what had happened today.  Things had long become tense and sullen in their woodland, and how ever on earth they kept it at bay from their children of all things may have been the greatest mystery of it all.

Harlyn's brow furrowed when his voice cut the silence that had lingered between them. What happened? It was then that she turned to look at him, curiosity upon her muzzle. Why was he acting like he didn't know? Was it... Her expression relaxed into astonished realization when it occurred to her. She hadn't even told him about Shikoba yet.

The alpha shook her head and looked away from him. What was happening to her? Endless nightmares? Mistaking wolves identities? Moving about like a zombie? She shook her head again. It was nothing. It was all nothing. She was just exhausted. The stress was just getting to her a bit.

"Shikoba came home," Harlyn told him, "She went after Ishi, and the beast mauled her. She's stable, but badly hurt. She's lucky to be alive..." As it seemed like they all were at this point. She shut her eyes and hung her head. She was failing her family. She couldn't keep them safe. If only Luke would come home...

He knew bits and pieces of what went on in the day to day, if only for the fact that Harlyn still reined him in on it. His isolation from the pack only went so far, as he was not foolish enough to extend it to his children, and definitely not their mother. It had surely cost him something along the way, though he had no idea to what extent. In his mind, he certainly still headed up the pack, though it was of no doubt on the other hand that they probably did not feel the same. Where he had been prevalent in what happened in the day to day, he was no longer.

And very much in the same way, he felt the weight Harlyn carried settle onto him. Mordecai did not know Shikoba well, but what he did know of her was positive. She had carried a fire within her that had propelled her within their ranks, and she had earned her place. But he had not interacted with her at length in some time, barring any passing greetings or interactions that had come into light when she had come by.

His own head hung though and heavily; such news stirred an uncomfortable tension that was no doubt palpable. Silence overtook him as it was wont to do in recent times and his gaze hastily shifted to the dimly lit trees in twilight and their yet to fully bud leaves. Those little nodes were there all the same and even he knew he could ignore the passage of time and all that it was inclined to do. "That goddamned cat," he growled in quiet tones. It was enough to make him grit his own teeth without thought.

Something had gone wrong. Harlyn had deduced it long ago that something had failed in her sacrifice of Ilya to appease the gods. The demon they created continued to wreak pain upon the Hollow and those Harlyn cherished most. One of theirs remained in its claws, another now home but damaged by its teeth. There were so few now left in the Hollow to defend them. It truly felt as though one by one, the pack had been picked off, as though the beast were checking off a list that ended with her. It was a terrifying thought, but only because there were three other names still upon it that had not been touched; Silas. Lark. Pippin.

"What are we to do, Mordecai?" Harlyn moaned, the careful control she had worked so hard to keep together beginning to show signs of crumbling, "We have no one but you and I left to defend the Hollow. Our children are too young, and they are too helpless to defend even themselves. What does this beast want? What can we do to appease it and make it leave us be?" She knew that there were no answers to these questions. They couldn't pick up and leave; it would only follow as was the will of the gods that played its puppeteers. Harlyn knew very well that there was no hiding from their wrath - it had never worked for their ancestors, and it would not work for them. It seemed hopeless.

His gaze went downcast at her cry, for even he was amiss on what it was that they could do. But even that was not entirely true, he knew what he would do in that situation, but he had long surrendered the majority of the decisions to her. It was primarily how they had ended up on the other side of the mountains in the first place, deep into what had been largely uncharted territory. And he knew that they were paying for it, even in spite of whatever scouting had been done beforehand. It wasn't like the cougar was just a problem for them solely, as he knew it had plagued others with its presence and ripped wolves from its ranks. Yet none of them had expressed a desire to fend it off beyond what they could do; fighting it only seemed a fair way to get bloodied and in the midst of winter, none of them had been willing to take that charge.

He didn't know what it wanted, nor did he know what would steer it clear from them. They couldn't stop their own wolves from seeking it out or otherwise getting into harm's way, that much was evident and he didn't expect them to be able to perform such a feat. "We leave," he said in hushed tones. "If we can't keep wolves to aid us, then we leave." He did not possess the faith that she held and was not bound by it. To him, leaving seemed a simple thing to do and in his mind, it was far easier to seek refuge and start again than fix what was so evidently broken.

Harlyn couldn't help the brief bark of laughter that escaped her lips at his suggestion. It was so simple and obvious, but one she knew would do them no good. She knew that he did not believe as she did, and part of the wrath that came down upon them now was that she had not converted him or any others under her care. Harlyn had seen the ways differing beliefs could rend relationships apart, and she had held back the push of hers due to fear of harming what she had worked so hard to cultivate. But it seemed now the time had passed when she could afford such luxuries as caution.

"The gods have sent this demon upon us as punishment," Harlyn answered him with a sad shake of her head, "We have displeased them. I have displeased them with the silence I've kept against them. We cannot run, Mordecai. It will follow. It will follow until they are appeased, and I do not know how to make it so."

Her laugh soured him for only a moment, prompting his face to contort somewhere out of view from where he lingered off to her side. That soured state was not meant to remain, as Mordecai grasped at the emotions unspoken behind it. She had dealt with their poorly dealt hand for far longer than he had; she had tended to the injured and battered, she had ensured the survival of their children far more than even he was capable of. For a moment he could not quell the sense that somehow he had been selfish somewhere along the line, that somehow his own actions had spurred all that was into reality. And maybe somehow that was entirely the case, but all in all he settled on the notion that was all bad luck. They all got their run of it at some point or another and sometimes, some of them died as a result. But he was not entirely keen on having that happen, as he liked living a lot better than he did the sensation of dying.

Still, more troubling to him was the way she spoke of her gods. He had never once held a bad thought for the notion of religion, or whatever sort of social construct it provided. But then and there he could not help but carry that bitter taste in his mouth because in his eyes, it was as though all the blame was spiraling down and being placed on her. His own head shook, the action an absent dismissal that such a thing could ever be true. But he did not know, and even if it were the case—something he would not rule out, that this was some divine retribution—he wanted to believe there were more options for them.

"It isn't safe for either of us to scout for recruits," he pointed out, not that it needed any pointing done for them. "I don't want us to run that risk, not with the children. We haven't been able to bolster our numbers by just sitting here either, not with the turn of the season. If it has to follow us then I say let it follow, we can lead it somewhere it will regret." He wanted to draw them back from where they had come, where the packs were far less spread out and for them, their isolation was not as pronounced as it had become.

"You—we—can't begin to figure out what to do about this if all we can focus on is whether or not we're going to be torn apart. Or who will be next. We can't fight it either, we don't have the resources." Three adults, one of which was injured, and three infants that barely had a grasp on the world did not a well defended home make, something else he was certain she was aware of.

Mordecai calmly gave his counterpoint, and Harlyn found that his reasoning was solid. Nothing they had done so far was working, nor would it were they to continue trying the same things they already had. Ever present in her mind was the nightmares she had involving Luke and the cat. She still felt the push from the spirits, urging her to seek him out and there they would find a solution to the Hollow's problems. But she had tried, and she had failed. And now they could not afford to keep trying considering how few they were. Really with Shikoba down and Ishi still in captive, it was just her and Mordecai left to defend their home, and their children.

It was then that it occurred to her that gods and the demon cat aside, they could not defend their territory. Any other unforeseen villain could walk right into their threshold, and they would be unable to stop them, unable to keep them from claiming their land, throwing them out, murdering their children... What did it matter if they saved themselves from Shardul and the vengeance of the Gods if the very next day, they could be taken by some other enemy?

Harlyn felt the realization fall upon her, and though it was overwhelming and terrifying, it also felt a bit like some of the weight had been lifted. There was no choice here really, was there?  "You're right..." Harlyn said quietly, "We can't stay. We couldn't protect this place whether it was the cat on our doorstep or any other enemy." Her eyes drifted across the trees in the wood and she felt remorse pooling in her heart for what they would lose. This had been everything she'd dreamed of, and now they would have to leave it behind.

As soon as the words had left him he had no true indication of what to expect from her. Someone to call their own had long been on her list of desires and surely they had achieved that. But it was another beast entirely to consider the abrupt possibility that there and then, it wasn't meant to be. Mordecai had never been one to hold an attachment to a place, though he was fond of the woodland that encompassed their home and because of that, he fully expected anger on her end. Cobbled together words of cutout letters stamping down on the fact that they had worked so hard to achieve their own territory, to maintain it and let it flourish.

Instead what he ended up with was a soft affirmation that perhaps it was better off that they depart, and the only resignation he found in there was her agreeing sans anger. His ears pulled back to drape against his skull; he reached out to comfort her with a soft nudge.

"There are other worlds than these," he offered. "We can always try again." While mistakes couldn't be changed, he knew that there were always opportunities that lied out in the open. It had always been that way, no matter how bad things were. "There are places we can go, if not for refuge then to find what we need to keep our family safe." And family, that was what he deemed far more important than some territory to lay claim to, or some faith-based fealty to a set of gods.

It felt as though he could read her mind when he reached for her and spoke his next words. This touch she did not shy away from, but leaned into until she was pressed against his side with her head wedged against his throat beneath his jaw. She shut her eyes as he spoke and took a steadying breath. It was hard to lose all that she'd ever wanted, to walk away from the place she thought she would live out the rest of her days. It was here that they'd become mates, that their children had been born. Where would they go now? What would become of them? And who would come to this place after they were gone, what would they make of what she would always consider in her heart to be hers?

Harlyn let silence fall for a moment, and for the grief to lay upon her like a cold blanket. It wasn't often that she allowed herself to be consumed by such, for pain, sadness and anger were emotions that made a creature useless, unproductive. She had too many responsibilities to allow herself such luxuries as wallowing.  Even in this instance, it was only a few minutes before she was straightening herself up again and fixing her mate with a look of resigned determination.

"Where do we go?" she asked, her own mind already running to answer the question. Harlyn couldn't see them claiming another territory for they would simply experience the same problems there as here, that they were too few to protect it. They would need to seek safety and protection with another pack if they could not find somewhere safer to settle and rebuild. She knew of one neighbor of theirs that she was on friendly terms with, but knew also that he had a woman of his own he was trying to claim. She would not have her children competing for resources with others, particularly when they would no longer be the children of Alphas. She was humble enough to fill a lower rank for herself, but she would not let it be a detriment to her children.

Her acquiescence to their situation pained him though it did not show outwardly. It came long before her voice did and only served to strength what comfort a mortal body could provide. If he needed to be her shelter from whatever storm raged, then that was what he would strive to be; as it were, Mordecai had long been better at a supporting role than a lead. And as silence delved between them, he did his best to void his mind of whatever intrusive thoughts forced their way in. Distraction would do him no good here, nor would it serve either of them any purpose in figuring out what steps there were to take next, if any at all were to come.

When she at last pulled away from their embrace to meet his solitary gaze, it seemed she had found her voice once again. Whatever lapse of her armor was coming back, that he could sense, and it bolstered his own resolve to find quick answers to her question. "We could go to find Charon," he suggested, thinking of his speckled nephew. There was only a catch to that — Mordecai had no idea where the yearling had ended up, if he had even stayed within the confines of the wilderness as they knew it. But she would know that as well as he did, and so it went without saying. "We can't do much until Shikoba's well enough for travel, though." And perhaps that too, went without saying, but by then he was thinking aloud. He had no real answer as to where they could go. Simply saying that the world was their oyster wasn't going to work here, no matter how charming he would have tried to be.

Harlyn considered his proposal silently. She had never known Charon, but new enough of him through Mordecai. For a moment, she found the idea strange that they would seek an existence beneath her mate's nephew, but the thought passed almost as soon as it came. They were not in the position to be choosey for themselves.

His second point was equally valid, and something that Harlyn had not at all considered. As much as she professed for the entire pack to be her family, when it came down to it, Mordecai, Silas, Lark and Pippin were her priority. In easy times, she considered them all to be of equal import, but that was apparently one of her idealistic notions. She cared very much for all of her pack, truly. But when it came down to it, it was her mate and children that consumed her heart and were most important.

"You're right," Harlyn replied, knowing it to be true, "And there's Ishi also. He may still be alive, and I hate the thought of him escaping somehow and coming home to find us gone." She bit her lip thinking about it. He was a sweet boy, and to go through so much be abandoned? She couldn't bear it even knowing how slim the odds were that he yet lived. "We cannot abandon our own. If we leave, we go with our whole family," she said with a tone of admittedly unsteady finality because truth be told, when push came to shove as it once had when she had walked away from one of her closest companions, leaving her to die in the field that day, Harlyn would always put her children before all else. Even her gods.

Ishi. He felt a tinge of pain at the mention of him. Mordecai did not think that the hope of him coming back to them alive was high, given everything else he had attributed the cougar of doing to them. It had cost them Ilya, potentially Luke too, and the list went on and on. But he understood the necessity to be certain, as to abandon on of their own would surely spell out death for them.

So even with her unsteady decision, he nodded in agreement. They had made it this far, so a little waiting would not spell total disaster for them. But he knew as well as she did there would be a tipping point, when their survival would outweigh the wait. "C'mon," he said, nudging her back towards the den. She needed rest, and the kids would be a welcome distraction for the both of them.

I'll let you fade ;)

Harlyn was thoughtful as the conversation came to a close, though she was roused by her mate's touch. He turned to go and the alpha made to follow, but she paused suddenly and whimpered softly to regain his attention.

"Wait," she said, her face softening as she closed the distance between them and she leaned tenderly towards him to nuzzle against his neck, "I've missed you..." When she pulled back, there was a spark in her eyes that she knew her mate would understand. There had been some distance between them the past few weeks, and many times had Harlyn missed her partner in all senses of the term. Tonight was the first time in a long while that Mordecai had risen and stepped back towards his role as alpha, and it made her yearn for him to step back into his role as her mate (in the biblical sense, wink wink).

She called after him and he halted, letting her join him. He was more than willing to let her steal away a moment with him, as they had them far and few in between. Though he caught her meaning, he let it slip by to wolfishly hold her close to him for several moments. Words did not come to him but that was no different than it had been as of late; he let actions speak for him instead. So when the proper lull to their moment came, he urged her along with him again. The future would work itself out eventually, as history was testament to the steady course it had carved into the earth with time.