Whitefish River find me in the moonlight

@Grayday :)

There was something to be said about the undeniable love the moon had for the earth. At times like this, when the sun was long gone and the only light was from the embrace of the heavens, one was given a special shot at seeing the purest of loves. Moonstone sat back on her haunches, a dying fish laid between her paws, watching. There was a place like this back at home in a secret cave that only she knew the way to, but it'd been months since she'd been able to pay a visit. She sighed and bent down to begin tearing at the stringy flesh (she'd never been a fan of seafood) while thoughts of home ran played through her mind. 

Had she made a mistake?

After checking with each and every member of his small pack, Grayday had set down from the plateau, intent on getting a few hours of searching in that night. He detected no sign or scent of his absent mate, but noted the proximity of both the hotsprings and Silvertip Mountain. He'd know that cold, striking outline from anyplace, any angle. He wasn't sure how he felt about being so close to a place he still sometimes thought of as home.

Purposefully, he did not go toward the mountain, but follow the river south. It would provide him with a visible trail to follow back home, and these days, getting back home was everything to the male. In fact, he was about to call it a night as he caught sight of the pale figure down the bank. His heart leapt - Gwen! - but when he drew closer, the woman's scent revealed her to be a stranger. The male stopped short and turned his head, following the ghostly woman's gaze. She was looking at the moon, of course, and Grayday couldn't stop the audible sigh that billowed like smoke from his parted lips.

"Makes you feel small, doesn't it?" he asked, thinking that - if the moon could talk.... if the moon could only talk, what could she tell them? Grayday knew that, somewhere outside of his own vision, Khoe was under this very same moon.

The male's voice called out, forcing Moonstone's ears flat in an immediate response of both anxiety and submission. It took her a moment to calm down but after figuring that if he wanted to hurt her, he would have by now, she was able to settle back in. Tiny, she laughed. There was nothing that humbled her more than having her quiet time beneath the moon's grace; being looked down upon helped her to remember just how small she really was.

Moonstone turned to face the burly male and with a smile, she asked, Is this something that you like to do? Watch the sky, I mean. If it was, well, that would be exciting! But if not, Moonstone would rather know in advance than accidentally talk his ear off about constellations and heavenly phenomena. I'm Moonstone, she said, hoping he'd respond with his own name. It was always good for the heart to meet a new soul and given the circumstances, a little healing was in order.

Grayday padded a few steps closer when his presence was acknowledged, but still stood several yards from the other when he sat down to join her vigil. "I used to," he said, remembering a puphood spent with his head craned back, his father's stories echoing in his ears. "I don't see much more than the moon, though, these days. My eyesight is going, and there's always less and less to see."

It was a mark of how far he'd come that he spoke the words without bitterness. His fading vision was, at present, the least of his problems, and besides - he could still see the moon.

"I'm Grayday," he added, offering his name when she offered hers. A hearty sense of approval shot through him. Here was a wolf who'd been properly named. Moonstone. It was clear and tangible. It meant something. Grayday would never know what to think of wolves who named their kids things like Heartha and Khoe.

Moonstone thought for a moment about the mutual pain they seemed to have; although she wasn't losing her eyesight like Grayday was, she certainly knew a piece of the struggle. During the day, when the sun was at its height and the water was merciless in its reflections, Moonstone could hardly bear to open her eyes, let alone use them to see anything. The night was a time of prosperity for her, and she liked to use every bit of it she could. I know what that's like, she sighed, then left it at that.

I like that name. Grayday. It wasn't anything like she'd heard back at home — Opal, Tourmaline, Ruby — but it still reminded her of the simplicity she was able to find there. Do you live around here? The smell of a pack would have been well diluted by the running waters of the creek, so knowing was more or less left up to trust.

The male's ears flickered in curiosity, and he turned his head away from the moon to study the equally stark creature beside him. Was she, too, losing her sight? The thought stirred pity and comiseration in the male's gut, even though he'd come to terms with his own diminishing sight.

"Up there," he replied, glancing briefly toward the plateau - he could see the vague glow of the cliffside from where he sat, and most wolves would see much more. Grayday remembered that Moonstone might not be most wolves, and explained: "I just moved my family to the plateau. Our old territory wasn't suited for winter."

"What about you?" he asked. "Are you from one of the packs nearby?"

With a sigh, she shook her head. If only, she snorted, I left home a little while ago to hopefully found a pack, but the way things are going, I think I'd be fine with settling down anywhere. If all of Grayday's wolves were as level-headed as he seemed to be, then maybe joining his family would be her next step. That is, only if by invitation; Moonstone was known for being headstrong and refusing to put her pride aside even when she needed to most.

She'd almost forgotten about the fish between her paws when she accidentally rubbed over it, startling herself in the process. I don't think I'm too hungry anymore, but I'd hate to see this go to waste. Do you want it?

Grayday held in a laugh. The story was so familiar to him, etched as it was into his heart. He'd left both his homes looking for something more, never stopping to see that his life was passing him by. Ambition had died in his heart, and now he lived only for his duty and the love he bore he children, and every member of his pack.

To look at Moonstone, so young and beautiful, the words were almost painful to hear.

"Well, you seem a good sort. If you find yourself looking for a pack in the meantime, you're welcome to make your home with me." With us, he might've said - but she was pretty, and heartache sometimes made Grayday give voice to perilous thoughts. Hopefully, his word choice would not be too significant to her.

Whens he offered the fish, he hesitated only a moment. "If you don't want it," he agreed. When you had kids to feed, you took every morsel.

Although she had never been one to read too deeply into meaningless conversations, Moonstone took note of the way of Grayday phrased his offer. Her ears swiveled atop her head, but she said nothing, other than the silent displacement of the carcass to where he stood. A moment of silence passed before she spoke up again; That doesn't sound too bad. Moonstone was a bit unsure and a little uneasy, but it was nothing that she doubted would pass. And besides, it was late. Maybe Grayday was just a bit tired, in which case, she could definitely sympathize with his slip up. She'd been known to get herself into all sorts of trouble once the night set in, but that was another story. 

C'mon then, she said, giving a nudge to the air in Grayday's direction, Let's see what you're hiding up there.

He was a bit surprised to be taken up on such an offer right away. Usually, the young were very set upon their paths. But perhaps Moonstone was a little older than she looked, or perhaps she'd been on her own a little longer than he'd guessed. Either way, she seemed eager to join him, and Grayday wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

This time, he did laugh, though he stood all the same on her insistence. "The trees," he confided as he led Moonstone back to the plateau. "We've got trees like you ain't ever seen before. And we're closer to the stars, too."

His head tilted to the side as he remembered something his father used to say. Grayday, lacking the imagination for that sort of thing, had never been able to understand it. "When you look at the stars," he asked, hesitating a moment. If this was just another one of his dad's silly stories, he stood to lose a bit more than his pride. The pack needed numbers, after all... but maybe, it wasn't so far-fetched. He'd never put too much stock in curses, either, but he seemed to be caught in the midst of one all the same. "Do you see pictures?"

The trees, he said, and suddenly she was enraptured in her own daydream of towering sequoias, Spanish moss dangling from their branches, chiggers dancing freely within. It warmed her heart to have such fond thoughts, though they lasted no more than a moment. Moonstone thought for a moment about Grayday's question, only a bit unsure as to what he meant. Well, if you mean pictures like stories, then I suppose so. I think that there's more up there than we'll ever know, and we'd be fools to ignore it. Because sure, it was comfortable to think that one was safe down on earth, completely independent from the heavens above. It was comfortable, but it was absurd.

Moonstone looked at Grayday with her alice-blues and gave an encouraging grin. What do you think? she asked, knowing that her mystical fantasies weren't for everyone. Even growing up in a family of believers, she was often told that she reached just a bit too far with her practices and that her heart was just a little too wild for a girl her age. It was easy to say that they were wrong and that she was completely right in everything that she preached. Yes, it would have been a comfortable thing to say, but it was absurd.

Grayday gave a tacit shrug, mulling over Moonstone's response. He wanted to press further, to ask if she knew the same constellations his father had, but he couldn't find the words. None of the names had remained with him, and his father's lore was now lost to the ages. Besides, why did a blind wolf need to know the stars by name?

"I don't pretend to know what's out there," he said, realizing that he'd been quiet too long. "My dad used to talk about the stars like he'd been there before. I didn't think much of it in my youth, but more and more, I've been wondering about the things he said."

Not just about the stars, and often, more about the things he hadn't said. What would Grayday have learned if he'd stayed at Sameth just a little bit longer?

"What's your dad like?" he asked, shooting Moonstone a smile as they drew nearer to the base of the plateau.

In a way, Moonstone felt bad for Grayday. She thought that his ignorance, although common, was misfortunate, and she did wish to see him open up a bit more. I think that we all come from the stars, so if you ask me, I'd say that maybe he had been. There was nothing that existed that wasn't connected to something else in one way or another, including the two of them. Moonstone sighed and gave a weary smile, only a bit unsure of what she could and could not say. Normally, a filtered Moon was a bothered one, but she also knew just when to turn the switch on and off. He's a nice guy, I think. 

In truth, she didn't know much about him aside from a name and a title. Sometimes, when she was really lucky, she would pass by him during a hunt or a move. They would nudge shoulders and exchange greetings, and that was that. We aren't too close. He had a lot of kids and even more priorities, so I never really had a chance to get to know him. Moonstone had grown up alongside a hoard of siblings, most coming from different mothers and all from different sects. Thus, she'd only ever been able to really form a bond with one other spirit, and that was her own. My mom, though. She had a smile to rival the sun's.

If Moonstone looked closely, she might see a hint of the disaproval her words caused the male. A father, in his opinion, ought to be there for his children. Wrongly, he assumed that the girl's father had been the 'hit and run' type, but he would have found the truth to be only a marginal improvement. Still, he held back his opinions on the matter. He would not have stood for someone speaking against his own sire, and so could not bring himself to speak poorly about another's.

He was glad when the subject turned to mothers. His own had been good and kind, if not a bit stern and opinionated. "Were you close with her, then?" he guessed, fishing for more information about the woman.

Oh boy, was I, Moonstone whispered. Her mother had always been drawn thin with responsibilities — one day Jasper would have a broken bone, the next it would be Jade — but she still somehow found time to make everyone smile. Sometimes, when the nightmares were particularly bad and Moonstone was unsure of what would come next, she would be pulled from her slumber by the sweet coo of her mother's song. She was, ah man, I can't even describe her. There's just...she had such grace. I think that maybe it's because I was her only girl; there's something about a mother's love when it comes to her baby girl.

Reminiscing on such happy times brought an ironic sense of sorrow onto Moonstone's young heart, but she quickly whisked it away. Having her around made me realize how much I wanna have kids of my own one day. Probably not right now, but in the future, I think. She'd have to be mated, and that was hard enough on its own. She had a specific list of qualifications for her suitors that even she would admit was a bit excessive. Still, Moonstone had never been one to falter on what was set.

"That's how I feel about my dad," said Grayday, his tail wagging happily. They'd reached the edge of the plateau, and Grayday moved ahead of his companion, having already discovered the best way to scale the incline. "I don't know how he did it, though. Kids are tough. Two litters in, and I still have a lot to learn." Maybe with the next one - but no. He wasn't sure he wanted to inflict himself upon another set of innocent children.

"Well, here it is. We just moved here from the valley over, so our scent markers need some strengthening," said Grayday when they'd reached the plateau's plane. The grasses looked like a dark, blue-green ocean as they swayed in the breeze. The male felt a strong sense of protectiveness swell in his breast. "Go ahead and make yourself at home."

He headed toward the area his children stayed in, tail swaying in tacit invitation.

Moonstone smiled as they reached the lip, hearing that Grayday was a father himself. That's lovely, she sighed. He ought to have his hands full, she thought; to have one was a blessing, but two? And at the same time? She couldn't even imagine. I can help with that, she offered in response to his remark about the weak borders, Maybe I can tag along with you for a while. Just to get a scope of the territory and all. Had Moonstone known that Grayday was headed to where the children were, her heart might have leapt with joy. 

Mind giving me a quick rundown of your members? she asked, not wanting to seem rude should she cross anyone in passing. It was always a sign of good manners to know one's peers by name, but maybe things were run a bit differently here.

Grayday hummed in agreement; it really was lovely. "Good - we need all the help we can get, right now," he said good-naturedly, slowing a bit so that she could walk beside him again. He wasn't going to be traversing the territory until nearer to morningtime, but he figured the rendezvous point was an important place for Moonstone to know.

"We're small, right now. Some, like my eldest daughter Dawn, like to come and go, but we have a good core. There's Sylvas and his son - good hunters, the both of them. They've been around the longest, along with an older she named Heartha. Sweet lady. She's expecting pups with her mate, Howl. You'll meet him at some point; he's out looking for more wolves at the moment," he explained, coming to a stop as he reached the puppy-pile half-hidden at the base of an old cottonwood tree. "And these are my three - Easy Ishara, Lavender Arushi, and Dauntless Mirza," said Grayday in a slightly lowered voice, pointing out each pup in turn. "Their mother... well, she's out, right now."

He stared unhappily at the sleepy cubs for a moment before seeming to remember his company. "Most of us sleep around here - better to watch the cubs that way. If you come by the rendezvous point a couple times a day, you're sure to meet everyone before long."

His voice roused Easy for a moment, who lifted her head long enough to ask after her mother. "Didjya find her, Da?"

Grayday smoothed a lick over her forehead. "Go back to sleep, princess."

In truth, Moonstone felt more comfortable in intimate settings than in large, widespread ones like her natal pack had been. She cooed an audible, Awe! , but instantly felt bad seeing that in the process, one of the girls had awoken. Grayday had said that his mate was out, and though that seemed innocent enough, his daughter proposed something a bit different. Figuring that it wasn't her place to speak on it, Moonstone pursed her lips and tried to push it away. 

How old are they? she whispered after moving a few paces away. They didn't look too old, but they certainly weren't newborns anymore. It didn't make sense to her that a mother would have left her pups behind to go do whatever it was she was doing, but again, it was none of her business.

Too young to be without a mother, the father thought, but Sunny and Dawn had been younger still when Amber disappeared. They would be okay. "They've seen about a season," Grayday said after a bit of contemplation. "Maybe a bit less." He couldn't quite remember whether or not it'd been the very beginning of summer when Khoe gave birth.

"My older ones are all grown up, now. Sunny's at another pack, and Dawn's always off on another adventure," he shared, settling down a few paces away and beginning to clean the stickers from between his paw pads. He spat one out and offered Moonstone a wry smile. "Good kids, but I can't get them within a mile of each other, these days."

Moonstone mouthed a silent Ah. in response to Grayday's comments about his older children. One had to wonder; if he had a litter old enough to fend for themselves, how old did that make him?  He certainly didn't look too old, but she knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Some wolves just aged better, is all. And how old are they? she asked despite having already formed an idea. Moonstone understood what it was like to have a family so far from one another. So much so, in fact, that the statement seemed so normal that she didn't even question it. 

Another question was burning on her tongue, and before she could even consider how rude it might have been, she had already let it slip, Are they from the same mother? Moonstone waited for a few seconds before the realization hit her, at which point she retracted inward ever so slightly, her ears slowly lowering with embarrassment. I'm not...I haven't gotten the hang of this whole conversation thing yet, I didn't mean to offend.

Grayday didn't bother counting, for that question. Although he didn't consider either of his first litter to be 'grown up', he figured they'd both gotten big and smart enough to be called, "Yearlings. Sunny's almost bigger than me, now, and Dawn is... bigger than you, probably," he half-teased, half-bragged. Any idiot could tell how proud he was of those two.

The wind was briefly knocked out of his sails at Moonstone's next question. He was not particularly offended, but he was surprised that someone would ask that question in polite conversation. When she quickly apologized, Grayday's delicate sensebilities were appeased. He relaxed a bit. "It's okay. I've been known to say the wrong thing every now and then," he placated, glancing back at his three children. Lavender, with her painted coat. Easy, all soot and charcoal. Dauntless, with his mossy eyes and treebark pelt. "My first mate disappeared shortly after Sunny and Dawn were born," he said with a sigh, thinking he might as well answer the question, presumptuous or not. "I wasn't the best father to them. I was angry and alone, and most of the time, the rest of the pack took care of them." He paused, realizing he'd been about to delve into a whole other story.

"Well, anyway - I met Khoe, and she wanted kids, and I wanted to redeem myself, I guess. And that's where these three came from. And now she's gone, too," he said with a tiny little laugh, laying his head down on his paws. "But she was always kind of a runner. I wouldn't mind, except the kids miss her somethin' awful. I don't think she knew quite what she was gettin' into."

Grayday had a knack for choosing names, so Moonstone thought, though her favorite of the group based on both title and appearance was little Lavender who she just could not help but peek at every once in a while. She laughed at the notion of Dawn being any larger than she was, though she knew that it was more than likely true; she was often dwarfed by her peers, even if by only an inch or so. I'm sure that you did a good job at giving them a good father, nonetheless. Anger isn't stronger than love, no matter how we sometimes feel. All things in life were done in either fear or love, and Moonstone thought that parenting ought to be an equal share of the two. 

Then the truth about the mother of the youngest came to light, so Moonstone took in a deep, reflective breath. Well, she began, searching for the best words she could, I wish I could give some advice or a token of wisdom to help put your heart at ease. I guess...well if you've done it once, who's to say you can't do it again? Besides, it takes a village. There's nothing wrong with some extra help. Moonstone knew that it wasn't Grayday who would be needing this Khoe over the course of the next few months, but the growing pups she'd left behind. Part of her was excited to secretly assign herself the challenge of helping to raise them with her pack mates, but the majority of what she felt was grief.

Anger isn't stronger than love, no matter how we sometimes feel.

The leader gave his companion a strange look. How odd, that someone should say that to him just as he was coming to realize it himself. Grayday wondered if Moonstone, too, had learned this the hard way; if she had wasted months or even years being angry, only to find that it was a lesser, secondary affliction. Pointless, in a word.

"I shaped up, in the end," he said, though he probably could've done a bit better. With this new litter, however, he was being the best dad he could be. If only he could go back and do the same for Sunny and Dawn... "I'd be glad for the help," he agreed, his tail whisking gently. "For Lavender and Easy, especially. I think Dawn suffered for my wife's absence more than anyone. I'm proud of the wolf she's become, but I can't help but feel she's missing... something," he decided. Something soft. "She... she has my temper, I suppose," he added a bit sheepishly.

There were many things that a father could give his daughter, that was true, but one thing he couldn't guarantee was a mother to give what he couldn't. Moonstone smiled, showing him that she was plenty happy to be of service. It was like a trial run, so she thought; she'd have a chance to help bring up some kids without the commitment of actually having to bring up kids. In truth, Moonstone was just a kid herself, but she'd grown up so quickly that sometimes, even she managed to forget.

Hearing Grayday talk about how Dawn seemed to have his temperament brought a much-needed laugh from her chest. You know, my mother used to say the same thing about me and my father. That's why she named me Moonstone; she said I was really angry and quick to anger, so she hoped that my calling me by a stone that signified peace and wisdom, I'd loosen up. She had no way to tell, but she hoped that it had worked.