Blacktail Deer Plateau coming to a close, we're down by ten.

@Kieran Adrien and/or @Grayday

It seemed that bliss was hiding around each corner, and Moonstone was just unlucky enough to be going straight. Every once in a while, she'd have a good day, perhaps filled with good company and good food, and other times she'd have days where she felt so slow and drowsy that even her thoughts seemed sluggish passing through her mind. The only thing that these two had in common was their ending; no matter what the day had consisted of, it always ended in the same nightmare. 

Moonstone looked up through groggy eyes, hoping that no one had been around to see her twitches or hear her calls. With a sigh, she stood up on all fours and shook her coat free of its stiff points. It was likely only the rise of the evening (the moon was visible, but the sunset still teased at the horizon), but she wouldn't have known either way. Moonstone began walking toward the borders, figuring that she ought to put her energy into something productive.

The leader woke at the first sounds of distress, but by the time he'd extracted himself from the pile of snoring puppies he slept on, Moonstone had slipped away. Grayday glanced between his warm bed and the blink of white growing steadily further away and made a quick decision. Lavender murmured after him as he went, but all three were snoozing once more by the time he caught up to his quarry.

He was silent as he drew alongside the pale shewolf, his larger form brushing briefly against hers in tacit support. His eyes traced the lines of her face for a moment before straying to their surroundings. They were headed toward the borders, and Grayday let out a tiny sigh as he recognized a familiar pattern.

Although taken by surprise, Moonstone resisted flaring her hackles as instincts said to. Not only did the footprints come from within the territory, but they were paired with a familiar scent and a touch just light enough to put her heart to ease. Looks like I'm not the only one having a rough night, huh? she laughed, noting Grayday's sigh. If she had three infants and two estranged teens to worry about, well, she might have felt the same way. 

I figured that since I wasn't getting much sleep anyway, Moonstone began with a hefty sigh of her own, I'd put my energy into something useful. But was anything really useful when she felt it had no use at all? After all, one could mark any borderline they wanted, but that didn't mean they were marking out a home.

Grayday considered letting the matter lie. Though he would always consider the personal lives of his packmates his business, he knew that wasn't a free pass to delve right into delicate matters like nightmares and painful pasts. Trust had to be established first, and sometimes - like with Gwen - trust just didn't come fast enough for some wolves.

But he had to start somewhere.

"I sleep light," he told her, not wanting to come right out and say that she'd woken him up. He didn't know if she was the type to blame herself for silly things like that, but it was better safe than sorry.

"So what were you planning? Hunting or border marking?" he asked. They didn't need to hunt tonight, but an extra meal never hurt anyone this time of year. He was already encouraging his children to eat past their appetites; they'd need the extra layer of fat to keep them warm and healthy in the wintertime. His mother always used to say, "An extra meal in autumn can be an extra day in winter."

Moonstone sighed once more, this time coming from deep within. She didn't know what she'd been planning; the thought had only crossed her mind when Grayday brought it up. Probably just some marking. I'm still a bit groggy, but I guess we can see what happens. Does that work for you? After all, it always took two to tango. She'd never been a particularly strong huntress, especially not in new territories where she hadn't had the chance to really study the land. 

Looking up, she could see that the sun had now completely retreated beyond the horizon, allowing stars of all shapes and sizes to slowly come into view. Sometimes, when the sky was clear enough and the cold season was at its peak, Moonstone was able to faintly pick out the distant ribbons of color dancing over the mountains.

Part of her feared that she might never have that privilege ever again.

Grayday dipped his head in assent. Border marking was dull work compared to hunting, but it still needed to be done. Besides, it would give them more time to talk, if the mood happened to strike the pale shewolf. He didn't know her very well just yet, but she didn't seem like the quiet type.

He walked silently beside her, gazing out over the tall, swaying grasses. Now and then, the flicker of a lightning bug would draw his eyes, but for the most part, he focused on the edge of the plateau. He loved the view this new territory afforded them, and he loved it especially at night. Steam rose up off the distant hotsprings, and the river sparkled like a silver ribbon, and the flatlands seemed to go on forever, broken only by the odd lake or pond or cluster of trees.

"Damn, but I love this view," he sighed, his tail wagging as he admired the pretty scene. He wondered if it would be better with his sight fully restore, or if the fuzziness of the picture made it all the more comforting.

Moonstone made a small,  Hm? sound, but soon realized that Grayday was right. Her eyes had always been slow to focus, but once they finally finished, she could see that the land itself was almost as beautiful as the sky above it. At first, she didn't think about how much of it Grayday would have been able to see, but it did eventually cross her mind. She took in a deep breath and thought of how to properly phrase her question, before slowly easing into it. Can you...is it clear? I mean, can you see it? Then, before she could see whatever reaction he might have had, she whipped her head back around to the edge of the plateau.

Grayday gave a careless shrug. "I see somethin', that's for sure. It's fuzzy, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful. Not to me," he explained. And it was true that he wouldn't know the trees from the grass if it weren't for common sense. Those dark blotches could be anything, considering how ill-defined they were to his weathered eyes. But he knew they could be little else. And that river could be a long string of pale rocks, but how would that have happened? "I can see just enough, if you ask me. And when I'm blind, I suppose I'll say the same thing."

He'd miss it, of course. He'd miss looking at the beautiful faces of his children, and seeing the silver of the moon light up everything in sight. But he missed looking at his father, didn't he? And when he'd still lived in Alaska, he'd missed the moon during those long months of daylight. Grayday would get through it, same as he always did.

He turned his gaze to Moonstone and studied her for a moment, remembering something she'd said when they met. "When we met, you said you knew what it was like. Is there something wrong with your sight?" he asked her.

Moonstone's nose twitched in slight disagreement, though she didn't question Grayday's passive attitude. To each their own,  she thought and decided to leave it at that. It's these, she said as she widened her lids to show off the faint blues she called eyes. They were so light that if one looked hard enough, they might see flecks of red where the blood vessels peeked through. There was once an ongoing joke that she'd been one blessing away from an albino, but Moonstone found it to be more cruel than funny. It was akin to saying that a fish was one blessing away from a salamander, as if one held more worth than the other.

Figuring that Grayday more than likely had no idea just what she was getting at, Moonstone thought to clarify, I can't see much in the light, just 'cause it hurts to open my eyes. And I don't know about you, but I think it's pretty hard to see through closed eyes. The sun caused such a sharp ache that even peeking beyond the shield of foliage she often hid behind felt like a death wish. Still, she wasn't going blind anytime soon, so their struggles held some difference.

Grayday's head cocked comically to the side when she gave her first response. He assumed she was talking about her eyes, but that didn't really explain what was going on with her. When she explained, however, the leader made a soft sound of comprehension. "I knew someone with that same problem," he told her, thinking of Nimue's pinkish irises. He'd liked the girl, but he thought he and Moonstone got along much better already.

 "I see better in the daytime, but my coat is so thick that I can't get much done during the day, for most of the year," he revealed. "You'd've liked it where I was born, though. Well, some of the time, at least. We have nighttime all winter, and daytime all summer."

It was colder there, too. It never got too hot for him to function back at Sameth.

He shot Moonstone a curious look and asked, "What was it like where you were born?"

Daylight all summer? Moonstone would have rather died than have had to sit through that, but she figured that if it meant she'd get an entire season of darkness, a short trip might someday be in order. Maybe I'll go one day, she breathed, more for her own ears than for Grayday's. It was a sort of affirmation; speak it into existence. Moonstone found that she'd had a habit of forgetting things recently, but she would hate to forget about this winter wonderland.

Talking about her infancy wasn't something that Moonstone found particularly difficult, though it normally came with a bit of hesitation. There was something about Grayday's presence that reassured her, however, and she felt safe telling him all that she'd been hiding inside. It hurt, she whispered, looking back at him, It hurt a lot. When I was really young, I remember crying constantly, since we were always on the move. No one knew what was wrong with me, and if it hadn't been for my mother protecting me the way she did, my father would have demanded they leave me. She wouldn't have been angry if he had; the whole came before the individual.

Eventually I learned how to talk and I could tell them why I was screaming, but most of them didn't want to help. They thought I was defective, like dead weight. I had to do a lot of healing on my own, but I think it was important that it happened that way. Moonstone thought back to the fire, the way that the flames seemed to taunt her. She couldn't look to see their dying faces, but she could hear their calls loud and clear. She could have helped them, she thought, but now they were dead, and there was nothing to be done about it.

Grayday's expression shifted rapidly between hard and soft as she told her story. His heart ached for the girl that she'd been, and for the woman she'd become. If it'd been his daughter, crying like that... He couldn't imagine wanting to leave her behind. Part of him wanted to say so, but it seemed like Moonstone had come to her own conclusions about the life she'd lived, and if it would ever be Grayday's place to challenge that, it was not yet.

"You remind me of my Dawn," Grayday decided. "Tough."

He looked back across the flatlands, biting back words of condemnation against Moonstone's pack. He hadn't been there; didn't know the whole story. "There was a fire in my father's land, when I was just a boy. I don't know how it happened, but I was suddenly separated from everyone, and the fire was all around me. I couldn't see anything through the smoke, and even with my eyes closed, the heat was more painful than anything I'd ever experienced, at that age. And I could hear my father calling to me, telling me to call out so he could find me," he said. "And we all got out alright. Everyone was safe, and I wasn't hurt too badly. But for months afterward, I was getting infections in my eyes, and by the time they were completely healed, I couldn't see quite as well as I remembered. They've been getting worse and worse, over the years."

You were lucky, so Moonstone thought, though she immediately condemned herself for even imagining such brash bitterness. Grayday still had his family, no matter how far away they were, but Moonstone was alone. 

Or so she had been.

I lost my family in a fire, she said, her eyes trained on the ground. A few seconds later, she managed to look him in his eyes again, really examining his expression. I keep having these nightmares about how it happened and I don't think that they'll ever stop. She'd never admitted it to anyone, but maybe now that she had, she could start to heal. There was a long road ahead, Moonstone knew, but who would she be without her seemingly invincible hope?

A tiny sound of startled displeasure escaped the male at Moonstone's declaration. He took a half-step toward her before she spoke again, and at this, shame lanced through the aging male. He was ashamed to have lost his family; ashamed to have left them behind when he'd been blessed by a loving sire and a wise, nurturing dam. He was ashamed that he'd wallowed in sorrow for so many years while this girl had been on her own, suffering in her trauma.

"C'mere," he said, his voice so low and choked that it was more vibration in his throat than acutal sound. He saved her the trouble by closing the distance between them and tucking his head over her shoulders and the back of her neck, not stopping to wonder if she would find this invasion of space rude or presumptuous. It hurt to think about any child in that situation, but it hurt more to think about Moonstone, so like his own daughter, suffering through such trials. "You're stronger than I am," he murmured. "I always meant to go back home, but I couldn't find it, and I wasted years of my life wallowing in pity. I'd've never known you'd been through something like that."

If anything, Moonstone was appreciative of Grayday's affection. She listened to his words, heard his sympathy, and tucked them both away somewhere deep in her mind. She sucked in a sharp breath, finally being able to take in some of the weight that she'd been avoiding, then settled into the embrace. It was like she'd been avoiding the process of grieving altogether by trying to convince herself that there never was anything to grieve in the first place. But being here, admitting her pain to someone else, Moonstone knew that she wouldn't be able to put it off for much longer.

She sighed and gently lifted herself from his reach, beginning to walk once more. Maybe, she began, we can help each other. I don't know your home or your reasons, but if it's something that you miss, then we could try finding it in due time. Besides, Moonstone had never been one to turn down a good travel opportunity.

Grayday looked at Moonstone with a sad smile on his face. "There's nothing there for me. It's been years, and it's an old hurt, now. My home is with my family," he said firmly. "Not the same family I left behind, but the family I've made for myself." He gave her a soft look. "I know that we can't replace what you've lost, but perhaps you can make room in your heart for us, too? It would help me, to know that you've found some measure of comfort." It did no good, after all, to have a beating heart if that heart didn't beat with joy.

"How can I help you?" he asked her. "Is there something you need to find?"

Moonstone nodded her head with one silent up-down and a gentle nudge at Grayday's shoulder. Of course I can. Even without the offer, she would have done it; she had to cling to something, and this pack was just small enough to fit inside of her heart. There was nothing more that she thought to ask of him, but maybe that was just because there was nothing else she really wanted. I'd like a mentor, I suppose. I never really learned any 'useful' skills, but I'd like to. What was the point of having a family is Moonstone wasn't able to help them? She refused to remain a dead weight. 

I don't like how sad this has become, she joked, bumping Grayday again with a playful little laugh, Let's talk about the good things. There was no use in wallowing in the past, especially not some as sad as these. Moonstone wanted to hear a story, some advice, maybe a token of fatherly wisdom; anything to get away from the hole they stood beside.

Grayday's tail wagged at such an easy request. "We can do that," he agreed. "What do you want to learn? I know hunting, and a bit of everything but herbs and astronomy. Sylvas is our best fighter, of course, and Howl might be better if you want to focus on scouting. We don't have a healer, unfortunately, so we'd have to look outside the pack for someone to teach you that," he realized, thinking that it might be a good idea to visit the neighboring packs, to see if any of them had someone who could teach herbs and healing.

His voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he began to move along the borders, remembering what they'd come out there for in the first place. He paused to lift his leg to a tree as he tried to think of something good to talk about.

"Heartha's pups are due any day, now," said the male, turning bright eyes on Moonstone. "I'm excited to meet them. I love babies."

There were a lot of options, but Moonstone hadn't realized just how many until Grayday started naming a few of them. I was supposed to be a healer, actually. It would have been one of her duties, had she finished training. And I obviously like astronomy a lot, so it looks like we might be polar opposites. You know, aside from the whole "family-[almost]-dying-in-a-fire" thing. Hunting was something that Moonstone thought all wolves just did, and because she wasn't too passionate about it, keeping it as a trade didn't interest her much. 

Maybe I could talk to Howl about some scout training, seeing as it seemed the better choice of the three. She would have never thrived as a fighter; she had too many emotions to think about.

"We'll find you a teacher somewhere," said Grayday, glancing out across the plains once more. "There are other packs nearby. One of them is bound to have a healer willing to teach you a thing or two."

He gave a serious nod at her observation. "Healing and astronomy require a lot more finesse and eyesight than I have to spare," he said loftily, a teasing edge to his voice. "But yes - talking to Howl might be a good idea. Along with scouting, you can visit the packs nearby, and see if anyone will teach you." He sobered a bit. "A healer would be very useful. We've suffered for lack of them, in the past."

"But enough the sad stuff, Moony! You said good. Puppies. Aren't you excited?" Just the thought of Heartha's impending litter was enough to put a spring in his step. "I was worried when I found out she was pregnant - and there's a story in itself, let me tell you - but I think we'll do alright, now. We've got a good pack together." His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "I hope she has at least two or three."

Grayday was right; they'd gone through the sad and evaluated the technical, so maybe it was time for a bit of happy. That is exciting, she said with a steady wag of her tail, I love  kids. Maybe it was because (for all extensive purposes) she was still a child herself, but something about their innocent gaiety made her heart leap with joy.

There were already Grayday's three who he'd she'd begun to take a liking to, but she hadn't expected there to be more so late in the season. The welcoming of new pups was normally something that a pack took up in the spring when food was plentiful and the weather was agreeable, but then again, Moonstone had no idea if any of that was necessary to raise a family anyway.

What do you mean, a story? She was curious to hear about this tale of tales, though she wouldn't have pressed if denied.

Grayday nodded in agreement at this pronouncement; there was nothing he loved better than his children, and very little more exciting than a fresh batch of pups. It seemed that Moonstone shared this love of cubs with him. If she were just a little bit older, he might've considered assigning her the duty of playing 'mother' to the three, but it seemed cruel to steal more of her childhood, when so much had been taken from her already.

He laughed when she seemed excited by the prospect of that particular story. Although it wasn't the happy tale that Grayday would've liked to tell her, he didn't see any reason for subterfuge.

"When Heartha asked if she could whelp this year, I told her no. My pups had already been born, and more than that, we were planning to leave for this place as soon as the kids were old enough," he explained. "The place we were at wasn't a good place to spend the winter, and if Heartha whelped right then, we'd have to wait until hers were grown as well, and that would've cut things a bit close."

He laughed to himself, thinking about it all. It wasn't exactly funny, but it was strange to think about. Things seemed much better off, now, and Grayday was feeling far more generous. "She didn't listen. When her heat came, she mated with Howl, and that was that, I suppose. I was angry, but she's family. What could be done?" He trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. If he'd turned Howl away... he was part of the family, now, too. Grayday wondered what things would've been like without his stalwart presence. "Anyway - she's a bit senile. We had to forgive her. This is probably her last chance at a litter, considering her age. She stayed with us, and I moved the pack a bit early so her pups would be born here instead. Things worked out after all," the male explained, his tail wagging a bit.