Dragoncrest Cliffs the heart grows brutal from feeding on fantasies

The sun is bright in the sky, not a cloud for miles, but the light wind brushing across the terrain and deceivingly cold temperature tells a different story. It seems much brighter with snow on the ground, forcing her to squint and turn, backing out of the clearing and back toward the redwoods. With a canopy of shade above, rays of sunlight filtering through between each trees, she’s much more relaxed in the cover and protect it has to offer. The wound on her shoulder has mostly healed at this point, leaving fresh scar tissue, and she has regained the full use of her toes without any pain. Running and jumping has become something of ease, thankfully.

Briefly, Thuringwethil runs into Tirgatao and speaks with her a moment, knowing what she has to do. With the absence of dreams the last several weeks, maybe even months, she only has one omen to go on and it has come in a way she’s never experienced before, but @Wildfire’s scent on the wind temporarily distracts her. She concludes the brief discussion, moving on. Naturally, she turns through one particularly large tree to locate her mate. Thuringwethil’s ears cup forward and she peers around every turn the thicker the scent gets and doesn’t stop her search until she finds what she’s looking for.

Although it was still bitingly cold, the sun felt wonderful on Wildfire's pelt. She sprawled on the forest floor in front of the hollow redwood, basking in it with her head upright and her eyes closed. After a time, her neck and shoulders grew stiff, so she flopped onto her side. When eventually she grew weary of that position too, she rolled onto her back, legs splayed as the winter sunlight tickled her belly.

She drowsed like this, though a chestnut eye immediately cracked open when she heard familiar footfalls. Wildfire didn't bother rolling over, though she did stretch out a foreleg comically and yawn a little bit even as her mate's shadow fell across her upside-down form.

When she comes upon her, sprawled out on the ground, Thuringwethil smiles a little. She isn’t regarded much beyond an outstretched paw and the slight crack of her eyes. Her nose drops and she nips at the ends of her toes until they’re pulled away as a horse might. Some days still for surreal when it comes to Wildfire being home, forcing to seek her out and make sure she’s there, but as they days move on it is easier to accept. After a moment, she then slinks to the ground, shuffling up close to the fiery woman’s side. “I’ve been craving seal lately,” she says for no real reason at all. It isn’t a common source for them as most of them stayed further south along the coast but the cold weather hadn’t been enough to gift them with one again, like the previous year.

The prone Feisripa made a purring noise when the commander joined her on the ground, though she lapsed into silence at her mate's remark. After a beat, she replied, "Is seal small or large game?" She chuckled lightly and abruptly righted herself, remaining in a sphinx-like position and leaning gently into the Heda's shoulder blade.

"Maybe we should have a pack hunt?" she suggested in the next breath. "I've seen seals—or sea lions? Is there a difference?—near the delta further north along the coast," Wildfire said, "at least in the past."

Thuringwethil smirks at the response and thumps her tail against the ground. It’s like nothing ever happened to begin with. Almost. The sun shines against her mate’s face and her dark grey eyes watch her. A low gust of wind showers her with a fresh dusting of flakes from the lower redwood branches.

She is distracted briefly as saliva pools in her mouth, thinking of actually acquiring one to eat. The delta isn’t too far out of reach, now that they’re all home, and a big meal will help bring them together again. “You and Artaax should organize that. It’ll be good for us,” she says with a smile. A little comradery before they delve head first into the unknown that is their neighbors, hoping it doesn’t interfere with their upcoming spring.

“There’s something… I wanted to talk to you about,” she says, feeling her heart double in size and weigh her down. “My dreams have been quiet lately, even with the war but a black bird started following me,” she begins to explain. It is not common for the commanders to change the way they speak to her and sometimes her dreams are shared with Wildfire, if they are minor, but since her sickness months prior they have been few and far between, sometimes going weeks without even a hint. “It followed me all the way to the caldera from here and before the war began, it stopped and talked to me, admitted to watching me. Knew my title.” Thuringwethil stops then, waiting to see even how this is to be received but she had to say something just in case Wildfire is right and her heat does come a second time.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Wildfire answered immediately, black tail thumping against the snowy ground even as a grin stole across her face at the mere thought. "I'll definitely talk to him about it." If their pups had experienced their first pack hunt, she hadn't been there for it. Here was her chance to get involved in an important milestone, even if it wasn't technically their first time going through the paces.

The commander's next words scattered those thoughts. Wildfire's heart skipped a beat at those ominous words—"we have to talk," more or less—but Thuringwethil went in an entirely unexpected direction. The Feisripa knew the black she-wolf took her dreams seriously, treating them as omens, but she really didn't know what to make of the bird her mate mentioned. It sounded quite creepy, if she was honest, and a thought struck her which made Wildfire's mouth go suddenly dry.

"Blackfeather Woods," she whispered, ears folding backward. "I think they used blackbirds there as familiars, though I never saw any because of where I was kept. I just overheard things." She swallowed and suppressed a shudder, scooting even closer to Thuringwethil and pressing her face into the Heda's neck. "What did the wretched thing say?" her muffled voice wondered despite herself, already assured this strange messenger was (or had been) in league with their enemies.

The moment Wildfire mentions Blackfeather Woods, she blinks a few times to process the information. It makes sense, at least. About the time she returned from one visit of the caldera, the bird showed up. It hadn’t made itself known at first but she remembers a slight distraction of a bird here and there and she assumes it to be the same. Immediately—albeit not necessarily confirmed—she feels better. It had been a trick all along and now that the war is over, they have little to worry about from those wolves. The bird hadn’t gotten any significant information except where they were—maybe it is why the war went the way it did and they knew where they were—but she does not question it more than necessary. Maybe the bad omen isn’t true, after all.

“It spoke in a riddle, I think,” she says, pausing to lick her lips and recollect. Then she repeats as closely as she can of the stanza spoken by the bird with added emphasis to “the mother is the one to die/when comes the cub of lord and stone/Commander is left all alone.” She becomes quiet for a few seconds and considers the words, her expression still worried despite the comfort the bird comes from Blackfeather Woods, on the off chance it doesn’t. Wildfire had been in the safety of their troops when the bird came to her, threatening her mate, but surely the timing is off, or another plan failed on their end. Either way, if anyone can give her comfort (even if it’s temporary), it’s her mate.

Her ears pricked as Thuringwethil did her best to recollect the avian's words. Wildfire felt a rather volatile cocktail of emotions in response. On one hand, the whole idea of a bird delivering an omen was absurd to her, as was the content of the message itself. Cub of lord of stone? But she knew the commander took these things much more seriously. And it wasn't funny at all if it was sent by their enemies as some sort of psychological warfare.

For a long time, she didn't say anything. Finally, she withdrew to expose her face, catching her mate's eye. "I think the bird was acting on behalf of the Blackfeathers, trying to upset you," Wildfire concluded in a soft voice. She leaned forward again, her nose touching the Heda's cheek. "But what do you think?" she added. She hoped Thuringwethil would feel the same way, not only to absolve herself of worry but to avoid the possibility of some random bird dictating their lives in any way.

Wildfire, even with the bad omen between them, believes it to be the wolves they’d chased out of the valley. She’s spent the most time with them and would likely know more than anyone else, even if she doesn’t talk about it. Certainly, it won’t get rid of her anxiety about the situation but they’ve made it to the other side and they’re where they’re supposed to be, right?

“I think you’re right,” she says, softly, leaning into the touch and returning it with one of her own. She’ll still talk to Tirgatao for her opinion, as a wolf of their own, but she’s content in the moment to let her mind be made up—even if temporarily.

It seemed they were in agreement. Wildfire felt a sense of relief; it wasn't always that they saw eye-to-eye. She was glad that some ugly bird likely sent by their enemies would not be derailing her plans to grow their family this coming spring. She didn't mention any of that now, though, not so soon after Thuringwethil relayed an ominous verse about a mother (presumably herself) dying.

"It's so nice out," she observed, "we should go for a walk. Let's go find Artaax and talk to him about hunting seals." She rose, nipping at the Heda's ears to coax her to her feet. "Did I tell you I ran into Étoille at long last a few days ago?"

Thuringwethil groans a little as her mate urges her up, suggesting they find their eldest child for a hunt. She grunts her displeasure at moving but she rolls a little and pops up. In one fell swoop she leans forward and gives her a little nudge with her nose and turning her shoulder into it to nudge her in the direction she usually finds Artaax. “You did not,” she says with a quirk of her brow and a hint of a smile. “He is a good man,” she says though she is curious what she and the brute spoke about, certain Wildfire wouldn’t find anything wrong him after all he went through for them.

Despite the commander's momentary reluctance, they soon began to walk side by side. "Yes," she agreed, "he seems like a great asset to Drageda." Wildfire took several steps in ponderous silence, then voiced an errant thought that had fluttered through her mind not long after her conversation with the wolf in question. "And this may be a bit premature—not to mention a little silly—but I couldn't help but think to myself that he probably has good genes..." She licked her lips and gave her mate a knowing look, wondering if Thuringwethil would immediately see where she was going with this.

Étoille has proven himself, done what is asked of him, with next to no resistance. He even offered and succeeding at putting himself in danger for the sake of their cause. It all stems back to Wildfire and she speaks up again about him, giving her something to consider but only reluctantly. “I’d like to forget about the bird, first,” she comments with side-eye. A smirk forms at the corner of her muzzle and she turns, bumping into her mate. Something twists in her stomach, if only to acknowledge that she feels fond of the idea of the new Steltrona to sire their children instead of Dio. Would that open a whole new can of worms she isn’t really prepared for? She clears her throat. “But I agree,” she adds after a beat, nodding her head if to confirm.

The seed had been planted in both their minds, with plenty of promise for successful growth. Wildfire nodded, leaving it at that for now. She felt certain her heat would return, though there was no telling when. And despite the strong emotions and sense of urgency last year, Wildfire found herself approaching parenthood much more calmly this time around. She was a little surprised at herself, honestly.

"Just focus on prime cuts of seal steak," she quipped in reply to the commander's comment, her own thoughts of that dreaded bird breaking apart and drifting away on the wintry sea breeze as she led the way toward their eldest.

Fade? :)