King Elk Forest past the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind

For a day she'd lingered beside the sea, reveled in the brine and the surf, turned over her mangled thoughts and gathered her courage. And then she had turned back, headed south and left behind the coast. It had been a tense, uncomfortable journey, avoiding all others.  a man will take whatever he wishes. She had not known it, she had been naive, stupid, but now she knew. She had been lodged deep inside the heart of Morningside, felt their protection for so long that stepping beyond their borders felt like plummeting into the depths of the sea, where uncertainty lived and dark things beckoned. 

But she had made it, and at the border she faltered, suddenly unsure if she would be welcomed. She had come all the way here despite his threats, the fear in her heart, and now doubts plagued her. She darted across the border quite suddenly, feeling quickly a kind of relief that came with the familiarity of the wood and the protection that a line on the ground offered her. She stepped deeper into the territory, ears slicked back against her head, attempting once, twice, to muster up the courage required to howl her presence. 

She did it quickly, a short, hoarse howl that rent the stillness of the overcast morning, and quickly tapered off to more silence. She sat then, pulling the harsh angles of her body close and curling in on herself in the slightest, gaze darting at every flicker of movement, fear battling with the relief of being home.

the certainty delight felt in tindómë's future had been swept from beneath his feet in one strike, leaving him scrabbling for any sense of control. burke's death had been imminent but it's arrival is no less devastating; he had known brienne would be leaving them but the timing. he needs mato --

-- who is unavailable. he feels the start of something bitter in his throat and swallows it down quickly. there's no time for that. they need to organize some sort of.. something, a goodbye to burke, a proper one (even though, he thinks nastily, everyone who knew burke is long gone or absent now). delight will just have to figure it out on his own.

the frail sounding howl breaks his thoughts. it takes a second to place it and then he takes off, quickly arriving on the scene with a breathless "anatha?" the girl's absence had been taken to be yet another in a series of abandonments, a bit of a sting, but, well, it wasn't the first time. but now he wonders if this is a repeat of what happened to brienne, and if yet again he's failed a packmate in not sending out a search. she doesn't look well, exactly, though she seems uninjured from what he can see. "where did you go?" the morwinyon asks, his tone not one of scolding or anger, but a softer, more worried thing.

It is Delight who answers her howl, and she twists up to glance at him, suddenly ill at ease. Her ears flick up once before resting back against her crown, relieved at once that he does not sound angry. There is a long pause between his question and her answer as she unfurls a little, gaze tracing him. "north,"  It is all she answers at first, before realizing that she ought to provide more than that unless she wishes to look like a deserter. Her gaze falls on something behind Delight, and the answers, softer now, "there was a man. he - he did things." For a moment longer her gaze tracks something beyond the Nénar, before settling back on him. 

 "there was a pack -  morningside. they helped." She finished, falling silent and motionless, her story vague and incomplete. But she was tired, and though she knew that a better explanation would likely be requested, her mind felt sluggish after soo long on high alert.

anatha doesn't say much, but it is enough for delight's blood to run cold. he can only imagine what did things entails and does not want to push her to relieve her trauma any more than is needed. what a failure of a leader is he! not pushing mato to search for brienne, not being able to hold them together, not being able to save anatha from whatever horrible fate befell her. a small whine escapes him, unbidden -- he buttons himself up, forcing himself into the role of morwinyon even though all he wants to do is apologise to her.

she mentions a pack he's never heard of. "i'm glad," he manages, "that they helped you, and that you made it back to us." he wonders briefly if jomyo could locate morningside, so that they could properly thank them, but puts it out of his mind for now. anatha is more important in this moment. he doesn't approach her, wary of making her feel unsafe, instead stepping to the side a little as if to usher her back in. "do you need anything? a counselor?" he asks, though he's not sure if brienne would be up for it, if she's around -- gracious, then, if anatha wants one. and if not, well -- he'll figure it out. he'll make sure she's safe here now.

he does not probe, but the sound he makes is somehow worse than any question. for he does not need to ask, surely, he knows what weight lies behind the vague words. she'd rather he didn't rather no one know how filthy she feels, but it is too late for that, now. and as he pulls himself into the role he occupies now, she lifts her chin a fraction, uncurls her spine. she is dangerously close to slipping back into the dar place, but she remembers the words of the woman and knows she must not.

"yes," she says only to his words when they do come, not sure what else to say. is she glad? no, there is no happiness in returning here, only a kind of relief. his next questions she considers a moment before shaking her head in a small no, words coming shortly thereafter. "i'm alright." the words sound hollow to her own ears, and after a moment she amends, "i'm tired." tired of feeling, tired of hurting and of the constant tension in her bones.

she rebuffs his offer to call a counselor, and he nods, feeling wholly useless and unable to offer comfort. what good is he, anyway? but this isn't about him or his inadequacies, this is about anatha and her trauma. who is clearly not alright, but he doesn't think she wants to be pushed, especially after traveling from god knows where. "okay," he says gently, "come in and rest, and if you need anything, just call for me." he will not let her languish the way he let brienne (even if that were not wholly his fault he still takes a healthy heap of blame on himself for it).

for a moment, she craves something akin to that brief moment with the woman of morningside - contact, and understanding, and something like comfort. her gaze rests on the man a moment longer than it ought to, but to seek this from him would be wrong and improper. she had not thought of propriety for a long time, nor the fondness she'd harbored for delight in her time here, but these things came to mind as she crouched on the familiar ground. "thank you." the words were soft, and she held his gaze only a moment longer before dipping her chin a fraction, rising and moving deeper into the territory, glancing back only once.