Bearclaw Valley must they subject even my pain to the disapproval of their gaze?

 

i miss my @Xan

although alexander had stood up for her she still had not moved much from her position next to her once-favored boulder, scarcely on the outskirts of the valley's borders.  she still dare not set a foot inside it — she did not know exactly what had transpired and what would happen if the sisters cornered her alone.

not that staying in the same spot helped.  but maybe if she stayed on the outside they wouldn't mind so much.  maybe she wouldn't have to deal with them thinking whatever they thought about her.  and out here, she could protect them — all of them — from that dark man.

because although reigi had been slighted by the sisters, she had resigned herself to the duty of guard dog.  they were of the valley, so in a way they were hers.. whether they liked it or not.  because she was property, right?

She wouldn’t enter the valley, wouldn’t lay alongside him at night. He missed her, a feeling that amplified his guilt tenfold. She was like this because of him, because he could not control himself—he hadn’t been able to protect her, just as he hadn’t been able to protect Kendra. Another friend was let down, the only difference being that this time he did not lose her to the afterlife; despite what had happened, she was still alive, and he wanted to keep it that way.

With eager steps he made his way up the path, finding her not atop the boulder but down beside it. For a moment, he froze, able to move neither forward nor backwards as he gazed at her. He was hesitant but eventually pushed through it, continuing towards her with a low chuff. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her and let her know everything was going to be alright, but memories of himself prevented him from closing the distance. After Cicero, he’d not wanted a single creature touching him, and assumed the same for her. So he crouched down in front of her, careful not to let their bodies touch, and uttered a soft, “Hey.”

Alexander discovered quickly that he didn’t like the distance between them. He didn’t want to keep away from her, he wanted to press his nose into her fur and lay his head over hers—but he couldn’t do any of that, he had to restrain himself.

she bristled as he rounded the corner, but her hackles were quick to return to her closed off form in case it offended him, in case it brought forth more punishment.  her eyes widened for a moment before he lay down beside her, and she noted his care in keeping his distance.

good.  she did not want to be touched.  her entire body sung with pain from the frostburned tips of her ears down to the lacerations on her side, the cracked paws of her pads and the torn and inflamed nether regions.  she really didn't want the comapny, either (or at least that's what she told herself — it was entirely untrue).

she was so caught up in her own grief that she had not stopped to consider how he might feel.  she didn't want to.  she had left to forget how he had made her feel because it was dangerous!  if she had not stepped foot inside the packlands, if she had stayed in what she now thought of as her rightful place just right here, perhaps none of this would have happened.

her gaze is somewhat distrustful as it casts upon his rueful figure, and she wishes now most of all she could communicate to him everything that had transpired while she was gone and how sorry she was for ever soiling his life with her presence.  but she does not make a move to speak, and instead she keeps her searching doe-eyes fixed upon him, waiting.

She did not return the greeting or make any move to reach out to him, bringing a frown to his lips—he didn’t like this at all. Laying his chin down into the snow, he stretched his neck out with a whine so that he might touch his nose to one of her front paws. It was a small gesture, the touch soft, and something that he would have attacked someone over just several months ago. But he did not think of that, the memories temporarily cast from his mind, his want to make things better overruling logic.

Alexander wanted to wake up. He wanted his eyes to flutter open and reveal that he’d been asleep this entire time, that his friend hadn’t suffered the same fate as himself—but it was not a nightmare that sunk its talons into them but reality, who was the cruelest of them all. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” he said suddenly, ears flattening out against his head. “I should’ve been quicker—I shouldn’t have left your side.” Had he not let her out of his sight, then things would have been different. Perhaps they’d be curled up together somewhere, her body free of injuries, and he wouldn’t feel such a terrible ache in his chest. This was all his fault, and he knew it. He hadn’t been able to save her, just as he hadn’t been able to protect Indra or breath life back into Kendra—he was useless to them, making promises that fate decided he should never be allowed to keep.

He didn’t deserve to have anyone beside him—no friends to call his own—because he was nothing more than a harbinger of death, always leaving pain and suffering in his wake.

Swiftly, he pulled his head back and away from her, daring not to try and touch her again. He didn’t deserve forgiveness or kindness, just as she did not deserve his harassment. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, muzzle tilting towards the inner reaches of the valley. He wanted her to say no, even though he knew he did not deserve to be forgiven, but he knew deep down that he would likely hear nothing—that she could not understand him any more than he could read her thoughts.

she knew what he wanted but could not bring herself to touch him.  the cold leather of his nose pressed against one of her cracked pads and she scrutinized him with a steady and formidable gaze.  she did not make to pull away but neither did she give him what he desired.

she felt his upset and her critical staring became softer.  she did not want him to be sorry for her — she didn't know what she wanted.  but his guilt was something that was decidedly not on the list.

but of course she could not understand why he was apologetic, or offer him any respite from the onslaught of sorrow.  it cuts her and rolls through her, and finally when he gestures back at the valley and offers her those inquisitive two-toned eyes she lifts her head and offers a gentle sway of her head.  no.

at least now she had learned that running away was not the answer.  she had resigned herself to submission, that this was just how things were and that she had been in the wrong for doing — well, whatever it was she had done.  everything she had done.  although she still would not yet step foot in the valley she was grossly aware of the protection that it offered her, and her wayward travels would rarely lead her outside the immediate territories. she did not expect to wander into the vast openness of flycatcher downs ever again, or at least not any time soon.

she did not want him to leave.  she also did not want him to touch her or to comfort her because it hurts in more way than one.  she does not want her protector to get too close in part because of the dark man —  the thought of him still causes her heart to beat frantically in her chest, churning her gut and filling her mind with his defilement.  but the other half is something else entirely.  

she does not want to hurt him, and more than anything she is sick of being hurt.  and the easiest way to prevent that for all involved was to keep everyone at.. well, let's see.  paws distance.   a plume of breath, long and drenched in silent pain, escaped from her gently parted jaws and she lifted her paw, pressing it gently across the wide bridge of his muzzle.

---

they spent the day together.  eventually, alexander was able to reclaim a sliver of his raven's trust.