Shadow Mountain i walked in dark streets to punish myself

set for tomorrow afternoon

wincing, merrick laved his tender paws gingerly, a solemn expression upon his face. he had run until he could no more, to the mountain called shadow, and fallen asleep at the base of a great oak. did he still think of himself as whole? as merrick? could he be that still? no no surely — how could he continue to bear the name given by those who had thrown him away?
a great sob rose in his throat; all at once he was weeping brokenly in the dappled sunlight, paws beginning to ooze blood once more as the boy stumbled to right himself and push blindly through the trees, onward, onward, onward.

As she drifted through the trees, Ruenna wondered idly if the sobs echoing off the mountain were a ghostly manifestation of her own pain, finally too abunadant and acute to be contained within one body.

Now that she was joined with Liri, she finally felt that she was in the right place... But in securing that place for herself, she had alienated the Diasporans, who perhaps would have been as close as family given a little more time. It was still up in the air as to whether Diaspora would accept an alliance, and the possibility that they would not kept Rue awake at night. 

Rue had taken to wandering through the territories surrounding Arrow Lake every now and then, hoping against hope that she might run into Mahler. She wanted updates on the alliance decision, sure, but there was also a persistent, nagging feeling that the two of them had more to say. His silence at the end of their last conversation had been quite deafening, and Rue wondered if the Kapitan had been holding back his true opinions in the presence of the Diasporan General. 

The sounds of weeping were growing nearer, and Rue's heart ached for the pain she heard in the disembodied voice. Swallowing her own troubles, she started toward the source of the noise. Soon a shadowy figure was visible stumbling through the trees, and Rue emitted a soft woof to attract the stranger's attention. 

"Lo, traveler," she called, her voice kind and her countenance brimming with empathy. "May I come closer?" If he didn't want company, so be it, but the counselor's heart inside Rue couldn't simply ignore such an outward show of suffering. She had to at least try to help. If rejected, she would send a silent prayer up to the stars for the stranger and continue on her way.

why had she left? why had she left? even the fury and the pain he had felt over his own mother's departure paled almost to transparency alongside the rift that nunataq had torn in him. he should go back, exact his agonies from her flesh, show her she could never leave never leave never leave him again
a voice rang out, and in his mad, headlong dash, merrick stumbled upon pine needles, slipping harshly against a stone and striking his shoulder on the descent. seething a hiss of agony, he glared 'round for the one who had called to him, seeing only a small she-wolf some feet away, too close for the boy's liking, and too full of fucking pity for him not to hate her immediately.
"better not," merrick sang out, and recognized his own madness in the hoarse break of his tones. "there's something wrong with me. wouldn't want you to get hurt." his eyes burned in the half-light toward the stranger, daring her to come closer, for even as his shoulder throbbed with the possibility of injury, merrick's teeth ached to rend flesh.

"Okay," Rue answered, feet planted firmly. She would not approach without invitation, even to assist a wolf who was so clearly in need of aid. 

After a moment's hesitation, she spoke again. "I-- I know a healer nearby." They were near enough that Rue could call for Diaspora, but would any who recognized her voice answer her plea? Perhaps only to tear her limb from limb, and this boy seemed like to do. Beyond the anguish so apparent upon his features, Rue saw the gleam of something feral in the young man's gaze.

"Will you tell me what ails you?" Her voice was more guarded this time, as she was unsure how to recieve the thinly veiled threat in the stranger's speech.

the anguish in his shoulder was mounting, the strain of tendon suggesting to merrick that he had torn something, at very least pulled severely some tiny muscle. he could sense that she saw the ripple of pain playing across his countenance, and loathed himself for his weakness.
but more than that, merrick realized she’d paused because she saw what nunataq had seen, an expression that was at once both burning and empty. careful. a prey animal aware of the carnage even a wounded predator could do.
running his tongue across the roundness of his teeth, the boy shifted, grunting in pain as he leveled his eyes upon the woman who still had not fled him. ”i don’t know,” merrick answered calmly, the truth. ”something in me is wrong. that’s why i’m here. i had to leave home before ... before i got sicker.” his tone was light, conversational, none of the pulsating  agony edging his words. ”i’m not fit company for anyone. a healer would be wasted. but thank you,” merrick added, ever polite, teeth glinting in the hazy light with a smile that did not chase the tightness from his face.

The boy was suddenly the picture of composure, pulling himself together to answer her questions in a tone that was perhaps meant to sound offhand. "It's not a requirement that a healer's patient be pleasant. In fact, I imagine they rarely are." Ruenna's mouth quirked into something of a smile. She spoke in the same light, conversational tone. It was not her intention to argue with the boy, but merely to extend their interaction in an effort to find out what truly ailed the young man. 

Now, to address the implication that those who are sick must leave their homes. Depending on what ailed the boy, it could be either a very noble act or a very bizarre one. "Were you worried about infecting others? Is that why you left?" Rue recalled the whitecough disaster that had plagued Blacktail Deer Plateau and almost claimed the lives two of her packmates. She remained firmly rooted, unwilling to approach the boy until she knew more about this mysterious illness.

too pleasant, too kind, too understanding. he both hated the woman and wanted to protect her from the experience of himself, the pleasantries of merrick.
”there’s nothing wrong with my body. at least there wasn’t three minutes ago,” the young coywolf joked coolly. ”all in my head, whatever this disease is. my dad left, my mom left, my aunt left, my sister left. just me and this ... thing in my brain.”
merrick had never spoken so much in his life to another creature; he suspected it was due to the relative safety provided by his injury, and not only for the she-wolf. unable to lunge at her and see if her eyes tasted like globules of honey, punish her for pitying him until she screamed, as his mind had feverishly suggested six times in as many minutes, merrick was safe to talk. and she was safe to listen. 
even if he’d had the full capability of his limbs, there was a high chance he would not seek to scathe her. if there was a healer near, there was a pack near, and merrick knew such things must be carried out in seclusion.
”the only infection is me,” the boy murmured, a rich dark trill of laughter chasing after his words, fading as quickly as it had come.

More fragments of the story spilled from the stranger's maw, and Ruenna's expression darkened almost imperceptibly. This wolf was hardly more than a pup, how could his parents have left thier child? There was most certainly more to the story... or perhaps the story was completely fabricated. Very little that the boy was saying made logical sense to the Redfern. 

"Your family members have left your home, and now your sickness compels you to leave as well," Rue summarized, just to be sure she was following. She would not argue with the boy's logical fallacies-- she would merely attempt to stand in his pawprints, to see the world from his perspective. "You are an infection," Rue repeated, taking his words seriously despite the his peal laughter. "Is this what drove your family away?" It was a natural inclination-- especially for pups-- to blame oneself for family strife. Maybe that's what was going on here?

no one had ever tried to understand merrick before — the sensation of her prying was ecstasy. while he himself looked for weaknesses in the already compromised armour of those around him, this woman was not searching for those things in him.
he had not missed the minute change in her features, or perhaps he’d imagined it. had he unsettled her? merrick rather liked the idea. ”i know it’s what drove my sister away,” he answered, a somber note entering his voice. the loss of nunataq was still a great burden to bear, and he blinked rapidly to keep the angry tears from falling, glancing away from the stranger.
”it’s interesting that you find me so worthwhile when my mother didn’t,” merrick went on, composed, casual. a glint entering his copperburn eyes, the boy shifted against the stone at his back, wincing.  ”you probably don’t have children, do you? no.” no — if she did, she wouldn’t be here bandying words with him, trying to figure him out.
merrick watched the wolfess closely for a long moment. ”i almost killed my sister when she left me too. i wanted to. i wanted to go after her and beat her head against a tree until her skull broke.” his voice had dropped an octave, lost a good deal of its charm. ”that isn’t normal. and i knew that. so i left. i left because she was the last to abandon me, and i didn’t want to hurt her for it.”
saltwater made rivulets down his cheeks; the boy sniffed and smiled at the small angel haloed in the brief light. ”a sickness like this only has one cure.”