Hushed Willows Let go of the moment that life makes you hold

This is probably forward dated a bit.  Maybe just until the weekend? IDK. What are timelines.
Anyhoo, Mal is just doing a flyby and ain't hanging around again. :P  If nobody wants to follow and annoy the snot out of him, I'll archive in a week-ish.

After spending so much time on his own, he'd come to a few realizations.  Some good, some bad, but at least now he was doing a pretty good job at hunting, so at the very least he should go back and pick up his sister and they could amscray and find a better life and all that.  Crossing half the planet (that's what it felt like) every month or two was getting kind of weary. He looked pretty good though -- maybe in dire need of someone to go at him with a brush in places, but healthy.  Happy might be a stretch.

SO!  Time to go pick up @Brilliance and go.  Except when he got to the border, examined it, and even went a few yards inside just to be sure, sniffing around for a sign of her produced nothing recent.  He wasn't near the chunk of border the bear had crossed, so didn't have any intel from that about what had happened elsewhere.  Nah, the thing that was making his fur rise along his spine was that eerie lack of his sister when previously there had been signs.  Um.  Hello.  Where was she?  The freaky hippies were supposed to keep her safe, so where was she?

But Delight's scent was diminishing too -- though that was far less concerning to Mal.  But you know what?  Maybe Brillo wandered off and he went off searching for her.  That sounded pretty reasonable to him. It explained both things.  No point going nuts trying to think of something more ridiculous than that.  Hell, he told her to go hide at Diaspora if bad stuff happened.  That's gotta be it.  He probably walked right by where she was staying.  Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned and started trotting back to the no-wolf's side of things without another pause.  Got the wrong pack, no biggie.  And from the looks of it he'd be out of here without having to deal with the witches -- score.

rather than being frightened into hiding by the carnage he'd witnessed, atwood felt emboldened, taking advantage of the chaos of mourning to sneak from his remaining mothers' gazes. rarely did he get very far in these trips, but today he'd managed to get away and was enjoying his time in the muggy warmth of the willows. he's too small to understand he should be sad about the loss of ariel; there's a strange feeling in the air, a sadness that cloaks seabreeze and olive, that he picks up on, but that's about it. maybe it'll sink in later, but it isn't as if he wants for company in the meanwhile.

an unnamed urge drives him back towards the spot ariel fell, though he does not linger there, instead wandering down until he catches sight of an unfamiliar boty. assuming he's just another member of elysium (why would he think otherwise?) and intrigued by the boy's coloration, which sorta reminds him of sundance, atwood decides to trail him, tiny ears perked forward. he doesn't speak yet, but follows like a strange, small shadow.

Or maybe he wasn't alone.  His ears were what alerted him to another's presence -- not a heavy step, but maybe it was someone trying to be stealthy.  After a moment confirming they were still coming after him (and not saying anything), he turned, all ready to spit out some sort of snarky remarks except uh.  There was nobody at eye-level.  That was a kid.

Some part of him wanted to try to Pied Piper the kid away for kicks but let's be honest... What the heck would he do with a pup?  Especially one that was probably hardwired to be soft and useless like all of the children of his year.  Way too much work.  He had no idea whose kid it was either, given how it seemed like Olive and Seabreeze wanted to force their presence onto all the children before Elysium was a thing, he didn't believe it'd be a good measure to check.  They probably murdered someone and abducted themselves a whole litter anyway.  Sounded about their speed.

Anyway after that little bit of staring, Mal said pretty neutrally, What?  Because that was about all he could think of.  Why was the kid even out here?

what? atwood's ears twitch, startled momentarily that he'd been noticed. he doesn't have all the words yet, but he's a smart child, precocious and curious. "who you?" he asks, boldly stepping closer towards the other boy, head tilted. and as an afterthought he adds, "a'woo," with a strange motion that is probably a gesture toward himself.

Um.  Awoo? What? Blink. That probably sounded like some sort of meme where someone just says "YELLING" or "LOUD NOISES" or something since it's close enough to an onomatopoeia for a howl.  Wave or not, there was no saying Mal was a particularly smart youth when it came to dealing with children.  Everyone had always been his age or older, and he was amazingly biased against anyone not his sisters.  He didn't think it was a name at all.

At least the first part was easy to understand.  Kinda.I'm a ghost.  I'm gonna go haunt somewhere else.  This place is boring.  It was... Kind of a metaphor?  True, though.  There was nothing left for him here if Brillo was elsewhere.  He didn't see a point in trying to keep any relationship with this pack -- Mal couldn't see it ever ending well.  They were too weak and he was far too tired of their fluff and nonsense.

a ghost? atwood's little blue eyes widen as he comes even closer. "like mom," he says solemnly, with a look toward the site of the attack. though frightening, it's unlikely to leave him permanently traumatized; with time, the memory will fade to only what his remaining mothers remind him of, and, occasionally, that funny slash of red in his dreams. atwood doesn't really understand the rest of what the boy is saying, but he's decided that, like it or not, he's gonna follow him for now. "you talk mom? dead?" he tries -- after all, if he's a ghost, he must be able to see ariel.

Mal of course has not a damn clue what he's referencing.  But whatever, sounded like this pup had a bad start or something. Maybe.  Probably randomly collected by the witches, then.  Maybe they killed off his mother.  

And this kid was so naive and trusting that he couldn't even be spooked by what Mal was saying.  Like what the hell.  They really did live in a completely differently woven reality than him.  I'm not staying to talk to anyone here.  I'm leaving.  I'm sure they'll be happy I'm gone, anyway.  Which was the truth, frustrating as it was.  There was nothing for him here.  The more he talked the more it made him spiteful at the whole thing. Screw 'em all.  He should go before someone turned up after this kid -- and at least that opportunity was now one that could be permanent.  Couldn't be long before someone did show up -- it wasn't like was right outside a den or something.  He was at the borders -- basically -- so the kid shouldn't even be out here anyway.  He turned and started to take a step or two away.

Hope you guys don't mind Aeliana coming in

One another patrol upon the borders Aeliana was quick to notice the small form of one of the pups standing at the borders as well as a stranger, who was turning away. She was quick to pick up her pace and approached Atwood.

"Atwood, what are you doing here? The borders are dangerous." She said to the pup sternly before looking to the stranger, "Now return to the dens. Go." Aeliana looked to the other wolf. 

"Stranger!" She calls out, "Is there something you need?"

the older boy doesn't seem to understand him. atwood pauses, but does not relent in his desire to follow him, taking some steps towards the border. until, that is, a voice calls to him, reprimanding. instantly the open expression on his face drops into a rather cross pout. planting his feet firmly on the ground, the child says "he ghost," in the same way a toddler might say NO right before beginning to kick and scream. then, because he can, he takes another short step after mal - or attempts to, at the least.

Oh great, he didn't leave fast enough, and he still had a pup kind of following him.  Mal was all ready to have some sort of snipe at the witches who ran the pack, but didn't have that chance, even as he slowly started away.  What she said wasn't what he was expecting.  He gave the woman who appeared a look that couldn't be translated as anything other than, "Who the hell are you?"  You know, that sort of disgusted/"you are obviously unimportant if you don't know who I am" kind of look.  He'd lived in this pack his whole life up until a month or so ago. He'd even come back to check on things.  It wasn't like he was one of a dozen similar looking wolves in the pack, either.  It just confirmed that all ties had been cut here.  Whoever this wench was, it was probably good that Mal was well on his way out already and he hadn't gone deeper into the territory to scour for his sister, despite having every right (in his eyes at least) to go look for her.

However, Atwood proved to at least be a little amusing in his response.  Apparently this woman didn't have the kid's favor either, given the fact he seemed to prefer a complete stranger over her.  His smirk at that was short lived.  Yeah, he was a ghost, and gonna spook right outta here. Obviously not, if you can't keep a single wolf safe here, was his barbed response.  It was, of course, referencing Brilliance's absence rather than the others that had died -- the only one he noticed or cared about -- but something had to have happened for her to just leave.  She'd be over at Diaspora by now, surely.  It was just a particularly brutal consequence that the chance was there to misunderstand.  Mal wasn't particularly interested in sticking around, so he was ok leaving things at that, turning more directly away from the pack and starting to walk away.  This was such a waste.  They'd be their own demise or something equally fatalistic.

The look she was given was returned in kind with a raised eyebrow. She didn't know who this wolf was and they didn't even have the decency of telling her their name or if they have any relationship with the pack. Maybe she could help in her part of calling over one of the higher-ups. But instead, they shot her a nasty look like she's supposed to know them already.

"Obviously not, if you can't keep a single wolf safe here,"

      Her eyes narrowed and lips twitched slightly, threatening to curl up into a fang barred snarl. She didn't know whether that was a mockery or not. The wound was still fresh and she was still grieving. To have the gall to say such a thing, she felt like she had every right to go over and tear their tongue out, just to see if they would still have such sharp words to say then.

      But she's not that kind of wolf. She couldn't say for other wolves though...

She snouts loudly before looking to Atwood as he pouts, saying that he's a ghost, "Atwood, he's no ghost. Trust me. They aren't physical. They're... felt more than they're seen." She said before nudging Atwood away from the borders with her snout, "Now come on. Back to the Dens. Before someone finds you missing."

the ghost boy starts to walk away. frustrated, atwood remains rooted to the spot, quick, babyish calculations flashing in his head -- if he tries to follow the ghost, aeliana will surely snap him up. but he certainly isn't going to go back willingly. "m'not missing, m'right here," he insists, crouching down to firmly plant himself. "he said ghost!" he adds, because what sense does that make, that ghosts aren't physical. how else would we know they exist?

Seemed as though he was being left to his own devices.  Good.  The pup was a good distraction -- a good insurance for the fact that he didn't want to be heckled or followed.  He'd make it out clean.  Mal was off on his way to Diaspora now, unless there was a last minute way of stopping him.  He wouldn't be back, if he could do anything about it.

Aeliana turned her head and watched as the stranger made their getaway. She wasn't going to stop them, if they didn't want to be here then she won't keep them here. She looked back down to Atwood, "Alright you...I'm taking you back to the Dens."

With that, the young women scooped the whelp up into her mouth and turned around fully, making her way back to the dens.