Blackfeather Woods and when the band plays "hail to the chief"

There was not much to hunt, these days. Nightstar was embarrased to be dragging this coyote carcass into their borders. It was still and half-eaten by buzzards, and already a little too tough to be handled easily. Coyote, too, was not the most desireable of meats as far as the male was concerned.

But it was all he could find. The trails he'd followed were all criss-crossing and confused, and it was clear to him now that prey animals and predators alike were fleeing the area. Of course they were. Why he and Moonshadow remained was uncertain to him, but it was difficult enough to find his voice during simple exchanges. He wouldn't survive an encounter where he actually had to talk about something.

He stopped and stared down at the meager meal, a feeling of regret and insufficiency and creeping horror threatening to sweep him away. The images associated with this feeling were still vague and half-formed, but the pitiful carcass in front of him seemed enough, in this instance, to cover at least two of the three emotions.

Maegi was adrift on poppies, without feeling, without body. She floated through the trees, eyes a little glazed over. Everything was muted; all the edges were softened. Almost blurry, but not quite. More like looking at something under the water, where shape was just slightly distorted.

Distorted so that the dark form on the path ahead didn't immediately register as familiar, and she bristled at coming upon a shadow so suddenly. Then she blinked, and he came into focus as Nightstar, which put her at ease. She couldn't remember if she'd ever met Moonshadow's brother; if she had, it had been very brief, uneventful, and quite some time ago.

Hello, Maegi said, strolling toward him with a little more purpose in her step. She nodded toward the coyote, mouth twitching infinitesimally in wry satisfaction. You found something. Better luck than me, these days.

Fortunately, the male's sour thoughts were soon interrupted by the appearance of the pale woman from the meeting. He thought fleetingly of the woman from his dreams, but she was an angel, not at all like the creature coming toward him now. He did not think the leader grotesque or frightening, but there was a sharpness to her figure that the angel had never possessed, and a haze to her bi-colored eyes that contrasted sharply with the angel's keen stare.

It was this haze that had him stiffening in discomfort, but her voice was as real as anything he encountered these days, and he managed to make himself relax once more.

"I don't believe in luck," he told her, but stopped himself short there. It didn't seem right to tell this scarred and deformed woman that a wolf only got what he earned with his teeth and spirit. " . . . but things have been unusually grim, as of late," he allowed, his voice low and grating as he struggled to inject more life and feeling into it. He was still trying to figure out talking to people again; it was strange to remember times when it'd been as natural as breathing.

"We haven't been introduced," he said after a beat, failing to offer any name for himself.

He wasn't like Moonshadow. He was tenser, more guarded. Maybe that was circumstantial; still, she felt a little on-edge compared to her breezy interactions with his sister, and gave him a brief nod in response to his remark. She didn't necessarily believe in luck, either. . .just fate. Fate written by the daedra.

But she had a feeling he might not believe in that, either.

We haven't, though I know a little bit about you from your sister, she replied, smiling slightly. I'm Maegi—Maegi Melonii. I lead this forest alongside Jakoul. I'm not sure if you've met her yet. Omitting Tundra's name from the introduction felt strange. She felt her stomach twist with dread as she thought of the ivory woman, whose absence was yet another problem she needed to solve. Where had they all gone?

And you are Nightstar, yes? she asked rhetorically, hoping to prompt him into something she could latch onto to remember him by, beyond family connection.

As soon he was not actively coaching his expression into one of polite interest, it fell back into lines of dubious wonder, as if he was not quite sure what Maegi was saying, but he worried she might suddenly attack him all the same. He was not scared, exactly, but interaction in general, lately, was putting him on edge.

"I have," he responded, some interest making its way into his voice as he remembered the woman who'd come to him at the borders. They'd not spoken much, but Jakoul had left a favorable impression on him all the same. She'd been not quite warm, he thought, but something close to it. "I am," he said when she correctly identified him as Nightstar, and then that didn't seem like enough. It wasn't. "Pleased to meet you, Maegi," he went on after another of those dubious pauses, as though he were waiting to see if it was just in his head or if he really was expected to say more. "The woods have been kind to me, and I had thought to... return the favor," he explained, and then looked down at the carcass and found an emotion after all.

He was embarrassed. It showed on his face, although the somewhat dazed concern continued to be his dominant expression.

It appeared that Nightstar at least had met Jakoul and the meeting had gone well, which pleased her. Her Morta was not only proving useful, but had become one of the central figures in Maegi's life. Truly, she couldn't imagine her life without Jakoul. What would she do, if the woman were to suddenly disappear?

Much appreciated, Maegi said in response to his sentiment. Your sister has been very good to us. She. . .she saved my life. I don't know if you knew that. I owe her everything. And any family of hers, I'd like to consider family of mine. She fixed a guileless stare onto Nightstar, a kind look. She meant it, every word.

She settled a little, shoulders relaxing as the preliminary introductions were now past them. Tell me about yourself, she prompted gently. You seem to be a good hunter. Are you a warrior like your sister, too? What other skills do you have, things you enjoy?

The woman thanked him, not seeming to understand how little he had to offer them. Perhaps he was being too hard on himself; was it enough that he had tried?

"I didn't know," he replied, momentarily stunned by the information. He and his sister had always relied on each other, and had always cared for each other alone. But now she had a pack and a family of her own, and a whole history that Nightstar had no notion of. How long had he been away? It was impossible to tell, but it was beginning to feel like years.

Had he grown old without realizing it? No -- Moonshadow was still young and hale. He must be, also.

The male struggled to draw his attention back to the conversation, but did his best to answer Maegi's question. "I hunt," he agreed, "and I can fight. I don't have many other talents, but I can find my way well enough for travel. And I like... to listen to stories," he said haltingly, remembering a cool, sweet voice speaking softly in the den. He laid across the entrace to protect them, and listened while she spun tales of high mountains and ravenous beasts, and four young wolves who could conquer them. 

The memory made him blink hard, but he showed no other signs of having been disturbed or absent-minded.

"And what about you? I know you are our leader, but nothing else. Your body seems to tell a rather grizzly tale."

Hunter, fighter. They needed more of those. Maegi worried about the pack going into the winter. With so many small mouths to feed, were they really prepared? She did her best, to be sure, but she wasn't adept in the skills needed to keep them safe and well. Stories are all I have, she mused, smiling ruefully at his admission.

Maegi couldn't help but chuckle at his observation, turning the ruined side of her face slightly away in some self-consciousness. Through no fault of my own, she responded, shrugging. All of my injuries are from childhood. My twisted paw at birth, my mouth by a man whose pack kidnapped me. I'm no warrior.

A fighter, perhaps, but not of the physical sort.

I have a lot of faith in my gods, Maegi said. I pray. I live to serve them, to please them. I'm interested in plants, especially those that can be used to harm, rather than heal. She raised her brows at Nightstar, realizing how weak her resume sounded in this moment. I've been lucky to be surrounded by wolves of diverse talents.

The more Maegi spoke the less impressed Nightstar found himself. Or rather, he found himself reluctantly impressed that she had become this pack's leader, but it did little to bolster his opinion of her. Part of him wondered if her gods were the same sort that had driven his family to exile himself and his sister from their pack — but it had been a long time since he'd had to worry about such things, and he was not a helpless pup anymore.

Her gods cannot touch me, he reminded himself, but was very aware that she could. He looked down at the dry, festering coyote at his paws and felt an emotion with strange clarity — he was wary, he realized, of the pale young shewolf. And perhaps a bit afraid.

"I am pleased to know you, Maegi," he said after a moment, the feeling fading back into his bones, until he was unpleasantly but comfortingly numb once more. "Please accept this, little as it is, as an offering to your and your children." He wanted to be done with it. And done with her. But he remained polite and asked, "Is there somewhere I can help you take it?"

Well, feed a wolf a bad resume, and you couldn't complain about getting a frosty reception. Still, he seemed willing enough to at least play nice, and Maegi smiled at his offer. Thank you, Nightstar, she said graciously, bowing her head a fraction in response. It means a lot to me to have you here. Really.

At his question, she paused, and then shook her head. I don't need help, but you can come along if you wish, she replied, knowing that actually, help would be nice due to her crippled foreleg—but she was a stubborn witch, and always would be. I'll probably bring it to Spiderlings' Glen, see if I can get the children to have a coyote feast.

Not just hers, but Moonshadow's, too. His own blood kin. She considered all Blackfeather children worthy, especially those of the dark woman who'd saved her life so many moons ago.

Waiting for his decision, Maegi sank down and seized the coyote's nape in her jaws, giving him another nod in welcome and gratitude. She began to hobble off, increasing her pace only if she did not hear the sound of following pawsteps behind her.

Whether or not the witch was sincere was not something Nightstar could judge; all wolves seemed to be little more than puppets and immitations, lately — himself, most notably. He took her at her word, and watched wordlessly as she took hold of the coyote and began to limp away with it.

Fool girl, he thought, and once again, felt a rather sharp stab of something. Pity, almost, but warmer than that — and annoyance, sharp and spice-scented but gone in the next instant.

He plodded after her, pawsteps heavy in her wake, and took the other side of the coyote gently but firmly in his own jaws. If she would not relinquish it entirely into his care, he clung stubbornly all the same, intending to carry the burden (or most of it) the rest of the way to the glen she spoke of.