Kintla Flatlands Manifest destiny

backdated to the 10th. set for right outside bdp. sorry for the wait! @Maegi

The land remained vastly different from the coast, yet it was beginning to feel comfortable. The more time he spent there, familiarising himself with the lay of the land and that which surrounded it, the more like home it felt. He still wished for their eventual return to the sea but… well, if it never calmed and welcomed them back, he couldn’t help but feel that he would adjust fine to making the plateau his permanent home; he wondered what everyone else thought, too, and decided he would ask them about it at a later date. For now, he focused on expanding his knowledge of the area, venturing a short way out into the flatland.

Aningan was not one to wander often, finding the idea of remaining near to his pack far more appealing. But he was not entirely against expanding his horizons—he was even beginning to feel the building of curiosity in his breast, a longing to see more of the world; the feeling was often shoved down and out of his mind, knowing well that now was not the time to go chasing a remedy. He had to remain with the pack—the more that remained, the greater they would be. He did ease the curiosity, however, by poking around the long stretches of open land that surrounded them, sniffing here and there as he started to map out the territories around him.

no worries!

While Scarab presumably reunited with family, Maegi stayed on the edges of the territory, mostly keeping to herself in the flatlands. She didn't want to disturb the boy in this delicate time, even if he was coming back. Family was important, regardless of the choices one made.

Instead, she looked for game out on the prairie, ears pricked, eyes darting. Even small game wasn't much to her forte with her disability, but she'd give it a go, anyway. There was no other choice. Maegi had just scented a hare and was about to try her luck when she spotted a white blotch on the horizon in her periphery.

Another hunter. Miffed, she drew closer. And as she did so, he began to grow familiar. It couldn't be. . . He was days from Easthollow!

But upon further review, it was, sadly, not Kove. Too young, without the slow, creaking gait of age. He was, however, her old mentor's spitting image, and she gave him a chuff, thoroughly intrigued. Hopefully she hadn't just scared his own hunt away.

Where she caught wind of a hare, Aningan’s nose was far too preoccupied with the various scents of the land itself; he wasn’t one to travel, knowing that he belonged close to home, although the thought of it was enticing. He wanted to follow every breeze that drifted by, ruffling his coat as it coaxed him in a direction away from home; a slow shake of his head and redirection of his gaze were all that was needed to recollect himself, a reminder that he belonged at the plateau. But belonging there didn’t mean he must remain within the confines of the territory for the rest of his life—in fact, he strongly believed that living there gave him even more reason to get to know the area. How else could he expect to lead his pack, when he knew little of land away from the coast?

Another gust of wind carried with it the sound of a chuff, a voice he did not recognised and, when he turned, a face unlike any he’d seen before; torn into a permanent smile, he could not help but stare at first. The sudden realisation that he’d yet to look away made him briefly avert his gaze, however, he was soon watching her again as he trotted in her direction.

“Salutitsinik,” he called out whilst approaching, tail swishing amicably. “Do you need help?” Assistance of some kind, possibly directions, he assumed; he did not know her and figured that, because of their lack of familiarity, her only reason for flagging him down might be to ask something. That he was not the first Apaata to be met by her, he hadn’t the slightest of clues.

The first word was unfamiliar, but it sounded awfully similar to the language Kove had once briefly taught her. This only heightened her curiosity, and she considered his question with a small, quiet smile, speaking only after a moment. Maybe, she said cryptically, and then added, Do you know a man named Kove Apaata?

There was no way they were not in some way related; Maegi knew this to be fact. She wasn't even considering the possibility that northerners might just look more alike than the myriad varieties of southern wolves. Even if it was a distant link, it was there—and Maegi was going to suss it out.

Perhaps they could be friends, and he could fill the Kove-shaped hole in her life. That would be quite nice.

When she spoke again, her initial remark caused him to cock his head ever so slightly. He silently prepared questions to delve deeper into her meaning, only to be stopped and thoughts wiped clean by her question. He straightened up, the family name his own and the given name, he learned long ago, someone important to him, despite the lack of any true meeting between them; a child taken away, he never knew the paths necessary to take in order to find the man.

“Atâ,” he said, then corrected with, “My dad.” The word felt foreign on his tongue, never before used; Aningan was far too young at the time of his mother’s relocation to recall the man that was his father, his face blank and voice a memory from so early in his life that he wondered if the sound was truly the same. “How do you know him?” he asked, now significantly more interested in her. “Kinauven—who are you?” Do you know my mother, too? he wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to do so. It wouldn’t matter, either way, he knew—she had never cared as deeply for him like his siblings, after all. He doubted anyone knew he was even of her blood.

The surprised pleasure that bloomed over her face transformed it entirely; it was as if she basked in the sun, aglow in warmth. You look very much like him, Maegi responded, grinning. Was this what it was like to go back in time—to meet a younger version of Kove? Fascinating, truly fascinating, and she wondered how this man had come to be. Who was his mother?

I'm Maegi, from Blackfeather Woods, she responded, forgetting to omit her home as she had done for the past moon or so. After all, they hadn't spent much time in the quake-ravaged forest. But it was relevant— Kove was my mentor as a child. He's like family to me.

Which makes you family, too, went her unspoken train of thought as she stared at Aningan, waiting for his response.

You look very much like him.

Aningan’s ears perked and his tail twitched, surprised not by the words themselves but by the fact that someone else was speaking them. The uppik used to tell him often how similar he appeared to his northern relatives, cut from the same cloth. But to hear someone else, someone not of the north, comment on the shared appearance between himself and his father was pleasantly surprising. He smiled in response to her remark, although it did leave him wondering: was his appearance always so similar, and was that why his mother never favoured him? He did not dwell on the thought, deciding that it wasn’t worth it; it was in the past now, after all.

The girl introduced herself and he responded with, “I’m Aningan, from Rusalka.” Presently, anyways. Blackfeather Woods rang through his mind, searching for memories to connect itself with—but, ultimately, there was nothing to be found. Perhaps he knew the name long ago, back in the earlier days of his childhood. Whatever the case, he moved past it and focused on the present, captured by the fact that she was, in some way, connected to his father.

“Does that mean we are family, too?” he asked, curious; he was desperate to find any links that he could to family, by blood or not, so many spaces in his heart to be filled by new faces. But the new could not replace the old, not entirely, and so he found himself seeking more answers as he asked, “What was he like as a mentor?”

Rusalka, of course. She had been so struck by his appearance that she'd neglected to notice familiarity in his scent. I was just meeting with Rusalka, she explained. Scarab found me some time ago and when he learned his family was here, he wanted to visit.

But enough of that. There were more pressing matters at hand. 

I think so, Maegi replied warmly, smiling. He was like a father to me, which would make us siblings, I guess. It would be nice to have a brother again. 

She pondered the question for a moment, thinking way back. He was everything you could want in a mentor. Smart, stern, but kind. It was a rough time in my life and he gave me strength. He cared for me. 

Her brow furrowed. How did you end up with Rusalka? she asked. Who's your mother? she thought, but kept that unspoken — for now.

Not only was she aware of his home but she recently visited; led by Scarab—or perhaps the other way around—she was brought there to the plateau. Part of him wanted to ask about Scarab, Guardian of the Crab, and how they came to know one another; what brought them together, how did the child find her after the rage inflicted on them by the coast? Although there were questions to be asked, he couldn’t verbally form any of them. Truthfully, for as attentive as he knew he should be in regards to a former packmate, Aningan couldn’t help but want to know more about her instead. She was a piece to his past, indirectly—she held answers that he sought and provided him with some link to his father, aside from the tales of an uppik far from home.

He wanted to learn more about him.

The elder man was something akin to a father to the woman; the sharing of this information made him smile, happy to now know someone with more information on the man and, better yet, someone that he could perhaps view as a sister—the word shot sorrow though his veins, missing Tunerk and Sos now more than ever. “It would be nice to have a najak again,” he said, doing his best to omit the longing from his voice. He hoped his true siblings were well, wherever they were.

Aningan fell silent as he listened to her description, hanging onto every word. Smart, stern, and kind—he found himself hoping to claim that description as his own someday. A man capable of giving others strength, of providing for them when they could not for themselves; that was the type of man that he wanted to be, to fill his father’s footsteps. But this he did not say aloud, wanting to hear more about Kove instead—but her words shifted into a question, discontinuing the former topic.

“Anânak, ajâtsuk, ningaugâtsuk—” he paused, flashed a sheepish smile, and continued: “My mother and her family lived on a glacier in the north. They… I think they liked my nukagek—siblings—better than me. I didn’t want to be alone and then I met the uppik and she led me away from the glacier.” He thought back on the memory of his first meeting with the uppik fondly, easily recalling just how eager he was to have someone’s attention. “Eventually we met Caiaphas and she brought me to the coast, where Rusalka used to be,” he explained, a twinge to his voice at the mention of the wayward siren. “It’s nice here.” He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

She cocked her head. 'Najak?' Maegi asked. It sounded much like the northern language Kove had once attempted to teach her, but the word was unfamiliar. Sibling? Sister? Family? It must be something along those lines, and Maegi did very much love to learn new words.

She listened to his words, all the while trying to guess his age. If he had been born on the glacier, he must have been the product of a fling between Kove and some random woman. Wouldn't he have to have been born in the woods otherwise? She parsed through her memories of female members of Blackfeather Woods, so much of it coming up hazy.

All she could remember was Relmyna, the pregnant Listener, carrying her sisters. And Kove, father of her heart, was certainly not Cicero.

It seems very nice, Maegi said politely, casting her thoughts aside. If his mother were to be revealed, Jaes would reveal her. Did you ever know my brother, Vaati? He stayed with Rusalka for a time. And now is missing, she thought dully, but gave no voice to her pessimism.

Najak? she questioned, reminding Aningan that the language spoken was not necessarily understood; it seemed she would be family to him but still not someone with whom he could share the language, lest she is willing and able to learn. “It means sister,” he explained. “But… only brothers call sisters najak. It isn’t for girls to call each other.” There were often so many ways to say the same thing, he found, but only certain words worked for specific situations. “Didn’t atâ teach you our language?” he asked, genuinely curious. To him, it made sense that a mentor would teach his apprentice all he knew, including any foreign tongues. Was there a reason she was not taught?

When she commented on his home, his face lit up and tail started to slowly wag; he was proud of his home, even if a piece of his heart was missing from it. Those that lived there, too, were his family now, whether they wanted to be or not.

When she asked about another wolf, a brother of hers, he paused and thought back—but came up empty. “I don’t think I knew him,” he admitted. “The name isn’t familiar. He might have been there before me.” Or during his period of aloofness, during which he oftentimes kept to himself.

Only a little bit, she said ruefully, wishing with a deep fervency now that he had given her more. We weren't given much time together. Our lives took different paths. Oh, that she could have only been given the life she had dreamed of. Listener, alongside Kove as Dark Master. She had squandered that future, rounded too many wrong turns.

What's done was done, and she couldn't dwell on it. In her worst moments, though, Maegi hated everything that had come to pass, and dreamt of all that could have been.

She nodded as he spoke of not knowing Vaati (probably for the best) and then something came to her. Your father—have you ever even met him? Maegi asked, sensing she may be on thin ice, here. He spoke of the man in such distant terms. He lives in a pack called Easthollow, on the other side of the mountains. . .and I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you.

She couldn't imagine Kove acting any other way.

Aningan wasn’t entirely surprised by her answer, given how little of the language she seemed to understand when he used it. But it made him wonder about the different paths their lives apparently took, what separated them. He wanted to ask but couldn’t find the right way to pose the question, so he ended up dropping it instead; maybe it wasn’t his place to ask. Rather, he asked, “Do you want to know more of our language?” If he could be taught the common tongue, then surely she could learn his? Whether he would make for a good teacher or not was yet to be determined, however.

She had another question of his own, only this one was… weird. It made him tense up and his brows scrunch together, wondering if he should answer whilst also trying to think as far back as his memory would allow him to go. “I can’t remember,” he eventually replied. “I… think I met him before, a long time ago.” Memories from back then were hazy, at best, clouded over by time and the exaggerated views of a child’s mind. “I don’t know if I can meet him now,” he continued, glancing at his forefeet. “I can’t leave my home.” Even though he often found himself wishing to explore, to travel beyond the plateau to lands outside its sights, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to stay with his pack and do what he could for them, however much he could.

The request caught her off-guard; she stared at him for a moment before nodding, saying happily, That would be wonderful. I would enjoy learning from you. Whether she'd find the time to even come back anytime soon, she didn't know. But it was a pleasant thought, regardless.

Maegi blinked at him in sympathy, his last sentence especially reverberating with her. I know what you mean, she murmured. I have a lot of responsibility back in my home. I feel strange leaving it even for a little bit.

Still, Kove was not getting any younger. If Aningan didn't find him soon. . .their paths might never cross. She hoped very much that they did. She would convince Kove to find Aningan, but travel was difficult for the former Dark Master—it was the devil of a situation. If only she could remedy it!

On that note, I should find Scarab again, Maegi said, dipping her muzzle in brief apology. But it was nice to meet you, Aningan— Brother, she thought briefly —and may we meet again, some day. Upon receiving his farewell, she departed, looking for the dark golden boy come to reunite (temporarily) with family.

The offer to teach was accepted, which brought a smile to his face; the thought of having someone likened to a sister that he could speak with in his mother tongue felt like a dream. Although he knew, deep down, that it would never be the same as being surrounded by his littermates, it would be something, at the very least. A piece of his family returned to him—a piece that actually wanted to be connected to him, too.

That she understood what he meant made him feel a tad bit better about the situation—but not entirely. Knowing now where his father was, that he could meet him, presented a great temptation to the young leader. Yet, responsibility grounded him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just up and leave to chase after some desire.

As she dismissed herself, the boy returned the gesture: “It was nice meeting you, too… najak.” He watched her go after that, then returned to Rusalka.