Emberwood I got years of livin' by and how I choose

lol @Eleuthera again, sorry for the double tag

It was twilight and his legs were shaking; mixed exhaustion and fading adrenaline from a chase that'd ended up almost too close for his liking. But he had another rabbit, now, and the blood on his tongue was already soothing away the feather-light feeling in all his muscles.

Kincaid sank down where he'd made the kill and ate ravenously, scarred ears turning this way and that to ensure he would not be snuck up on a second time.

The rabbit was gone more quickly than he would've liked, but he had more energy now to go looking for something else to eat. For the moment, however, he began cleaning himself up, ruminating on the individuals he'd met since leaving his sworn brother behind, and comparing them rather unfavorably to said man.

Except, he thought Valette had been a fine woman, thus far above reproach. And that girl from the clearing? The older, not the child — on reflection, Kincaid allowed himself to acknowledge that she'd really been something else. He lingered a moment longer over the memory of her very long legs and very blue eyes, and then picked himself up off the forest floor.

A little stronger now, he delved deeper into the forest, gazing up at the colorful boughs for lack of anything better to do. Eventually, he caught sight of a small family of raccoons in one of the trees, and so he sat himself at the bottom to wait and see if one of the clumsy kits might fall into his jaws.

✹☾❂

 

Here she was again, heading down a path unknown. Outside from the willows. She spent more time away from the willows than within them; but this was just a part of who she was. An ephemeral, always moving thing — at least it was all being done in the name of Seelie Court. Eleuthera, perhaps from a very entitled place deep within her psyche, did not ask permission to leave for days on end. It was the healing qualities of the willows that, strengthened her and propelled her outwards, anyways. When it became an issue, she figured someone would let her know.

So she roved the hills of the wild and did her best guarding — though she truly was not a great guard, and she often ended up having conversations and forming friendships with those who passed through. She was nothing like the fierce Orlaith, so critical and protective, as most guard dogs were. Well, perhaps there was room for Eleuthera’s personal brand of protection as well, which really amounted to nothing more than attracting flies to honey.

Eleuthera was happy to find another victim this day, even though the illumination of the sun dwindled and cast their forested milieu in darkness. She could not see the man all that well, but if she could see him, then he could also see her. The woman of heather grey approached him silently, watched him for several moments, then decided his endeavor was utterly ridiculous and that he probably wouldn’t mind an interruption.

“Does food often drop from the sky, into your jaws?"

The forest was quiet and still enough that he ought to have noticed the shewolf in plenty of time, but his focus was such that she only caught his attention when she stepped into his line of sight. He observed her right back, equally as silent, and then finally picked up his slim hindquarters and stood when she seemed to decide she wanted a conversation after all.

Often enough I like to give it the chance, he replied, thinking to himself that the wolves in this area were a particularly snarky bunch. He would have to keep his mind sharp if he didn't want to make a fool of himself right off the bat. It helps if you stand underneath it, he added, thinking that this was a sufficiently playful answer.

You ain't the first to question my wisdom, lately. A man's gotta start to wonder if he's losin' his touch.

✹☾❂

 

Eleuthera nodded, easily understanding the man’s justifications. Just because a raccoon kit had not fallen into her mouth before, didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Perhaps this man, rusted over in red that she could even see in the twilight, was a more lucky soul than she. Eleuthera shrugged a willowed shoulder. That, she was certain of. “If it works, then you won’t find me questioning it." Eleuthera was much too well-traveled to be judgmental of things she didn’t know. So, instead she stepped closer, eager to learn about this man amongst the woods. “I wouldn’t worry too hard. I rather admire your ingenuity."

Kincaid is so wonderful

Kincaid was not sure what to think when the verbal sparring did not continue, and the shewolf instead heaped affirmation upon him. His ears slicked back in flustered confusion, but he gave a pleased little wag of his tail all the same.

"Well, that — " He gave a nervous but hearty chuckle. "I don't know about ingenuity. Patience, maybe. Laziness, certainly."

Was she flirting with him? He'd thought so at the very start, but now he wondered if she just wasn't very playful and kind. He took a step toward her as well, but came no closer than that in case it might scare her away. His black nose twitched, and he decided she was not so young as she seemed to him, but young all the same. Young, and far too pretty to have any interest in his scruffy hide.

"I'm Kincaid," he told her, while he took himself firmly by the scruff and gave a mental shake. Down, boy. She's just bein' kind. All the same, he abandoned his post at the tree to turn his attention fully to the stranger. "You from 'round here?" he asked, thinking that he already knew the answer. "Folks sure is friendly in these parts."

he fluster

✹☾❂

 

So, the man was talkative and capable of making funny jokes! Eleuthera was always thankful when she came across another soul in the world that enjoyed the art of conversation. It wasn’t something that Eleuthera necessarily prided herself on, but there was something about meeting a stranger and turning them into a friend that simply tickled her. Perhaps it was her relentless need for validation — or perhaps it was simply that she liked to laugh, and liked to laugh with others.

Laugh she did, as the man provided a retort, despite his small fluster. She liked the warm drawl in his voice, as well as his sense of humility. It reminded her of Séamus, who was warm and loving and silly and self-deprecating, all if it might make her smile even a small amount. The affinity she held for her brother was automatically shared with Kincaid, even though Leu knew relatively nothing about him.

Eleuthera shook her pelt, wondering for a moment if it was far too late in the night for her to be meeting strange men — but she was awake and willing. She had never questioned her random happenings before, and she would not start to question them now. “You must have not met a lot of wolves around here," she mused, almost a joke — but not quite. There were dangerous wolves about, and far too many. Kincaid, Eleuthera almost immediately knew, was not one of them. “I’m Eleuthera. I live over the mountains with my pack, towards the ocean. It's not far, but it's definitely not close."

Since she seemed to be inviting him, Kincaid came forward to stand a respectful, conversational distance from the girl, and again couldn't help but think that she was quite pretty — not quite in the same way as Aphrodite, who might well live on in his imagination for some time, but in a gentler way that put him quite at ease. It made him feel strangely defensive on her behalf when something in the timbre of her voice made him think she knew a thing or two about unfriendliness.

"Well, then here's where I bow to your wisdom," he replied, and found himself grateful, for the first time, that he'd left Nine Lives miles and miles away from any danger. "There's been trouble, then?" he guessed, now probing for more information. It was none of his business, really, except it sometimes paid to be on the up-and-up.

He looked off toward the sea, and noted the precise direction she seemed to be indicating. Along with her scent, which he carefully committed to memory, he thought he'd be able to look her up again if he was well and determined enough.

"I'm from — thataway, I guess," he said, turning his nose briefly north. "But I ain't been home in many a year. I been told I am a tough dog to keep on the porch — but you got that same look about you." She did not seem too put off by him being a stranger, at least, and he'd always found fellow ramblers to be more receptive to his company.

✹☾❂

 

As perfectly nice and fine as this fellow was, Eleuthera did not jump at the chance to divulge too much information about her pack’s affairs. These were things that had been trusted with her, and what was at stake was life-or-death. It was not an exaggeration — Leu had already vowed to protect the willows and prevent the further desecration of any packs that lived within.  This required a large amount of scrutiny, and there’s no telling what Kincaid might do with such info.

— but in all likelihood he was just a good guy, as her intuition easily told her. If that was the case, he would at least need a warning. Okay, being vague with achieve both her goals. “It’s nothing more than what always happens when you have too many packs in one area," she said, as if that explained it all. “Just be careful, some wolves around here are rearing for a fight. Unless you’d like a fight, of course." The corner of her lavender eyes crinkled, then turned upwards to show the last part had been said in jest. He did not look like a fighter; nor did she immediately trust wolves who fought for sport, rather than necessity... and she had immediately taken to Kincaid, so that meant something.

Then her nose followed his towards the north, the direction that he came from. It was at that moment she knew they were two of a kind — travelers who hit the road so often that, to most wolves, it was irrelevant where you came from. It was likely far, far away. Simple, a direction. “Ah, thataway," she cooed. “I know it well." a chuckle floated from her lips.

“You and I are birds of a feather," the lady of lilacs continued to mention. “I hadn’t been home in… ah, I don’t know, about a year and a half. I only just returned. Spent most of the time traveling with my brother." don’t mention séamus, don’t cry about séamus, don’t talk about séamus. “Have you found a home in these lands, or are you just passing through?"

This made sense to Kincaid, who had often been the source of similar unrest in late winter. He accepted her words easily, having no reason to believe the shewolf would lie about such a thing. At her jest, however, he could not help but quip back, "I'm a lover," with a gentle twinkle in his narrow, bettle-black eyes. "And a gentleman in every way — although I s'pose sayin' so already makes me a cad."

By his tone, it could be gleaned that he did not mind at all being known as a cad.

Conversation turned to travel and homelands, and Kincaid was just as happy to discuss these things as he was to flirt. He sensed in Eleuthera a kindred spirit, even though she was a good deal younger and a great deal more charming than himself. "I ain't too sure, yet," he easily admitted, looking back toward Easthollow and the other valley packs. What he needed was to either join a pack, or replace Nine Lives — and neither were comfortable endeavors. "I was travelin' with my brother," he said, and it sounded like he might expound on that but like Eleuthera, something stopped the words in his throat. ". . . but I ain't with him anymore," he said lamely, squinting up at the position of the moon for a moment, as if this was of some interest to him.

"So," he sighed when he'd exorcised the frog from his throat, "I'm seein' what things is about down here. Maybe I'll stay, or maybe I'll move on."

His mood had dipped considerably, but he tried to pull himself up by his bootstraps even as he berated himself for spilling his sentimental soul on the poor girl. "'haps I'll come call on you, sometime," he said, and was bouyed by the idea of seeing the girl again. "And if you ain't too busy you could show me around."

✹☾❂

 

alright, here we go. Healthy repartee was a large part of what traveling with a companion was, and this strongly reminded her of several other fond memories from her past. She too was a lover — a feisty lover, but a heart advocate all the same. “It is true, a gentleman does not need to proclaim himself so," the sprite chimed. “But I like to keep my company colorful. I think you’ll fit in just fine."

When he, too, mentioned a long-lost brother, Eleuthera’s heart sank and settled along the floor beside his. It was too painful, losing a traveling partner — family. Perhaps one of the most painful things she had ever felt. She felt it here now, in a small dull amount from Kincaid, so when Kincaid left the topic behind, she did not fight him on it. Eleuthera, too, was eager to return to greener pastures and happier topics.

He offered to call upon her, and beneath her heather grey plumage, warm blood rushed to color her cheeks. She desired this, but not more than she desired his attention at this very moment. Eleuthera had just begun to learn about this interesting, wandering soul!

“Hmm," she murmured as if she was thinking, but her mind was very-well made up. “Are we not together now?" she questioned, never having been one to dance around facts. Her lavender eyes bounced from left to right, very sneaky-like, as if there was danger afoot.“I’m not afraid of exploring in the dark," Eleuthera whispered. “I trust you aren’t either, rambler."

Something about the girl made Kincaid feel several years younger than he really was — and not quite in the way he preferred. He got the sense that she was not quite a lady either, but he still felt clumsy and dog-footed before her, every bit the cad he'd claimed to be.

The conversation had rolled past his level of competency; she was too clever for him by half, and all he could offer in return was a charmed but rather contrite smile, and another gentle wag of his tail. That did seem like an invitation to look her up — and he would — but for reasons he still couldn't quite fathom, she was just as interested in carrying on the current conversation.

"Might be I am," he replied, coloring under his fur as she called him rambler, even though it was nothing but the simple truth. He hid his expression for a moment by turning his shoulder to her and inviting her along with a sweep of his nose. "Lucky me, I got a guide worth her salt t'show me around."

West was his chosen direction, further up into the foothills where the trees thinned into craggy slopes. "If we can find a place to look out at the valley, you can point out some landmarks for me," he suggested, resisting the urge to steal glances at his new and unexpected friend. She would've made an ideal partner to travel with, except that he was liable to fall for her if he wasn't very careful, and she had folk she already belonged to.

✹☾❂

 

He joked, and she laughed, and then they were off. Kincaid may have chosen the direction they traveled in — west — but Eleuthera set the pace. There was no rush, the sprite figured, and he had been a rather easy sell on the whole idea anyway. If their stories were so similar already, perhaps he was lonely and in need of company as badly as she. Side by side, they trotted through the forest, bathed almost entirely of shadows. A pale, flickering moonbeam lighted their way.

He suggested finding a vista upon which to look at the valley, and Eleuthera immediately thought that was a great idea. Originally, she had no intention or end goal — she figured they would know what they were looking for when they found it. In her experience, these things made themselves astoundingly obvious. Here it was again, saturating Kincaid’s suggestion with purpose. Eleuthera nodded and licked her lips absentmindedly — something she did when on a mission, which Séamus never failed to point out.

"I grew up in these lands," she remarked, her pale eyes dancing and bright. "I know exactly where to go." and with that she assumed the lead, surging forward with a leap. Then, Eleuthera looked back over her shoulder at him, now still, waiting for him.

Although he had not thought it in such explicit terms, Kincaid was indeed in dire need of company. He sought it without thinking, too unused to the long silences and the absence of his hunting partner to do anything else. Here now with Eleuthera, something sharp and bitter inside him was being soothed — or perhaps merely folded up in cobwebs and cheesecloth to be examined another day.

Gladly, the ruddy rambler wandered at her side, likewise quite open to where the trail would carry them, and having only spoken up so that she would not think he was leading her off somewhere more private. (Not that, he allowed, the sort of venue he had in mind was unconducive to romance.)

"You got a favorite place to go?" he asked her, picking up the pace to follow after. It was instinct to remain close at her heels, so that his nose might reach the lilac fringe of her withers or her hocks if he stretched his neck. If she wanted to be chased, she would find in him a willing pursuer.

✹☾❂

 

He was never far behind her, including now — always keeping her at arm’s length. Eleuthera was nothing if not a flirt and a tease, but if she was being honest, it was an entirely new thing for her. Her entire life was spent with her brother, which allowed for few (if at all) romantic relationships in her life. Séamus had been her sun, and he totally eclipsed anything else the road had to offer her. Almost everything in her life was always changing, but he had always been the same.

Now, Séamus was gone and Eleuthera was figuring out what it meant to be only half of her normal whole. and honestly? It wasn’t all bad. Eleuthera had spent the better part of half a year mourning her parents, and several months mourning her brother. There had been so much death, so quickly. Now she was back amongst her willows, vowing to protect it with her life. It was getting to the part of her story where she wasn’t only sad — no, she was even beginning to enjoy herself.

Eleuthera resumed her slow, languid pace. Gently, with a bump of a lilac should, she steered themselves slightly to the right and up a rocky path, worn down from use over time but wild with green overgrowth from the summer rains. “Well," she answered, racking her brain momentarily, but the answer came a second later. “You must come see my home, the willows, one day." Eleuthera turned to look up at him, for she was a tiny thing, and even thought Kincaid was no giant, he certainly towered over her.

She turned her eyes back to the path in front of them, placing her feet carefully. Now, they were beginning to climb. “There’s nothing like it in the world. It’s very unique, and dazzlingly beautiful. It was good to me, when I was young." She licked her lips, ears flicking backwards. Eleuthera hadn’t been home in several days and — you know, that made her feel a little guilty.

She fanned her tail behind her fondly, despite herself. “Do you have a favorite place?" she asked — not of these wilds to the north, east, west and south; but the lands beyond. What had he seen out there, traveling for many years more than she?

The night was quieter as they began the climb, out of the busy trees and onto the sparser slopes. The air was a little cooler and cleaner here, and Eleuthera's scent was becoming more familiar to the rambler. Sometimes it still plucked at his heartstrings — and he had a feeling he would have to get used to that, if he was going to see her again — but for the most part, it was simply a comfort to have someone else's scent mingling with his own once more.

You're dangerous, he thought to himself. I could get used to this real quick, if I'm not careful.

But unlike Nine Lives, he had always been a careful man.

"The willows," he repeated, imagining an icy morass shaded by towering peppercorns and weeping willows. If it was where she lived, he would make a point to visit. Even when she went on to describe it as dazzlingly beautiful, he could not bump it up any further on his list — he would have to see her again. It was the only item on his agenda, really. "I'll come call on you," he assured once more, and then felt a bit sheepish at the blatant interest he was showing. He'd do well to play his cards a little closer to the vest; although she'd been quick to accept him as an amusing friend, he didn't think she'd want him as a suitor.

And besides — he was more of an opportunist and had never been one to go courting. Then again, traveling with Nine had limited him, somewhat.

The question was soon turned back toward him — something that should've been expected, but nevertheless, he found himself completely unprepared. The simple answer was no, but Kin found himself compelled to impress the young woman, and so he went with a more oblique but pleasant answer.

"I seen too much to pick just one," he replied, and a truer answer would be he'd not spent enough time in any one place, so nothing had grown on him. But, "Maybe. . . past here a ways — far past here, mind — there's a desert made of red earth. You can stand at one end and see clear 'crost it, but it's riddled through-and-through with canyons and waterways, and the walls — red walls, every shade of the sun you kin imagine — they tower so high above you, sometimes you cain't even see the sky.

"It's a dry place, but sometimes the air gets heavy and the sky goes dark, and the rain falls down so thick and fast you cain't see the whiskers at the end of your nose. And you'll hear a rush — a mighty rumble — and suddenly you'll be standin' right in a rushin' river. I'd call it whitewater, but like everythin' down there, it's some shade of red."

This was the most he'd spoken aloud all at once in several months. He took a breath and let it out in a low chuckle. "Cain't say it's my favorite place, but it sure left an impression."

✹☾❂

 

The words I’ll come call on you set Eleuthera’s heart aflutter. It was a futile task to hide the smile that beamed right out of her face. It pleased her greatly, to know that this man was interested in her. It felt foreign, but not unwelcome — in fact, it felt warm, and wanting, and wanted. It was a sad reality that Séamus lurked in the back of her mind even at this moment; and though Eleuthera was certain her brother wanted nothing but happiness for her in his absence, it still felt wrong to so openly welcome any sort of masculine presence into her life.

But this in particular felt good, and it felt easy, and she felt safe with this ruddy, rusty man. She allowed her mind to be wholly swept away by the description that fell from his mouth, of red rocks and towers and crags, of rushing waters and hot, dry air. She found that her verdant, yet rocky pathway fell away and was replaced with sunbaked stone and these towers that rose so high, they blocked out the sky. She had seen deserts before, but she was certain she hadn’t seen this.

Eleuthera stopped in her tracks to raise her eyebrows and asked the only clarifying question that she could muster. “Like, a giant crack — cracks — in the earth?" and then another rushed to her, and she blurted it out. “What do you think happens if you fall in? Do you fall forever?" The lilac woman looked up towards Kincaid again, throwing him a winsome smile because she knew it was actually impossible to fall into the earth forever… unless it totally was possible, in which case she gave pause for Kincaid to wow her once more.

After a moment, the duo arrived at an overlook — they were not at the summit of the mountain, not even barely close, but they had breached the tree canopy of the woods they were just inside and could finally glimpse the greyscale topography map that spread put before them, in all directions. “We’re here," she mentioned, her tone falling an octave deeper. “Not bad," she said, looking at Kincaid, and then at the endless lands before them, referencing both at the same time.

Eleuthera's interest was terribly flattering to the rambler, who was trying his level best to be as eloquent as she seemed to be. The question had him chuckling once more, and he drew level with her and paused himself to answer:

"No, ma'am — I been to the bottom. If you fell in, you'd fall t'your death, but there are ways to climb down, or slopes if you're lucky," he explained. "But it's just like when you come to a riverbed gone dry in the autumn — all them little cracks you see? Imagine it the size of a mountain, and little you lookin' down in, and everythan' blazin' like a hazy sunset. One of the more strikin' sights I seen."

Then they were arrived, and Kincaid slipped past Eleuthera to step up onto a wide, flat rock perched upon the incline. It was, as the woman said, not a bad sight — the male could not fathom that she might be talking about more than the pleasant vista.

"It sure is somethin'," he agreed with a wag of his tail, looking out toward Easthollow to see if he could place it. Perhaps it was too far in the distance. He looked back at Eleuthera, and then had to drag his gaze forcefully away. "Alright, girl, whatcha got? Where all've you been down there?"

✹☾❂

 

Eleuthera heaved a small sigh, looking at this place. She felt that she might never tire of this area — and the smaller area that lay directly in front of them, specifically. She had only been to this particular spot only one or two times in her life, but it had always stuck with her; the way she could see all the places at once, so far away, so small, like little seedlings in the spring. Simple toys, that once amongst them in the flesh, felt larger than life.

It was a clear night and the dappled moonlight cast a lightshow across the landscape, bestowing the scene with a glowing brightness that almost rivaled that of the day. Eleuthera felt invigorated from the climb and the conversation and the close proximity of the man who, after so many years and limitless experiences, chose to spend these moments with her. It was a kindness and a flattery that she felt she didn’t deserve. But, he was interested in her and her silly stories, so she would indulge them both.

Eleuthera looked out the side of her eye towards Kincaid, to ensure that he really, truly was interested, and then she dove in. “Well, when you visit, the willows are over there — you can’t see it past the mountains, but it’s there." She gestured with a thrust of her velveteen maw to the left, towards the coast, to an invisible forest. Eleuthera felt her heart tug in that direction, and allowed her attention linger for a moment longer. Then, she moved onto a large, dark patch directly in front of them. It was dark because the ground was so sodden and fertile, with nothing to reflect the moonlight back. “One of my mothers had a big garden, but any herbs she couldn’t grow, she found over there." Her mother’s green thumb seemed to have skipped her generation, but it was no matter, She rarely stuck around long enough in one spot to see such efforts be fruitful.

Back to the left. “Those plains are great for running," and narrowing her lavender eyes to see just beyond the plains “See the huge silver slip, far off in the distance? I hurt my paw once and my brother had to carry me all the way back. It took several days. The whole family was pissed." Eleuthera giggled, the memory as clearly imprinted in her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

The woman took a step back and shifted to face Kincaid. “There used to be packs around here. Great packs." As far as she knew, these lands were now empty. As a great appreciation of packhood and culture, this visibly saddened her — just as the disappearance of Elysium saddened her. “I guess they’re gone now."

The view was one he'd seen a hundred times in a hundred places, but one he appreciated nonetheless. It was perhaps the very reason he rambled, this desire to see one vista after the next. The urge to climb new and distant mountains and look down on strange and different lands.

He allowed Eleuthera to direct his gaze on the panoramic tour. Her hidden willows were duly noted, as was the 'garden' that he'd so recently fled. The running plains, the silver moraine — Kincaid tried in vain to picture these places, and instead succeeded in imagining the various activites the woman mentioned. A young girl toddling after her mother, or an even slighter version of his new acquaintence dashing through the tall grass, or limping along with an equally pretty brother.

He thought of his own brother and looked up at the sky, wondering where he was and what he was doing, and if he thought of Kincaid as often as Kin thought of him.

Eleuthera drew him out of these thoughts as she withdrew, and turned her pretty face up toward his. Her melancholy was different from but adjacent to his own;

"Sometimes I get t'thinkin' about all the places I've left behind," he told her, trying to subtly disengage from the eye contact he wanted a little too dearly. He bowed and stretched and shifted his slim hindquarters down after, hanging his paws off the edge of the rock. "There's places I know I ain't ever gonna see again. Great places. Great people," he looked up at her, and then, somewhat bashfully, back down at the sweep of the valley floor. "But there's ten thousand places past this one, and I suppose here I'd say — there's ten thousand days past today. Everythan's gotta end someday. That's just the way of things. But new things start, too."

Oh, lord. He needed to get out of there before he fell all over his fool self. But there was no way to extract himself from her velvet presence; he looked up at her and found himself stuck again, caught up in a kinship contrived of his own desperate loneliness. She was far too kind, far too lovely for the likes of him.

✹☾❂

 

As impressive and lovely a sight as the vista was, she easily turned away from it when Kincaid settled and began to speak prophetically. She felt, in that moment (and in several moments prior, though unrecognized) that her soul resonated with his — a traveler’s spirit. a nomad’s heart. a lover of things that are different. a person who contemplated things, and what it all meant. She liked the way that he didn’t question her sadness or try to comfort her. It was clear that he felt it too, and that made his advice all the more valuable to her.

She listened raptly, feathered ears turned towards him to capture every word. She even settled her narrow hips along the ground beside him, staying upright in a proper seated position. Her forelegs and paws nestled together beneath her, propping up her breastbone upon stilted legs and giving her a proud, leonine stance. “I know you’re right." Eleuthera admitted, a sweet look coming over her visage because when he said it, it really felt like everything was going to be okay.

Eleuthera was not a simple woman, however, and her melancholy was not solely related to the disappearance of the wolves she knew, and the incoming presence of new others. It was a little bit deeper than that. “It’s a little bit comforting, knowing that everything will always change," she admitted looking down at him, for once. “I guess I just like to be in control of the change. My terms, you know?" She figured that he inherently did know this, as he seemed to inherently understand a lot about her. It felt so nice, to be seen and listened to and valued.

The woman tore her gaze from him, and placed it back on the miles and miles and miles of earthcrust in front of her. “I know it’s a fools errand, to ever hope for that," she spoke, her words exiting her mouth and lingering in the nothingness before fading away seconds later.“But isn’t that at least a small part of why wolves like us travel?"

Too kind. Too lovely.

He couldn't take her looking at him, or rather, the way she seemed to look right into him, past the flat black of his eyes. So he was glad when she went on talking, even though the things she spoke of were deep and esoteric, and Kincaid was introspectic and deaf to his own heart in turns.

Even though he listened, it was a difficult concept to wrap his mind around. Who had ever thought to be in charge of the changes of the seasons, the earth, the slow spin of time? Kincaid felt he knew, in part, what she was saying — but he had never sought control over more than his own self; his body. The world was too big for anything else, and it made him feel small and vulnerable and maybe that was what Eleuthera meant. Maybe she was still reckoning with it. Maybe they all were, in their own way. It was why, he suspected, Nine Lives was always testing his limits and pushing himself to do new and dangerous things.

The short thought ended in a question he wasn't quite sure how to answer. Was that why he travelled? When he thought back on his reasons, he could only think of @Nine Lives and the fire in his eyes, and his face when he laughed, and the world stretching out before them, alive and open and wonderful. The two of them, walking side by side.

"You're too smart for me, darlin'," he said with a weak, uncertain laugh, several beats past when he should have opened his mouth to agree. "S'pose there's things I wish I could change. Things I'm runnin' from. S'pose I try not to dwell on it. But when you're on your own, sometimes that's the only thing to do."

He stole another glance at her, sorry he could not provide more profound conversation.

"Maybe that's part of it," he allowed, still struggling to grasp the concept. It would take a while for him to mull it over before he had much else to say about that. "But that ain't what I think about when I think about the open road. Not what I try to think about, anyway."

✹☾❂

 

Kincaid didn’t see himself as profound, but he was. As Eleuthera grew older and added more time and experiences under her belt, she found herself doing the exact same thing as Kincaid; letting go of the things, places and wolves that no longer served her. It was only that she was in her ancestral lands that her wounds resurfaced — and that the wolves in question were her family was why it smarted so keenly.

You didn’t get a second family like that — and Eleuthera had frittered hers away.

Eleuthera now stared out at the wide expanse of land in front of her, eyes unseeing, but ears angled towards the man, the gravel in his voice drawing her in. She felt his glance on her skin and goosebumps resulted; a slight shiver that echoed down her spine and fluffed the fur along her shoulders. Eleuthera continued to focus on the horizon, hoping she had not given herself away (as if her overt willingness to engage Kincaid in extended conversation did not do that already).

“and now, what will you be thinking of as you travel these new lands?" the woman murmured, meaning the question whole heartedly. If her and Kincaid were already so closely aligned, perhaps he might hold some additional wisdom for her as she, too, navigated these lands anew.

To his deep relief, Eleuthera didn't question his answer, nor did she seem too put off by his lack of insight. Instead, she probed a little deeper, and Kincaid's ears flew back in discomfort, but not quite in distaste.

He was quiet for a long moment before admitting, "You," in a low, ruminative tone. And then, with a hearty sigh, "My brother. All the sunsets I've seen, and all the sunsets I'm gonna. I think of the world — how we look at it like it's a done deal, but how it's really still in the making."

He shrugged, and picked himself up onto his haunches to sit beside her instead of lounge.

"Is it different, havin' a pack? A people?" he asked her, curious about why she'd come home to live stationary once more. Is it better? he wanted to ask, but didn't quite dare.

✹☾❂

 

You.

Eleuthera took her bottom lip between her teeth and held it there as her tummy clenched and tail, which had been twitching in her wistfulness, fell motionless. Me? she responded within her own mind, unsure why this man — who appeared to be quite gallant and experienced and worldly in her book — would dedicate any space in his memory to her. It was one of Eleuthera’s greatest fears, that she would be glanced over and forgotten, which is often what drove her to charmingly befriend every wolf she met. Even when they were receptive, as most were, it was always met with surprise. I’m not useless, to you?

She wanted to say something back. Oh, her vocal chords strained under the pressure of the emotion she wished to convey. Eleuthera wanted to tell him that she would think of him too, but in the end, she waited just a moment too long and Kincaid drawled on in conversation — but her wildly beating heart kept its frenetic pace. 

He asked what it was like to be in a pack. “I don’t really know, you know?" the woman thought out loud, really quite eloquently. Certainly the man hadn’t asked for what came next, and probably felt uncomfortable under the weight of her words, but there was something to this rambler that made her open and vulnerable and, most importantly, willing — she offered him her emotional wounds so that he might heal them with his words, or his perspective, or most effectively, his kisses. Eleuthera’s cheeks rushed hot at the thought and she, at long last, turned away from the endless expanse.

“I originally stayed with the court because they live amongst the willows… my willows." she grimaced. It was the only place she had ever felt an iota of ownership over. “but the faeries are growing on me. They remind me so much of my mothers, only different — fiery and unafraid. They all have each other, and they’re so cocksure about it. They want to protect the willows as much as I do." Eleuthera thought fondly of the Faeries she had met. Lumiya. Dante. Orlaith. Others that she had smelt in the den site, or smiled at them in passing.

Eleuthera took a breath. She didn’t know what it was like to be dedicated to a pack and love people as her own, but she did know what it was like to have a home. “I guess it’s not just any pack. It’s my home, now that Séamus is gone. He used to be my home." The lilac woman still sat while he reclined, but her heart continued to flutter around in her chest, jumping up into her throat and causing a lightness in her belly — as if she could will the man to rise up and embrace her and place his lips upon hers and soothe the wild drumming of her body; bringing her back into balance once more, as she knew he could. It felt as if she needed it, or she might simply pass out from wanting. It was less of a romance thing and more of something she knew she needed, medically.

In the end, she did nothing more but send him thought wave after thought wave, while her mouth continued making words.“But, i’m thinking you know how that feels," because he did. 

The woman's silence weighed heavy on Kin's mind. He had not thought it would be too bold, but now he wondered —

Oh well. It was the truth, and he couldn't take it back.

Thankfully, Eleuthera found her voice again and gracefully carried the conversation; Kincaid could not help but relax into it once more. She spoke so earnestly that he could only be set at ease, her voice soft and kind and her body warm beside his own. And though he felt clumsy and wretched beside her, he did not feel judged for being so. Perhaps she would judge him if she knew how well he liked it, or what a scoundrel he was — but a small and wistful part of him thought that, perhaps, she might be kind in her judgements as well.

As for her feelings about her homeland, Kincaid could not relate. He did think often of his first family, nor of the place where he'd been raised. Both had their place in his memories, but perhaps no longer in his heart.

But Nine — his brother...

"I reckon I do," he said, his voice a quiet burr in the warm, midnight breeze. He had no home, at present. Room enough to lay his head, but no place for his heart to rest. No strong spirit to lean into. No blazing eyes, no knobbly joints, no dear and ugly, fleabitten mug.

Kin breathed slowly, until the gravel was gone from his throat.

"Eleuthera," he said, and did not know what he'd meant to say next. He wanted to say that she was wonderful, and beautiful, and that the ways she talked made him remember some things and forget certain others. He wanted to turn and press his nose into her lilac throat, so that he might take her scent with him when they, inevitably, parted ways.

But what would she think of him if he let her say all these things and bare her pretty soul only to press his suit in the next breath?

"I ain't sure what I done to deserve you talkin' to me this way," he admitted, grasping onto the next true thing he could think of. "I ain't sure what to say — but it ain't for shyin' away from it." He knew he should extract himself from her magnetic pull, but instead he tried valiantly to freeze himself in place, only turning his head to gaze back at her, and how pretty she was in the moonlight.