Bearclaw Valley You're on your own

I've got my sights on that setting sun,
ay-o away I go,
If you wanna keep up, you better run,
ay-o away I go,

Over hills and streams, under trees and skies,
ay-o away I go,
To where the earth falls short and the moon does rise,
ay-o away I go,

I've got....

Ashlar let his song fade as he thought about the next line.  The melody was similar to the one the man had used, way back when he'd sung that shanty.  The boy didn't recall the words perfectly, but the rhythm of it had been catchy enough that now he replicated it into a song he'd started up on his own.

He broke out in a grin and began to run, starting up his singing again as he did.  He had it!

I've got four paws and two gold eyes,
ay-o away I go,
To carry me through lows and highs,
ay-o away I go,

And though I'll miss the times we held,
ay-o away I go,
Know I'll return with the ice does melt,
ay-o away I go,

Ashlar laughed, then slowed to a stop in the meadow to catch his breath.  He thought that he might love the autumn more than anything.  The air was cold, the wind was nice and crisp, and the leaves under his paws made for some pretty excellent accompaniment when he sang.  Even if no one was around to listen, he couldn't help but feel lighter for it.

WC: 247

singing?
merrick could scarce believe it. he had been hot upon the trail of a coyote along the borders, but it had sped off with only bleeding bites delivered to its flank and its life intact.
evaded yet sated, the brat king had come back to the pathways leading to the meeting-field.
indeed, it was singing, and running, the boyish voice of someone who has never seen a killing before.
merrick glided through the memorized shadows of each barren tree, slipping oily between them until he came upon young ashlar, who struck a lovely picture against the hues of autumn.
"i didn't know you were such a songbird," merrick teased, appearing from cover with a pointed, curious arch of his brow.

At first, when Merrick appeared from between the trees and spoke, Ashlar smiled and turned.  He did slow down his run to a cantering stop, but the joy that effused him did not lessen.  I learned it from a stranger, but I couldn't remember the words.  So I found some instead.  He answered a little breathlessly, but without the stutter that normally plagued him.  When Ashlar sang it put him at ease, and when others enjoyed his singing all the moreso.

He felt the unsure begin to creep back in as he recalled the way his lessons had gone so far.  @Skoll Amir had been unable to make a fighter out of him so far.  Not only that, but he'd failed a few hunts as well.  His record so far on display, singing was about the only offering he could give reliably, and it bolstered him that Merrick seemed interested.  D'you like to sing?  He asked, this more tentatively than the previous.

WC: 162

"i'm not much of a singer," merrick grinned in his lopsided, cold way. there was no hardness in ashlar, and he was perturbed by it. blood would come again to ursus, of that he was sure. in the interim, there must be things to engender a sharper edge to the little canary.
"a stranger?" he inquired, inviting ashlar to expand more into something he could possibly use. he glanced around their encampment, beckoned ashlar into a slow trot that meandered the perimeter of the place. "has music always appealed to you?"

Oh.  Ashlar's features fell with slight disappointment.  The boy hadn't been expecting a different answer from a wolf who looked so intimidating (and so used to fighting) but he had hoped, in some way, he'd find commonality there.  It never seemed anyone who actually liked music as much as he did stuck around for long.

Merrick did seem interested in the stranger.  Ashlar latched onto that, trying to remember as much as he could.  I m...met them a while ago.  They were alone and n...not a part of anyone.  They were just singing, and I asked wh-where they'd learned the songs.  The conversation hadn't gone any farther than that.  Their name had been strange though.  Ashlar couldn't remember it now, but he worked on it while he answered the next part.

Always.  This held a level of assured truth that Ashlar's former answers hadn't.  The stranger was harder to speak to after weeks but his love of music was easy.  It calmed and made him happy and he liked that, occasionally, it seemed to make others happy too.

WC: 178

there was music in violence. perhaps that was something which which he could work, though somehow this was made doubtful by how happily ashlar had answered. merrick did not think he had ever before met anyone so uncorruptible.
this plagued the boy, dejected him, fired his hungers in a deeper way and one yet unexplored.
"do you ever make up songs yourself?" the coywolf asked, keeping up the veneer of intrigue so that he might reach beneath it, snatch the machinations inside ashlar's pure little mind. he thus focused himself upon the pretty joiner, wondering, waiting how to lurk beneath the words of each spoken sentence.

Merrick was still interested in his song craft, even if he did not make it himself.  Ashlar's expression turned grateful.  Other packs had not cared and it meant a lot to have the bear king take note.  His tail began to wave slightly.

I do.  He replied with an open smile.  I...is there any song you'd like? I could... make one.  For you.  The offer did not grow hesitant because Ashlar did not wish to do it. Instead he had surprised himself in his boldness with making it.  The boy had made only a few songs so far and who knew if what he made would please Merrick.  He found that he wanted to try.

WC: 115

make a song for him? any music will do? the bearwitch could have cackled in delight at the idea, but instead kicked at some fallen leaves, cyclops-stare shifting away, away, away from beatific untouchable ashlar.
averna, perhaps; the pale priest and her attentiveness toward the veil; perhaps she might make something of this cherub.
"i would like that very much," merrick whispered velveteen when his eye had roved back to ashlar. guileless. innocent. lightbound. "will you sing for me now?"

Ashlar had hoped that perhaps Merrick might give him a subject or a preference.  Instead the lead left an open door.  The young bard thought about it for a moment, pairing words that seemed to rhyme as he crafted a song Merrick might appreciate.  He was torn at first between slow and rousing, but today wasn't a day for slow.  The sun was out and the sky was beautiful.

Spirit.  Hear it, near it.  Claws.  Jaws.  Fight, might, contrite.  Strong, belong.

He played this game often as he wandered and it helped to warm him up for when he needed to fit the sounds to the pattern of a rhythm.  Slowly he started to hum, picking up in tempo and volume as he let his confidence warm upon the joy of the tune.

In the valley of the bear lives a family strong
Proud of the power they carry
True to their name and the order, they belong
here, far from those ordinary

When the spirit calls and the night grows dark
With one voice they reply
Neath a moon on high and a field of stars
A single chorus on high

Tooth and claw
We defend our home
Keep from here those who would harm it

Chest and maw
We commend our own
Sing to the sky shades of garnet

As the bear does fight so they will fight,
Firm are the roots of their claim
It gifts its might to the favored in its sight
That within this valley remain.

It was an odd song for him, but in his time here, Ashlar had learned some about the pack he'd joined.  He knew that they worshipped the bear and that it meant a lot to them, and he knew that Merrick's family was a force that terrified him.  He'd wanted his song to give both because he thought, perhaps, the bear king might enjoy it.

As the final notes faded, though, his nerves returned.  He fell silent, waiting eagerly for a response and dreading that perhaps the song had not been good at all.

merrick had sat himself down, and listened to ashlar with strands of humour and interest unfurling across his battle-bit expression. he certain had not lied about his affinity for the musical; the shy wolf's voice was modulated and beauteous, spiraling out overtop the ancient trees.
"bravo," the bearwitch purred when the song had ended. "'sing to the sky shades of garnet.' i enjoy that." cryptic now his cylops-stare. a bard in war, ashlar would find himself. ear flicked. "you are quick with words."

Ashlar flushed when Merrick complimented his lyrics and then went on to compliment him.  His eyes shone and his smile grew despite his attempts to keep it meek and unassuming.  He couldn't help but feel extremely proud whenever his music made another wolf happy!  Merrick might not show it outwardly, but Ashlar always took from any wolf what little they would give, and a compliment from the bear king seemed far more than he ever hoped to get.

The words aren't so bad as choosing the pattern.  The rhythm?  He answered, and as he did his voice once again took on a level of quiet that had disappeared when he sang.  He could never explain why singing came easier.  I play games with rhymes.  He stopped there.  He did not want to go too far into it, because he did not want them to think he wasted too much time with words!  He had taken up hunting frequently too for practice, but when a trail was old, sometimes he needed to pass the time.

oh, the dawnlight of sweet joy blossoming in ashlar's face. merrick thought;
had he ever been so delighted?
the boy had two memories within his mind that he had twisted over and over, and could at last, he decided, be called positive. there was little sting in them now. the first, the bearclaw prince out-of-doors with indra
she just gave up her breath to you, didn't she?
the muscle beneath merrick's eye twitched.
— romping in the grass and then a man had come. a man who had given something to indra and the boy had taken for himself. her soft voice slightly chastising but warm, and the man looking right upon him with a feral light of approval. 
and the second? admit it chafes you,
little merrick and aunt laurel, and birds for him to chase, how she had watched him, how she had looked after him there and it was the first time and the only time that the bearwolf could remember laurel showing him a kindness.
he turned that memory over in his mind, a piece of foolsgold nostalgia.
"what sort of games?" merrick, returning to himself, his voice cracking audibly as he tried to return himself into the boy's presence.

Ashlar hesitated when Merrick seemed to grow upset for a moment.  The boy sensed that it was not something he'd done, but he didn't like that he'd caused it regardless.  What was it that had made him react?  Ashlar thought back to what he said, but found nothing.

How many can I find, or how fast can I find them.  Sometimes, if I am with someone, can they find a word without a rhyme.  That game was fun because, at times, he'd make up his own words.  It depended on how competitive the other wolf was in the game.  If... you ever wanted to play.  We could?  He added hesitantly, unsure if he was crossing a line in offering such idle time to the leader.  The moment from before inspired the invitation, in part.  If he'd upset Merrick, he wanted to make it right, but he was keen enough to know that asking such a thing outright was likely not the thing to do here.  The one-eyed wolf didn't seem like he would appreciate sharing the way Ashlar did.

merrick wished he could catch others off-guard. too long he had been fixed, been rote. a twitch of his lips as he considered, and then formed "yes" into an audible fashion. 
after all, why shouldn't he play; why shouldn't he spin out his days into debauchery and friendly games with a pretty boy?
had he a cup of wine the bearwitch would have drained it in a single draught. "i don't have nearly as angelic a voice," he told ashlar kindly, though the smile that crept to life upon his features was anything but.
contemplative. "are you really as innocent as you act?" merrick asked softly, unaware that the cherub had grown up in a similar way to himself.

It was hard to describe how much Ashlar brightened when Merrick said yes.  His entire demeanor shifted... his stance bent and grew playful with joy, and his ears stood up while his smile opened with surprise.  He hadn't for an instant dared hope that his invitation would be accepted!! So the acceptance was both a gift and an absolute surprise.

It doesn't matter!  He answered, for the first time speaking with volume born of enthusiasm.  Did he dare... talk to Merrick... like a friend?  No, maybe not.  Not yet.  So he didn't follow with a challenge, though his golden eyes grew sparkling hints of one.  Once they played, maybe!

Joy turned to confusion with the next bit, though, and Ashlar's head tilted.  What did he mean?  I don't act...  he began, then straightened and sat.  Why did he ask that?  What... would I be like, then?  He had never considered that he should be any different than how he was, but Merrick's comment sparked curiosity.  He never counted himself innocent, just happy and loved, and now he wondered what the man saw versus what he'd hoped to find.

quick little sentence fragments threaded with a jeweled joy. merrick leant forward;
the serpent shifted behind his eyes
"well, like me, of course."
and what did ashlar think of him? what did the boyish little rogue spot curling in the corner of the misshapen gaze? could he see the rot that climbed the tree of merrick like a creeping vine? lip fought to curl up; he forced it back and back and down and down.
and breathed in the scent of the boy, which was calming for the fragrance of ursus,
"i've never known anyone like you." not even snowskip, for she had seemed only naive where ashlar thrummed with a true and pious delight.

Like him?  For the first time, Ashlar actually looked at Merrick.  Studied him for longer than a second before he had to look away, down.  The boy thought about what he saw there.

Strength.  Confidence.  Violence, but not towards him or the pack.  And Ashlar had no reason to think he was a danger to him, so he did not fear him that way.  Instead the fear was an awe, and a quiet but innocent envy for the respect and knowledge that the bear king commanded.

I couldn't.  He said quietly, but with a smile.  He didn't feel any sadness that he couldn't.  There were many different types of wolves in this world and it was no fault of his that he was different.  If they were the same, would he be content to be in Ursus?  Would they have the opportunity to play games and to have this talk?  He did not think so.

I'm not anything yet.  But I'm learning, and one day.  Papa always said it was important to find something, but healing was not mine.  Singing, but that isn't ...  I guess...  he fell quiet, unsure of how to finish.  But maybe Merrick felt the same, and therefore understood.

oof ow i suck D: we can wrap and have an updated one soon?

"what is a pack of warriors without a bard?" merrick purred. ashlar presented a vulnerability in his mention of father. the word rankled the bearwitch, put him immediately in mind of the disappearing tadec. the few memories merrick still bore of the man had grown hazy, and good riddance for it.
"think of yourself as clay. something must mold you. that is how you become something," the coywolf went on, looking out toward the smudge of mountain-shadow against the horizon, the bowls of stone that formed the paw of the bear and encased them all around. "you will be given a purpose."

yes!! And never!

Merrick didn't judge him.  He could scarce believe his ears when instead the king spoke as if he were something of great importance to warriors like he.  A bard.  He considered the title, decided he liked it, and glowed with the promise of a purpose even stronger.

Okay, he said, nodding once with a resolute feeling that belied the bending nature of his spirit.  He would try as hard as he might to please and become something useful to them.  He knew that, in this, he could succeed.