Bearclaw Valley Galant

He had so many songs to sing, and since the day was relatively warm, Ashlar was fishing.  He needed to be still as he watched the water beneath him, but he found that the fish ignored the quiet sounds from above.  So while he stared at the water and listened to the gentle babble of the creek, Ashlar hummed.

The tune was light and slow, gentle.  It plodded like the bear he'd met, lazy and warm in the sun.  But it would need to be impressive too... like when his friend would rear up, massive.  

He didn't look for words yet, just absently played with the tones as he waited for a familiar shimmer of scales in the dappled light.

she hears him before she sees him—but she had smelled him even sooner. she is downwind, and his scent comes to her, mixed with the fresh, aquatic aroma of the creek. as she draws closer, she begins to take notice of the humming, and curiosity begins to mingle with puzzlement.

the red girl comes across Ashlar, staring down at the water, making a sound that is a little like talking—but not. more like a whisper—but not. her brows knit together, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Avicus begins to mimic the last note he'd sent out, the vibration in her throat sending a frisson down her spine. like a howl, but muffled. almost like the wind through the trees. . .yes, that is the best comparison. something not of wolves but of nature, and she wonders how he had learned this power.

her voice cuts out and she looks at him, questioning.

He liked part of it, but part of it Ashlar knew would change when he found the words to suit it.  It did not quite fit the bear that he had met and who was his friend, but perhaps another bear.  

When Avicus first found him, Ashlar's reaction was similar to when Merrick was there.  He felt ashamed, to a degree, and his tail tucked a bit though he did not move from the river.  Ashlar hadn't thought she would like his songs (though he'd wanted to make her one too, as he did all friends who were important).  

Then he heard her vibrating note, not quite the same, but a clear mimic of his song.  He looked at her, surprise turning his nerves into a delighted smile.  She looked confused more than anything else.

It's a song for the bear, he explained, turning and wading his way from the water.  It was cold and he shivered as he left it and wet fur hit the still-winter air.  He had seen no fish for a bit and would like a break.  Perhaps he'd hunt other warmer prey later.  The one who lives in the valley.  Ashlar repeated the beginning, a soft and relaxing run that plodded into the next.  The last part was what he felt was wrong.  He wished to capture the power of it, but not with the unpredictable fear.  It was tricky.

her face shifts almost comically from confusion to concern. a song for the bear. Evien, she says in low, haunted tones. had he forgotten so soon? calling the bear to them would bring only more bloodshed; hadn't he seen her, close to death, fevered and putrid and unable to keep down her meal?

Avicus sits down, then rests upon her belly, forepaws outstretched. she slowly grinds her teeth together, forehead furrowed. she is clearly agitated, little tunes and the prospect of fishing forgotten.

and her ears swivel, slowly, constantly, searching for the threat. 

it is only a matter of time. if Ashlar can carry the power of wind in his voice, then surely he will summon the bear, and they both will perish—she from defending him, and he from sheer incompetence. the boy can't even catch a squirrel; how is he meant to fight a mountainous beast?

this makes me think of her <3

He hadn't known or even really met Evien, so at first Ashlar didn't know what she was referring to.  He'd upset her though.  Ashlar's brow furrowed as his face knit with concern, then fell quietly.  He hadn't meant to do that, and he wondered if maybe his music had reminded her of something she'd rather not think of.  It was like when he heard a song and it whispered of mama's singing.  It made him sad in a way that was both good and bad, a memory of a time that was past, but also a comfort on dark nights when sometimes he could get lonely.

Sorry.  He said quietly, looking at her with apology written deep in his meek golden gaze.  I make songs for friends, s... sometimes.  The bear had been a good friend to him and he seemed to be a good friend to the pack, but maybe she'd rather not hear a song for another friend.  Maybe she would rather have her own?

It would be low and quiet until it wasn't, just like her.  It should slip by until it wanted to command the attention, and once it did, it shouldn't let it slip away.  It should hold them transfixed.  He hummed a few notes, low, then added a small amount of variance, a subtle rhythm.  This one is you, maybe, if... if you wanted?  It would take him a while, to make her one completely.  It was rare he liked a start right away, but the start for her he felt was the easiest part.  He wasn't sure he'd ever find the right words to put to her because words didn't really fit her at all.

i LOVE it! *adds to her playlist*

perhaps he doesn't know the gravity of it. Avicus had found bears to be friends, too, when Jaylen had been present. it was only later that she discovered that's not necessarily the case, at least always. at least he is sorry, and ceases his bear-song.

and then he surprises her. he launches into another sequence of notes, and then says that it's for. . .her. her own song.

how to capture Avicus in a song? the sounds that make up her life seem too tangible, too earthy, to voice. the bleats or screams of prey at the last; the rustle of grass as she stalks through it; the snarl in her throat and muffled thud of bodies in a fight.

yet what Ashlar concocts is not unpleasant; in fact, she is soothed by it, and nods, eyes half-closing.

the bear killed Evien, she says, by way of explanation. it isn't that she disliked his previous song, it just came at a bad time. to call him. . .we are killed, too.

she had kept the notes of her own song in the front of her mind, and repeated them now, then queried, me?

Was that bear the same?  Ashlar tried to imagine it harming a wolf and found the image easily, only based on it's impressive size and the glint of his claws.  But his eyes had been friendly and his voice gentle.  And like wolves, perhaps they could harm and not harm?  Baba had only occasionally warned Ashlar of wolves who might harm him.  The boy grew up to be trusting, tempered mostly by Mona's watchfulness.  Mama had cautioned against strangers at least, lighting a soft wariness that was easy to alight into playful trust.

It's a song for gentle bears,  he said, thinking on the notes.  He had wanted to depict power in it too but now he thought maybe he wouldn't.  Not if she thought it would draw the attention of the bear god's anger.  I'll be careful.  He could definitely promise her to do so.  He hadn't known; if he had, perhaps he would have seen what the bear thought then of his song.  If he had sung it earlier, would it have been soothed from killing the healer?  The thought made his ears prick up, that songs might have more use than fun.  Mama had always sung to him when he was frightened and it soothed him.  Could it soothe the bear god too?

He beamed when she repeated the strain and his paws danced a bit with outright pleasure.  Yes!  He took that as the highest praise, an assurance that she liked it, especially because she seemed pleased to call the song hers.  Ashlar gave an emphatic nod, then continued the tune.  He had tried to capture in it the intensity of the hunt, the sharp edge of her focus and the joyful danger she seemed spun from.  It was hard for him to do this; he knew little of the feelings of such things himself.  The last notes were wrong.

He frowned.  No.  He tried another.  Better, but still not right.

ah, gentle bears. more than one bear; she knows this. friend, she says, and her mouth curves in the slightest smile as she thinks of Jaylen. perhaps that's who Ashlar means to sing to. but he has not been here for some time—he has been supplanted by the beast that took Evien, and now a darker bear-spirit reigns over Ursus.

once upon a time, a bear-song might have been welcome. now, it seems a foolish risk to take.

she listens to him continue to hum, then repeats it back, though skipping over the parts he has deemed unfitting. why me? Avicus asks—not that she thinks she is unworthy, though her stunted speech would make it seem that way. she wants to know why these particular sounds are attached to her. 

she perceives not in these whimsical sounds but in touch and taste, smell. more earthy, corporeal things. she does not hear music upon thinking of Ashlar but instead thinks of softness, of a homely scent. though he certainly portrays more song than any other creature she has met. . .

At first Ashlar took her question as expected, that she needed validation as to why he'd given her the song. It confused him at first because he'd said he gave all of his friends songs, but perhaps she did not know why he'd picked her specifically for this? Why he'd chosen her song next, to put music to what he saw.

The boy ducked his head, suddenly a tad shy, but only because he hoped the answer did not offend her. It was easier to give the song than the reason.

Ashlar did not know words, exactly. You are the hunt, and the hunt is the song. It has a sound, like... like, and he made it. The low growling rhythm of the heartbeat of panicked prey, the increased pounding of paws, and the build of tension to the catch.

Everything is a song. He said a little softer, his paws shifting with some nervousness as he revealed this small insight. Ashlar thought maybe she'd find it silly, but it filled him with so much joy to hear the music. Perhaps she heard it too.

what he says is a compliment of the highest order. i am the hunt, she repeats, and lifts her chin. she is the hunt; she had heard the bull elk's call first, and led the wolves of Ursus to chase him down. she is the one who routinely stuffs the pack's caches with fresh meat. she is the one who continues to cheat death.

everything is a song. Avicus nods, understanding. well, maybe not quite—but she takes his meaning. she does not hear his music in every facet of life, but she does hear a kind of primal melody, a beat like that of a heart.

what is your song? she asks, wondering if he has thought of it; she would be surprised if not. for her part, her face grows gruff and studious, brow wrinkling once more as she tries to decipher what makes him him. but she has not the music, and so she leaves it to Ashlar, teeth sinking ever so slightly in her lower lip in contemplation.

His song? Ashlar was startled by the question. He had songs for many of his friends but had never considered to create one for himself. He did not think he knew himself so well yet.

I don't know, he answered honestly. He was not all that bothered by this though. If he sang the songs, then all were his, because there was no song of songs was there?

I... I don't know what I am. He did hesitate to admit that, but she could likely see it in him. He did not have her conviction in the hunt. He was a singer but little else, yet he had the potential for more. He knew this and this was why he held no despair in it. Just determined optimism.

you're the song, Avicus decides, seizing upon his indecision. she is not one to quibble or waste time on such existential debates; everything has its place and its nature, and Ashlar is a singer. he may not think there is a song of songs, but she can't agree. whatever that is, it's Ashlar. what else could he be?

she begins to hum her little tune once more, and gives a genuine smile, the first of the afternoon. yes, she says, and it's unclear whether she speaks to herself or to the young man.

then her eyes move to the water, to the brief silver rippling beneath. fish? Avicus asks, glancing toward him. there is no pile of prey beside him, nor remnants of bone; if he has been successful today, he has hid it well.

feel free to wrap this if you like <3

Ashlar couldn't hide the glow of pleasure that her praise brought to him. It was one of the best compliments he thought he'd ever been paid, and from her, he had not expected it. She did not say things she did not mean, this the boy knew already. If she said that he was the song then he was.

Ashlar thrummed with the joy of it and his paws bounced a bit, playfully, while she hummed and smiled. Then she moved on to his fishing and he looked around, briefly confused before the subject change dawned on him.

I was, but I haven't caught anything yet, he answered, looking behind to the river dubiously. He'd gotten distracted with his songs and had not even been looking, towards the end when she came upon him. Did she know that? Want to? Maybe if she was there, they could catch more together. And maybe, if she was there, he would not be so distracted.

she gives a brief nod, moving to sit closer to him. she looks into the water, searching for an easy target. Avicus has much more practice with hunting on land rather than in the water; she's only tried her paw at fishing once or twice. 

movement, then she strikes, downward, into the water.

whether or not she succeeds is irrelevant—at least in the grander scale of things—for she now has a song, a song given to her by a friend.