Stone Circle Life alone makes me shake

For @Reverie <33

The three-legged Star had ventured out of their hollow and into the lands surrounding. He had caught wind of Kvarsheim, blown in on the cold front that threatened more snow. Crowfeather had felt a small measure of guilt with Silvertongue racing between their neighbor packs, building diplomatic friendships for them. It was time that he did the same.

There was a thick fur that he had draped on his back. In his mouth was a handsome pheasant, plump for eating.

Crowfeather placed the bird at his paws and drew his head back to call for a member of Kvarsheim. He hoped that Bjarna might hear him, but he could not be certain.

<3

An unfamiliar call rang out over Kvarsheim; Reverie had hardly paid attention to the dark wolf from Riverclan beyond her fear of him, did not remember his voice. It was this ignorance which led her to answer the call. She was curious, if only because the unknown wolf had not called for leadership or for anyone in particular at all.
Familiarity tickled at the edges of her thoughts as she approached the dark figure at the border. She smelled blood. Her eyes found the bird first, a sad and bloodied thing lying at the visitor's feet. Distress filled her gaze. That was not the appropriate reaction to a gift, she knew, so she averted her eyes and instead looked at the man who had brought it —
It was him! She froze, all fraying nerves and deer in the headlights stare. Her fear was muted, but persistent. Would he be angry with her? Would he try to hurt her, even here? She didn't know. She could only stare.

It was a familiar figure that found him at the border, but not one that Crowfeather had expected he would see. This was the wolf that had surprised him in the hollow, the one that Silvertongue had attacked. She smelled strongly of Kvarsheim, which gave him relief.

Oh… hello, his voice came softly to the winter air. I- I don’t know if you remember me.

Would she remember him or Silvertongue, who had forced her from their land?

I- I brought gifts.

Gingerly, Crowfeather pulled the fox’s fur from his back. The shadow stepped forward to lay it on the ground. The bird was placed on top of it. Food and something warm for the winter months. The young Star hoped that Kvarsheim would accept.

This time his voice was soft when he greeted her, stammering, gentle. Reverie noticed the fox pelt for the first time. It was a beautiful thing, if she only avoided thinking too closely about where it had come from. But she could only think about that day, and how much the pair had scared her. How stupid she'd felt.
I remember you, She returned in a voice just as soft. What else could she say? There were no warm feelings in her, not for him, not now. The gifts he brought weren't for her. For a moment she thought about calling Bjarna, but that would be a kindness. He did not deserve her kindness, she felt. He had given her none.

Immediately, Crowfeather felt as though he was placed beneath a harsh spotlight. The girl said that she remembered him, but she didn’t move or speak further. There was a glint of distrust in the shine of her gaze. The young Star wasn’t sure what he might do. He worried that she would see him as an enemy. Further panic spiraled him into wondering if Kvarsheim would pull out of their alliance with Riverclan.

I-

Crowfeather wanted to say something to her. He wanted to apologize, but he knew that it would only make it seem that Riverclan had been at fault. The shadow wished that he had been able to steer the gold-clad girl to their borders, instead of having Silvertongue rush her.

Maybe we- Maybe we could start with names. I’m- I’m Crowfeather.

He continued to stammer. Something softened in her, but still, the memory of that day hung between them. Reverie knew now that she had been wrong, stupid, but — Lestan had been kind. Sadey had been kind. If they could, why not him, too? Even then, she might have forgiven Riverclan their inability to meet this standard, had she not felt so... foolish. Embarrassed. She knew all of these things, but knowing didn't change how she felt. It should have, though.
That was the thought she held to as she watched him reach out, and tried to respond in kind. Okay. I'm Reverie, She hesitated, then added. It's nice to meet you, Crowfeather. It wasn't, not really, but she was trying to be kind. Maybe he didn't deserve it yet, but denying it felt ugly; it felt cruel in a way she never wanted to be.

Reverie, he echoed breathlessly. It was a nice name, almost angelic in its sound. It was another name that seemed foreign to him. Crowfeather wondered what she might have been called, if she had been born beneath the sea of stars. With a coat colored in faded sunlight and creams, he could think of many things that she could be called.

It’s very nice to meet you.

A nervous wag of his tail was offered to Reverie.

It was only then that he caught the wound on her shoulder. An attack! Crowfeather wondered if it had been the dangerous group that Silvertongue had mentioned. His eyes locked on the shoulder-gash with a fearful expression on his face. Dark ears fell back to his head.

Y- Y- You’re hurt…

Her eyes warmed by degrees as Crowfeather seemed to test the sound of her name on his own tongue. There was something soft about him, she decided; something fragile, feather-fine and trembling as if he might scatter into a million little slivers of dark silk under the breeze. She remembered that it was not him who had chased her from Riverclan. He had stammered then, too. The memory seemed to loosen her grip on the resentment she held to her chest like a shield.
Then he noticed her wounds, and she could only frown; she'd forgotten about those. She hardly felt them most of the time, and when she did she felt terribly dramatic about it all. Oh, it's nothing - I'm fine, Reverie tried to wave away his concern. She didn't need it, not from him of all wolves. I... should I call for Bjarna? She looked to the gifts, then back to him, uncertain. It felt as if they might be getting somewhere, and Bjarna's presence would surely put a halt to their progress... but what could Crowfeather possibly want from Reverie? Friendship? She wasn't certain if she could be friends with someone who would do what he had done to her. His reaction wasn't a crime by any means, and she certainly didn't think him a bad person, but... she expected more of those she cared for.

I should have brought herbs, he said aloud, frowning with disappointment at himself. In the winter months, herbs were vital for any healer. Silvertongue had already mentioned attackers near their land. While the creek wolves might have held them off, there was no telling when they might return. Herbs would have served Kvarsheim better than a bird and a pelt.

Oh! You can call Bjarna… but you- you don’t have to. I know her! I just-

One of his dark paws scuffed at the earth.

Maybe you could take these gifts for yourself. I can come back with more.

Crowfeather appeared to be too fearful to meet her gaze. His senses were heightened on her emotions, hoping that he might determine if she disliked him or not.

He seemed to spiral into a misery that struck her as terribly familiar; how could she fail to recognize it, when she'd felt it so many times herself? Reverie just couldn't maintain her coldness anymore, not even a shred of it. She offered a smile and a hesitant sway of her tail, hoping to encourage him. She couldn't just let him stand there, looking so sad and afraid, not when he'd brought gifts and now he was offering them to her.
That's kind of you, Reverie said softly. Thank you. I - I'm not upset with you, you know. I just... I was so scared, that day. And lost. And I felt so stupid, when I realized what I'd done! It's hard to forget that, is all. And it would continue to be, but she thought that she could get past it, if only to make things alright with Crowfeather. Suddenly she very much wanted to see him smile.

Reverie had accepted his gifts! Crowfeather felt himself breathe out, not realizing that he had been holding his lungs hostage for so long. While the woman had recognized his fragility, softening because of it, the shadow believed that she had been won over by the beauty of the fur he had brought. He was pleased that he had selected it. If he had brought the fawn-skin, she might not have warmed up to him so easily.

When she spoke of the day she had been attacked, the tripod shrunk.

I have been scared, too. And I have done very foolish things.

Crowfeather offered her a gentle smile. His sad eyes lifted to her face with some hopefulness.

You are friend to Riverclan, now. That- That accident is over. We don’t need to think about it.

Then, You can visit any time! Kvarsheim and Riverclan were allies, after all.

I love Crowfeather <3

He smiled then, and it felt like everything would be alright. Crowfeather had a pretty smile, she decided, and there was nothing Reverie loved quite so much as pretty things. A friend, he called her, and while she wasn't quite ready to dismiss what had happened between them, it was a start. Maybe they could talk about it more later. For now, they were friends. It was enough.
Maybe I will sometime, She conceded, warming further to him. What is it like? Riverclan - your packmates. She had seen the place, all the trees and how beautiful it was, but the people... that was the memory she wanted to make right. That was where she would have to start.

Thank you so much. <333 ;w;

Reverie asked about his home and what it was like there.

Crowfeather gave her his most thoughtful expression. The honey color of his eyes fought to turn back to where he could see a glimpse of Riverclan. After they had found it, he hadn’t wanted to leave. It took a special occasion to draw him from the safety of their shadows. It had returned some of his strength, being able to hide away.

It’s… beautiful. Quiet, but full of things! Life. There’s all kinds of things living there. I can hear the foxes sometimes, at night. And we are small but, it’s- we-

Oh, he’d been babbling too much. Crowfeather didn’t wish to overwhelm her with his words.

It’s perfect. A breath fell from his lips.

Do you like Kvarsheim?

He didn't tell her about his packmates, but Crowfeather's words revealed something more interesting to her, and perhaps more important. He loved his home; he didn't have to say it directly, because it was in every word he spoke about it. Reverie could begin to understand why he felt so protective over it. She was enchanted throughout his explanation, eyes wide and starry, but then he asked about Kvarsheim and her expression fell.
It's complicated, Reverie said softly. She didn't want to speak of it; didn't want to think about it. But - Bjarna took me in, and decided that we're sisters. And Gunnar is kind to me in the ways I wish my father was. So it's kind of like home. It's just... not. She swallowed and shifted on her paws, and added nervously, Packs are kind of weird.

The dark man listened to her as she spoke. She said that Bjarna had taken her in, had made her a sister. She spoke of Gunnar fondly, comparing him to the role of a father that might have been lacking. Crowfeather’s eyes were sad, intent. He listened as she described that it was almost a home. It just wasn’t.

It was difficult to relate with this sentiment. He wanted to ask questions to try to understand better. He wanted to assure her that sometimes homes were made in others and the ground they claimed had no say in the matter. These beliefs hadn’t worked well for him, in the past. He’d put too much stock into some, and it had weakened his heart.

It’s a very hard thing, making a home.

Crowfeather lowered his dark snout to the ground.

Is there somewhere else you think you belong? he asked after a short pause.

She watched the sadness bloom in his eyes and thought it was odd, how it suited him, because she'd always thought of sadness as a sort of sickness. Was it possible to be sick for so long that you wore it like a part of you? Reverie wanted to ask, but she knew better, and knew too that others might look at her with the same question at the tip of their tongue. She would not want them to ask, so she didn't ask Crowfeather.
Instead she let him ask his question. And she thought about it, really thought, her gaze drifting out beyond; past the borders of both packs, past even the horizon. Out there, Reverie admitted, voice hushed. Out in the wilds. Sometimes I think I'd like to exist in the same way sunlight does, or the wind. Untouchable, you know? But... I guess that's selfish. She frowned as she came to the realization. So - I don't know. Kvarsheim is probably the best place for me.

The tripod listened to her speak with breath held fast in the back of his throat.

Reverie painted a picture for him of where she felt she truly belonged. She spoke of sunlight and wind, as though her spirit felt most at peace somewhere in between those two things. Crowfeather had never heard someone describe themselves so beautifully. He felt shameful, suddenly. A licking wave reminded him that he was nothing like sunlight or the breeze that drifted through their coat. He was a shadow and he belonged in the dark.

I will help, however I can, he said without knowing what he might be able to offer her. Even if all you need is a friend. His honey eyes were kind upon her face. Crowfeather did not expect that she would forget how she had been treated in their home. He only hoped that he could repair some of the damage that might have been caused.

But shadow and light were bound inextricably, two sides of the same golden coin; where one flitted the other soon followed. Perhaps they sensed it, the two of them, and were drawn to this meeting by forces much older than the ground they stood on. Or maybe it didn't mean anything; maybe it was chance that brought them here, chance and stilted good intentions that sometimes passed for kindness, and the small hope, carried around like house keys, that maybe it was possible to make a difference. To take up space in a way that was meaningful for someone else, too.
Reverie felt, then, that Crowfeather made his offer not only for her but for himself. Not because she was special, or because he wanted something from her. He wore his sadness like consumption, like a wasting disease written into his skin, and because he could not shed his own sickness he reached for hers. It was almost like her; it was almost like running. But where she sought freedom, he sought...
What did he seek? To help, yes, but what did that give him? She suddenly needed to know, more than she needed to breathe. Can I ask you a personal question? Her voice was soft. In her fascination she forgot even to thank Crowfeather for his kindness. She wanted more than friendship from him, now; she wanted to pick him apart and compare all the ways they were different and all the ways they were the same. Like all things involving Reverie it came quick and boundless, a burst of intensity where there was only a vacuum before, but this time she didn't question it. She didn't want to.

The woman wanted to know if she could ask him a personal question.

Crowfeather watched her, fearful and hesitant to agree to such a thing. He had no secrets, of course. There was nothing that he had done well to hide. The tripod had lived his life with his heart upon his sleeve. His feelings could be read in the light of his eyes and the lines on his face. To know that she might ask something deeply personal was nerve wracking.

Y-Yes, of course.

Friends shared with each other. Crowfeather would need to demonstrate that he could be a good friend to Reverie, if she would be expected to let him in, allow him to be closer. She seemed troubled. As he looked her over, he hoped he hadn’t said something that might have upset her.

She saw that he was afraid, but his soft words were nothing but agreement, and she wondered at that. What had Reverie done to deserve such bravery from him? She almost told him that it was okay, that she wouldn't ask if only because of that flash of anxiety across his features, but something stopped her. Curiosity, perhaps. There was nothing charitable about her own part in this, after all.
Reverie would cherish Crowfeather as selfishly as she did every other spark in her heart, if he let her.
When you've had a bad day - a really terrible one, and it's over, and you're tired and sad and you just want something... comforting - what do you wish for? She wondered it often about herself, because honestly... she didn't know what to wish for, anymore. It was all so muddled in her head, a confusing mix of things that hurt and things that she loved and so many things that were both, she couldn't tell what she really wanted anymore. She didn't know what was safe to want.
Maybe Crowfeather knew. She hoped he did; she hoped no one else in the entire world had ever felt this way, and that she was the first, because it really was a terrible way to feel. No one deserved it.

The woman’s question hung on the air for a long time.

Crowfeather wavered. His hopeful, light-filled eyes had softened and dimmed. The expression on his face was far from where they stood. He was in a field of fireflies with Germanicus. The sun had set, and the summer air was thick with the hum of crickets and cicadas. The glen where they stopped to rest was buzzing with life. But they were safe and warm, and they were happy. Crowfeather was happy.

That was a long time ago, now. The glen had been forgotten when they had reached Akashingo. Happiness had been stripped away. The dark tripod had set unrealistic expectations. He had allowed himself to love someone who would never love him in return.

I- his voice croaked hoarsely. The honey of his eyes could not meet her face. He feared she would see the image in his mind. He feared that she would know the secret love he had left in his heart.

I wish for something I can never have.

Crowfeather blinked and pulled himself from the glen of fireflies.

She watched his expression change. Her question took him far away, somewhere she could not reach him, and Reverie didn't even try. She could only watch the pain bloom across Crowfeather's features, and wait for the answer she already knew. It had been naive of her, perhaps, to hope that no one else suffered the way she did. But there was a certain kinship in this shared wound, one she would press into Crowfeather's hands to remind him that this heartbreak need not leave him empty-handed. Not entirely.
I think I understand, Her own voice dropped to a whisper, and she stepped toward him, around the gifts he'd brought to offer — a hug. Just a hug, nothing more. Only if he wanted it. Reverie had seen the heart of his suffering, as she'd wanted, and knew now that they were more alike than she ever could have guessed. She couldn't help, couldn't even offer it the way Crowfeather had, but she could give him this.

The golden woman touched him, soft. Her whispering words hung upon the air.

Crowfeather had not expected such a show of kindness. He had not anticipated that his willowy figure would be held close, hugged, cared for. For a long moment, the tripod quaked. His eyes were fixed upon the gnarled bark of the nearby tree. How could she be so good to him when she had been forcibly removed from Riverclan? How could she forgive the fright she had felt?

Unable to stop them, Crowfeather’s cheeks were streaked with tears. His snout tucked in, breathing in the unfamiliar gold of her pelt. Warm with embarrassment, he feared looking into Reverie’s eyes again. The dark figure could only cry. He cried and he hoped that his tears would not destroy the possibility of a new friendship.

He trembled beneath her touch, and Reverie nearly abandoned the embrace for fear of overstepping. Then he tucked his nose into her fur and she hugged him a little tighter. She felt his tears in her fur, warm at first and then chilling in the frigid air. He was breaking. What could she do but hold him?
I'm here, She said softly. For as long as you need me. He had others, surely. Those who knew him well and loved him, and she could claim neither of those things. But just in case he needed it, just in case he wanted it, she carefully held out the piece of her heart that she'd already set aside for him. Funny, how she'd abandoned everything to escape the burdens of love and responsibility, and now that she had that freedom she used it only to give pieces of herself away. Pieces she knew she would miss, promises she knew she would regret. But more than she wanted her freedom, more than she wanted anything except, perhaps, to dance forever: she wanted to be loved.

I’m sorry, he sputtered softly into the golden hairs on her neck.

What a horrible impression to leave on this sweet girl. Crowfeather could feel the shame creeping warm along his neck, up his head. He felt like he had made a fool of himself. This was the second time he had done so in front of Reverie, as well. The girl had been beaten from Riverclan and now he wept on her shoulder, as though he deserved the support of someone so gentle and giving with her care.

Y- Y- You’re very sweet… to listen. To let me cry on you without running away.

Crowfeather hoped that he could return this generosity. He knew that he didn’t have much to give, but he would try his hardest to show her that he cared, that he wished to make amends for their first impressions. Even if it took time.

Thank you, Crowfeather breathed out, sniffing back snot from his nose.