Stone Circle I banish you with love.

She chased the spirits across the meadow, finding peace for a time as her legs churned. The sensation of the cold air nipping at her face was a relief.

There were signs of life everywhere: animal trails through the snow, peeling bark from the middle of trees, and nibbles from the edges of things. Silanga knew the signs of a herd transitioning through an area.

For a time things were peaceful within her. She could study her surroundings and forget about her troubles... Until fresh wolf scent crossed her path.

Silanga froze. It was unmistakable and it filled her with dread - a man's scent, a woman too. Children! It was a village, and Silanga felt her spirit crumble. She saw tall stones from afar and wondered.

for a cruel moment, she thought it mother bear.

her heart was wretched from her all at once when she realized it was not. lighter in the wrong places, sagged some places that mother bear had not. aged more like gunnar.

but bjarna did not let the hurt shine upon her. she greeted the woman with a soft warmth on her wrinkled face.

hallo...

a soft dip of her head, before it tilted in a more doggish manner.

what had brought such a woman here? she looked nearly otherworldly in the way she examined the land.

It would be best to get on her way before being seen, she thought.

Yet, she thought it too late! Her legs did only begin to move when a voice lilted from a snowy hillside, and Silanga turned her eye sharply there, to see the pale figure. At first she did not know what she looked at: wolf, or prey, or some monstrous spirit summoned by her grief?

Silanga had never been afraid of spirits before — even those deemed malicious by the spirit-talkers of her home — but never before had she been faced with someone like this, either. There were many new things happening to the woman lately, and she was overwhelmed by them all.

I—I greet you, she answered softly, and then chose to smile, and the corners of her eyes became like a branching river. Can you tell me, what is this place? Those stones, she motioned with her nose to the distant shapes, —I have never seen anything like them.

gunnar did his best to teach her, but for the most part, bjarna still lapsed into the old tongue.

she spoke infrequently, most often around her brother and father bear. both who indulged her in her native tongue! why would she cling to the new one? the one that would place her further away from the memory of mother bear?

her gaze followed the woman's gesturing, the way she guided to the stones in the distance.

bjarna could not stop the proud look or sway of her limp tail.

kvarsheim. she did a small circle in place, before she stopped to face the woman again. heim. she said softly, slowly.

still she wondered what had brought the woman!

trade? hunt?

had she come for those things, maybe?

The girl - of this Silanga was certain now, even malformed as she was - spoke with a lilt, and so she seemed particularly young, and with an accent. The stunted manner of her speech did not bother Silanga at all. Everyone was different. She was merely happy this was not a spirit, and to have someone to talk to after many days without.

Heim? Silanga did not know this word, but took it to mean the stones themselves. Her smile deepend. She enjoyed learning these things. As for the rest, I am a hunter. I... was, a hunter, I should say. Like my mother, like my father, and their own. Many times over.

Her eyes trailed from the stone in the distance to the girl, properly, but did not stare at the strangeness of her face; in fact she appeared not to see it at all, and was warm.

bjarna wished she could explain better how much she already liked this woman! that kvarsheim might welcome her at any time, if she so wished. how bjarna secretly wished she might keep the woman.

for she seemed so warm and kind. a thing that bjarna constantly sought in others.

but, ah!

hunter.

hunter.

mother. father.

bjarna halp? a paw lifted to her chest. her already wrinkled features seemed to somehow fold even further as a wider smile settled on her face.

The girl offered help! Oh, bless her. Silanga smiled in the way a mother would, and laughed softly, the sound more of a detriment to herself; she wished she could explain without the heartache that would flavor her tone.

No, no, sweet thing. I do not hunt now. My mother and father are gone, my husband is gone, my child, she was stricken at the mention of the daughter who had left, and could not continue for a moment. This was all in the past. She couldn't speak of it - that went against the traditions of her people and would invite bad spirits.

I travel, now.

how did she adore somebody so fast?

it had been much that way with taktuq, reverie, even croo or silvertongue! she found beauty in all the faces that came to her, it seemed. each one she cherished a part of.

this woman was no exception, even with the rejection of hunting.

trahveel! she beamed with a soft tip tap of her paws. she once had wished to travel and see many things. now her days were often kept close to kvarsheim. ah, but —

tell bjarna you see?

if the woman did not wish to hunt among them, perhaps a few stories could at least be exchanged.

The woman wished she could stay! The girl was so sweet, and reminded her of easier days. But she was a traveler now as she'd said, and she could at least promise to return one day.

I will return, and when I do I will share my stories. She wondered what kind of stories she'd have, by then. Perhaps the universe would continue to spoil around her, and she'd never make it - but Silanga refused to dwell on such negativity. It didn't suit the moment with such lovely company.

She motioned to herself, aware by now that the girl had a speech impediment but not a lack of understanding, not really. I am Silanga, she introduced; that way when she came back, the girl would know her.

silanga.

she appreciated the name. it felt less...fluffy than those she often encountered. the names of riverclan came to mind for a moment. she loved them all dearly but! sometimes it was hard to know how to say them.

silanga, she tried the name a few times on her tongue, eventually settled on an almost child-like pronunciation of it.

silanga...well come — technically correct, she supposed! it did not hold the fluidness of a proper welcome. — kvarsheim. always.