Lost Creek Hollow there's fear in letting go

tag for reference! <3

the new father — though this was his second time stepping into the role — spent his days tending to @Ash Paw's needs while she tended to the sunchildren at her breast.

he offered her small breaks when she needed, nuzzling against the tiny cubs, hoping that they might know him in a way his shadowchildren never had; hoping this bonding as newborns might offer him a better foot in the door.

when he's not doing that, he takes small breaks away from the flutter of chaos at the eyjolfur family den to run small patrols.

this was where ingram could be found in the early hours of dawn, the witching hour tugging at him to consult with his threadbones. something he has not done since the birth of his sunchildren. but he resists.

there would be time for priestly duties. now, he needed to be husband. he needed to be father. he needed to be contributing member of riverclan.

Crowfeather found the new father away from their family den. The man had the same intensity about his features as he had on the day he’d arrived. While the dark Star had worried, Ingram had proven himself to be a watchful and dedicated father. The pups would grow strong, Crowfeather thought. They would have two powerful parents to admire, to follow. 

A light chuff announced his presence while his three paws drew him nearer to the other man. 

Would you like to hunt with me, Ingram? All the spoils will go to you and your new family. 

The priest had seemed a solitary man. Crowfeather hoped that he might be made into a friend. The shadow’s honeywarm eyes were soft on Ingram’s face, watchful of those intense features.

you get my 600th post!

the uneven gait of crowfeather is tell-tale to who is approaching.

ingram turns at the sound of his name tagged upon a question's end; seaglass gaze lowering with the dip of his head.

we'll take half of the spoils, ingram negotiates. the other half will go to the caches. just because basilica had fallen to ruin and he was cast from his role of king did not mean that the patronsaint could turn off the way his brain had been rewired to think.

he thinks of his family first, yes, but also of riverclan. he does not wish to take more than he alone can contribute. it wasn't something he personally would've let slide in basilica and ingram is nothing if not a man that stuck to his own virtues.

A blessing! To 600! And beyond. <3

Only half?

Crowfeather blinked in question, uncertain if this was fair to the man and his new family. There were young ones to be sustained and to do that, Ash Paw needed a steady delivery of good food. Regardless of his thoughts and concerns, the dark Star knew better than to argue with someone like Ingram. The man was firm and intense, but he was giving to the clan and he worked hard. Crowfeather wished to honor what he wanted.

Alright, that sounds like a deal, the dark tripod answered. He offered a sweet smile before lowering his head to the ground to drink in the scents of their home.

I smelled deer on the south end of the hollow. Maybe we can start there.

Shadowed tail flagged with invitation. Crowfeather motioned and then set his paws to movement.

for a prolonged moment, ingram wondered if crowfeather would argue. the patronsaint had a counter ready that in the end proved unnecessary.

relief washes through ingram. he has spent all of his life raging against authority, with the exception of his nightwife's rule.

but dark obsession had led him to be obedient to her; the influence of the shadows he'd once prayed to.

he does not know how to be a good subordinate ... and every day he remains one is a day he has to put forth effort to carefully consider his actions, his words.

it was no longer about him. it was about ashpaw and their children.

crowfeather speaks of deer to the south end of the hollow.

sounds good. ingram rumbles in encouragement, following a few paces behind crowfeather.

A man of few words, Ingram agreed to check the southern end of their territory for signs of the deer.

Crowfeather didn’t hesitate. With the new-father’s swift figure, he knew that they would need to set a strong pace. Even on three legs, the shadow moved with confidence through the hollow. He recalled the path he had taken to come upon the deer scent, their tracks leaving marks in the mud and soft dirt.

After quietly moving through the clan, the dark-furred wolf stopped and hovered over the hoof-printed soil.

The tripod glanced toward Ingram. The scent of deer was fresh. It warmed the air around the two hunters.

the pair tracked: the star of riverclan and the patronsaint.

it was with a silence that ingram felt comfortable in, with honestly little regard for how his companion found it.

it was only under sithis' influence that he'd been talkative and the patronsaint finds himself burrowing into old habits; comforted by them.

any sort of comfort in the roles he was trying to assimilate himself to. father. subordinate. husband.

taking crowfeather's lead, ingram's own steps slow; gaze taking in the hoofprints, flared nostrils drawing in the woodsy musk of their quarry.

they are close.

ingram is ready and offers crowfeather a sage nod of his head in an effort to tell him to keep leading the way.

the pair track until they come across the deer, and with a struck of luck ( and some work ) they manage to take it down, though it had put up quite a fight that ingram cannot help but find admirable.

ingram eats a small bit of meat and parts ways with crowfeather with a soft nod; taking the rest of his portion back to @Ash Paw.