Lost Creek Hollow not crawling; not falling down

Set outside of the den for Ash Paw and Ingram. Could be open for anyone... including the pups.

He dreamed—vividly, it seemed—his muzzle buried to the soft fur of Ibis’ pale fur, pulling her warmth closer and whispering to her in Gaelic—the things he would do to her—the life they would have. He saw so clearly that smile of hers—the curl of her mouth that held both an innocence and mischief in it, and it hurt so much to witness it in that very moment, but he could not understand why—

— Not until the whimper of a pup from within a den, and Akavir was jolted awake—the air cold, and Ibis having long gone not just from his embrace but the world.

He blinked against the dim light of the moon, only realizing a moment later that he rested feet away from the den of the she-wolf Ash Paw—who nursed his children.

Their mother gone now, as well.

He yawned, forcing himself up to his paws—the pull of sleep leaving him as quickly as the cold spring night air enveloped him. With a pause, he fell to stillness, waiting to see if any of his kids were restless. Ash Paw’s kindness was never to be forgotten—but that didn’t mean the pups understood just what she sacrificed for them.

She hadn't understood his words, but she knew well the cruelty of the dreams and she moved into view. His children and her children bundles of fluff upon the floor. She studied him with knowing eyes, but said nothing at first. The azure of them bright and vibrant.

Chamomile helps with that, and it leaves no lasting affects. Unless of course you like what you are doing and whose visiting you in your dreams.

She settled to her haunches and curled her multicolored tail around the soot of her paw, and yawned softly. She had already taken some herbs to help with milk production and she had looked over his children for any lasting affects, unsure how long their mother had been gone, but other than incessantly hungry, they were in good health and he had done well, quickly.

He must have woken the she-wolf. At the edge of the den, just upon the outside, he looked back to her, eyes even more pale in the faint moonlight. He lifted a paw to scrub at his face momentarily, feeling the dryness of his throat. 

Her suggestion left him feeling even more perturbed than the dream—to not dream of his wife, would he then forever lose her? The final nail in the coffin of their failed relationship… she was gone from him in this earth. Could he banish her from his dreams as well?

I’m sorry I woke you, he responded instead, his shoulders rolling back in a light stretch. Can I get you anything? Something to eat?

He had woken her, but by no fault of his own. She simply slept lightly. As always had, though it had been made worse with birth.

He said nothong of her suggestion so she dropped it. If he wanted more herbs she'd tell him otherwise. Well it seemed closed to conversation.

It's alright. I needed to take somw herbs anyway. A soft smile and a shake of her head. Not so soon after the herbs it may make me sick. But thank you

He nodded quietly—allowing the words between them to fall through the cracks and silence to envelop. Reluctant to wake the children, but also that he knew nothing more to say. A debt was owed to her—his mind unwilling to entertain any thoughts of the creek and the figurative fires he imagined Arric had to be putting out in that very moment.

His eyes spread over the heap of puppies—Nicodem, in that moment, the most that was away from the cuddle pile and Akavir scooped the boy closer, pulling him to his warmth.

The poorest substitute, it felt, from the loving mother who had doted upon the boy only a week before.

This one had a long way to go, but Ash Paw knew a closed book when she saw one. So she turned away from him and went towards the babies, curling her body around them. Mother's fur to little ones. She would never be the mother these little ones craved, but she could feed them. Keep them alive until their father could feed them on his own.

The silence stretched. He watched the lithe form of the woman curl naturally around the children—his included, spare Nicodem who remained nestled to his paws. 

Tentatively, as if he might squash the cub, the man rested himself once more to the floor. Thank you, Ash Paw. For all of this. He spoke in a hushed whisper, hoping the emotion in his voice was hidden by the quiet, though his eyes remained rapt upon the gentle rise and fall of Nicodem’s tiny chest—pulling the boy to his chest, as if he were a life line.

Blue eyes looked up at him and she dipped her head. of course you're welcome. You're doing well by the way. You are a great father.

Ash Paw didn't know his story, she didn't need too either. All she knew was that she hoped he'd feel better eventually, because he was doing well.

She complimented him—culture would dictate he offer his gratitude for kind words, but Akavir was running on empty, and he felt the smallest frown break through the carefully placed mask on his facade. What kind of father let the mother of his pups simply disappear without word or trace? How did that even happen? For all he knew she was hurt… dead. 

Like Ibis. 

I don’t feel like a good father, he admitted quietly.

Ash Paw saw the small slip, she just ignored it for the time.

A small smile at him. Then that means you are a good one. When a father or a mother worries about whether or not they are a good parent, that in itself means they are. You are doing well.

She didn't know why the mother left. And she didn't wonder about it either. The simple fact she was gone. It was just that. She curled a paw around the pups with gentle ministrations.

He didn’t agree with her—not fully. Understanding one wasn’t a good parent simply meant one’s empathy and morals weren’t necessarily too far gone. But it was a moot point to argue—the comment made as a compliment, and he allowed his gaze to travel over her, wondering of her. A striking woman, he had not seen her before—but it seemed Riverclan tended to keep to themselves, mostly.

“Are you from around here?” A change in subject—it seemed safer.

Ash Paw wasn't a kind wolf not really. Prideful, vain, haughty on a good day. But she didn't lie and if she spoke somwthing, she felt it truth.

I am not. But my auntie raised a family here. Near the coast. And my cousin Gunnar is nearby.

She stretched a paw and twirled it absentmidnedly as she thought. I came here to watch over auntie as she found a place for a final rest. And I am a healer and midwife. My akillset seemed needed so i stayed.

Despite it all—everything in his world seemingly on fire in that moment and the exhaustion that plagued him—the simple description of an ‘auntie’ allowed a hint of a smile to place itself upon his muzzle. The simple familiarity of it spoke volumes of family and love—and for a moment, the darkened wolf was reminded of the true reason of life.

“You were close with her, then? Your aunt?” He hadn’t known his own aunts and uncles—but Constantine had discussed them with a loving memory… and Akavir himself had once wished his own children would be blessed with the presents of many aunts and uncles in their own life.

His own siblings, however, hadn’t quite felt the same, it seemed.

Ash Paw smiled sadly. As close as she would allow. Auntie came to the teekon, she married a wolf. And oh he consumed her, he was what she lived for, but he hurt her a lot too. They were not good and yet they were great together. And when he was killed. She didn't take it well. And it sat with her the rest of her life, but she taught me most of what i know of herbs and ailments and midwifery.

Ash Paw's tail thumped once and then twice, as she stroked the down heads and bodies of the babies she could reach paws soft against their tininess. 

Were you close to anyone in your family?

It was nice to hear another speak so fondly of their family. Arric had spoken of his father—thus giving Akavir the implication the two had been close, or held a bond of respect. But most he came upon had dispersed without much trust or regret leaving behind their loved ones, and he considered her question a moment.

“Many,” he offered, wondering what to unpack to the she-wolf. She was feeding his children in the most intimate of ways—it was hard to remember how much of a stranger she was. “One of my littermates quite a bit, but also my other ones and my parents… They had their issues, though, when we were a lot younger. I think it messed with my brother—the one I was close with—and he wanders a lot now. Won’t really settle…”

He paused, shrugging in the dark. “I enjoyed my time with my younger siblings. But I never met any of my aunts or uncles or cousins until recently. I have two older daughters—but then that’s about it.”

Ash Paw's family had been small and damaged, perhaps. But there had been love, for as long as her father was alive, with her auntie and her cousin. It had been a peaceful and loving existence. And upon arrival to the teekon, she had made a way for herself, had found new wolves to be fond of.

Ash Paw dipped her head down and thought about it. We don't really know how we'll be affected by our family, even the small interactions we have with them. I hope your brother returns to you someday. I didn't have any littermates, my parents were quite a bit older when I was born.

She smiled. I didn't realize until recently how much love you can give to your children.

She continued on of family—wishing him the best in reconnecting with his littermate. He missed Viinturuth—more than he wished to, if he were honest. But his ivory sibling had never been able to settle his wandering paws, and Akavir could not wish for him to try to tame his wanderlust to satisfy his own wish to be near.

Now, he held a brother in Arric—and a growing family within the creek.

As the topic drifted to the love of children and how it had taken her by surprise, he could quietly agree with that—his own eyes tracing from the two who rested with the mottle-coated woman to the boy that remained in his own arms. He felt the hint of a smile curl at the corner of his lips. “They do have a way of turning your life upside down,” he agreed.

Ash Paw was unsure what else to say. She didn't know the ache of missing someone you had grown up with exactly. She missed Gunnar, but he was so much older than her, it was like missing a grandpa. Not someone you had fun times with or got into trouble with.

Ash chuckled. That they do. I wasn't planning on them, now i wouldn't trade them.

He let the conversation drift away on that note—in truth, wasn’t that why he was here? He had once been adamant that these pups would be for the creek—Jakoul’s and the packs—not his. He had nothing left to give.

He knew from the moment he had laid eyes on them that would never be the case.

The mountains he would move for them—and the help he would grovel for to assist their growth… as he had done.

Nothing would ever be the same.