Stone Circle Is this what you want?

He left in gentle silence that morning after haphazardly announcing his wellness.

Heavy paws carried him forward. Slow, gentle, and crushing as his full weight fell upon each step. A low hung head, his eyes drooped and his skin feeling as if the wind would take it. A headache still remained. A pounding, aching headache that built up and left on its own accord. A bandage was wrapped around his throat, another one covering the right of his skull. His front left leg.

Home.

Is what Gunnar would've told him.

He shouldn't have left for Kvarsheim.
He knew that.
He shouldn't have stayed in Riverclan.
He knew that too.
He also knew that he should've stayed nowhere. He knew that Kvarsheim was far better without his presence. He knew that he felt wrong when he crossed the borders, and how his burning nostrils didn't wish to continue farther. Bonario didn't know what a home was. He didn't know what one looked like. He didn't know how a family could love one another when they were not blood nor mates. He didn't know how he fit. He knew he didn't fit- anywhere.

But something brought him over this day. As the breeze loved his skin and soothed his muscles, he was here now. His drooped eyes were watchful. Melancholic. Bitter, he thought, but that feeling was absent.
And if he knew what longing could mean here, maybe he'd have thought that too.

She wandered Kvarsheim as if she'd never truly left. Reverie had found it in herself to revisit her old stash, the place where she'd stored the fox pelt from @Crowfeather and the gift once brought to her by Lestan. The pelt, she kept for herself; the old gift, she took apart, keeping the hoof for Blossom and throwing the rest past the borders with a wild sort of abandon. It was only right that Blossom have some kind of memento from her father.
Reverie wanted none of it for herself.
She draped the pelt over her shoulders and prepared to return to her daughter, but something caught her eye. A man; a scowling, dusty, bandage-wrapped man. There was nothing appealing about him, yet Reverie stopped to stare nonetheless. Her ears tilted back slowly in sympathy. Hey, She called out softly, starting forward after a moment's hesitation. Um, are you okay? Do you need help?
She hoped, perhaps more fervently than she should have, that he would say yes.

Golden fur touched his eyes. The sun brought them over, until the tips of her fur turned into the mass of her figure in his pupils. Honey eyes, and snowdipped.
...
She looked like a donut.


He'd never seen her before.

His stomach rumbled.
Tossing lazy glances along the rocks and soils. His face was tired, but pushing through. "Hey." Quirking the bottom of his lip up to his top, he thought to himself next. He hated this. Asking for help. Made him feel weird. "Yeah," he shook his head. His stomach prevailed, his nose not wishing to lead itself. This was easier. "Could you lead me towards the kill cache?" he looked to her again. He felt the need to state this next, realizing he looked a bit weird. You know, for being bandage wrapped and drowsy. "I-ah.. came from Riverclan."

Reverie softened, stepping closer with a warm look. Yeah, I can take you there, Her voice lowered a little and she found herself studying him. The battered state of him appealed to her ever-bleeding heart; she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him, but she wouldn't ask.
Do you live there? Riverclan. I um - Crowfeather is my friend, She turned to lead him to the nearest cache, glancing over her shoulder to be sure that he was following. Briefly she thought of Blossom, but surely Tauris would look after her in Reverie's absence. So she kept a slow pace, mindful of her lethargic companion; there was no need to rush.

He found himself wincing. Riverclan. With all his time there, he didn't know if he should say he 'lived' at Riverclan or not. If that was living, it was sure a very dead way of living; as in, most of his time in the place had been sleeping, eating, drinking, on repeat. Then there had been that pup, and his talks with his Doc. The fact he still needed small bits of aid and still needed to keep track of his wounds was strange to him. The matter of the situation was simply that the wounds had been that severe. The typical week or so was leading on to months. Then that first pup. Either she kept her mouth shut or he was left to his own devices. He bit the inside of his cheek on that.

Crowfeather. His brain rattled. He kept up, his pace slow, and his weight pleased with not needing to go too fast right now. "No." He came hesitantly to. "I'm a Brodir." Half of one. "Not close to Crowfeather. Hardly know him. I just stayed in Riverclan for a bit. Healed me up." He sniffed slightly. Don't tell him he was talking to a rogue. "You live here?"

Brodir; Reverie softened, a new warmth in her eyes now. Any wolf of Kvarsheim was family to her. I used to be a Systir, She confessed quietly, muzzle dipping as they neared the cache to find the exact spot. Gunnar is my father - well, my adoptive father. Reverie continued as she started to dig up the cache, extracting the most recent addition.
She turned to the Brodir whose name she still did not know, setting it down in front of him. I'm Reverie, She added a little shyly. I - I'll be leaving soon, but I plan to visit often. So... we'll see each other again, I think. Well, she hoped so. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Kvarsheim again at all, but she knew that it was for the best. This valley was beloved to her, but it held too many memories, too much love turned to acid in her mouth.

Her father? Gunnar? He told him he'd never had pups?

Ah. Adoptive. Well, that made more sense.

There it was. The scent of the cache hit him once they'd gotten to it. He was glad not to have tracked it himself, however, even if he could've. For once, he just didn't want to deal with doing anything anymore- so, he asked for..help. Over it.

Reverie.

He looked to her eyes as she said her name, his nose dipped towards the food. Golden. A little sheepish. A little vocal. "Ts." The man nose touched the food. "Name's Bonnie."

Next, his teeth ate. Did she just want to hang? Did she get Tauris' pesters in her face? "Do you not like it here?" Not an interrogation, but a question. Raising his head as he ate to toss it to the side in a late conclusion to himself, he supposed the better question was, "Where'd you come from?"

Bonnie. It was a cute name, not what she would have chosen for the quiet man but perhaps indicative of something softer below the surface. Reverie watched the sky as he ate, eyes tracing the clouds, but looked back to him with a faint shake of her head when he questioned her.
Oh, no, I love it here. All my family is here. It's just... She took in a breath. Bad things happened to me in this valley. I can't help but remember it when I'm here. But I um, I came from a place called The Gilded Sea. To the west, a few months' travel. Kvarsheim was my first home after I left. Then I lived with Swiftcurrent Creek for a little while... Her expression fell suddenly as she mentioned the pack, and she swallowed hard and looked away to compose herself.
What about you? Reverie asked when she found it in herself to look back at Bonnie, expression carefully crafted back to neutrality. But it was clear she was struggling to contain her sorrow.