Stone Circle [m] I am not a woman, I'm a god

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Mae Frostfur-Mayfair had finally reached a breaking point.

With a howl to @Arric and @Akavir she parted from Swiftcurrent Creek. She did not intend to return.

At first she'd thought that she would leave the valley entirely, find somewhere far away from the swamp where Moss still called to her, somewhere far from the father who was never there for her, far from @Wren who would not let her in. But as she parted from the only home she'd ever known, Mae found herself thinking of someone else.

She was thinking about @Skáld.

He'd been kind to her once — more than once. She recalled the gifts they'd exchanged, and the soft warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, and the gentle way he spoke. Without really thinking about it, Mae found herself heading for Kvarsheim. She did not know what she would do when she got there.

She howled for Skáld at the borders, pacing impatiently while she waited for him to arrive. All the while she tried to think of what she would say, what she would tell him to explain why she'd showed up here alone and freshly without a home. Honestly, she didn't know. But she knew that she wanted to see him.

Concern had settled in, and found itself as much a part of Skáld's day as his shadow did. Gunnar was being tended to, and he had hopes that his father would get better, but he dreaded the inevitable, no matter how near or far it might be. 

Tending to the children- both Gunnar's and Tauris' broods- helped, especially now while Gunnar was recovering and Tauris tended to him. Figment had picked up responsibilities as well, leaving Skáld as the spare hand that helped in any place that he could- which often meant staying with the children. Gunnar's litter were old enough now that it was less supervision they needed and more guidance and entertainment, a bit of training here and there as well, but both Katla and Swift were too young to be left alone. 

It was seldom now that he found a moment for himself, and when it did it was often short-lived and spent resting. He'd fallen asleep on the bank of the stream, having gone to get a drink and then settled down in the moss for what he'd planned to be only a minute or two. 

He was startled awake by the call, and sat bolt upright with a soft boof, one ear sticking up and the other still flattened against the side of his face, littered with bits of yellowing moss. He recognized the voice, and was both surprised and pleased that Mae was calling for him. He detected something of....Well, if it was concern or nerves, he wasn't sure, but there was something about her voice that seemed a bit strained. He wasn't sure how much energy he had to go and help, if Swiftcurrent Creek needed help- but he would never have turned his back on a call from Mae. 

So while he was fairly droopy and dreary-eyed, he still smiled, and his lightly matted tail swayed in a broad arc from side to side, low by his ankles. He uttered a happy crooning note to her, and summoned the best smile that the exhausted yearling could manage before he affectionately uttered her name. "Mae?" He called out, noting her pacing and tension. The swaying in his tail stilled, and he tried to look a little more alive, now that it appeared that something was indeed wrong.

Skáld eventually answered her call, and Mae couldn't help but notice how tired he seemed. Guilt flashed through her; she hadn't considered that he might have his own problems, his own life to deal with separately from hers. But she was here now, and there was no taking that back.

Still she was pleased by the sight of him, comforted by the warmth he always met her with. Skáld, She started, trotting up to greet him, but faltered in both words and steps as she realized she did not know how to continue. I um - I left Swiftcurrent Creek. Mae stood awkwardly, suddenly uncertain that Skáld would want her so close.

She went on, taken by the urge to explain herself: Everyone's always wrapped up in some weird drama. And they don't tell me anything, or even try to talk to me, and I got tired of feeling forgotten and left out all the time. And I didn't know where else to go.

Guess I just wanted to see you, Before I leave; but she couldn't bring herself to finish that thought. Suddenly Mae wasn't sure she wanted to leave the valley. But she could hardly stay, could she?

Swiftcurrent Creek had no place for her.

She was unsteady on her feet and that concerned him. He tilted his head, not quite sure why she was telling him she’d left Swiftcurrent Creek, as it was imperative you leave one place before going to the other- but when he pieced together what she actually meant, his head lifted suddenly and his eyes widened. ”Left?” He repeated, blinking several times, as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He sat while she explained, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to pull out a concise reason for her departure. She looked up at him once, with a question in her eyes and he waved her in with a paw- she could come as close as she wanted to. 

He wasn’t sure he understood what was going on at Swiftcurrent Creek, but it seemed as though she felt left out and alone. He sighed softly. It tugged at his heartstrings to know that in response to those feelings, she had come here and she had come calling for him. Normally, wolves left- and often without telling him anything. 

”You look sad.” He said softly. ”I do not want, you sad, but…you, here, I am glad, though,” He exhaled. It was hard to say it. He tried in Icelandic, just to get his thoughts straightened out. ”I don’t like to see you sad, but I am happy to see you here, I just wish you were not sad.” That seemed to help. ”Happy see you…Wish you not sad. But! I help, yeah? You stay?” He asked, hoping that might lighten her mood.

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Mae tilted her head as she listened to Skáld, fascinated by him; the strange utterances he broke into mid-statement, only to clarify in a way that seemed more put together than what he'd said before. She was quick to understand that he was used to a different way of speaking, though she could not have put the understanding to words even if she tried. It just made sense to her.

Still, there was much of it that didn't make sense, and she meant to ask, but was swept up instead in the question he ended with. Skáld wanted her to stay. Her eyes lit up, and Mae's lips parted to tell him yes immediately — but then she remembered, and her expression fell.

I don't think I can. I kinda pissed off Gunnar. There's this man in Kvarsheim, he tried to hurt me and he did hurt Wren, and Gunnar thought we deserved it, and - I dunno, I yelled at him cause I thought it was bullshit, Mae was apologetic as she explained, but pointedly did not attempt to take it back. She still thought she was right, and Gunnar was just some old man with a stick up his ass. But he was in charge of Kvarsheim, she knew that.

Right. That whole incident. 

As far as Skáld could tell, he knew Bonario  had been involved in something shortly before Mae and the little pale pup had come to Kvarsheim, but the detail of him attacking Mae made his expression grow stern. Perhaps that was why Tauris wanted him nowhere near her den. 

 He had mistakenly assumed, then, that whatever had transpired between the wolves of Swiftcurrent and Kvarsheim was more or less settled because at the end of the day, while all wounds had taken some time to heal,  Kvarsheim had housed both the puppy and Mae for some time. Possibly more due to ignorance than out of goodwill, but it had been the right thing to do. He believed all involved had had good intentions - save for the one wild woman trying to steal the puppy - but that some combination of grief and poor communication had made things impossibly complicated.

He was aware that Gunnar had gone to Swiftcurrent recently, and had returned in an awful state though it was obvious that none had attacked him. In all the confusion, Skáld lost track of what that meant for the two packs, though apparenrly Riverclan was still an asset. 

He winced slightly when Mae admitted she'd shouted at Gunnar. He doubted Gunnar would have the strength or patience to deal with the fiery girl, especially if she'd come to them wanting a home, not to offer an apology. Still, Skáld could not see her being thrown out on her own. "Gunnar is my father," He said. "He is a good man, very good man," He said softly, and his eyes glistened. "He...Is not so well, now. I think you should not see him," He advised. Perhaps keeping Mae away from Gunnar while he regained his strength might keep him becoming stressed if he realized she was nearby. "We ask Tauris, hmm?" He suggested. He had a feeling that even if Tauris recognized the girl, he might still be able to convince her to let Maw stay, if it was what Skáld thought was best.

His father; a good man. Mae thought of Akavir and was abruptly filled with bitter jealousy. To hear that Gunnar was unwell brought her some kind of sick satisfaction in the wake of her negative feelings, and she knew that she shouldn't feel this way. But maybe it made sense. Skáld was kind in all the right ways, raised under a father he admired and loved, and Mae — she was far too twisted by a childhood spent in perpetual abandonment to ever be like him.

No, She said after a moment, surprised by the coldness of her own voice. She knew Tauris, knew that the woman would likely be open to her presence in Kvarsheim, but suddenly Mae didn't want to stay here. She didn't want to watch Skáld and the others fawn over Gunnar and then grieve his death. She didn't want to face the ugly feelings it stirred in her.

I should go. Leave the valley. No one wants me here, She met Skáld's eyes, willing herself to be stern and unmoved in the manner of her own father. This was the legacy she'd inherited. So she would carry it on faithfully.

He felt torn between loyalties, and found himself unwilling to give up either. Mae stiffened at the mention of Tauris' name, and he began to realize that perhaps he might be the only wolf here that Mae would feel comfortable with. He wished it wasn't so- Gunnar had adopted him and had taken him in when he had been abandoned as a young child- but now it seemed he stoke the ire of yet another abandoned child. It seemed impossible for both to be true. He also faced a girl immediately rejected the mention Tauris' name...And Tauris had been the one to bring him back to life when he'd wandered away, and had given him a home and a purpose. How was it that a wolf he loved so much could be detested so fiercly by someone else that Skáld truly believed to also be worthy of his love?

"No," He said softly, taking a step forward. She said the word- the one he hated. "No leave, please?" He asked. Words he had said before, begged and pleaded- and while they'd had no use, still he brought them to his lips as if he hoped some day, someone would listen. "I want you, here," He said in a tiny voice. 

But he wasn't sure that that was enough; he never felt like he was ever, ever enough.

She felt cornered by his pleading. Mae started to back away, hackles lifting instinctively even as she fought the rise of anger filling her lungs, her throat, her mouth. She tasted blood.

Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to leave. Maybe I want to stay here. But it doesn't fucking matter, haven't you learned that by now? Her voice was lifting against her will, tinged with the beginnings of a growl. She couldn't breathe. There was blood in her mouth, blood in the air and she needed to go she needed to leave she needed —

Just forget it. Just forget me.

"You'll die anyway," Moss's voice in a sing-song tone, just behind her shoulder. Mae flinched and took another step back, her breath coming faster now.

You can't help me, Another step back, then another. No one can.

Mae ran.

Her anger flared, and Skáld instinctively shrunk, though he did not step back as he cowered. She began to back up and he longed to go toward her, but every sign she gave him instructed him to give her space- and so he did, though it tore him to pieces to stay rooted to the spot. 

Maybe if he gave her a minute- maybe that was all that she needed. Maybe he'd come too close, and she needed a bit of air- or maybe he'd said the wrong thing. Maybe he'd said the right thing, but in the right way- had he not sounded convincing enough when he'd asked her to stay? Did she think he was only asking her because he pitied her? Did she think he thought she couldn't make it on her own? 

His ears lifted when she began speaking, and he nodded. "Yes, stay-" He echoed softly, his anxious questions fading for just a moment before he was slammed with words that were full of anger, that left him feeling sheepish and confused. He wilted as she growled, and at last his resolve pushed him to shift his front paws, not sure if she might launch herself at him or continue to shout at him. 

It was so sudden a shift, that he felt absolutely dumbfounded. "Mae-" He fumbled, when the words Forget me! rang in his ears. "What?" He breathed hoarsely.

She stepped back. 

He took a trembling step forward, though he feared for his well-being. 

"Mae- please, don't-"

But he wouldn't get the word out before she turned and ran. 

And Skáld faltered. He was tied to his home, tied to the arguments he'd never been a part of, and bitter grudges he had inherited though he wanted nothing to do with them. So many had left him, one way or another, but often when he was sleeping, as though it was a kindness to leave him shuddering with the cold in the morning. Mae had left right before his eyes, and with a pang of grief he realized that possibly, he could have done something. 

But there were children to tend to, parents to relieve, treatments to help with, and again, children to tend to. 

He couldn't just run off, and leave them all needing, not now. He wasn't sure who needed him more; what was more urgent, and what would cost him more regret in the end. Guilt settled in along his shoulders like a lead-lined cape. "I'll come find you, I promise," he vowed quietly, before he pivoted and returned to his duties.