Lake Rodney it's a sliver of glass; it is life, it's the sun

It was a large lake.

He sat upon the shores as the moon rose, still enough to watch the orb rise, shining even through the clouds. Nearing full moon, but not quite.

Coltan was good company, but. . .perplexing. Seemed to grow before his eyes. Literally—he swore the boy had gotten bigger since they'd met.

Which, that happened; he knew that for a fact. He'd grown like a weed in his youth.

But. . .

Killdeer sighed, looking out at the gently rippling waters of the lake. Soon they'd be at Brecheliant, and he could reunite the boy with his family. And see his own father. Explore the land of his youth—

God, leave a memento for Caracal at the Hobbit Hole—

Grief seized his throat in a vise, and he ducked his head, fighting back the emotion. He was unsuccessful, and it spilled over; Killdeer cried once more, wishing for times gone by and brothers gone forever.

tagging @RIP Bronco but AW

He caught a glimpse of something- and it was unsettling. 

It sounded like a threat. He blinked out, and took himself to the source and found himself standing over his sleeping mate, and knew from the pattern of her breath that she was dreaming. He wondered if he could step in, and see what she was seeing- but as soon as he felt himself begin to slip into her subconsciousness, he felt himself slammed back by a brute force that was immediately recognizable. 

Niamh.

She was a whirl of smoking, golden mist as she streaked past him, and he followed for some time- until he saw her beckon a great divide in the earth. Real darkness slipped up from the ground, consuming everything it touched in its absolute shadow. It was as if the earth had been pulled apart at the seams there, and whatever lay beyond, below, was something too horrifying to be seen. He watched his mother disappear into the gap of pitch black, which for some reason seemed to beckon him too. He remained back, but eavesdropped. 

He recognized his mother's voice, and heard the voice of another; a voice that was all voices in one. He felt a chill along his spine as he recognized it as the voice which had called him to leave his body behind. 

"It would be a fair deal."
'You do not define the balance.'
"You would get what you want and so would I, it's fair! I know you want this more than I do-"
'You know nothing!' The voice boomed. Bronco flattened himself against the ground. An uncharacteristically warm breeze came from the gap in the ground and melted the frost beneath him. 
The voices resumed their conversation, but much quieter now. He couldn't make out the words; but eventually, he saw a flash of light come from the tear in the ground- and a veil of golden mist rose up, and dissipated. Without a sound, the gap in the earth slipped shut, leaving no trace of ever having been little more than a shadow. 

Needless to say, Bronco was quite shaken as he returned to the Lake where he and Killdeer had come, trying to make sense of what it was that he had seen and heard. It still felt right to be here- but it also felt as though something very wrong was about to happen, too. Whatever it was, it was going to happen soon- so he moved toward Killdeer hoping they could make the final leg of the journey today- only to see his son's shoulders lifting and jostling, head bowed as he cried. 

"Hey, hey, hey," He said softly as he approached. "Bud, what's goin' on?" He asked, his eyes searching for an explanation. "What happened?"

He didn't think anyone would hear, but Coltan's voice made him turn, sniffling. Oh, no, I'm— Not fine. And why did the way the young man talked seem so. . .familiar?

Must be the Bronco in him.

My friend—my brother, pretty much—Caracal. . .died. Killer didn't think the name would mean anything to the boy, but it felt wrong not to say it. His grief was not nameless nor wordless.

I wasn't there, he said, slightly muffled through a stuffy nose. Maybe I could have done something. He wasn't old, Coltan. But he's gone.

The invisible mantle 'round his shoulders was unbearably heavy, and he shifted, trying to cast it off. We grew up together where Brecheliant is settled now, Killdeer went on in explanation. Lots. . .lots of memories there. Just thinking of him tonight is all.

"Wait- Caracal?" He asked incredulously. That was one of Towhee's kids, wasn't it? The reddish one, super friendly, and without a doubt a good match for Killdeer as a friend. Another death...Was it a family curse? He had to wonder if all families lost as many children as the wolves he knew. Caracal was far too young to have had a natural death. It felt horrible to know that his son had been deprived of his closest, and oldest friend. 

"Oh, buddy, I'm..." He knew he would cause his son pain too, it was only a matter of time- but not now. "I'm so sorry you lost him." He said, scooting a bit closer. 

For a second, he didn't know who Killdeer was referring to when he mentioned his alias- and then he remembered. 

"If...If you wanna hear it, well...My Dad told me about him, too," He said. "It's....a good memory. Probably his favourite memory of Caracal that he has." He offered, hoping that drawing attention to positive memories would help.

Buddy. . . No wolf would say that to their senior. His ears folded back slightly, eyes concerned, and the confusion grew even more so as Coltan seemed to have latched onto a story about a distant relative he barely knew.

Um, sure, Killer replied, amiably enough. But he was now thoroughly shaken up, and his mouth twisted silently as he waited for the boy—the fast-growing boy— to continue.

For all Germanicus's treachery, eventually, the man had taught Killdeer well to sense something off.

And right now, he sensed something quite off.

The hardest part was trying to keep himself from bursting out in laughter; the incident had tickled him into losing his composure at the time, and even after years had passed, the memory struck him as if it was an inside joke. Of course, he had to try to keep in mind the fact that this wasn't his memory, but his father's- but it helped that Bronco had always had a childish sense of humour. 

"There was a meeting, or something...Towhee's kids would've been like, my age or younger," He said. Not having all the details was key for making it seem as if this wasn't his memory at all. "And I think Towhee was in charge? So she's giving the pack this talk, and it's all business, important stuff...I think she was askin' to see who wanted to step up and be a leader or something like that." He said with a slightly guilty shrug. His memory wasn't perfect either, which helped. A little giggle preceded the next bit. "When Caracal decided to introduce himself, but he, uh, he couldn't really, uhm...Pronounce his name right?" Now this was starting to sound dumb. Maybe it wasn't nearly as funny out of context, but he struggled a bit to keep himself from snickering. "According to my dad, he just like...Stuck himself out there, and said-" He did his best to imitate the boy's light voice- "I AM COCK HOLE!" 

Oh god, he hoped this was at least faintly amusing to Killdeer. 

He reflected for a moment, and realized that that meeting had taken place only a day before he'd found out that Fennec had been pregnant; technically, Killdeer would have been there too. He wished he could just go back in time...

"I, uh, never got to meet him...But I bet he was a cool guy." 

He could only imagine how much Killdeer wished he could turn back time, too.

The story caught him off guard, and he found himself drawn into the memory—somewhat unreliably narrated by Coltan, who hadn't been there. He laughed, though it emerged as a kind of hiccuping sob, too. The tears that stood in his golden eyes spilled over once more.

God, that's so him, Killdeer remarked, sniffling. Cock Hole. You know, he taught me my very first word? 'Butts.' And I think 'fuck' was not too long after. And then ass, courtesy of Towhee. . .or so he remembered.

He closed his eyes, still giggling slightly. It felt good to laugh while letting the tears flow. Bittersweet, really.

He was my brother, he murmured, then turned his gaze toward Coltan. Just as much of a brother to me as you, or any of my siblings. More so, really. But that didn't need to be said.

Killdeer regarded the strange being that was this. . .boy-man. The story had soothed his unease for a few minutes, but it was coming back—though with a sense of warmth he couldn't explain, either. You're so like my Dad, Killer said, smiling faintly despite himself.