Swiftcurrent Creek August slipped away into a moment in time.

She had fallen asleep.

Around her had been the leaves and puddles of the Heartwood, and the memory of Wraen playing games with her kept her rooted there for a long while. It was hard to determine how long — if it mattered, even. But she was calmed after, and slept, or waited; and when she came-to again, the forest had changed.

Where before the trees were variegated and clustered, now they seemed to form walls along the edge of the earth, and instead of being painted red and gold and brown, they had become spires of tall evergreen. The forest floor was littered with needles rather than leaves, and there was a dampness to the air.

The form of Ibis, glimmering where the sun shafted down upon her, stood and stretched; she yawned, preening at her coat, oblivious to the fact she had somehow manifested somewhere new. This was a place she did not know - with people that did not know her - but like before, she was unbothered.

As her sleepiness waned, Ibis felt the urge to sing to the sunlight. She could spy some birds in the trees and with a little laugh she began to hum a tune, mimicking their twittering song; but as her song picked up, theirs became silent, and they stared in her direction — unable to see her ghostly figure, yet hearing the song on the wind.

His dark form remained leaned back against the tree.The sun sat high across their home—the ground decorated with the remaining leaves that had finally fallen as winter came for them. Silence, too, had seemingly blanketed over them—and as such, Akavir studied the den in which Jakoul had birthed her litter—their litter.

Two boys, a girl.

All four of them gone now.

Gone were the days he slept outside this den as Jakoul nursed and cradled their brood. Gone were the days when she had vanished without a trace—and in her stead, he had tried. He had taken them to the river pack. Had waited for them to be weaned—had slept with them every night he was home…

Until one day they were not home.

The sun was bright above, but all he could do was look at the unused den—his stomach acrid. His thoughts dark.

And somewhere—as if the world taunted him, he swore he could hear a familiar voice singing on the wind—and in turn, the song of the last winter birds fell to silence.

She saw him there: a shadow beneath the tree. Eyes hard, staring to the earth. He was as empty as the den, an extension of the shadow from within it. So sad, thought Ibis of this man. Her spectral shape drifted closer; she barely touched the earth, with only leaves trembling as she passed through them. Come now, sing with me? She asked the birds as they watched, and they only took wing instead.

This did not mar Ibis' smile. She looked carefully upon the man, though there was no recognition within her. Her smile did falter though, because she thought that the man looked so tired, and that empty den was less a den and more a resting place. Had he risen, like her? But he was not a spirit; he was a body, she could see him breathing.

Maybe he had risen, but he was empty. Maybe she was the spirit because she had nowhere to go.

Don't be sad, she murmured softly against his cheek, and spared a kiss there. You're alive.

Unseeing—and yet the softest brush to his cheek, branding him, as it had once before. He blinked—shifting his weight, trying to straighten, but finding no energy. Lethargy pulled at him, and he allowed his eyes to close a moment as the voice from his mind toyed with him coyingly—at times he had thought to have forgotten her voice, as the moons passed. Now, it was as if the softest whisper was indescribably her—as if his memory hadn’t truly failed him.

And gods, it hurt.

You’re alive, the voice seemed to say—and he wondered now how far along the edge of sanity he remained. “For what purpose?” His own voice a dark rumble—the beginning of an end, perhaps.

Purpose? the voice echoed.

You are alive, and you are loved. What else is there?

And now the light pooling between the trees appeared to glimmer, condense, become caught on motes of dust and find a form. His eyes were shut, but if they opened, a smiling face with kind eyes looked upon him now.

For a moment, at least.

A pale nymph of a girl, juxtaposed beside the void of dirt. Made of warmth. Don't be sad.

“Loved,” he murmured—a snort derisively biting the cool air before him. Was he loved? Eshe loved him—Viinturuth. Arric, though the man’s cool frustration was apparent in the very lashing of the creek wind.

“Right,” he offered tiredly, the disbelief evident in his tone and yet unable to truly argue with the melodic voice in his head.

Still, his eyes pried open if only for a brief moment—wondering, if perhaps, someone was actually messing with him—the voice becoming all the more clear, it felt.

And there she was—happy—effervescent as she had been in life.

‘Don’t be sad,’ she murmured, and his face fell—his heart throbbed. “How can I not be when you left me?”

She is still smiling at him. Still warm, still light. But I am here with you. I am always here with you. She had died, and she had been horrible to him in life; things she could never unsay, never undo. But in death there was peace and there was eternity - it had taken her dying to see that, to have the universe open up to her.

If only she was stronger. Ibis wished she could manifest in a way that mattered! To be held, to kiss him, to prove something. Her smile only falters briefly and becomes something lightly pained, but sweet.

Reaching for him - knowing, like the leaves of the forest, he would no sooner feel her touch; that it would only pass through. And her eyes became glossy as if she were alive and weeping. Ibis smiled softly through the sadness; she did not want to make him feel worse.

Keep living for me. Go where you are loved, please; do not let your heart weigh you down like this. I am here - when you love, I am with you. She tried again to kiss him, and there was a spark of something like touch upon his cheek. A feeling like laughter in her chest, but soundless.

I will take the weight from you. Let me. Let me do this one thing, to amend what I got wrong - please, and it was like a prayer to the universe as much as a plea to Akavir.

Her body, gossamer and formless, was solid enough now to be held. Ibis pressed against him, burrowing her face in his neck. It is okay.

But how to give the weight of burdens to a ghost? A figment of his imagination?

She tried to mollify him--and when the gentlest of touches brushed to his cheek--pressed to him--it did not warm him as it had when she had been alive and in his arms.

No, in its wake, he felt the chill of the air, reminded of its vast emptiness. As if ice had brushed against him.

He barked a laugh to keep the torment that built in his chest. As if he could keep the tears at bay. With a certain force, he shifted, purposely banging the back of his head harshly against the trunk of the tree he sat back upon, the pooling emotion of her eyes haunting him.

Should have been me, Ibis. I'm the one who should have died. Not you. Never you.

The crack of his skull against the bark of the tree splintered the air.

Akavir—! Gasping.

As the sound briefly filled the woods, ricocheting and then going silent, in the silence there was emptiness.

She was gone.

It was as if his sadness had willed her away.

She was here. The sky all but reflected in her eyes still, cerulean and soft.

Tangible, even.

Her gasp of his name--how many times had he wished to hear her say his name just one more time?--it seered him.

And then she was gone. As if he had finally jolted his mind back to the harsh reality of a world she did not exist.

And it was a single tear that fell as he moved to crack his head again, as if he could somehow pull the pain from his heart to elsewhere before he would slowly slump to the ground, succumbing to a fever that had begun to ravage his body as he drifted to a blissful unconsciousness.

Arlette thought that she had heard voices. Probably two pack mates. She was busy tending to the garden how @Eshe taught her. She pulled away darkened and browned leaves to make sure the plants would give all their energy to there right source.

She had been on her way back to her den when she spotted someone lying down. That was an inconvenient place. Arlette frowned. Wait.. She rushed forward "Akavir?," she called out and then nudged him. He felt hot. Something might be wrong with him. No one had been around, but she was sure she heard talking. Arlette nudged him again to wake him up.

She then howled for @Eshe, she was a healer too and this was her mate. She probably wanted to be informed. She put some urgency behind the howl. She wasn't sure if he had eaten something or it was something else. She had to wake him up and bring him somewhere where they could treat him.

Eshe had been outside the territory, collecting herbs from the meadow, while Ibis and Akavir had spoken. She had nearly completed her task by the time Arlette had discovered her husband, and she was just gathering the last of the plants when the urgent howl rose from the creek. There was only so much a howl could say, but something about the tone struck her with a foreboding feeling that sent her running, forgetting all about the day's worth of work.

When she arrived, she quickly looked over her husband, feeling tears swell in her eyes as she examined him, her nose hovering above him as she checked his vitals. There were about a million questions that she wanted to ask, but she stayed silent, knowing they wouldn't help now; they had a job to do. H-He's hot, she croaked, unable to find her voice at first. We need borage leaves and water, she didn't doubt that her friend thought similarly. We'll also need thyme for when he wakes up, just in case he's in shock ...

She leaned over then, feeling her tears fall freely now, and nosed his cheek, hoping to see if that's rouse him. C-Can you g-get those for me? she asked. I'll try and wake him up. Her nudges turned gentle, and soon she began to kiss him instead.

He was certain he was numb--yet a nudge came to his cheek, and while he would try to open his eyes and respond to his name he found it far easier to succumb to the cloying darkness that pulled him, caressing him like a soft blanket as it enveloped him.

He let himself be pulled to the darkness for now--giving in to the way his body demanded rest, and so for now, the voices were barely registered in his mind. All he knew was the need to sleep. As if he could fall back into the dream where Ibis was standing before him once more. He had so many questions.

Questions that could never be answered.

SO sorry for the delay. End of the year stress

It seemed that the male wasn't really responsive. The woman frowned, and hoped that their leader wouldn't be too worse. She looked up when Eshe came. Relief flooded Arlette's system. She did notice that Eshe had tears in her eyes. Arlette briefly frowned. She would have expected Eshe to be a little more professional when dealing with these kind of situations. But then again, this was her mate, maybe it was different.

"Certainly," she spoke right away. Arlette turned and made her way quickly to the cache of herbs they both had gathered. She was quick to find the thyme, however the borage leaves took her a moment. Then the pale woman rushed back the scene. She placed the herbs by Eshe's feet. "We are close to the creek, I can fill a mouth full of water for you?," she offered. She figured Eshe would want to treat him herself. Though Arlette was paying attention that Eshe wasn't too emotional to handle with this. Just to be sure. Seeing a loved one hurt could sometimes work against decision making.

Eshe's efforts were in vain, and Akavir slipped further away. She could feel the change in his breathing as he rested. When Arlette returned, she retrieved the herbs and offered to get water from the creek. She nodded, not wanting to leave her husband's side.

Please, do, she instructed, her voice quiet as she mindlessly began to groom the top of the leader's head. Thank you, Arlette. You're a big help.

Arlette was quick to move to the water and sucked her mouth full with water. She rushed back to the male and female. She let it fall over his snout, careful to not let it go into his nose. She moved back and filled her mouth again, to now let it move past his lips.

Arlette turned to Eshe. She was grooming Akavir's head. Her eyes fell on the herbs she got. "Did you want to use the leaves for something?," she asked her. "We could try and move him," Arlette offered.

They decided they needed to move Akavir to his den, so they monitored him until he began to stir. Once that happened, the two medics assisted their patient to his den, where they continued watching him. Eventually, as Arlette had Cygnet to care for, Eshe took on the responsibilities solo. She would work around the clock to try and help him, only resting when she was confident he was comfortable and eating when she could spare a bite or two. This cycle continued for weeks; day by day, fatigue chipped away at the woman until she was nothing more than a shell of her former self.

All work and no play made Eshe a dull woman.