Northstar Vale ladies and gentleman, this is mambo no. 5

Perhaps a @Meadow? But all are welcome!

The kids were grown and gone away. Easy knew her youngest sons were with their cousins at Round Valley, and that both her daughters were seeking out the Cortens on the coast. The only child whose whereabouts where entirely unknown to her was Arjun — all she knew was that he would likely be with his cousin, who was as much a son to her as Arjun himself.

Easy knew it was silly to expect her children all to keep in constant contact for the rest of her life. She had allowed them to disperse without complaint, understand that the urge to wander ran twofold in their blood. She had never tried to hunt them down before.

But... White Spine was empty. Her children and Aditya were absent. The hangers-on they'd collected had gone their own way. It was a natural end to a once bustling empire, and, sure, the black bear was sad —

But it did give her an excuse to wander a little more herself. To explore.

To search. And she always checked the Hushed Willows first when she was looking for Valiant.

When he wasn't there, she'd climbed up instead, and now she stood on the borders of a pack that smelled almost familiar. It was not her sons, but it was someone, she thought, that she'd once known. Someone, very likely, that shared this common blood.

She tipped back her head to howl, hoping to hear familiar voices in response.

An ear flicked at tbr summoning call to the borders--encouraging a pause in the copper-masked female. Her brood were more adventurous these days and as such were more probable to wander... so she did not hesitate when the stranger called, hoping she would intercept them before, perhaps, one of her young and curious pups.

Reyson and Tamar had yet to reach there, and with a warm smile, the slender healer gave a tip of her muzzle in greeting. 'Lo there, she called as she neared, amber eyes taking in the appearance of the she-wolf. 

A hint of something akin to familiarity tugged at her--and yet was quickly brushed aside.

The blackbear did not have long to wait before someone came to greet her. A ruddy shewolf, a little smaller than average. There was nothing about her appearance that tickled her memory, but her scent was one she felt sure she'd crossed before. Specifically, she remembered it laced with the buttersoft scent of milk and pups — but this was not one of her children, and it was not one of her siblings, either. Who else had she been around at that age?

"Hi," Easy replied, her tail whisking at her heels. Her own gaze was warm as well, and curious, and excited. Who  —

Understanding brightened her eyes.

"Are you... one of Shale and Pema's?" she asked her, breath catching in her throat. The two girls had long been lost to them. Meadow and — she felt sick when she realized she'd forgotten the name of the other. Preeti came to mind, but that was her half-sister, not her cousin.

The stranger was looking at her—scrupulously, perhaps? Meadow was unsure—but when she spoke, the copper-masked woman was about to introduce herself and Epoch when a question blurted from the other she-wolf’s mouth—two names she had felt she would never hear uttered again from anyone but herself.

Because she was all that was left—or so she had thought.

Taken aback, her jaw clipped shut. Honeyed eyes held their own suspicion as they trailed over the other—but she could not place her.

“I’m sorry—who are you?” Her voice was tight—she tried to relax. How many years had she hoped to find family of some kind? And now—two names were dropped from someone’s mouth and all she wanted to do was flee in the opposite direction.

Call her a coward, but Easy didn't love running into wolves from her past — family members most especially. It was one thing to take a deep breath and stroll into a family gathering, but another to be faced, suddenly, with a quagmire of sin and neglect that separated her from this almost-stranger. Most of it had not been perpetrated by her, but she couldn't help but feel sometimes like she should have done something, never mind that she'd been little more than a child herself. She should've done something to keep them together, or she should at least have looked harder once she had the wherewithal to do so.

But this one looked like she'd grown up well. It eased some of the innate, inherited guilt, even if the look on her face sent another sharp spike of regret through her chest. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything.

"Easy Morningside," she said, answering at once as if to make up for all the years she had missed. "My father — they were brothers. And Pema — she was..."

She'd been there for her when her mother had disappeared. It seemed in poor taste to say so when Pema hadn't been around for much of this one's childhood, either. Not the way she remembered it, at least.

Her voice was quiet, now. Subdued.

"You were just little the last time I saw you," she said. "And I was only a girl. I don't think we'd even been introduced — but I peeked. And I could smell you on her coat."

How many times had she dreamed of a moment like this?

Her heart raced—studying the other with what probably appeared to be panic, disbelief or perhaps even suspicion.

There had been no word of any Morningside wolf for years in these areas—why now?

“Meadow Ebonywood,” she offered, disliking how clipped her own tone was. She was not usually this snappy—this formal. “Nee Morningside,” she added, trying to soften the begrudging voice.

“What was your father’s name?”

Years had passed—her own siblings were a vague blur in her memory, let alone their surrounding family. Years she had searched and come up with nothing—with no one.

It only occurred to her then, why her heart was racing—her family had not wanted her then. This brief interlude would be no different. Resolved—her eyes met the other woman’s, waiting.

Easy's dark ears fell back in a tiny wince as her cousin's face twisted. She could hardly blame her for the reaction, and though a part of her did want to turn and run or to start making excuses, she weathered the suspicion in silence — stirring to speech only after being asked a direct question.

"Grayday," she said softly, after a brief pause where she steeled herself to speak the name. A tired smile apologized for the heavy, effortful tone. "He died before you were born. But Sunny looked just like him. Looked just like them both, really. I think you knew Sunny?"

When she thought back to those visits, she thought that this must be where she had really learned Meadow's scent. It has all been so long ago, and the various packs and reunions had begun to fold in on each other.

"His son and mine are traveling together," she went on, her tone still not quite conversational. "The rest of my kids have all flown the coop, so I thought I'd try and catch up. See if they don't mind having an old lady along."

Another brittle smile, but this one a little stronger than the last.

"Do you have kids?" she asked. "Ebonywood — marriage or adoption?"