Moonspear my lord: the king is dead

It was with no great fanfare and with much pique that Madhuri Rhian verch Taliesin of White Spine—the last part tacked on all too reluctantly—strode toward the mountain, blue gaze trained toward its jagged peak. 

"This is the land of your grandfathers, fy merch. It must be you to go."

In that moment, Madhu had wondered whether she'd been too hasty to depart from White Spine. She'd been asking herself that question ever since.

But Taliesin's word was not to be denied, even by the strongest-willed lady in the land. So she'd gone, mumbling to herself, living off small game and recoiling at the state of herself—tousled pelt, muddy paws, burrs and thorns in the crevices. As soon as she could, she would desperately seek out a bath.

For now, though. . . She heaved a sigh and howled, voice echoing off the slopes of Moonspear. 

I have news, she'd announced, for those who lead this place.

A voice reverberated in Sialuk's ears. It was not a voice she knew, but it called for the leader of the village. She could have sent Alaric to tend the call, but she thought it would be better for her to do so. In a day's time, she would depart for the village that Meerkat and Njord grew. It would be better to greet this stranger now than to come home to a strange face in her village.

Spring had not yet come—she was far off yet—and Sialuk felt the chill of the wind threaten to pierce her thick coat today. She smelled snow, thought it might come in a day's time, and she was eager to be on the move when that happened.

A golden woman awaited her. Younger than herself, no doubt. Sialuk smiled. You have come to village Moonspear. This woman greets you.

The woman was moon to her sun, and carried the weight of both in her presence. Clearly the leader; Madhuri bowed her head as she approached, preparing the canned speech she had worked so hard to preserve and present in this far-flung place.

Greetings, to you and to Moonspear, Madhu replied. At least she had found the right mountain, then. I come to announce that Llewellyn, second of his name, King of Mynydd, is dead.

Despite herself, a lump rose in her throat. Her grandfather had been stern but fair, and always partial to her due to their similar appearances. 

A Bleddyn born and bred, no doubt, he'd rumbled.

Our King once took refuge here, during the Great War, she continued. Moonspear took him in, and he never forgot the great kindness your wolves paid him, even once safe upon the throne once more. Your mountain is woven into our family story for all time.

Whew. 

All that done, Madhu visibly relaxed and let out a great exhale. How does Moonspear fare? she asked, the tension in her shoulders easing.

An air of formality Sialuk was unaccustomed to wound its way into the young woman's words. The name of a long forgotten king was spoken, and the starwoman winced when she realized it was a name of the dead. She said a silent prayer to ward away any who might steal his face and bring it here, even if he was not of the sun people. The village leader realized this king must have been here long before her first breath on the mountain, for it was not a name she had ever known.

My ancestors will hear your words, no doubt, and reunite with him in the life after, Sialuk said with a smile. To think of her own grandmother and grandfather with a king was certainly a marvelous thing to imagine.

Moonspear thrives, Sialuk said. I am daughter of the Ostrega family, though I follow more of my mother's sun people ways than those that once lived upon the mountain. There was a... terrible storm that brought stars from the sky crashing down, and for a time, the spear lay dormant, waiting. A year now, I have built a village here.

Madhu wasn't sure whether there really was an afterlife, but that was neither here nor there.

What the woman said next was far more interesting.

Almost as if the stars paved the way for you, she remarked—not realizing the hurt that accompanied that event, despite the casual words. Her flattery, after all, focused only on the living. And your kingdom does seem strong; I smell many wolves here.

She gave an ingratiating smile to the silvery wolf, though still deferent to the glint of her gaze.

My mother's parents spoke of Moonspear once, too. They lived. . .across those other mountains, she said, tilting her head to point across the flatlands and toward the distant peaks. But knew of your family's claim.

Sialuk did not know why the stars had come down to wreak havoc on her home. A part of her wondered if it was punishment for something one of her ancestors had done. Or perhaps it was mere chance that they landed here and not in a place sparsely populated. Whatever the reasoning, Sialuk felt that she had always been destined to become head of her own village, be it here or another place. She was first daughter to moonwoman, and her father had been an important part of Moonspear.

The starwoman's eyes followed the gaze toward the distant peaks. She rarely traveled outside of the villages that she knew. Since she had come back from her journey a year ago, she had not felt the pull to do so. Now, she found herself wondering the intentions of this woman. She had shared her news of the king's death that Sialuk had not known, Sialuk had shared Moonspear's current fate, and yet the woman lingered.

Will you return to your people, now that the message has come to Moonspear? she asked, curious.

The hesitation hung in the air between them, a bated breath. She sucked it in at the woman's question and shook her head—

At least with some level of surety.

Not yet, she replied, hunching her shoulders. My father reigns now; I'm sure he'll want me back. But I—

Thoughts of her mother's family flashed in her mind's eye, and she refused to squint her gaze against them.

I will travel, still, Madhu said, primly. She drew herself up, though still deferent to the queen of this mountain, eyes glittering. I will, perhaps, find vassals elsewhere for my king.

Sialuk knew the life of a traveler, for she had been one once. She had stayed with many peoples, learning their customs and trading her own. She warmed beds, tended to wounds, and told tales from her mother's tongue. The other woman seemed to hesitate a moment, and Sialuk peered at her with inquisitive eyes.

Then I wish you long days and pleasant nights, she said, bowing her head.

Madhuri inclined her head gracefully in return. And to you, Lady Ostrega, she said, remembering the family name the other had shared. Peace be to you and Moonspear.

Once all pleasantries were exchanged, she moved on, noting the mountain for her own mental catalog before heading south.

Moonspear had been informed. Now what?