Sunspire Mountains the hills have feelings, too

For @Reverie

It was cold! Dusty Rose liked that, but he was particular about how much snow was allowed to gather on his pelt. Read: none at all.

The coywolf picked his paws up high with each step, as if this would help him avoid the snow that he was walking through. It wasn't very high yet, but it was gathering atop the tall grasses and brushing against his chest as he traveled. With a manic kind of determination, Dusty Rose began leaping instead of walking, darting in and out of the grass like a dolphin in a wake. Every few yards, he stopped to give a mighty shake, loosening snow before it could melt into his thick undercoat. His guard hairs were beginning to lose a bit of their water resistance — he would have to stop and groom himself, soon — and the long, thick fur at his scruff was damp and quilled and frost-tipped. The tips of his ears and the pads of his toes, too, were just a little uncomfortable.

The rest of him was toasty warm.

It was a good day, he told himself firmly, even as he stopped to shake slush free of one scruffy paw. With a soft whine, he made a beeline for the shade of the trees.

Note to self: slightly forward dated in Rev's timeline

Increasingly Reverie felt that she had made a mistake. Her first marriage, all over again; it was happening again and she was letting it happen, she had chosen it. And Boone — maybe he thought she would simply accept it, being led into this vulnerability with promises and reassurances only to find that again, again she was becoming the great burden of someone else's life. Maybe he didn't realize that she would sooner set it all alight; that she would burn herself to drifting cinders if it meant escaping this fate.

It didn't matter what he said anymore. If he wanted her trust again, he would have to earn it.

So Reverie drifted in her own sort of rebellion, refusing to stay confined to her den until she knew for a certainty that she was pregnant. She marked the borders and wondered past them, not far enough to take her away from Hearthwood entirely but far enough to taste freedom. What would Boone do, she wondered, if she left? If she took herself and her children to Moonglow as he'd wanted? She would not come back if she did. Not ever again.

She thought that maybe she would hunt. What she didn't expect to find was a little grey coyote, his fur fringed with frost, seeking shelter among the trees. Reverie froze, startled. She was never sure what to think about coyotes. Hello? She called out tentatively, struck for a moment by his resemblance to — Blossom. Her daughter. There was no trace of coyote in her as far as Reverie knew.

Suddenly she doubted that she knew anything at all with certainty.

A voice called out — Oh, good, the coywolf thought, offering a short, gusty woof that seemed to say, finally! I've been looking everywhere!

And he had been! For Reverie. Or not for Reverie in particular, but for the next individual he would force his company upon. So, Reverie. He bounded toward her as if she was his destination. As if she was a place he had left on a jaunt and was now returning to, weary but joyful.

"I bet it's gonna blow tonight!" he called out, gazing distractedly over his shoulder. He turned his denim gaze back on her as he found his way under her sheltering trees, his brushy tail whipping a delight staccato against his hocks. "I hope it powders. Or no — maybe I hope it ices over. I might be just light enough to walk on top of it insteada through it."

He turned in a quick, tappy-pawed circle and gazed intently out at the weather once more. He gave the distinct impression that this was a conversation that they had had in the past and were now revisiting, or else that they had been in conversation for quite a while, and this was merely a change of subject.

He greeted her with a familiarity that she found unsettling for a moment — but only a moment. A bright smile lit her features as he spoke and her unease fell away. She'd missed this; the dropping of polite masks and the expectation of normalcy which felt almost crushing now. At home she was mother and wife and leader, always aware of what was expected.

But right here, right now? She was only Reverie, as odd and cheerful and oddly cheerful as she'd ever been. I like the powder the best, She declared, eyes following his. The kind you can kick into a pile and jump in! I used to do that with my sister... Bjarna. But she was gone now. Gone, and Reverie wished sometimes that she could follow.

It didn't take much convincing to bring Dusty Rose around. He was probably a bit too heavy to walk atop the snow, anyway. His tail whipped as Reverie named a few favored activities — he, too, had fond memories of such games, and even more of long-gone siblings. It wasn't hard to follow her tone, and the coywolf empathized heavily with the loneliness of that ellipsis.

"Well, if you're gonna wish for that, I'm just gonna wish for it to be very cold," he replied, slapping a small drift of slush away from them with his paw. "I like snow 'til it melts on me, I guess."

But despite his tone and all his complaints, his body language said, I'd like to thank my fans, I couldn't have done this without you, and, I'm thrilled to be here, accepting this award! His tappy paws took just a moment longer to get under control; his toes were thawing in that painful, prickly way.

"We didn't get snow where I grew up," he told her, "Or anything but sunshine, really. Rain was real real rare — me'n'all my brothers'n'sisters would go out and dance in the storm."

Reverie giggled slightly at that, and was about to agree with him. But then he started to describe the place where he was born, and she fell into a slightly shocked silence. It sounded just like The Gilded Sea.

Her eyes lit. Really? That sounds just like where I grew up - The Gilded Sea. We um, we had lots of fires. Some of us would sing to keep them away - and others would dance to bring the rain, It was odd to reminisce about it like this. Reverie didn't often speak of The Gilded Sea anymore; she didn't often have a reason to speak of it. I was a raindancer. She added, studying the coyote in more detail now. He wasn't entirely coyote, was he? Just like she wasn't fully a dog, though not many in the wilds seemed to take note of her domestic heritage. If they did, they never said as much to her.

Not that he needed it — but Dusty Rose was cheered by the woman's laughter. He felt lighter, and was correspondingly bouncier. He was like the Energizer Bunny, and the woman's (and anyone else's, for the most part) happiness was a Double-A battery. A rechargeable one, he hoped!

"Fires?" he asked, intrigued. Fires meant death and destruction in all the stories he knew. And — "We didn't have those where I'm from, mostly. There's nothing to burn in the Red Desert. And we only dance when the rain was already there."

But there was so much to unpack, here. He was not nearly as interested in talking about the Red Desert (an indisputably boring place) as he was in hearing about the Gilded Sea.

"Will you show me a rain dance?" he asked, earnest and eager — but there was a warm sparkle of amusement in his eyes that suggested he knew it was quite the ask. He provided an out with a conspiratorial: "Or is it special-secret? And why is it named the Gilded Sea?"

The Red Desert. It even sounded similar in concept to The Gilded Sea. I could show you, Reverie began a little hesitantly, glancing briefly down at her injured hind leg. But I - I'm not as good at it as I used to be, ever since I hurt my leg.

It'd been so long since she'd danced to call down the clouds. But she remembered; of course she remembered. She took a step back to give herself space. It's called The Gilded Sea because it's like a sea of golden grass - nothing but grass for miles, so tall you could get lost in it, She explained with a soft smile. Then there was no more time to stall, so she took a breath and fell into the familiar first steps of the dance meant to call rain to the earth below. The dance meant to embody the flames. She'd missed this.

Dusty Rose craned his head to look at her leg along with her. Yikes, he thought, but there was little outward reaction. Until he realized she meant now, she could show him right now, and wasn't that the best thing he could possibly imagine? In the moment, anyway. And the moment was what was important.

He stood with her, since he couldn't very well sit with this level of excitement gathering in his paws. They burned as if they, too, wanted to dance. Or perhaps as if they had been frozen solid and were only now beginning to thaw.

Semantics.

The wolf danced, and Dusty Rose had never seen fire before, but if he had, he could've likened one to another. He watched with his eyes wide and his ears fanned back in reverence, completely absorbed by the complex display before him. If this was how she danced with an injured leg, he wished dearly he could see her before.

"It's beautiful," he said after some time had passed, taking a few lyrical half-steps as if he might try it out himself. But he contained his enthusiasm and merely came to bump his head against her shoulder. "You oughta teach me sometime! If that's allowed. I love to dance."

He didn't know any, though. All the dancing he'd done had been with his heart, and he couldn't remember the moves.

The dance to call the rain was a dance without a true end; it could go on for hours, for days, until either the dancer collapsed with exhaustion or Mother Rain finally answered the call. But Reverie let the dance fade after a time, her leg aching with the effort. She felt oddly abuzz.

But she smiled when the blue-eyed man called it beautiful. His eyes were such a pretty blue, too. So similar to Blossom's...

Of course I can teach you, Reverie agreed easily, pushing that thought firmly away. It occurred to her then that they hadn't even exchanged names! I'm Reverie, by the way. She added a bit shyly. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, then looked back to her companion.

Do you um, live nearby? He didn't smell of others; maybe she could bring him home!

Excellent! Dusty Rose was eager to start learning, but he didn't press for lessons to begin right away.

"Dusty Rose des Peres," he replied, his tail swishing in interest. Reverie was a good name, he thought, recalling the way she had seemed so lost in the rain dance. He could move like that, couldn't he?

His attention was turned in the direction she'd glanced, and he took a couple steps as if to start in that direction before he reached the end of his leash — his leash which, of course, was within hopping distance of the nearest warm body.

"Oh — I s'pose I live wherever I happen to be standing," he replied, his attention returning to the dancer. "But we should get goin'. I'd like to live not right here when the rain starts, wouldn't you?"

And he was pretty sure home was that way. His nose pointed toward the hushed willows.

Fade & have another? <3

Rose. Dusty Rose. My daughter's name is Rose, too! Well, we call her Blossom. Rose Blossom, Reverie was delighted with the similarity, though some part of her still prickled uncomfortably at it. She didn't even need to ask him to come home with her; he was already willing to follow. His certainty that the rain would come now brought another faint smile to her lips.

There are some sheltered places in the pine forest - Bluebird Thicket. Oh, and caves near the hills! She turned to lead him into the territory, making a mental note to tell Boone about their newest addition. Surely he wouldn't mind. He'd brought home plenty of his own strays of late!

Absolutely <3

The coywolf laughed, delighted. "It's a good name," he argued, as if Reverie had said otherwise. They move together in the direction of home, chatting idly about the landmarks in the area, and the wolves that resided there as well.