Bramblepoint my sweet torment

AW, but perhaps a @Ceridwen. set for the 18th

his mind swirled with dancing thoughts of recent events and discussions. of younger siblings, of alluring scents, of the girl he'd met in the glen. would he see her again? his heart pulsed with a schoolboy beat as he traversed through the bramble. 

spring fever washed over him in the depths of winter, and he felt a rush of youthful anxiety. 

the sound of a gentle stream drew him near, and the boy slowed his steps to the edge of a pebbled bank. neck lowered to drink in the chilled water, a poor attempt at cooling the burning thoughts of his mind.

Hope you don't mind me!

Ana burned with restless thoughts of her own — but they were far removed from things such as romance or springtime dreams. She needed to go back. Back to the sea. Back to where it began.

Increasingly she felt that there was no meaning to her existence; no purpose in it. Abandoned by God. Abandoned by her own mother. Abandoned now by Ponyboy, too, who had brought her to Brecheliant only to leave her to — to rot! Alone!

She often watched the horizon and wondered if she would find more meaning among the waves. Ana missed the sound of the sea, the smell of it. She missed her parents. Her littermates. And now, today, as she wandered through the forest, she thought of her older siblings. Her not-siblings. Judah. Simeon. Dinah. Even Malakai and his disdain.

Anathema almost didn't notice the boy at the water's edge. The sight of him startled her to a halt. For a long moment all she could do was stare at him. But then her anxiety found her, and she couldn't help but click a few times into the relative silence.

<3!

the swell of water did little to ease the blazing thoughts he sought to quell. rather, it seemed only to clear the air of miasmatic diversion, intensifying the soft flicker to a steady flame. a sigh spilled past chapped lips as he reeled his head upwards, only to be unexpectedly greeted by a distant set of seaglass eyes.

a blink carried through the silence as he found his gaze latched to hers. she appeared faintly older than he, and acrux found himself the courage to take a cautious step forward. he did not know if she were to be friend or foe, but her presence made to temporarily liberate him from the shackles of plaguing thoughts.

so with another curious step he cleared his throat and squeaked out a good-natured, "hello".

It didn't take long for the boy to notice her. He had pretty eyes and a friendly face, but Ana could only stare when he turned and greeted her. Her clicking intensified, and she took a step back as he stepped forward.

She didn't know him. Not him, not the scent he wore. Ana tried to speak but found herself tongue-tied. The only sound she could make was those endless clicks, faster by the second.

his greeting was met with silence, or rather...clicking? chapped lips drew into a thin line as a tilt of his head gave way to visible confusion. still no response, and so the moonspear babe aptly dubbed the strange girl as weird.

he retreated a step backwards, a blink cast out into the awkward silence held between them. how does one start a conversation amidst bizarre clicking and uncomfortable silence? "do ya like, ugh.." he trailed off as his eyes darted around in desperation for a conversation starter. eventually they landed on the stream before him and he quickly tacked on "..water?" to his sentence.

ah yes, water. a fantastic topic to discuss!

He was uncomfortable. She was making him uncomfortable. Her ears lowered as she watched the boy, still clicking uncontrollably. Ana could tell that he was trying to be kind, at least, the way Bronte always tried to be kind.

It was a wasted effort.

Slowly the clicking faded into silence in the wake of his question. Anathema nodded after a moment, whether the boy looked back to her or not. I used to live on an island. Surrounded by water, She said. Her gaze followed his to the water. I miss the way it sounded.

I need to go back. But he wouldn't care; why should he? He was just some boy, and she was just some strange girl.

he shifted under the weight of her continually clicking, muscles tensing as the silence continued to weave between them. he was almost ready to tuck tail and turn when the unexpectedly soft voice of her answer reached his ears.

his tail swished with his own feeling of self accomplishment, a faint smile granted for the strange girl.

she lived on an island. surrounded by water. and missed it's sound? not the answer he'd been expecting to his thoughtless question, but at least she spoke! "we can make this sound like your island?" he asked as he took a step forward to splash a frosted paw in the stream.

I'm so sorry

He was trying. He was trying so hard. But it wouldn't be the same. It could never be the same. That was why she needed to go back, but she knew he would never understand. He was just some boy.

It won't be loud enough for God to hear, Ana muttered darkly. Suddenly she was angry, and she wasn't quite sure why. She took a step forward. Then another. When she spoke again it was with a vicious calm. Nobody cares about your ideas. You're just a child.

Her hackles lifted. If you drowned right now, no one would care.

She could show him. Anathema lunged, jaws snapping for his ruff with every intention of gripping him and shoving his head into the water.

the ripples from his paw seemed to darken the water in an ominous foreboding, but he thought little of it. he tried again, a splash to the stream's surface sending droplets to litter the pebbled bank. she just stared, and then she spoke. 

he knew not of god, but her words were sharpened like a knife, and he felt the prickle of distrust slither it's way up his spine. 

nobody cares about your idea. you're just a child. ears slipped back to press flat against his crown as his brow contorted to wrinkled disapproval. 

if you drowned right now, no one would care. he did not take her words as close to heart as he should have. he thought her mean. he should have thought her vicious. 

"you are not nic-" his sentence ended with a searing scream. it came not of pain, only fear as the sight of jaws enveloped his vision. 

this was not the same as when he sparred with maggak. this was not playing.

he cried out as the unholy sting of her teeth found his scruff. nails dug into the earth and he felt the surge of adrenaline spike his blood like a drug. he pulled against her grip. 

he did not care if her teeth tore flesh from him, he knew only that he wished to be away from her. far, far away.

He filled her senses; his scream in her ears, his blood in her teeth. For a moment Ana felt at peace. But then he was tearing away from her — he was trying to run, to leave —

Why did they always leave?

She wouldn't let him go. Not him. Anathema held fast. Even when he ripped away in a flurry of blood and fur, she pursued, reaching for whatever she could grasp. He couldn't leave. She wouldn't let him.

my timeline is an absolute nightmare but it's fine i couldn't not join this. lmk if not ok!

there were very few instances where maggak was not attached to the hip of acrux, especially after returning home. she spent many days catching up with him, singing songs, fishing, wrestling; their bodies grew tall, their teeth grew large. today, when he wandered from moonspear, she followed at a snail's pace. to keep him safe, was what she told herself.
she thought often of anânsiak, of what she had learned about monsters, and since her return home, she grew paranoid. always watching at night, pacing the village with raised hackles and wide eyes.
and so, naturally, when she heard the shriek undeniably belonging to her brother from some distance away, she felt an icy chill run from nose to tail tip. they were alone in the woodlands, alone with nothing but the nesting winter birds and the fish in the creek! when she ran after him, heart in her throat, what she saw stunned her. acrux, bloodied, murky water; a girl, slim face, large ears, dusky silhouette;

it is not a wolf at all, but a bad spirit, a tupilak, who wears the skin of what is familiar.

maggak came hurtling through the brush with her own cry as she leapt ferociously, seeking skin to meet her teeth. tupilak! tupilak! tupilak!

These days Bronte was often found roaming outside the Caldera than hunkering down at home. Today was no exception. She had been in the mood for a peaceful winter snow in the woods. And that is exactly what she had been doing, and quite enjoying herself at that.

But peace couldn't last. It was shattered by a terrified scream.

She knew that voice.

Not one, but two scents, of which she recognized. She didn't know what the hell was going on and she didn't care. Without giving it much thought, she found herself hurtling towards the commotion. The line of fire on her back was already set ablaze, her elongating legs burning.

Skidding into the arena, the sight she saw horrified her. A cascade of emotions spiked through her all at once. Fear. Panic. Confusion. Anger. 

The dark, wet and bloodied shape of Acrux, held fast in none other than the jaws of her friend and pack mate, Anathema. She liked both of them. But one, in this moment, much less so. Another beautiful white girl with eyes like emeralds, had also barraged in, to pull the darkling off Acrux, who had seemed so nice when she had met him before.

When she plowed into the fray, showing no fear, alongside Maggak, it was not she or Acrux whom she lunged for. It was Anathema. She was fond of the girl, without a doubt. But the Blackthorn had a good spirit and was not one to stand for senseless violence. Lips curled, the growl she released was surprising as she went to grab her firmly by the scruff. Her eyes flashed in a searing message. 

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Alaric was never far from the children. And he watched for them. So when he heard the scream he raced that way. There was fear in his very bones and he raced over the mountain spear. Stone cutting into his paws, blood dripping.

He was there and there was anger and fear and a deep eerie calm as he took in the carnage.

A snarl on his lips. His voice loud in the maelstrom of anger and fur and blood. Everywhere.

Enough!

He gathered his precious spear babies to him. Putting his body between the two girls and the cubs of Sialuk and Elentari! Gis hackles were raised and a deep dark snarl emanated from his core. The gentle healer was not so gentle now, but he did not move from the children. Keeping his body inbetween.

pain cut like a molten knife. he felt as her teeth clenched harder still around his scruff. as her weight shifted to fight against his fleeing attempts. as his flesh split with slow, agonizing tugs in the opposite direction. 

aching screams erupted through choked sobs, until eventually, there was a release.

for a moment there was silence. no pain. no anger. no worry. only relief. and then winter's bitter bite struck him with the unpleasant reality. it had not been her mercy that had released him. it had been the lack of his flesh to tear through any longer. 

a cut was an inapt description of the bloodied artwork anathema had left upon his neck. she had painted him in red, a cluster of small lacerations now decorating his nape. he stumbled backwards, beads of crimson staining the greyscale of his neck in two-toned detail. 

the edge of his vision blurred as the familiar pale figure of his sister dashed towards his aggressor with enraged vigor. but the boy saw only fangs, and only fury, and he reeled in fear of being struck again. there was another body that intertwined with the others, but his heartbeat rang too loud in his ears to focus on who it was. 

by the time alaric arrived, acrux was pressed flat against the ground in a mess of tears. quiet, distressed sobs escaped him as he fought the burning sting grow around the open wounds. 

he wanted anaa. he wanted mom. he wanted to go home.

Last for me! Feel free to powerplay injuries as she's fleeing

All at once the world broke into chaos. There were others — their yells, their teeth in her fur. She deserved it. She knew that. But Bronte — yes, Bronte, she recognized her now —

and she remembered John;

the way Dinah had looked at her;

there was blood, her blood, and Anathema finally tore away. If there was pain it did not reach her. Bronte would hate her now. Somehow she felt that, through the haze and the din of many voices, and it was a cutting sensation. And Ponyboy — no, not him, he could not know. Not him, too.

Anathema ran.

maggak had never before fought like this. she felt herself scramble, unthinkingly; she tore at warm skin and raked with her claws, shoved with all the power in her little body; until there was only cold air where the tupilak had once been.
an unspeakable horror shocked every nerve in the girl's body. others had appeared, now; alaric, a blonde girl she did not recognize. both of them would be met with the red-stained gleam of her shining teeth if they moved too close to acrux. instantly she swept to his side, wrapped herself around him; pale arms now drenched in mud, heart thudding.
we must tell anânsiak, maggak mutters, voice shaken, a statement meant for those of village moonspear alone. grandmother moon had been right —

and she swore to herself then that she would slay that beast with her own fangs.

It was all a blur. Cries rang out, voices pounded in her ears. Fur went flying. And in the hold of her own jaws, blood pooled. When Anathema ripped away, a chunk of her skin and fur was left behind. She was wounded. Marked for her crime.

Bronte spat out the tuft of fur and skin, letting it land at her paws. The huge dark adult who had burst in only earned a flick of her ear. She didn't know him, or the pale Maggak. As Acrux fell to the ground, cowering and in tears, her face softened. Her ears fell, regretfully. 

She did not crowd him. Instead, bristling again, she glared off in the direction her supposed friend bolted. Moonspear and Acrux's parents had to know. He had to be tended to. 

"I'm sorry." She muttered numbly. "I don't know what got into her." She turned her eyes up on the Moon wolves, to add explanation. "She is a pack mate of mine in Brecheliant." Her tone said that she knew the Moon packs and hers were close. Bronte didn't want their peace to be broken because of the bullying that took place here today. "I'll make sure that the adults hear about this. And that she..." She pointed to where Anathema had ran off. "Is held accountable."

As the girl fled only then did Alaric's growls quiet. But he didn't go to Acrux immediately. Instead he looked to Maggak.

Maggak is it okay if I take care of Acrux now? I need to put something on those wounds and yours too.

He looked over Bronte and gave a nod. Very well. I will Acrux and Maggak back to Moonspear and once I am sure he's tended. I'll make a trip to brecheliant.

chaos subsided. 

the girl who attacked him fled, but he did not see it. the blonde girl spoke, but he did not hear her words. 

maggak coiled herself around him and he felt a shiver of assurance at the sound of her shaken voice. greyscale tipped forward to bury his face in the comfort of a porcelain shoulder, his sobs strained yet quieter now. 

he sucked in a breath, the scent of home calming the sting of his neck.

any words spoken further were drowned out by the faint buzzing in his ears. even when alaric applied medicine to his wounds, the boy could not hear the sound of his own whimpers. 

he remained pressed against the weight of his sister until eventually directed to stand. the journey back towards the spear would be a silent one for the boy. 

the only sound that kept company was the relentless, soft buzzing. 

last post from me!