Big Salmon Lake voice-bearer

@Bronte

Fjall padded further south, nothing to lead him there but a longing to move.

His heart still ached, so he concentrated on the feeling in his paws, which were starting to feel sore through a well-traveled numbness as the sun dipped low again towards the horizon. It was a welcome pain, distracting him from the uncertainty of his future path.

He wasn’t sure where he belonged.

But here, overlooking the glistening sunset lake from a small hill, felt nice. (For now.) He was moved by the sight, overcome with the sudden urge to sing. He called out into the spring twilight, his voice a lonely sound, heralding the coming dark.

Time enough had been spent in Brecheliant. Bronte felt the pull to step away from the security of her home, a little further into the wilderness. But only temporarily, like in the days before the attack on the Moonspear child. As she traveled, picking her way along a familiar route north from the Caldera, she considered making a pit stop to check in on them.

She decided against it. She had promised her family she wouldn't be gone for more than a few days and she did not want to worry them. Or return to Moonspear with news that she had yet to find any trace of Anathema, her ex pack mate. 

That didn't stop her from being sharp eyed as she edged ever closer to the great lake. Alert for any telltale tufts of ruddy and gray fur. Or the stench of faint saltwater and old blood. The matter of bringing the girl to justice may be on hold for now, but that didn't mean the Blackthorn had forgotten about it. When and if she caught her, she would drag her back by the scruff to the Caldera for judgement.

As the light began to fade in the evening sky and the stars winked anew, one by one, she heard a voice, not far from the water. One she didn't recognize. Haunting and lonely as one. Something instinctual gripped her. Head tipped back, the young lady replied. One voice became two.

There was a flutter in Fjall’s howl as he first recovered from the surprise that another voice had joined his in the air, then swayed his vocals to harmonize with the stranger. Sidelong, he attempted to locate the source, but they were not near enough yet for him to spy the other wolf from his perch.

His voice grew stronger as they sang, his melancholy translating to a musically slow and winding ballad that threaded through his singing partner’s voice.

When the wordless song came softly its natural end, Fjall lowered his muzzle and took a moment to catch his breath before howling again. This time, in words: “Your voice is very beautiful.” Another pause. “I am called Fjall.” He could only hope that they would bless him with theirs.

She was yet within sight. Still sitting tight back just a short ways within the shadows of the tree line. Her voice carried nonetheless. 

Bronte wasn't sure if the mystery wolf would take kindly to her joining his song, or continue it at all. She was pleasantly surprised when he did. She let her own voice taper off, concluding with a soft waver that eased into the coming night.

She breathed in slowly, deeply tasting the evening air as it passed through her nose. Crisp and fresh, with hints of new spring. Her ears flitted forward slightly, hearing the voice again. This time, inscribed with a distinct message. He thought her voice beautiful, this one named Fjall.

Without hesitating, she lifted her muzzle in reply. "I never realized, but thank you!" Bronte had always been modest, never thinking herself anything too special. "I am Bronte. Where are you, Fjall? I am here, just towards this small opening by the trees!"

Fjall listened raptly for the reply, his spine tingling in anticipation as he pressed his ears as far forward as they would go.

Bronte. Down in a small opening by the trees.

He scanned the treeline but the valley surrounding the water had grown too shadowy in the sunset to see the other wolf. Fjall howled back: “I cannot see you!” It would’ve been a laugh if they were speaking. “Can you see me? I am on a hill, here by the lake.”

His tail wagged as he paused to listen again, his heart fluttering anxiously. He didn’t realize how lonely he’d been in his desolate, one-track-minded searching. It only occurred to him now that he had not stopped to socialize or given himself any grace for every day that passed and he did not find his beloved.

“I would...” His song dipped uncertainly — afraid to even ask. “I would like to meet you.”

Ah, they had run into a little snag. They were having trouble locating one another by sight. But he was helpful. He would be standing on a hill by the lake. 

"Hold tight." She howled back. "I will come try to find you!" Then she added. "I would like to meet you too. Your voice is nice."

After her voice ended, Bronte slipped out from the small cluster of trees that had sheltered her. By now the shadows had lengthened to cloak the land. The last light only a burning sliver of the dying orange sun. She paused to admire the view. It was so tranquil and surreal.

Her lighter coloring with the flame like ridge along her spine, made her perhaps slightly easier to spot in this low light. She scanned the lakeside, searching for the said hill, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Lavender eyes scanned the treeline until— there! A pale wolf with a cape of sunfire. They glowed in the sunset lines stretching across the lakeside, like an angel come down to earth.

Loneliness forgotten, Fjall stood tall — as tall as he ever had! and only for the express purpose of being seen — waving his tail to beckon the other wolf’s gaze. When he was sure he’d been seen, he bounded down the hill towards the goldspine’d wolf.

A girl!

He instantly felt less anxious about meeting her. Males could be so rigid when greeting a stranger! He never knew when to come or go, but this— she felt familiar to him, though they had never met.

I greet you! Fjall laughed breathlessly, coming to touch noses with Bronte. You are as lovely to see as you are to hear. What may have sounded like flirtation or mere flattery coming from anyone else sounded genuinely adoring from him.

After minutes ticked by of searching and scanning, there was finally movement. A pale wheat colored wolf skipping her way! Instantly, without realizing it, her tail was practically spinning behind her. Then the ground stretched, eaten up by her paws. 

She didn't pause to think of how he might behave when they got close. In their signing, he had seemed so friendly. So why wouldn't he be now? He was a male, she noted. Older than herself, but with still an edge of youthfulness to him, if she had to guess right.

Hardly slowing down, she circled him openly, loosely. Letting one cold nose press to another. "Oh, well hello!" The warmth radiating off of him fueled her own. She didn't give thought of where he might have come from. Not yet. Her cheeks warmed, golden eyes averting slightly. "Gosh, thank you. I never really thought much of it. You are too! Your eyes...they're beautiful!"

Bronte was receptive to his warmth and reciprocated it without hesitation, which in turn melted away any anxieties he might’ve still held as they brushed noses. The two circled one another, yellow and gold spines creating a sort of yin-yang in their greeting dance.

She returned his compliment, bringing an equal flush to his embarrassed face. Ah, thank you, he said, bashful. I never thought about it, either, now that you mention it. He could, for example, identify himself in a crowd (as weird as that sounded), but he had never been able to see clearly the color of his own eyes. He could only imagine their hue from what others said. I suppose our water-reflections do not do us much justice. I can only hope that I don’t look as silly as I do with all the water rippling!

He could picture it now: all wavy-faced and bulging in odd places. He smiled, taking in her scent. Are you traveling? he asked conversationally.

Two shades of gold. The same yet at opposite ends of the spectrum. Had he been any darker, he would have reminded her much of her brother, Ponyboy. 

She laughed good naturedly, brushing away his embarrassment. "Well it is true! I just tend to notice things like that about people!" The water...their reflections and how they might look. That reminded her often of times she sat by the lake, gazing at herself or down towards the fish past her reflection.

She stole a glance towards the water, where their images were slightly distorted. "I think not. You look much better up close." The scent she wore, that he took in, was not one of isolation. It was of traveling the wilds, of Brecheliant and her family. "It is more of a day trip. My home isn't very far away from here. What about you?"

I will gladly take your word for it! Fjall laughed, glad for the compliment. He could shower her with more as well, but he did not know if she would continue to be flattered.

Beneath the scents of the many miles she had walked to get here, there was the cologne of others – familial in nature – clinging to the skin of her. Fjall was not keen on being away from his pack, when he had one, so he wondered what had brought her here alone. Perhaps she was just starting her own spirit walk? She seemed about that age, anyway.

But, oh! She was only on a day-trip. Not some grand adventure. I am not so much traveling anymore as I am trying to decide my next path. He could feel a somberness threatening to bring down his mood at the mention of it, but Fjall squashed it down. I’m of the moonpeople, if you know them, since she lived nearby? I’m... thinking about returning to one of their villages. It was a big decision, he felt.

He revealed that he had been traveling before, but not so much now. It made sense then, that she smelled little in the way of others on his fur. It was common for wolves of her and his age to try and decide their futures. With a pack such as Brecheliant, she had little to worry about. Only to figure out her own role within. She was too young yet to consider if one day, she would ever want to leave.

Her eyes widened in delighted surprise when he mentioned the Moon people. "You are?! I know them! I have been to both village Moonglow and Moonspear. My pack and them are allies!"

Her expression grew thoughtful, if not a little pensive. "I am meaning to return to Moonspear to pay them a visit. The last time I was there, it was due to a series of unfortunate events..."

Of course, she knew the moonvillages. Who didn’t of those that frequented this side of the mountains? Fjall smiled, feeling proud, though a part of him understood that he shouldn’t. He had next to nothing to do with the success of the moonpeople. In fact, she probably knew more moonwolves than he. It was such an embarrassing thought!

I’m glad to know our families are tied in such a way. His tail waved. What is the name of your village? Er, pack, I mean. Most wolves called it that, anyway.

She went on to mention a bit of troubling news in regards to her last visit to Moonspear. Fjall tilted his head, studying her expression. You don’t need to speak of it, if you don’t want to, he reassured her, since the thought she was having seemed to be deep and winding. Whatever the case, Village Moonspear will be glad to see you visit, I’m certain.

"My pack is called Brecheliant. You can find us just a little ways south of here. We make our home in a caldera. You can't miss it!" 

She shook her head after chewing her lip. "I think that's for the best. If I think about it too much, I might get upset. And I don't want that to happen on such a pretty night. Perhaps when the weather warms I shall return to them."

She felt in the mood for a stroll along the waterside. She beckoned him with her, a slight skip of ease in her step. The cold air felt refreshing now that spring was near. "Tell me about yourself. What are you hoping to find, in your next journey?"

She was glad to change the subject, and in turn Fjall was glad to have offered it. He loped eagerly alongside her, smiling at her buoyant trot. Well, I suppose you can say my current journey is one to find my true journey, if that makes any sense. He chuckled nervously thinking about how foolish and lost he must sound to her, a girl who seemed to know exactly where she belonged. After all, he’d once thought he knew where he belonged…

He wondered if most people grew up certain of themselves and knowing where they belonged, safely anchored, or if most people were like him: completely adrift and spiraling in a sea of uncertainty.

I am looking for what my soul wants to do for the rest of my days. Do you know what you want to do, who you want to be?