Emberwood There's no such thing as time to kill, nor time to throw away

The Emberwood was safe. It felt safe. For the first time in weeks, Reverie let herself truly relax. She allowed the girls to wander as they pleased, confident in her pack's ability to keep an eye on them. They all knew what was at stake, and besides, Swiftcurrent Creek was just next door.

And she was so, so tired of worrying. She didn't want to spend a moment longer on it. So instead, Reverie had sniffed out a nice soft patch of flowers, and promptly flopped down on her back to roll in them. What was the point of living if you couldn't roll around in flowers every now and then?

Dusty Rose did know what was at stake, and he was not about to give anything up. He ranged out past the others when he was feeling restless, and when he was tired, he found one of the kids and dozed nearby in fitful bursts. It was the trees, really, that made him so nervous. In the water hunts, you could range out a mile and still see the pack behind you. But he lost eyeline here so quickly, and there were so many unfamiliar scents. He covered them with his own where he could, so that he would notice fresh tracks if and when they came.

He was following — y'know. One of kids. He knew which one, and that was only natural, he supposed. But he did not like having a name for it in his mind. He did not like that he had a favorite.

So when the kid entered someone else's line of sight, Dusty Rose nodded to his packmate and eagerly split off for a break. There was a clouded, mulish expression on his face as he wandered — but it cleared, just a little, when he came upon this scene.

"You like it here, huh?" he said as he drew closer, sniffing at the flowers that were not yet crushed underneath her.

Dusty Rose's efforts had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated. Reverie offered a warm smile to his approach, pausing to peer upside-down at him. I used to live here, She said softly in response to his question. Well, not here - at the pack just next door.

I left a long time ago, but I never stopped loving the valley, Reverie tilted her muzzle slightly to pull up a particularly vivid blue flower that she hadn't crushed yet, a shade not far off from the color of Dusty Rose's eyes, and offer it to him. It didn't occur to her that he might not enjoy flowers as much as she did. He was named after one, wasn't he?

The idea of a nice roll in the flowers was appealing, but the coywolf just couldn't muster the will. He plopped himself down on his ass instead, content to sit around and maybe chew his sore paw pad now that he had been welcomed.

"Real different from the Gilded Sea," he said, and on auto-pilot, he reached out to snatch away the offered flower, his tail wheeling in thanks. Flowers were nice. He had little use for them aside from rolling around in them, as Reverie was doing now, but any Item held by another wolf was something Dusty Rose could not help but covet, ardently and immediately.

It was nice when those things just got handed over to him, as all Items should be.

"Different from the Red Desert, too," he added, and then he pointed his nose toward the mountains. "I used to live up there. A while ago, now. It was the first place I really settled down back when I dispersed."

Those wolves were gone, now. Anselm and Etienne had taken their place — but Dusty Rose had not detected either of them in the area the last time he'd checked.

"I don't think I love anyplace better than home," he said, feeling wistful. He laid on his belly, blue flower still protected between his forepaws. "But, y'know, there comes a time in every young coyote's life where he wants to maim every male within a fifty mile radius. So I figured I'd better find an empty one for a while, y'know?"

He hadn't, of course.

"And when I went back, all my people were gone. Some I used to know, but they were strangers to me, then. It's different than the wolf packs here. Insular. It's just parents and their kids, and once you leave, you're not a kid anymore. You're a rover. A desperado. A man errante."

This was one of those rare things that hurt to think about. The flash of teeth. The beginning, when his fathers had begged him not to go, had done everything in their power to keep him safe at home.

"My dads didn't want me to leave," he said to her. He had said this before, but never with the knowledge that he now held. He shared that, too. "I thought it was because they worried what would happen to me. But I know now — it was because they knew I couldn't come back."

His tone did not waver far from his usual upbeat attitude, but to those who knew him, his air of distraction was a telltale sign of negative emotions he was doing his best to will away. It was a battle he always won, in the end. And he made himself relax, calling a small smile to his face.

"But that's life, yeah?" he said, not really asking her so much as acknowledging what he felt was a universal truth. "These things happen."

Reverie was nothing less than thrilled to see Dusty Rose so enthusiastic over her offering. Idly she moved to pluck another vibrant flower for him, and would continue to repeat the action for as long as he would accept them from her. Very different... She murmured her agreement, but fell into attentive silence as he went on.

She understood that this was significant to him by the subject matter if not his cues — but she took note of those, too. Reverie rolled to her belly in an effort to be somewhat presentable for the conversation, though her fur was still quite mussed and strewn with flowers and leaves. From his words she gathered that it had been a long time since he'd last seen his home. Yet he missed it still.

You can always come back to us, you know, Reverie said softly, knowing that it wasn't the same but wanting him to understand that she hoped this pack would one day be his home. His family. Still, she'd spent enough time avoiding sorrow to recognize the attempt. So her tone lightened with her next words, a faint smile lighting her features: Just try not to maim my brothers, please. They've got enough problems.

Even through his speech, he continued to take flowers from Reverie. If votive offerings upon an altar built in his name was a love language, it was his. And if it wasn't, he didn't have one. Not right then, anyway.

But he still smiled, warm and genuine, when she told him he could always come back to them. It meant something, even if he felt that the wolves in this region gave such blessings away very easily. Same as how he was still so touched to have been introduced to the kids, even though they were wandering around for everyone to see and play with, now. These things meant nothing to wolves, he thought. He was annoyed that it still meant so much to him.

And he was annoyed with Tybault. Still. Always.

"We'll just have to see about that," he said, and his features took on a look of indignant wrath that was still so very Dusty, but not an expression that Reverie would have seen on his face before. But he rolled his gaze toward her, shaking it off into nothing more than a rueful furrow of his brow. "The one of them came to threaten me a while back." His eyes blazed blue, and now mischief shined through when he said, mournfully, "He was mean to me."

Reverie froze midway through reaching for another flower when Dusty Rose spoke again, glancing up just in time to see his expression. She only had a moment to wonder what had caused it. He was quick to enlighten her.

Of course she knew immediately that it was Tybault who had done it. Reverie would sooner believe that wolves could sprout wings and fly than in Everett's ability to threaten anyone. What she couldn't figure out was why.

A surprised frown shadowed her features. Oh, I... I'm sorry, Dusty Rose, The apology was earnest, a touch imploring. I'll - I'll talk to him when he gets back. What did he say to you?

The coywolf gazed at Reverie, assessing, even as his tail whisked in pleasure. Yes. Poor me. He wondered if she knew already what such an altercation must have been about, and he searched for signs of this knowledge in her eyes. Surely she understood how possessive Tybault was of her? 

Dusty Rose could understand it. Reverie was a possession worth throwing down over — but Dusty Rose would never forget little vulture, nor the dismissive turn of the other man's back.

"Nothing I want in my mouth," he replied after a moment of thought. More than that, he didn't want those words in Reverie's mind. They were too close to the hated moniker of sabandija — and he wasn't about to share that word with Reverie, either, lest she somehow learn to apply it to him even in the privacy of her own mind. If her brother could have such thoughts, he thought she was surely capable of it.

The coywolf flexed his claws, digging them briefly into the grass while he thought. Then he gave up and stretched his whole body, downward dog and then salute the sun, so that he could rest without tension once more.

"And I'll have to decline to speculate on his motives, 'cause, well — what's that saying? 'If you don't have anything nice to say, you oughta be doing somethin' else with your mouth.'"

That was most definitely not the saying.

"What gets me, though," he said, scraping the pile of flowers closer to him so that he could furrow his brow at that instead of Reverie — "What really gets my back up? I told him if he was starting to feel like a jackrabbit, he should just go ahead and jump. And he turned and walked away like he'd gotten one over on me. He's probably gonna think that for the rest of his natural life, 'cause the shit he came to threaten me about wasn't anything I was planning on, anyway. But he's probably pattin' himself on the back, wherever he is. You'd think a guy would get used to being looked down on like that. I don't, though. I pretend like I do, but I don't."

His mouth twisted, then. He figured, after that speech? He might as well have said it. Sabandija. Little vulture. What else could be read from the story?

Her expression darkened as Dusty Rose went on, and all at once it dawned on her — coyotes were only a half-step up from vermin by the teachings of The Gilded Sea. Reverie had never truly believed that. She hadn't thought Tybault would either.

But her disappointment in her brother was a matter for another time. Reverie rolled onto her back once more, this time angling herself closer to Dusty Rose. She stretched languidly, porcelain fur glinting under the light. It wasn't lost on her that this was a vulnerable position to be in. A show of trust, then — but it was more than that.

Don't, She said softly. Don't get used to it. You're worth more than that.

A half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, both at the sudden expanse of pale fur flashing in the sunlight and at the earnest kindness in her voice. Maybe she didn't feel the same as her brother. And maybe her brother didn't care about his blood and he was this kind of asshole to everyone. Maybe — but Dusty Rose was pretty sure he'd recognized the specific brand of disgust the man had for him, even if it was spiced with other exotic flavors of dickery.

"I know," he replied, not wanting to misrepresent his suffering. Maybe for the course of a conversation, but not for her to take away from it. "Don't worry about my self worth. I'm just angry. And if I can't do anything about it, I'd just as soon not be."

His teeth flashed in what might have been a self-deprecating grin — or perhaps it was only preparation for his next move, which was to snap at the paw nearest to him, teeth harmlessly glancing before he shoved his nose under it and flipped it away, pushing it further from his flower pile.

"What's this pack like?" he asked her, his head turning distractedly toward Swiftcurrent Creek's borders. Really, he just needed to look away from Reverie; there has been very few occasions where someone had shown him their belly. It had never been pleasant experience before today — but it still triggered the same urge to lunge for her throat. Not for the kill, this time, he didn't think. Just to see how his jaws fit around her.

He still didn't think that would be very smart or welcome.

Reverie snatched her paw back with a small giggle, plucking another flower to offer him then. At the mention of Swiftcurrent Creek, however, she stilled. Her gaze drifted to follow his, sobering slightly.

Guardians, mostly. My history with them is - it's complicated. But I have family there, And that was all that really mattered, wasn't it? And they wouldn't let anything happen to us. That's why we're staying here until - until we figure out what to do next.

She still wasn't sure about that part.

I still want to travel, but... A little sigh slipped from her. She felt she didn't need to finish the sentence. Dusty Rose had been there for all of it.

He hadn't expected happy memories of the creek pack. There was always a reason the past was the past. He asked anyway, because he'd never known avoiding a topic to save anybody's feelings, in the end. And he wanted to know.

There weren't many details forthcoming. That was fine with him, too. Maybe he would ask her more at a later date or maybe he would just let it lie. Right then, he could see that there were other things on her mind. He followed those thoughts to their conclusion — and no, he didn't need her to elaborate.

The coywolf forgot his flower pile. His aphotic blue gaze was unusually grim while he watched her.

"There's nowhere that's safe, Reverie," he said after a long moment, his voice quiet so as not to carry. He didn't want the kids to hear. He didn't want anyone else to hear, either. "Life is so fragile. Life is so — fucked. And you're gonna lose people when you least expect it because that's the way the world works. These things happen. They keep happening 'til you die, and you're the awful thing that's happening to someone else. So if you've got something you wanna do on the meantime? You'd better fucken do it. 'Cause otherwise you'll be scared and miserable. And maybe you think of this as a just for now sorta thing — and that's fine. That's good, if you wanna rest a while. Maybe we could use it. But those kids are gettin' bigger. Pretty soon their legs are gonna be long enough to walk off in all different directions. If you're hopin' for a family trip, time is running out. Time's always running out, Rev."

He gazed at her, his expression still stoic and solemn. He was ready to face her anger or tears. The truth hurt, sometimes. Dusty Rose knew that as well as anyone.

Dusty Rose spoke —

and it was nothing new, nothing she hadn't heard or thought before, but all the same it was what she'd needed to hear. It was what she'd needed to finally realize that she was doing it again; she was waffling, doubting herself, running to find safety where there was none to be had. There's nowhere that's safe.

What did she want to do?

Then - She rolled to sit upright again, eyes meeting Dusty Rose's as she finished. Then we'll travel. And we'll throw lots of parties, and we won't wait for anything. That was what she wanted. Perpetual escape; the final shedding of all that burdened her. If time won't wait, then neither will we.

The coywolf pretended away his very real relief when his words were received positively. He liked to see her happy. Or if not happy, at least not defeated, either.

"There she is," he said, smiling more broadly than he had in a while. Maybe the loss of Reina hadn't hurt him like it had the others, but he hadn't felt much in the mood to enjoy it. Now he felt something in his chest unclench.

Reverie couldn't help but smile back, settling her head on her paws now. She said nothing, but her eyes were warm on Dusty Rose.

For all that he spoke of loss, he was one of the few who had stayed. More than that, he was a streak of brightness among all the shadow, always bringing a smile to her face when he was near. She wouldn't make promises she couldn't keep. Not again. But she knew that she wanted to keep Dusty Rose close.

As close as she could, for as long as she could. That would have to be enough.