Redtail Rise aureolin

can’t resist but obv no rush!

The Wealda had sensed the unsettling of the Rise with Masque’s visit.  Though she herself was relieved to bury old hurts, the tone disquieted her some.  Ulfhedinn was supportive; the rest perhaps unsure.  She could not begin to guess at their true thoughts, and could not determine how to approach this.

Once more cast into the mire by her own desire for unity and her own inability to inspire it.  The doubts undid much of the good of the reunion.

That night, as she returned late to @Gavrel’s side, she resolved to at least discover his insight.  He was new, unknowing, yet the perfect one to approach first.  The others could benefit from the things she learned.

She had been watching the edge of the territory with extra attentiveness, hawklike with the arrival of now two new neighbors.  Their proximity did not threaten her at all and both had been greeted amicably.  Yet children still resided here, and while they remained vulnerable, her duty was protection.  In this, all things might serve as threats.

She was tired as she approached.  Still she allowed the trail to guide her to him.

Always happy to thread with you!

Her approach was subtle but he stirred all the same, as if even in his half-dreams he had been waiting for her.

Redd, he murmured, if only to hear her name. His voice was thick with sleep.

Blinking, he thought about everything he could tell her. His meeting with Masque the other day had gone well, and so had his brief excursion to Riverclan. But he chose to study her for a moment longer.

Moonlight rippled across her face. She looked cast in silver, her red points lost in the dark. Gavrel watched her with equal measures of fondness and consternation, his cheek pressed against an outstretched arm.

He was asleep. She could hear it thick in his voice and it caused some hesitation. Should she wait?

No. By morning this drive might be gone and in many ways she felt she needed this insight. She wished for the honesty and reflection that the night often brought, and the solitude of their shared sleeping space. She gave a soft sound of confirmation on her approach, then settled close, allowing her head and one forepaw to rest upon his back affectionately. But she did not close her eyes to sleep.

There was a call. She began, her unsureness present in the way she paused over words. She did not yet know the questions. Perhaps just beginning with her own truth first. She named me Wealda, before. Then changed her mind. The call was not to claim. Things are still… not right.

Redd did not mistrust her sister, but Wealda knew the pack’s discontent. This was her problem, and she stopped to allow him his own thoughts. The history she gave was not all of it, but it was the crux of what she believed the divide had been. The impetus of Masque’s departure had been her failed claim, no matter what she might have found as a truer reason afterwards.

As she settled in behind him and began to speak, he could feel her voice more than he heard it. Her measured exhales warmed his nape.

I talked to Masque, he said, perceptive enough to know that there were eggshells, but not enough to avoid them with any grace. Tread lightly, he begged of himself.

She said she wanted to be 'sister packs'.

Such a phrasing had seemed jocular, almost trivial in the light of day, buoyed by their arrhythmic banter. In the moon-drenched night, it took on the cold weight of meaning. Even for an outsider like him, he could sense how it might sink from his mouth like a ballast, like concrete shoes. He imagined the Rise from a bird's-eye-view, the surface of the map rippled with new eddies from the east.

She called it Dragon's Back Ridge. He turned back to face her, on his elbows now. What did Wealda think of this? What did Redd think of this?

She should not have been surprised by his initiative but she was.  She had not known others of the Rise had reached out, and this interest warmed her.  She rubbed her cheek lightly, lovingly, and considered what he spoke of.  It was appreciated that he now knew more of what she spoke.

I want this.  She did not know if Redd or Wealda spoke.  Perhaps it was both.  The Rise could only benefit from strong hunts, but there were personal feelings there too.  I did not want her to go.  This she admitted with a knowing disquiet, for it was a thought that could only belong to Redd.  It spelled the end of Wealda and likely the end of the rise they knew.  This did not stop the want.

She knew better than to act upon these feelings and saw them for what they were.  The choice was never hers regardless.

Admitting it felt right in this place.  I would not be Wealda if I knew.  The words changed nothing.  She was Wealda and stood firm in the decisions she’d made thus far.  There was little point in making it known but she, for some reason, wished to hear his thoughts all the same.

He could not help but think of his own relationship with his sister, Iser.

It had been fraught even during the best of times. They had never understood each other, perhaps had never tried. But this had always been the natural order of things, and Gavrel did not mind that there was no love lost between them -- in fact, he even preferred it that way.

So instead his mind turned to Jannik.

And there his heart clenched as it always did, and he moved his paw over Redd's own. He thought he could transmit everything he felt to her, through these few inches of skin.

Then let it be that way, he murmured. The sister packs, being Wealda, everything -- let it all happen.

He gave her a wary glance, then.

I told her I loved you -- was that stupid of me?

Such questions could only be conceived of and asked in the middle of the night.

He did not use many words but she understood, and his support was appereciated.  This was what they had.  So this was what would be.

Then there was mild confusion.  Why would it be stupid if it were true?  Love was a natural part of this bond they now shared.  She knew it in the glowing affection of her own sentiment, the warmth of him there now, and the way her thoughts softened and rounded whenever they touched upon him.

Why stupid?  She knew this; surely others did too, or would with time.  She saw no reason to hide nor announce this herself.  It only mattered what they felt.