Swiftcurrent Creek Can't forget your style or your cynicism

It was pouring rain, and mama was gone again. This time Foxglove decided that she would find her and let her know exactly how she felt about these absences. What she did not count on, however, was just how difficult it was to track another wolf. She knew some scent trails were newer than others, but the rain had muddled them all, and how was she to know which one was the right one?

And there were other scents, the further she went. Unfamiliar scents. Foxglove turned more and more hesitant as she picked her way across the borders of Swiftcurrent Creek, staring all around with wide nervous eyes. She didn't think mama had come this way. Suddenly she wasn't sure where this way was at all.

Rain—the sound of it as it washed across the budding leaves and grounds serving only to remind him of the cozy enclosure he had recently discovered with a certain silver she-wolf—in the final hours before the last remnants of his heart had all but been snuffed out.

Rounding his final stretch of the borders, the splash of mud and muck was a rather apt symphony to play in tandem of his thoughts—but the distinct scent of something else mingled.

He trailed after the intruder—but a certain innocence clung to them—he could tell. The mixture of milk and fear—of a gilded dancer who had come careening back into the lives of the creek.

So when his eyes trailed over the pup who definitely should not have been here, he felt a frown pull at his features before trying to quickly suppress it—he didn’t need to scare her, after all. “Hey,” he called, trying to lift his voice above the steady drum of the rain. “You lost, kid?”

Foxglove, who had never met a stranger who did not immediately become a friend, was not scared at all. She brightened immediately to see the man, and further when he greeted her. Yeah, She said, pausing to take in a small breath. It was the only moment of reprieve the stranger would get.

Real lost. 'm lookin' for mama, and wow it'sa lotta water mister, Her eyes were big as she said it. You seein' all'at water? It got on aaaallll my feets, And here she lifted each one to show him. And my nose and my ears and my -

She sneezed. Then she sneezed again and again, launching into a small fit.

There was a response—and then inhale of breath before an onslaught of words and questions.

He blinked—gaze roving over the youth—a girl, he thought? He assumed it was the rain that was making it hard to determine—but it mattered little. With Emberwood housing the gilded dancer and her followers due to the dangers they had recently encountered, he found it surprising that this one had gotten so far without anyone knowing.

“Is your mom Reverie?” He was pretty sure he knew—but he also wasn’t about to deliver a pup to the doorstep of someone without confirmation.

Cue a reveal of just how wet it was, in case he hadn’t noticed—and then a sneeze.

His lips pursed—he’d have to get the kid out of the rain and soon. “Let’s get you home, yeah? Your mama won't want you to get sick.”

Foxglove shook her coat out as she recovered from her sneezing fit. She gave no indication that she'd heard the man at first, moving to march past in a random direction, until she corrected him airily: No, we call her mama.

She'd learned that lesson too well to be tricked by a friend as new as him! Mama's this way, Foxglove added confidently, looking over her shoulder to see if the man was following. Which meant that she wasn't looking at where she was going. So maybe she was the only one who was surprised when she tripped over some unseen object in the mud and fell, twisting magnificently on the way down as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

The end result: a mud-soaked, crying puppy.

The response was neither confirmation or denial—it remained a whimsical naivety only seen in pups and youth—a naivety that was so hard to protect. “Right,” he drawled—the words sardonic but his tone light. “How silly of me.”

Still, he was pretty sure—Reverie’s scent practically emanated from the kid—stirring an air of… anxiety—maybe, within him.

Last thing he needed was being accused of kidnapping or upsetting any mama bear’s little cub—let alone Reverie’s.

So, of course, in a display of absolute karma, the kid went to lead him to the way of ‘mama’ and ended up ass over tea kettle into the mud.

The tears and wails were like a siren—and the ebony male swept forward, nose dipping down to upright her—a soft ‘shhh’ escaping his lips in an attempt to soothe. “Here, I’ll try to call mama, okay, and then we’ll get you somewhere dry while we wait?”

Luckily for Akavir, Foxglove was an easily soothed child. She quieted almost immediately, sniffling as the man nosed her to her feet and spoke of calling for mama. She nodded, trying to wipe some of the mud from her face without realizing that her paw was even muddier. Then she did realize and dropped her paw miserably.

She just wanted her mother.

Her eyes welled with tears again. For once Foxglove had nothing at all to say. She only looked at the man helplessly, waiting for him to make the world okay again.

Didn't know if you wanted another pack mate to come grab Foxglove given Reverie's busy, orrr....? Leaving it open to your discretion. They're near the border.

She nodded—the acquiescence all he needed for him to raise, head tilting back to let loose a beckoning call through the rainstorm—whether it was Reverie or another of her pack mates that answered, he wouldn’t know—instead, once the cry fell from his lips and faded to the distance, the man would delicately lean down, picking the cub up and skirting back to the cover of a tree near the borders.

Placing her down to the base, the leaves were only beginning to grow now, and so droplets of the storm still pelted at them miserably. The pup looked at him expectantly, it seemed—unbeknownst to her just how out of his element he was in a situation like this.

Positioning himself as best he could to keep her from the main elements of the storm, Akavir stretched out, offering her a place between his outstretched forelimbs to warm up while they waited. “I’m sure someone will be here soon,” he offered, his words quieter now.

I'll pop Rev in next round <3 I figure it would have taken some time for Fox to get all the way here

Foxglove shook her coat out one last time and crept over to settle between the outstretched forelegs. She circled once, twice, then curled up. It was a little warmer here, a little safer; she immediately felt better.

She rested her chin atop one of his wrists and closed her eyes. Mama would be here soon, she hoped. It didn't take long for the exhausted puppy to fall asleep that way, thoroughly worn out by all the excitement.

Nothing was said in return—instead, a very muddy and sleepy puppy quietly took up his invitation and curled up within his arms. Whether it was fatigue from the clear journey she had taken, or the white noise of the falling rain, she was soon asleep. Moments passed—water dropping down from the crown of his head and across his eyes.

Reminded, once more, of the fateful night where he assumed his heart had perhaps been broken one last time.

Trying to keep the water from falling on her, the Mayfair quietly re-positioned—pulling her closer, his own head resting out to the ground, until only a sparse bit of puppy fur and a muzzle could likely be seen from an onlooker—and perhaps the rise and fall of both their chests as they dozed.

She almost ignored the call.

Reverie had returned to her daughters only to find one of them gone. Naturally, she was frantic. She'd fled back out into the rain without a second thought, pursuing the muddled and fading scent trail Foxglove had left.

That was what she was doing when she heard the call; the one she almost ignored. But it occurred to her after a moment that maybe — maybe Foxglove had gone that way. Maybe her daughter was with Akavir.

Reverie crossed the borders soaked and breathless, heart racing in her aching throat. Foxglove's scent was in the air; that was all she truly registered even as she caught sight of Akavir, even as she went to him with a little cry of surprise and relief. Her muzzle dipped thoughtlessly toward the glimpses she caught of her child beneath his chin, unbothered by his closeness to her daughter but equally unmindful of it. Her daughter was safe; Akavir's comfort was secondary in this moment, like all other things.

Foxglove - Her voice dropped as she realized her daughter was asleep. Tears filled her eyes. Reverie glanced up from the sleeping girl to Akavir, abruptly overwhelmed by emotion.

Once again it was this which drove her to reach out, to wrap her arms briefly around Akavir when he'd presumably lifted his head to look at her. Thank you, She breathed. Thank you. Then she remembered who she was hugging and pulled away, embarrassed.

It would take some time for Reverie or one of her wolves to get to them—or, at least, he assumed it would take some time, unless they were even closer than the red woods.

There was a certain peacefulness in that moment—the puppy scent of Foxglove giving a painful twinge of nostalgia of better days. His youth—the way he had held Lilitu and Arielle just like this, so many nights. Ibis curled into his side as well.

Those were the moments when it had been easier to ignore the threatening politics that had waited for them just outside their den. The days when he had gone from a boy to a man.

And then reality had grasped their happy family in its claws—

—he heard her footfalls, pulling him from his thoughts. Blinking back the sleep in his eyes from dozing on and off in the interim, he caught view of her gilded frame—and before he could do much more she had wrapped him in warmth with a hug—now she shielded him momentarily from the rain—and he paused—words finding themselves lost.

When she backed away with obvious embarrassment, the Mayfair shadow finally found his tongue and slowly began to lift himself up, taking care to remove a tiny paw from his own, trying his best not to wake her. “I believe this belongs to you,” he murmured, trying to infuse lighter humor to alleviate the wave of awkwardness. “She face planted into a mud puddle and has been sneezing.” Turning his gaze from Foxglove, he studied Reverie—the relief palpable on her features.

He knew that kind of heartache that thankfully came with a happy ending... Until one day it just didn't.

Akavir was being kind, but Reverie only had eyes for her daughter for several long moments. Foxglove stirred only a little when she was moved. Reverie reached out to pull her softly into her arms, tears falling in earnest now. All she could think was that her baby could have been lost forever.

I'm sorry. She kept the words locked away tightly behind her lips, but they lurked underneath every kiss she pressed to her sleepy daughter's forehead. Foxglove, a heavy sleeper after her late father's habits, only grumbled and rolled over, flinging out a small paw to ward off the affection.

Reverie tucked her closer with a faint smile that faded quickly as she finally remembered Akavir's presence. I'll get her some medicine when we get back, She murmured, stealing another glance down at her sleeping daughter. Her eyes found the Swiftcurrent Creek alpha again after a moment. I - I don't know what I would have done if...

She couldn't finish the sentence. The loss of a child was too great a pain to consider, let alone put into words. I left her with my brother for a little while, and I got back and she was just - she's always wandering off, Reverie let out a breath, ears falling. She should have been there.

Reverie’s gaze was rapt upon her daughter—but Akavir studied her when she wasn’t looking. The rain of kisses that befell the girl were an all too familiar understanding—the worry that emanated from her indicating to the man she had yet to dispel the nightmares that had likely plagued her when in search for her child.

Reverie looked to him then—stumbling over what sounded like an explanation—though he hadn’t asked for one. Thoughtfully, his own gaze drifted down tot he sleeping bundle at her feet—had Mae not needed him so much these days, he would have extended the offer to carry her home. The rain—the storm—wouldn’t help the little girl.

“If he’s still with your others, you can stay in one of our abandoned dens for the night with her until the rain let’s up if you want.”

Reverie was slightly startled by the offer. She glanced up even as she pulled her daughter closer to shield her from the rain. A night at Swiftcurrent Creek; how long had it been since she'd last slept within these borders? She'd never thought she would again.

Yet she found herself nodding, shivering faintly, biting back her nausea as she spoke again. That - that would be nice, thank you... Reverie trailed off, realizing all at once how cold and miserable she felt. Her time with Dusty Rose had exhausted her in the best way, but her search for Foxglove had exhausted her in the worst way. She felt strung out; drained entirely.

She started to rise on trembling limbs, still shielding her daughter, and looked to Akavir for direction then. This wasn't her place anymore.

A shiver coursed through her—enough for the man to stir to action and he beckoned her, eyes drifting from the sleeping pup at her paws back up to her features. He spoke nothing—but when he lead them to one of the only abandoned dens he knew of, he trailed carefully in front of her—as if his larger form could block some of the rain from her and Foxglove.

Lingering outside the den entrance, his gaze remained stoical—he hadn’t been here since Eshe had left him, and he didn’t even know what remnants of his ex-wife remained within. Still, he sidestepped, allowing Reverie to gather her girl and get her from the cold.

With a short howl—he beckoned Mae to come if she wished—knowing if his own daughter knew Reverie was within their home and she hadn’t seen her, he would certainly hear about it.

She gathered her daughter up and trailed closely behind Akavir, doing her best to keep the rain off of Foxglove's fur. They moved in silence; Reverie couldn't help but wonder what Akavir was thinking. Was he displeased to see her here? Was he thinking of that day at the borders with Blossom now?

Reverie bit back the urge to explain further, to assure him that things were different now. That she was different. She wasn't sure why it mattered that he knew. Only that it did.

She hesitated only a moment outside of the den, glancing to Akavir with a slightly imploring expectation in her gaze. He wouldn't really leave her to get settled alone, would he? This had been her home once, it was true, but — but it wasn't anymore. And there were ghosts here, so many ghosts around every corner.

His call for Mae settled the question somewhat. Still... she looked into the den, then back at him as she carried her daughter into it. Her nerves were alight, and perhaps he would see it.

There was nothing to be said in the gloomy weather—the rain had soaked him thoroughly, and from the fatigue that seemed to emanate from Reverie, he assumed she felt the same. Still—she was a timid thing most of the time, and it didn’t miss his attention that she remained so even now—hesitating at the entrance of the den.

Was she nervous of his presence? It wasn’t such a stretch to imagine so—everything he had learned that had happened with the man Kestrel… Their argument over Moss. A ledger of red between them.

He felt his jaw tick—he ducked his muzzle down, eyes blinking into the darkness to see her gilded frame in the backdrop of a den that was uncomfortably familiar. “I need to go find Mae… She doesn’t like to be left alone for too long. Okay here?”

He would be out of her hair soon.

Sweats and powerplays Mae too

I need to go find Mae. Reverie glanced back up as he said it, fear flashing in her eyes at the prospect of being left alone. Wait - I - The words spilled from her before she could stop them. She sucked in a harsh breath.

I'm a grown woman, and a mother, and I should be able to care for myself. She swallowed hard, ready to apologize — but she was interrupted by a familiar voice, followed a moment later by Mae's arrival.

Thought you wanted Mae to come find you, the girl's voice was wry. But if you'd rather use me as an excuse, I can fuck off.

Reverie couldn't quite stifle her soft snort of amusement. She went to greet Mae with a kiss to her forehead, grateful for the opportunity to leave behind her awkward stumbling over this latest interaction with Akavir.

Reverie spoke—words soft—but enough to halt him. He paused his back peddle from the entrance of the den, gaze lifting as a brow arched—but she spoke nothing more. “Is this okay? This is my old den… I haven’t been here since Eshe left—no idea what she left behind in there.” He hadn’t bothered to look—hadn’t been able to bring himself to.

From the corner of his eye, he could swear he caught the shadowed silhouette of a dried sprig of lavender.

Throat bobbing as he swallowed, Mae’s caustic words stirred a small smile to his lips and he sidestepped out of the way, allowing her the space to go in. “Cute,” he rumbled, eyes drifting over his ebony daughter. “Figured you’d want some time with Reverie.”

A brief pause, and if he had hands, he would have clapped his hands together once. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

His old den. Eshe. Reverie had never met the woman, but it wasn't difficult to put two and two together. All at once she understood: this was where his own ghosts lived. One of the places, at least. She didn't need to question his reason for bringing her here — what other option did he have? Her own abandoned den?

But he'd chosen not to be so cruel. Reverie let Mae slip away from her, pretending not to see the disgusted face the girl made in response to her kiss. Mae's attention was immediately swept away by Foxglove, who was still asleep; she didn't seem to hear anything either adult said after that, though Reverie did make an attempt at properly greeting her.

But then Akavir was leaving, as he'd seemed so intent on. This time Reverie only nodded. He'd already given her more kindness than she had any right to expect from him. She wouldn't ask for more.

Goodnight, Akavir.

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned to settle in the den. It was a bit of a mess, honestly. As if the occupants had departed abruptly. Reverie would spend the night clearing the den out after Mae left, remaking the space into something simple but warm; still with remnants of what it once was, but carefully rearranged. She didn't expect anyone to ever see it.

In place of the lavender she left roses. Just a few delicate blooms all in pink and yellow, but the scent of them filled the den as she and Foxglove departed the next morning.