Redhawk Caldera [aw] another dawn

The days grew slower and slower.

Over the last year, it was more and more unavoidable that Eljay was growing old. His limbs were stiffer, which he compensated by slowing down his step, so that his children and his mate did not notice. But he knew that they knew.

Each time he had to sit up, he lay down instead, to spare his sore limbs. Each time he had to get up after he had lay down, his limbs trembled, and he was yet slower for at least five minutes as he got into motion.

It seemed unfair to Eljay, that somebody like him should live as long as he already had, while wolves like Bronco passed away from fever in the night, no matter how much the Caretaker had tried to ease his pain and his fevers. How many bodies had he seen, back to the earth, back to nature, their souls gone forever?

Had Eljay been able, he would have given wolves like that some of his years — his good years — so that they may all live equally long. But he knew that life wasn't like that. Life was unfair, no matter how hard he had tried his whole life to make it fair. All he could do was to keep trying the latter.

Despite his aching limbs, these were not the bad years. These were the good years — the years spent with his loving mate @Maia, with his beautiful family, with @Teya, whose grief no amount of friendship could not quench.

The old boy walked by the lake in the misty morning, glancing out over it, while he wondered what this year would have in store for him and his family. He had spent so many of his years in Redhawk Caldera, and he knew that it would be his final home.

all welcome (can't see the icons in safe for work mode it seems)!

Maia had woken up early to do some hunting and so far had caught nothing but frustration. She wanted to bring something to Chickadee and her family, but after a third rabbit made it to ground (and she’d managed to trip over herself) she decided that a break was in order.

To her delight, Eljay was already at the lake. It never failed to brighten her mood, seeing him, and today was no exception.

You would not believe the morning I’ve had. Mind if I hide out here a while? She asked with a smile, joining him with a light kiss on the cheek.

She could tell he was thinking about something and hoped she hadn’t interrupted, but the lake really was gorgeous today. Spring was finally settling in to stay.

A single ear pricked backwards to acknowledge Maia's approach. His hearing wasn't quite what it'd been, but it was still sharp enough. He could hear from her gait that it was Maia. His nose confirmed that it was her before he saw her face. His head followed his ear, a smile creeping on his face as Maia's sweet, gentle face came into view.

He chuckled as Maia mentioned having had a day; he had only slept in and then stretched in order to make this walk to the lake. Oh? he asked as he nuzzled her cheek, always eager to hear about Maia's day. Realising he hadn't answered her question, he added: On the day I start minding your company, please take me out. He chuckled, though realised after he said it that perhaps at his age, it was no longer something to joke about altogether too much.

The joke was definitely a dark one, and touched on worries Maia carried with her every day. Still she laughed, unwilling to let those thoughts ruin a beautiful afternoon, even if they did linger a bit. Somehow I don’t think that will ever happen. She replied, leaning into his side for a moment before glancing out over the lake.

Grandpa and grandma. I didn’t think we’d ever get to hear that. I hope… I just hope everyone else is this happy, wherever they are right now. Maybe they had already been grandparents, somewhere out there in the world, and didn’t know. Maybe they’d never find out.

Sorry. I just miss them. She knew that she didn’t need to apologize to Eljay, of all people, for that. I’m so grateful to have what we have though.

Grandpa. He loved the word, and everything about it. Eljay had been overjoyed to be a big brother so many times. He had loved watching his siblings and other pups in the pack. Becoming a father for the first time — though it was a joy that was quickly overshadowed by the death of Wildfire — had been a dream come true. And now, being a grandfather...? He wasn't sure that he would've expected to ever get here. Maia seemed to think the same.

The easy smile slipped off his face momentarily when Maia said that he hoped everyone else was happy, wherever they were. He thought fleetingly of Elfie — a thought he was quick to push out of his mind — and then of Weejay. His sweet little girl and her flower garden... He hoped that wherever she was, she was doing well, however sad he was that he didn't get to share his life with her today.

I hope so, too, he said solemnly, with a light sigh.

He shook his head when she apologised. You have nothing to apologise for, he spoke softly. I'm grateful for what we have, too. I feel so lucky that we get to see our grandchildren grow up. Eljay frowned as he finished the sentence, staring out over the lake and leaning gently into Maia's side. He hoped, at least, that he would get to see them grow into themselves all the way. It seemed every day got tougher, though at least his mind was still sharp, and he knew he'd been lucky to live a more privileged life than many others, with enough food to fill his belly for the last many years.

That made him think briefly of the famine where he had almost passed away to spare food for the rest of the pack. He felt privileged again, that they were not undergoing such a famine right now.

I know. I can’t help thinking about them sometimes. Even when I’d rather enjoy what we have. We are so lucky. She would always want more. Maybe that was the curse of being a parent. They got to experience so much joy, so many good times, and the trade would always be the worry.

Weejay was in her thoughts as well. She missed Eljay’s oldest as much as she missed Hymnal. Imagine the gardens she must have by now!

I want to give the pack to them, when it’s time. Kivaluk and Chickadee. But I worry about it. I can’t forgive her, Eljay. And they respect her so much. What if Kukutux turns our home into just another moon pack? The shift was abrupt, but it wasn’t at the same time. Their grandchildren were clearly the future, a future that she and Eljay were no longer responsible for. She was ready to pass that burden on if her daughter wanted it, and she ached for one of her children to love the home she and Wraen had built in the same way she did.

She wished she didn’t let Moonglow interfere. Maia just couldn’t help it. I trust them. I don’t ever want to make them feel like I don’t. I just don’t trust her.

Eljay nodded. He, too, would rather enjoy what they had, than lament what they had lost. He just hoped they were happy, out there. It was hard to imagine wolves like Weejay and Hymnal not to be; kind spirits who were helpful to anyone lucky enough to receive their loyalty. It'd been long since there had been contact with the pack that was out there, carrying several of their relatives — what was it even called? Eljay frowned as his memory failed him — and he did not even know whether Weejay was still out there, or if any of their other children had found their way there.

At Maia's concerns, Eljay's minds leered towards Moonspear. It was hard for him to see it as it was today — and he did not really know Kukutux other than through his mate's words — and easy for his mind to slip towards the pack that had been at odds with Redhawk Caldera, a long time ago, and the pack that had made Wraen leave the Copse. All these feelings mingled and intertwined for him, and he was unable to remember exactly what the moon packs were, these days, other than from snippets of what Maia had told him. He did not exactly go out much, himself. In all honesty, Eljay hardly remembered what Kukutux needed forgiving for - what she had done - but Eljay just nodded, knowing better than to ask his mate questions about something that clearly meant a lot to her; something he should know about, to begin with.

Hmm, he murmured in between Maia's passion-filled words, speaking of giving leadership to the children. Eljay asked gently, What if, when you are ready, we let the pack decide? He had been elevated to Auspex one day because the pack was in a state of a crisis. Maia had been chosen by the pack. What if they let the pack choose again? It's what Wraen wanted. He nosed Maia's cheek gently as he added: Not all responsibility to choose the pack's future needs to fall on you. If Kukutux wanted to influence our pack, I am not sure we could stop it, anyway — we only can if the pack agrees. He knew Maia was a very responsible wolf, and that was charming in its own way, but he hoped that he could take some of the weight of the world from her shoulders, so she would have more energy for fun things, such as watching sunsets and playing with her grandchildren.

He was right. Of course he was right! This was why she always came to him; Eljay was her rock, the better voice in her head that she depended on when her own insecurities got the better of her.

Yeah. It’s silly, but for some reason I feel like offloading these things on the pack means I’m failing to do what I need to. Even knowing it’s a decision everyone should have a say in. Maia shook her head, then smiled at him. You’re right, though. Maybe they won’t want it. Or maybe someone else will want it more.

Wraen hadn’t been the driving force behind the creation of the pack, Ibis had, and her appointments hadn’t been voted. Maia didn’t correct him though; that didn’t need to be his memory, she tended to forget that herself. The only reason it struck her now was because she remembered how deadset her sister was against becoming a leader. She wondered if things would have been different if Wraen had gotten to have the experience she had; leading a pack filled with her own family. Probably not. It was hard to imagine her sister ever being happy stuck in a single place and role.

Maia didn’t feel stuck. At some point she’d come to love having a place that was so completely theirs that it almost felt like a part of them. Eljay had given her that too.

I shouldn’t judge them. Moonglow is different, and the fact that Chickadee and Kivaluk are here right now without being punished for it shows that she might not be as bad as she was. But I don’t like the idea that we could become a place that thinks less of anyone, just for making their own choices. She leaned into him again affectionately, partially because she turned to look out across the water again. And I think I’m also jealous. That her pack helped Chickadee when we couldn’t. And that her children all seem to stay. I wouldn’t trade our kids for the world, but I can’t help wondering if…

She trailed off, then took a breath to steady herself. I just wonder why Brecheliant couldn’t be home for at least a few more of them. And then I feel ungrateful for even thinking it. These were things she could never share with her children, and things she hadn’t even shared with Eljay yet. Whenever they’d spoken about Moonglow it had always been vague and was always either about Chickadee or about the past. It had taken Maia a long time to even sort out the reasons she resented Kukutux so much, and recognizing this one made the rest of it feel so much pettier.

Eljay knew very little about Kukutux, and it seemed that it was a boon rather than a disadvantage in this case. Maia spilled out her worries, clearly weighed down by knowing things that he knew very little about. How many of Kukutux' children stayed in her pack, for example (and if it was truly as many as Maia thought — the grass easily looks greener on another's lawn, but was it really the way Maia had observed it to be? this, he kept to himself, though). Perhaps it was age catching up to him or perhaps he was finally learning, but Eljay found it difficult to let these same worries be evoked in him. Yes, he wished to have more of his children here. He loved being a grandfather. It put a spring back in his step and a light in his eyes. However, he was grateful just to have those that stayed. Just to have Sylvie, and Ceridwen, and Chickadee returned.

His experience was that wolves needed to find their own way in life. In his case, it was to stay close to home all his life. For a long time, he never understood why anyone would want differently. But then he met Maia and he himself had moved away willingly from the Caldera. It had given him some understanding, at least, that sometimes a place isn't enough. Family isn't enough, he supposed — for some. He just hoped that wherever they were, they were happy.

You shouldn't doubt yourself so much, Eljay said, surprisingly firm. What Kukutux or her children do has nothing to do with you. You are a wonderful mother. Different wolves have different needs in life, and our children just aren't the same as us. That's nothing to do with you, and I'm sure that our children would agree wholeheartedly, wherever they are. So don't blame yourself for anything. He then smirked and said, a bit more light-heartedly: If anything, you should blame my side of the family. My mother passed on some tenacious explorer genes.