Noctisardor Bypass What would I ever do with a rose?

Anselm sat in the den, feeling like a fish out of water. This was @Heda and @Druid’s territory — there was something distinctly maternal about the closing walls that seemed to forbid his presence. 

Anselm wondered after Heda, and could not help but ask himself if her sudden departure had anything to do with what she witnessed in the ruinwood. He didn’t want to care what she thought of it all - his heart still singed from Etienne’s outburst. 

He watched @Ezra and @Gideon play, present in person her mind a thousand miles away. They were at the the age now that they would soon learn independence. He remembered his own brother and smiled to himself; a smile that extinguished to nothingness as he remembered Emmerich was no longer part of his life. 

Anselm wanted to be a good father — he just didn’t know how. His interactions with the kids were stilted and uncomfortable. He hated himself for it. He hated feeling out of place, inadequate, and worst of all, he hated how he could not systematically deconstruct the walls he’d so carefully built stone by stone — and everyone else paid for it. 

His mind wandered as the puppies milled about him. He refused to think about Etienne — or tried not to, anyway — unwilling to revisit the fresh scar from their most recent encounter. He worked the uncomfortable ball in the back of his throat, wondering if Druid was nearby and if she’d caught wind of the sudden upset in Rivenwood.

She considered confronting her sister about her involvement with Anselm and his paternity. That wasn’t the right word though, she decided as she strode out of the den and sprawled in a pool of sunshine. She folded one foreleg over the other, offering a nod to the selfsame man across the clearing. She wanted Heda to know she knew but that she neither cared nor judged. But Druid hesitated, sensing there was some reason Heda hadn’t told her herself. Besides, she wasn’t even here right now.

Presently, the Den Mother shifted her attention to the half a dozen puppies milling about the area. They were getting big, she noted, eyes following her son for a moment. Soon, they would all move to Sequoia’s Spot, where they would become the responsibility of the entire pack rather than just the Den Mothers’. Druid could safely say she loved her kids now, though the thought of everyone’s expanding freedom—particularly her own—made her heart skip a beat.

Anselm watched as a pair of puppies sailed past — when he looked back, he caught Druid’s eye and silent nod. 

Like her, he was noticing how large they’d gotten. Their proportions were all over the place, it was comic. He found it hard to believe in just a months time they’d begin accompanying them on hunts. 

His attention slid back to Druid. Anselm recalled their last meeting and how graciously she’d fielded his sudden defensiveness. Did she know? His gaze narrowed, and he reminded himself there was nothing to know. Because he wasn’t — you know. 

He cleared his throat and between a chorus of puppy yips called to her.  Vhen vill you move them?

She didn’t know why it surprised her when Anselm spoke to her. Druid wasn’t quite sure how to feel about him after everything she’d learned, though she reminded herself he had no idea what she and Etienne had discussed. Her ears splayed as she considered all the secrets she now carried. She could and would keep them, though there was part of Druid that disliked being put in this position.

Pushing upright, she stretched her neck, then stood. After shaking out her coat, she made her way over to the Birch. One of the pups chose that moment to run right in front of her. Druid managed to dodge to avoid impact, nipping in the direction of the Butternut’s tail. With a roll of her eyes, she proceeded toward Anselm.

The end of the month, she answered his question when she came to stand over him. We’re going to have a pack gathering at the rendezvous site to celebrate it.

She wanted to ask questions of her own. Do you have any idea Etienne’s in love with you? Are you really in love with my sister? Are you aware they’re probably yours? Oh, they’re definitely yours. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, Druid thought, eyeing Ezra and Gideon in curious silence.

Surprisingly, Druid came towards him — but not before a pair of overexuberant kids sped past. She aimed a nip at one child’s tail, turning to focus her darkened face on the tracker. 

The end of the month would come sooner rather later. Anselm marveled at how the days simultaneously sped past and dragged. He wondered how this pack gathering would fare and winced, remembering he’d see Etienne there. 

Etienne. 

Anselm shoved the image of the seaborn’s tear-stained face aside. The hurt displayed in Etienne’s expression had wounded him possibly deeper than any word could. 

Vhat needs to be done to prepare? He asked, suddenly emerging from his reserved silence to glance at Druid, whose shadow now cast over him.

Her mismatched eyes drifted back to Anselm just in time to catch his wince. Well, that was intriguing. Druid hadn’t said anything particularly controversial. Maybe a fly had bitten him.

Why did your face just do that? she questioned before answering his. Nothing in particular, aside from keeping these goobers alive until then.

Her gaze rested on his face, waiting for him to explain its curious behavior. Druid thought about his fight with Etienne and wondered how he truly felt about the man. Did he merely tolerate him, like the Oak insisted? She couldn’t even say why but she had a hard time believing that.

Anselm tried and failed to keep his emotions from showing on his face. If nothing else, he was not deceitful. 

Druid’s probing caused his gaze to advert and expression to shift to something akin to coldness. No reason. He supplied quickly in a tone that did not invite discussion. 

As much as she had shown him she was a supportive and kind person, Anselm’s walls were too habitual to place down for a rare moment of vulnerability. Besides, he was old fashioned in that he believed it only his business — what kind of wolf went around flapping their mouth like a busy hen?

He changed the topic in an attempt to deflect. Vhere do you think Heda has gone?

I think you might have a tick, Druid said sagely, like the facial kind, not the bloodsucking insect. You probably have some of those too but they don’t cause twitchiness as far as I know.

“Vhere do you think Heda has gone?”

It was Druid’s turn to make a strange face. It scrunched, her tail giving an idle flick.

She went to track a herd on the cuesta, she said, wondering if Heda hadn’t given these details to Anselm.

Why wouldn’t she tell him that? Or what if she had and Anselm didn’t think that’s where she’d really gone? Why would her sister lie? Druid resented the insinuation, though the query gave her pause. There were things Heda wasn’t telling her… but that was different from lying to her face. No, she refused to believe Heda would do that.

Druid’s surmisal of his condition caused him to involuntarily raise a hind leg to kick at a tuft behind his ear. The angular limb dropped when she elaborated she meant a different kind — a facial kind. 

That implied something was wrong with him, but as proud as Anselm was, he’d take that false assumption over having to explain the truth. He felt bad for keeping this from Druid, just as he felt hideous for transforming Heda’s body, rejecting her marriage, struggling to communicate with her, and barely loving her — and his — children. Just as he felt equal parts raw and disgusting for the unspeakable and unnameable appetite that woke in him when he saw Etienne. Each emotion was just more ugliness to add to the collective cookie jar of guilt-studded thoughts and wants that was brimming over. 

Heda was hunting by the Cuesta. Anselm frowned, thinking of the caribou she’d driven off the cliff. Why had she not enlisted one of them to help? Did he believe it? Did he want to disbelieve her? Maybe all this uncharitable assumption was what landed him here in the first place. What was wrong with him that he was an asshole to everyone? Fiona had been the one to first ask that question, and now that ugly seed had grown into rotting fruit that festered every line of thought he carried. 

I stay because I care! I stay because you asked me not to leave! In his mind’s eye the golden lash of the seaborn’s tail caught the sun; he sighed, and remembered Druid stood over him. How do you connect vith them, Druid? Anselm asked suddenly, his voice twisted with anguish that thus far had remained unspoken. While he meant the children, his question was open ended enough to mean all of Rivenwood. How did she watch, and lead, and hunt, and nurse, and care, and do all of these things while still maintaining an air of kindness Anselm couldn’t hope to summon if his life depended on it.

He didn’t say anything in response. Druid cocked her head, thoughts still slowly swirling. She wondered what he’d say if she told him he knew the secret of the younger boys’ paternity. It felt wrong not to talk to Heda about it first, though, so she stayed mum.

Anselm’s next question tempted her to unzip her lips. She glanced at him, then turned to watch the puppies running around for a minute. Did he mean them? Or did he mean Rivenwood collectively? Either way, Druid realized she wasn’t necessarily the best person to field this line of inquiry.

I don’t know. I haven’t done a great job of it myself. I guess I’m still figuring it all out, she told him the truth. I guess spending quality time with them is a good place to start, though. For instance…

She hesitated. She couldn’t anticipate how Anselm might react if she brought up Etienne. Druid supposed he might get defensive. He wasn’t the only one who’d mishandled the gentle Oak, though.

I spent some time with Etienne yesterday. We talked for a while, then fished together. I hadn’t really made time just to hang out with him, without any particular reason. He’s pretty good company too.

Cameo! Plz skip  <3

Kikimora busied herself with Ezra and Gideon, the boys who she'd always been closest to. She was too little to know that they were not the same, that they'd come from different wombs; they were as much her brothers as @Artio. 

The arrival of an adult had her pause only to blink up toward him, watching him as he approached. Soon he was joined by her mother, and Kikimora noted that she was not offended by his presence. The speckled youngster took some time to monitor the Den Mother's body language until, content that all was well, she resumed playtime with her companions.

The anguish on his face faded as he watched Kikimora run alongside Gideon and Ezra, every bit in step with them as if she'd burst from the womb alongside them. He looked back to Druid, wondering if she'd detect the piteous desperation in his voice.

She didn't make fun of him. He half expected it, and was ashamed already by asking something so bald and open, that by omission admitted his struggles in Rivenwood. He had difficulty connecting - not just with his children, but everyone. Including Etienne.

Druid didn't have it easy either. Anselm had only tangentially been involved when she'd disassociated with her children -- but as far as he could tell, she was better now. He wondered if like Etienne, she wanted someone to ask if she was okay. Was she okay?

Druid suggested spending time with them. His lips twisted wryly -- he often felt his presence was an imposition, however unfair that feeling was to Druid and Heda. He stiffened as Etienne's name came up, but remembered they were a small pack -- a community -- it was not immediately a bad thing that Etienne and she spent time together.

He is good company, Anselm lamented before he could help himself. He nearly placed his paws upon his mouth in shock of this admission, but at the last moment redirected his claws into the dirt. He wished he was different -- that things were different. That he had never seen the hurt in Etienne's goldcoin eyes. That he had never been the one to place it there.

He sighed and looked away, unable to hold Druid's gaze. He assumed she would be able to connect the dots if she had not already. Suddenly, the question he should have asked Etienne all along sprung to his lips.

Is he okay?

Anselm emphatically agreed with her. Druid didn’t look at him—she kept her eyes on the three smaller pups, Kiki in particular, for a few moments—but pondered these four simple words. Only when he asked a followup question did Druid’s eyes find his face again.

I left him better than I found him, she said candidly. I think everyone here—myself included—has taken him for granted. I told him I’d do better. He deserves better.

Was she dropping a hint? Yes. Was he picking up said hint? Druid tried not to stare, pointing her snout across the clearing where the children played, but she watched his face out of the corner of her eye.

Mercifully, Druid did not look his way. Anselm’s claws dug deep into the earth, four new scores of dirt upturned under them.

He quickly sucked in a breath. There was that delicate line he always had such difficulty treading — what was an appropriate level of concern to display for the man he most definitely absolutely certainly did not feel any intimate feelings for?

Druid mentioned almost word for word what Etienne had said the day before. Anselm’s skin prickled. How much, exactly, did Etienne share with her yesterday? He couldn’t possibly know, but he had always been a skeptic of coincidence.

This caused a total shut down. What had almost been the blossoming of a tender moment snapped shut; his walls thundered upward, the armor shoring up with a clamshell clap. Druid was studying the kids - Anselm studied his defenses.

All he could supply in answer was a noncommittal grunt.

He didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between them, the shouts of the children a noisy distraction. Druid finally turned to assess his expression, which was stony. She recollected Etienne’s allegations about Anselm, from the mention of his big walls to the assertion he was deeply homophobic.

Yep, she could only think, Etienne really does deserve better.

After a while, Druid decided to say something else altogether, sharing, Glaukos showed up the other day. I made him leave again. Afterward, I found out from our neighbors that he badly hurt a young she-wolf named Mae. They’re planning a manhunt.

Welcome silence spread between them. Anslem was glad for the distraction of the children. Their calls rattled through the den and faded out by the evergreen forests. 

After a time Druid spoke again. Anselm received the news with a sharp turn of both torn ears, the stoniness of his features replaced with bristling shock. 

He vhat? He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He had his own scars from the man — and look at Druid. Vhat vould cause him to do such a thing? 

As if the boulder needed reason. Anselm weighed this thought with a grim expression. I should join them. Maybe getting out of Rivenwood for a while would clear his mind, and dispell the tension between him and Etienne. And possibly even heal the open wound that lingered between him and Heda.  

But it would mean leaving the children.  He was already basically absentee; the children did not address him as ‘papa’, they barely knew his face. 

Maybe it was for the best.

She felt strangely vindicated by his outrage. Both Heda and Etienne didn’t seem to think poorly of Glaukos despite everything, though Anselm clearly shared her contempt for the man. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Druid thought a little wryly. It made her think of Mahler. She couldn’t help but wonder if she and Anselm would only ever find common ground in common enemies.

I felt that way too, she revealed to Anselm, locking eyes with him again, but I’m hardly a fighter. I figured I’d only be a liability. If you think you could help, I can tell you where to find Viinturuth and Akavir. They’re the ones who are looking for him. I already told them where to find him.

Anselm didn’t just feel poorly about Glaukos — it was a deep and disfigured emotion that he could assign to that man, most akin to a savage species of enmity. Glaukos had hurt Anselm; fine — he’d twisted the man’s scruff so hard he bore the mark of it all these weeks later. But he’d done something even worse than that. He’d put his hands forcefully upon Etienne, going so far as to temporarily paralyze him. 

For that, Anselm would never find forgiveness. 

He was surprised Druid was encouraging - but on second thought, she’d had several teeth displaced by the brute. Anselm considered her offer for a long moment. 

Vould that not be abandoning the puppies? He asked at length, drawing his gaze from the kids to Druid’s multimark face.

His question prompted another twist of her features, which morphed into a more speculative expression as she pondered it. Something dark passed behind her eyes, like a cloud scudding across the sun.

What do you mean? she decided to ask, rather than the, Why? Do you plan to die? that lurked in her head.

Anselm realized his mistake too late. He'd slipped up -- but he wasn't sure Druid caught it. He didn't see the dark emotion stirring behind her gaze; he was too busy being absorbed with himself.

I mean that Heda has asked me to vatch them, and I leave. He expanded, even though that wasn't really what he meant at all. He hated lying -- he hated the misleading -- but it would be best for everyone, he thought, if the world continued to go on thinking these were Glaukos' children. He couldn't even help it, sometimes he really wondered ...

Wait until she comes back, Druid said simply, wondering if she’d missed something. I don’t think they’re in any hurry to confront him. They want to make sure they’re prepared first. Although they won’t wait around forever. They want justice for Mae.

Someone started crying. Druid immediately turned her attention to the pups. She was on her feet and moving toward them without another word to Anselm. While she had a no-nonsense approach to these things, she was attentive in her examination of a hurting paw and quick to offer a nudge of comfort and reassurance.

She blinked at Anselm over a fuzzy forehead but did not move back toward him. Instead, she motioned the upset Butternut toward a nearby puddle to explain how soaking a sore foot in cold water could remedy the ache.

The grown-ups continued their conversation and Kikimora did not concern herself with what they were saying. She was enjoying the scents of the forest, the sound of birdsong, the warmth of Springtime sun on her skinny shoulders. She laughed with her playmates and ran with them, until someone cried out.

Druid swept forward to attend the wailing child and Kikimora ventured closer to investigate, concern in her denim gaze. She didn't like to see anybody hurt or afraid, so often hovered uselessly until tears dried up and the ouchies subsided.

Anselm held a neutral expression, but inwardly sighed relief that Druid didn't seem to catch his omission. He wasn't sure how he felt about the world knowing these were his children; part of him wanted to stake pride in such ownership, but a stronger, meaner side of him noted Heda had not been upfront with their parentage so why should he?

Someone began crying. Anselm watched as helpless as Kikimora, though his expression was far less concerned. All four legs present? Check. No open wound or exposed organ? Check. He supposed that children had yet to learn the world of hurt. With such inexperience, it was easy to blow a mild scrape out of proportion.

He hovered in the background, focusing his attention on the other children while Druid was preoccupied with the crying one. He couldn't say he knew exactly which one it was -- another burn of guilt -- but he was pretty sure it wasn't Gideon on account this one had just one the one tail.

He noted Kikimora was hovering on the fringes too, already so helpful at such a young age. He couldn't relate.