Fox's Glade But Now I'm Someone New

Golden eyes, and whiskered face. Traipsed, tapped from rivenwood. A heavy mist hung in the early dawnlight as Etienne descended from home.

Heda had returned. Anselm was still avoiding him and Druid knew all his secrets. Heda had told him they were not lovers, and yet he had no doubt they would be eventually. He knew anselm and he knew Heda and they couldn't stay apart. And who was he to deny them this.

He realized sadly that he must strike the mountain man from his heart, no matter the pain. And even as that thought cemented into his mind and the very organ he wanted to strike shattered. He knew it to be true.

So he left, his own ticking began. He needed air and space and time.

So with gentle footfalls an otherworldly grace he moved through high meadows. Nose painted in colored pollens, fur too. The lazy bees droning near his head. Not quite awake yet, but starting their day. Small rabbits and foxes popped their heads up from holes.


Etienne continued southward, the meadow sloping downward. The musky scent of fox growing heedy and thick.

It'd been a while since he'd crossed Etinne's scent. He'd feared the worst for a time, but it appeared the male had only been elsewhere. Relieved, Dusty Rose followed the scent until he caught sight of a familiar figure.

"Etienne," he called out, glad to see the other man but sensing that not all was well. Perhaps he only remember that nothing ever seemed well with the other man. "You're alive. That's nice."

He had grieved. Briefly, to be sure, but he had grieved.

He came close enough to study the other man's face before he stopped.

"What's up?" he asked, but he sorta figured he knew.

Etienne had not been as worried about Dusty worrying about him as he should be. But Dusty had seem unbothered about most things in life. So Etienne thought perhaps he would be the same with the seaborn.

A lift if head, ears thrust forward a small smile. 'ello Dusty!

A soft shrug. I be decidin' to go back to de coast for a time. Try and get over de man oo doesn't love me. 'Ow are you?

His tail wheeled when the greeting was nicer than the last time they'd seen each other; was Etienne in better hands, or only in better spirits? His brows popped when he heard it might be the former, even if those hands were only Etenne's himself.

"That's great," he said, point blank. And then, backpedaling, "I mean, I'm great. I met someone. Now I've got a wife and some kids. Fast, I know, but y'know, when the gettin's good — I wasn't about to let anyone else get, y'know what I mean?"

But he was truly more interested in hearing about how Etienne had heroically decided to kick Anselm to the curb and return to the sea to lure more willing and deserving men to their doom.

"How'd you decide all that?" he asked, guessing that it wasn't the nicest story. Dusty Rose figured it'd either be like lancing a wound or rubbing salt in it. Etienne could suffer through the latter or tell him to fuck off, but the former could often be entirely necessary.

Etienne wasn't sure if he was in bettwr spirits as much as simply resigned to his fate. Anselm wasn't meant for him. At least it was what he thought at any rate.

Etienne listened. He frowned in thought. He liked Dusty but the male seemed so flippant. What if he rushed into something way over his head.

I'm happy for you. What are your kids names?

Anselm had children as well and he seems to like the she wolf. So I won't come between.