Noctisardor Bypass talking to the moon

The adrenaline wore off sooner than later. Druid’s hind legs buckled and she tumbled roughly to the ground with a grunting whine. She lay there for long moments, her heart hammering her ribs. She lifted her head just to make certain she wasn’t being pursued, then let it drift back to the ground while she waited to catch her breath.

She knew what that foam meant, particularly paired with excessive aggression. Druid couldn’t remember the name of the sickness off the top of her head, though she’d learned all about it during her solitary years. She knew enough to be scared out of her wits, a sense of doom creeping into her heart like black ivy.

When its beat settled some, she sat up to check out the bite wound. It was deep. Druid cursed the bitch, even though she knew it wasn’t really her fault, that she was doomed too. With great effort, she heaved onto all fours and limped the rest of the way to the bypass, arriving between the arches long after nightfall.

If only @Etienne was here, she thought almost wistfully as she hobbled to the stream at the foot of Ashtone Cliffs. Druid considered washing the wound, then eased down onto her good hip instead. Cleaning it wouldn’t do any good, just like there was nothing Etienne could do for her even if he was here. Besides, it might be dangerous for him—or anyone else—to come in contact with the wound.

She should call for @Heda, she knew, but she found herself too choked up to make a sound. Druid supposed she should let her sister and children sleep, then break the news in the morning. For now, she slipped to her belly and crawled into the cold water to numb the pain, tears sliding down her cheeks in frightened silence.

she had tried to keep the emptiness inside, keep it from clawing back up her throat. but it had come all the same, and at last her mind had sought the reprieve of dissociation. heda could not allow these losses to define herself or her relationship with god; she clung to the goodness in her life and tried each day to see more.
the night was quiet at last, and she drifted through the leaves until the scent of blood tangled in her senses — with that of druid.
hurrying forward, her eyes filled with concern, and her first thought was —
no.
no. this was routine. this was — hunting. yes. no. the bitemark was wolf-torn, and her belly sank so deep she though she might faint.
"druid?" the chill water lashed her ankles as she stepped closer, lowering muzzle to nudge her sister's nape. "druid, what happened?"

Etienne had been gone for a month. A month was not long enough. One full rotation of the moon phases. 30 or more rotations of the sun to the moon. He knew it was too soon.

He had not struck the mountain born from his heart. And yet like a man seeking punishment. A lost soul in the desert searching water, here he was.

The night was cooler than the days. The moonlight glittered off the river like broken glass. It was just to check on them he told himself. Just to make sure they were all okay. He needn't even tell them he was here. They should all be sleeping.

He followed the river. His time away had brought a light back to his eyes. There was a soft sheen to his fur and he was still thin boned, but he had added healthy weight. He looked well fed and well mentally. Even if he wasn't quite there yet.

The soft murmuring of voices drew him toward. And like cold water he was doused in the smoky cadence of Heda's voice. He gritted his teeth and stopped. He didn't move forward not yet. But he was not hard to see if they looked.

Golden eyes took in the two sisters. A chasm yawning, a pit of empty abyss colored his innards, but he threw water on the flame and cooled it. He had done this. He had left to give Heda what she wanted, which was what he coveted and here he was. Watching them like a lecher on the outskirts.

And he missed them. But none of them belonged to him anymore. And he did not belong to them. And he was free. There was no obligation.

He remembered his mother's words. If it's meant to be, they'll come to you. He grasped that thought and he held tight to it with both paws. And he curled his heart around his feelings and held them. An ember, slowly burning.

Druid thought she had until morning to come to terms with her own mortality. She startled when Heda materialized like a specter, swiftly splashing into the water to fuss over her. Druid found she couldn’t speak for a moment, still overwrought from the ordeal and woefully unprepared to break the news to her beloved sister.

She considered delaying or even fibbing, though Druid was too discombobulated to tell anything but the truth: I was attacked. The wolf was mad, Heda. Her gaze found Heda’s in the darkness, settling heavily there. Do you know what I mean when I say mad?

Druid still couldn’t think of the word. Scabies? she thought wildly, though that didn’t seem right. Etienne or Fiona might know, if they were here. Yet as far as she knew, it was only she and Heda. Dark toes flitted through the shallows to find and grasp a delicate, pale paw.

she didn't see etienne either, though she might not have even registered him now at all. druid spoke and the blood rushed in heda's ears. "yes."
her voice felt too frail, too tiny; she held druid's paw tightly and tried, just for a moment, to think. her eyes moved over the deep wound; she wanted to touch it, to clean it, but held herself back.
"what does — what does this mean? can you ... can you come back to the den?"
but instinct held a tome of knowledge, and all of it was unfurling inside her now.
heda fought the reality of losing druid. she couldn't. she couldn't. they had six children to watch grow and guide into adulthood. god, please, no.

Etienne heard the soft words and he felt his heart seize in his chest. Now was not the time to be skulking about like a uncivilized beast. So he shifted and chuffed quietly. He didn't approach them completely, he stopped feet from them. Unsure if they would even want him to speak with them.

It was hard to see so he couldn't tell how bad it was. And usually Rabies was a death sentence, but there had been a wolf that he had found. Who had the knowledge of her grandmother and her auntie to draw upon and she had told him. This wasn't always so. Very rarely, very rarely, but sometimes the wound didn't transmit.

He thought about the red seaweed in his home and he wondered if it would help or eat the flesh around the wound. He was a little scared to try. And that was even if Druid wanted his help.

Heda knew, which meant she wouldn’t have to explain. Although this brought some measure of relief, the question Heda posed made her heart feel as though it had stopped in her chest. She found it hard to catch her breath and wondered if the she-wolf’s bite was poisoning her already.

She clutched at her sister’s paw, not sure what to say or if she could speak at all. When Etienne suddenly materialized from the darkness, she gasped his name. Druid looked up at him helplessly from the water, her usually cool head swarming with a dozen nightmare scenarios.

I don’t think so, she said shakily, more tears springing to her eyes and blurring her vision. I think—I think it takes time but I don’t want to take any risks with our babies. She gripped Heda’s paw so hard now it must hurt. Voice hitching, Druid continued, And I don’t want to risk you either, which means nobody can touch it.

She was beyond help, she knew. The only thing any of them could do was mitigate the risks. And though before tonight Druid would’ve said she would never leave Rivenwood for anything, she realized the best thing she could do for those she loved was leave them.

There was more than one way to do that. Druid’s wet gaze climbed to Etienne’s face again. She wondered if he knew of any poisons that could euthanize her without further suffering. She choked on a sob before she could even voice the thought. She couldn’t ask that of him. Besides, she wasn’t ready to die. There must be another way to keep her family safe.

Do you… Druid started, then stopped to get her shuddering breath under control. Do you know that huge forest east of here? I’ll go there. And… Well, what could she do except wait? I’ll… quarantine. And if I don’t get sick, I’ll… I’ll come home.

How long would it take for the danger to pass? Druid wasn’t sure. Perhaps Etienne might know. She wanted to look at him, though her tearful gaze remained fixed on Heda’s face now. She thought of their children and the tears fell faster. She knew the pale Den Mother would look after them, with the others’ help.

But would she ever get to see them again? It wasn’t even safe to say goodbye. The pain of this revelation hurt Druid far worse than the wound in her thigh. She made a choking sound as she tried to stifle another sob. She’d been dreaming of the day when she could leave them. Now that it was here, with rabies—she remembered the term abruptly—forcing her hand, Druid realized just how fucking much she loved her children.

"what? no, druid, no," heda protested, starting to panic. she held her sister's hand even more firmly and stared up at etienne, hating how much she trusted him to have some answer.
and yet heda knew there would be none for this. "we could — rivenwood is so big, druid, i'm sure there's a place where ... where we could take turns being with you."
but even as she spoke, the den mother knew it was untenable. druid's children would seek her out. they wouldn't understand that they couldn't approach their mother, and heda didn't know how to explain it.
what her sister had suggested was best, as much as she hated it, as much as she felt like druid was being abandoned to something none of them could stop or understand.
her heart cried out to god, and tears softly struck the face of the water. "what happens if you get sick? we'll never know, you —"

Etienne apoke softly.De rabies only pass trew bites and.

He shifted and looked away. It can be in your system for days, or weeks or years. I met a wolf. Knew knowledge of it 'ad 'er auntie and 'er granme's knowledge too. 'Er tell me dis. And some very rare, very rare it never affects them at all. But dere be signs. We would be able to tell.

Etienne shuffled his feet. Dere is 'ope, but wit' dat 'ope dere must also be knowledge dat dey 'ope may run out.

I can fix it up. It won't spread from de wound Druid. Only if you bite.

I figure he would have met Ash Paw who had Thistle cloud and Spotted fawns
years if healing knowledge. Hope thats okay..

Heda’s suggestion stunned her into sudden silence. Could that work? What if they could lock her away somehow? What if they barricaded the old den in Dawnleaf? What if they dug a pit and threw her down into it? Her glistening eyes were wide in the gloom.

Etienne’s voice of reason cut into the sisters’ emotive exchange. Though Heda’s question did not go unheard, Druid tried to quiet her thoughts enough to concentrate on what the he had to say. Perhaps there was hope in his healer’s wisdom.

She bit me, Druid said, expression stricken as she admitted, deep.

He insisted there would be signs. Druid’s aching heart leaped in her chest. But she knew what signs he meant. The instant they manifested, the wolf became extremely dangerous. Was she—was Heda—really going to take the risk? What if Druid turned from one instant to the next, biting her sister? Or their children?

It was an untenable thought and Druid shakily rose from the water as she said, I can’t take that risk. I won’t.

Dripping, she padded a few feet away from the water, Heda and Etienne. Grimacing at the pain in her leg, she swiveled to face them in the darkness, a despondent but resolute expression crawling over her face. Tears still fell, though she powered through them.

I’ll go to the forest. I’ll rest and heal, hopefully. When enough time has passed, I’ll come home. And if I don’t, Druid continued, drawing in a shuddering breath, then I’d like you to come find my remains and bring them back here. I want to be buried in Rivenwood.

Even as she spoke the words, it occurred to her that it might not even be safe to handle her corpse, should the disease take her. She also didn’t know how long they ought to wait. Blinking back tears, Druid’s questioning gaze rested heavily on Etienne’s face.

etienne's suggestion drew a sharp intake of breath from heda, who had not even believed that there could be another way for this to go. a spark of hope caught fire, fed by the kindling of her faith. days or weeks, passed by bites, not the wound.
heda was in the hold of a powerful dread, and it deepened as druid rose and moved away from she and etienne, her pain and anguish quite clear.
despite herself, heda took a step forward, her own eyes brimming, the ghost of a sob on her lips.
her arms ached to hold druid, for she didn't know now if the last time would truly be the last. and when her sister spoke of death, heda's choked sounds filtered in the fallen light.
"if — if something happens, you'll be buried here, druid, i promise."
her voice cracked, broke.

Etienne made a sorrowful face and looked away. How did he tell Druid she couldn't be alone. That if she was struck with it. And it took her down. She would seek out and attack. That her mind wouldn't be her own.

He cursed himself knowing what he was about to do. Tears falling. He had only wanted to visit. He hadn't wanted to stay. He clutched his heartache tighter. Pulling curtains around the chambers of his heart.

You cannot be alone Druid. If, if it does git you. You will not be in your rite mind. You go seekin' and 'urt someone. I will stay with you for a time in dis forest you speak of.

Druid moved haltingly forward to press her nose to Heda’s cheek in a sisterly kiss. She was immensely grateful they were on the same page, even though they found themselves in the middle of a horror story. She ached to pull Heda into a hug but withdrew instead, woeful eyes flicking over to Etienne.

No, she said. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Etienne, but you have to think of yourself.

But his words made her afraid. Perhaps the forest wasn’t far enough. Druid needed to go somewhere even more isolated, somewhere much further away. She hated that it meant her final resting place might be some strange and distant land, though it was a sacrifice she must make to keep the peoples of Rivenwood safe.

Don’t follow me, Druid implored, aware that she was in no shape to outrun anybody. Please.

She waited, then decided she needed to go. If she didn’t do it now, she might not be able to go through with it—mentally or physically. Druid needed as much time as possible to put a safe distance between herself, her sister and the children.

The children, she murmured, woebegone. Tell them how much I love them. Tell them I’m sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. Tell them I’ll do everything I can to come back to them. And to you, Druid finished, eyes blurring with tears.

Despite them, she held Heda’s gaze as she slunk further back from the other two. She held it until the last possible moment, when the dark of the night swallowed her and she was gone.

etienne spoke, and heda nodded, but there was no heart in it. druid had already made her choice; heda had already accepted.
she watched her sister leave with a fatalistic sickness in her gut, spreading like poisoning, wakening the never-slumbering serpent of an abandonment wound lurking like unmade quarry inside her aching heart.
for a long while, unspeaking and unblinking, heda stared at the place where druid had gone, perhaps for the last time.
with great effort she turned toward etienne, anguish in her eyes; "i'll tell the kids, when it — when it's time. then we'll gather and decide what to do. and i'll search for her," heda said quietly, not wanting to argue. she could bring her sister's remains back here and bury them with the last parts of herself, yes.

Her voice like a barb it pierced his soul. She was the one he wanted to see least of all. He could have loved Anselm from afar. Never anything to be done. They could have existed well in the hollow. And then her child and then her and he felt sick at the jealousy and the grotesque anger.

And he hated himself for what he was about to do. Because this had not been the plan. He was not over Anselm. He still hated Heda even if it was undeserved. And yet he loved her as much as he hated her and it made his stomach churn.

I will search fir 'er, 'eda. You will be unable to care for 'er if 'er is sick. And if 'er do bite you, an' 'er is sick, den dey kids do not 'ave either mutter. So no. Dis time you must listen to me. Please.

He sighed. I will need go back to de coast and tell my family w'ere I be goin'. Dey will worry and we don't need dem comin''ere again.

etienne was so quick to argue, always. it had been fine when he was doctoring she and ava, and fine after; she had wanted his advice. 
but in this moment, all she felt was — the downpour of condescension. she was panicking in her own mind, attempting with each second to bind herself together —
"i'll find her. she's my sister." he had family, a large one. all heda had was druid. the light which shone upon her face revealed an expression of finality.
she wanted to snap again, to tell him she'd done more child-rearing than anyone here and certainly didn't need to be lectured about how to tend them. or perhaps she might suggest he choose where his loyalties were, if they weren't to her.
heda, in mercy to herself, said none of these things because she recognized her rage as directed toward the impending new loss; "you're always welcome to travel back and forth." it was what her sister would have wanted. heda offered a single shattered look of apology, pulled away from etienne, and broke into a run which carried her to the rendezvous.

Etienne reeled back at her snappish words. And his golden eyes narrowed. But he said nothing. He was fast realizing that he was done with the entirety of this pack and these people. He was tired of being treated lesser than when all he wanted to do was help. His manman had made it clear when she had said that if they loved him they would come.

He watched her leave and with a finality he turned away from her. He would wipe his paws of her. She had proven that she didn't care about anyone except her little family and her sister. Including upheaving the lives of those beneath her care. She was a woman chasing some sort of affection and Etienne was tired of it.

Women were meant to be strong. Have their own minds. And it chafed that Heda was not this way. And perhaps it was merely the bias of his family talking. But for the first time in his life. He couldn't find the grace to amend his thinking. At the moment at least.