Swiftcurrent Creek And do our talking with a laser beam

Mae was quick to reclaim her own place at Swiftcurrent Creek's borders; a guardian to the end, just as her father and her uncle had taught her. The time away had done her some good, she thought; even so, she'd missed the creek terribly. The constant sound of the water nearby was soothing. It guided her at times through the territory, though more often she relied on the familiar paths laid by her father.

No matter how many times she left, this would always be her place. Mae brushed her flank aggressively along the trees as she walked the borders, determined that the whole world should know it if they stumbled across this place. But really, she hoped they would stay away altogether.

it was surreal to have returned to the places of blood and malaise, of sickness, of shouted words.
lestan was grateful to remember little and search for less. he avoided the places of memory and sought out a tiny place in the northernmost part of the woods studded by red maple.
little more than a depression beneath a dead tree, lestan decided it would do. he inched out then onto a more familiar route, hunting along for something else to occupy himself.
ahead, a smaller shadow of akavir marked a tree. lestan fell back, awkward suddenly; he searched around for escape. each of his meetings with the creek wolves had been initially quite tense, and he was not eager to repeat the experience.

A presence; not a quiet one at all, Mae noticed first, halting with an annoyed flick of her ears. After a moment she turned toward the source of the sound, catching the scent of wolf on the wind. A man, not familiar to her. He seemed frightened, perhaps.

A smirk pulled at her lips. You good, bro? Mae called out, watching for movement in the blur of shadows that made up her vision.

"y-yes. well. g-getting my b-bearings," lestan allowed himself to say. his tail shone in a shy wag; he crept closer. 
before he had not tried to ingratiate himself into the creek at all. now he had more desire to do so, more than he had expected. "i — i'm l-lestan. m-mayfair."

Lestan. Mayfair.

Mae blinked, shock and recognition flaring across typically-stoic features. She was speaking to a dead man. Well — not so dead if he was here, right?

Lestan, The Frostfur-Mayfair repeated slowly, stepping closer now to take in the very living scent of him. The motion of his tail caught her attention for a moment. Thought you were dead.

dead?
he faltered. "very — v-very alive, actually," the mayfair hummed in nervousness. "are — are w-we r-related?" he asked of the girl, trying not glance at the odd hue of her eyes.
he wondered how the rumour had started, and wilted a little in shame of what events he might have engendered to bring about such a thought.

Mae shook her head, still a little baffled. Don't suppose there's another Lestan out there somewhere? The cynical tone of her words indicated that she didn't truly expect an answer. Lestan like - Blossom's dad? Rev's dead husband? That you?

She realized a little too late that she'd called him dead again. Oh well. I guess we're related, yeah. I'm Mae. Akavir's daughter. Nice to fuckin' meet you, Dead Lestan.

perhaps it was forward, but lestan began to smile before the girl ever introduced herself. "i c-can h-hear him in y-your voice," he said, trying not to be rattled by mae's casual mention of the things which howled at him in the night —
"w-we're c-cousins too, th-then," he went on, "a p-pleasure."

Lestan neither confirmed nor denied the things she'd said — and Mae, truthfully, was sick of the games adults always seemed to play. Yeah, cool. Look, I'm not some kid you can brush off. If you're not gonna be straight with me, you can fuck off, yeah? Mae's ears pinned to her skull as she spoke, her displeasure on full display. Dead men, as it turned out, were annoying.

his ears splayed; why was everyone so determined to be aggressive? his own tongue was lighting before he knew it, before he heard himself;
"h-hello, mae. i'm l-lestan m-mayfair. i've b-been through — a l-lot. i d-do not w-want to talk about it."
he tried to remain calm, wanting to remove himself at once but bound by this unexpected tether of blood.

No one wants to talk about it.

No one but her father — and perhaps Arric, too, but it'd been so long since they'd truly spoken that she didn't think of him then. Mae was quietly sullen for a moment. Then she nodded; Lestan owed her nothing. She knew that. It just sucked.

Mae was softer, if still a bit irritable, when she spoke next. Then what do you want to talk about? It'd better be something interesting, the skeptical tilt of her ears said. If he owed her nothing, she owed him less; here he was claiming to be family, yet where had he been through all the tragedy which had befallen Swiftcurrent Creek?

If he wanted her attention, he would have to earn every moment of it.

"n-nothing," he mumbled, ears assuming that same downcast position again. "i j-just — was t-tired of b-being a s-stranger."
now in pathetic display he lifted his ear, prepared to pretend as though he had heard something which might hurry him away — he was saved by the true appearance of several ravens, cawing to one another as they raced toward a far-off thing.
"i've g-got some w-work to do. h-hunting. n-nice to m-meet you, mae," the mayfair stumbled, backing, turning; he hoped she would let him go, let him be strained and maddened elsewhere, away from demands he knew were hers to make.

Her throat burned with some kind of ugly feeling — pity, she thought, bitter like bile. More than that, though, Mae was irritated; disappointed to share blood with so weak-hearted a wolf. There was no bite to him. For a moment she wondered if he was truly a Mayfair at all.

Then, impulsively, she called after him: If you don't want to be a stranger, you could start by not running away.

Then, if he didn't turn back or otherwise respond, Mae would turn away herself. She wasn't about to chase after him. You could lead a dipshit to a cache, but you couldn't make him dig. Or something.

oh no

"y-you c-could b-be more f-familiar by sh-shutting up and inviting y-yourself a-along!" lestan snapped. every step of his time in swiftcurrent had thus far been plagued; because he knew he had invited so very much upon himself, he was determined to stay. 
he blanched; very good, lestan, insulting the first family member you meet outside akavir. he will very much appreciate you informing his daughter that she should shut up.
he whirled. "if y-you w-want to c-come, then c-come. just — s-stop int-interrogating me." in the manner of a man straightening his waistcoat, he waited atremble to see if she would concede or go to tell her father. or bite him.

Mae blinked, trying to remember the last time anyone had told her to shut up. She was too surprised to feel anything else for a moment — but then the moment passed, and Mae did her very solemn best to stifle her amusement. There was a glimmer of pride in her, too; there was the sharp edge she'd come to expect from her family. It'd only taken a bit of probing to find it.

After a moment she nodded; sure, I'll play along. Mae started after him.

If you ever tell me to shut up again, I'll take a shit in every sleeping place you ever choose for the rest of your life, Mae went on pleasantly: Where are we going?

he blanched! the tips of his ears twitched! lestan snorted. his mouth contorted, then smoothed; he turned briskly aside, jerking his head toward the sky. "r-ravens. n-noisy th-things. they'll g-gather f-for carrion, b-but also f-for conflict or f-fighting."
ravens loved to spectate and incite — much like mae, he thought rudely to himself. this was followed by a billow of chastisement; that is your relative! good breeding and mannerliness had him muttering to explain, "always g-good to g-go and s-see what they're u-up to."