Firefly Glen Things fall apart,

A rustle, a tussle, and a breaking of branches upon her descent, Morwenna rumbled down a small hill. Landing with a 'oof' escaping her lips, she was disorientated as she stood up. Her joints cracked, toes burrowed into the dirt, and she cursed herself for misstep-ping over that stone. A fool she had made herself, though she wasn't sure if anyone had seen.

Leaves and twigs shuffled in her fur, tangling around the back of her head, that inclined an itching sensation that her wired. She halted in her stance, scratched out as many as she could, but could still feel sharp splinters deeply lodged within. With a defiant huff, it would be a task to when she found herself safe. Secure.

And she felt anything but.

Though the scenery was nice, she didn't think she'd find herself this far south of her exiled kingdom. It had been hers, but as all things do, it came to an end. She wouldn't return to those memories lest they be in her nightmares, haunting her in the darkness.

Morwenna decided to explore, seek the space around her, and wondered about those that she may find.

---

all welcome— can't wait!

she was reminded of her mother, but more for the fact that this woman seemed an inverse of her. anatolia thinks that she looks more like this woman than her own mother.

it had not dawned on her that there was a man out there that she had taken colors from.

it was difficult enough to try and figure out what to say to others at this age. let alone one who was an adult and who had filled her with thoughts beyond her growing mind. complexity was not something anatolia had — at least not yet in her very short life.

anatolia clutched a favored bone between her teeth and said nothing just yet. only stood and watched. then gave a curious little sound in her throat.

welcome!! i promise this weirdo kid will give a bit more going forward

With delicate steps Morwenna continued through the brush. She was a curious woman, tredding lightly but inspecting many elements of this wooded area, though her expressions remain jaded— close to her heart. There was nothing out here that could surprise her—

oh?

Any mother could recognize the feeble whimper of young. It brought over a wave of nostalgia, sending the matriarch into a fevered frenzy. Where had it come from? There— no, there.

Just beyond a fallen log, she'd seen the whelping darling. Morwenna froze, ears falling against her skull— the babe looked so much like her own flesh and blood. She thought she'd seen a ghost.

Hello there, she chirped, taking only a single step closer. She did not want to frighten the poor thing. Are you alone out here, sweetling?

alone?

she did not think so, but nor did anyone currently stand along her for this meeting. not her silent friend of moonglow nor her mother or siblings.

anatolia had come to face the uncertainty alone. was this bravery?

sweetling left her with a warmth that kindled a fire. she was more inclined to kindness and found herself a smidge less worried about what this woman might think of her. silence had been easier for her, but she could speak to someone so caring.

she set the bone down to rest between her paws. right now, but her voice seemed featherlight, not worried about the implication of it. are you? big eyes blinked as she looked up at the woman's face.

The young girl seemed interested in Morwenna. With her crooning head and big, green eyes, Morwenna was struck with a maternal pulse— she felt needed. Her breath would catch in her throat when the youngling placed the bone she'd been chewing between her legs and come closer.

She took a moment to speak, and Morwenna would give her all the time in the world. Patience was a virtue she'd come to embrace, especially with children.

right now, should've alarmed the dame. It did. Morwenna glanced up, around, and behind her but saw, nor smelled, anyone close by. She was curious about her situation.

With her freckled green eyes glimmering beneath the dapples of sunlight, Morwenna cooed softly; It appears so, yes. A hint of melancholy followed her, and didn't evade her expressions.

Where are your parents, little one? You shouldn't be out here alone.

she looked around with her own greening eyes. a blink, a glimmering of the first flash of confusion. where was her mother? brother?

anatolia had never considered herself alone until — until it had been said. then suddenly it felt like the world had opened up beneath her. she wanted her bone carving friend, she wanted the boy from the sea. she wanted anything familiar to use as a balm for this sudden new feeling.

bad feeling.

she had not realized that she'd become deathly silent and that time continued to gently tick on after such a question.

um — she tried to speak. an attempt to say anything other than the word this kind woman had said. her features morphed into a physical display of the rising panic she had begun to swim through.

Perhaps it was her attitude that scared Morwenna. Ignited a maternal fear inside of her. Or was it how she went deadly silent in the company of the woman. Morwenna's ears flattened to her head at the silent admission.

Hey now, Morwenna lowered herself to the ground, attempting her best efforts to look as non-threatening as possible. She could manage it— she's had children of her own before. You're alright. Why don't you tell me your name?

Morwenna fully lowered her head to the ground now, nestling the grass beneath her chin. It frightened her to see a whimsical child all on her lonesome.

I'm Morwenna. Is that your toy? She gestured to the small bone carving that she had been playing with.

her name.

her name. she knew that, didn't she? her mother had given it to her and now she clutched it tightly. anatolia, she mewled as she lowered herself down onto her own stomach now too.

she rolled the bone to sit in between the two of them now.

wordlessly, she attempted to show the 'toy' off. she ran her nose over the grooves that her and her silent friend had made together. she had not yet fully understood why it felt so much more important than a simple toy. only that she must have it with her always, that the marks upon it meant something old and soothing to the child.

you like?

There was a sigh of relief that left Morwenna when the girl told her name. 

Anatolia, Morwenna smiled, letting the syllables roll off her own foreign tongue. A beautiful name, yes. She watched the child move the bone in between both of them. Morwenna reached her foot out to graze the small object, only letting a singular toe caress before pulling it back. 

Yes... she said mindlessly, thinking of her own children— blessed their hearts, they're with the Gods now. I made one for my own children, once. She spoke quietly, solemnly, as Anatolia continued to rustle with the bone structure.

her cheeks were warm and she kept her eyes on the space between them now. admired each notch and etching into the bone.

there was a mention of children.

someone wiser — someone grown — might have known better than to say what her thoughts were. instead it was only childlike curiosity that compelled her to open her mouth and speak again.

are they here?

The woman should've expected the question. But it still shocked her all the same. Morwenna took a deep breath in, releasing it through her nose as an ultimate sigh. 

No, sweetling, they are not. The words were tight. Her chest felt tight. The burden of her lost children never fully healed, but yet again, does it ever? Morwenna's life changed when she had her first litter— for the better, more or less— and she wouldn't trade those memories for anything. Anything.

Which is why, she raised her head. I'm worried about you.

A beat of silence. 

I can escort you home, if you'd like, unless you... the words don't have one trailed off from her lips.

worries being projected onto her did not frazzle her any.

she only nodded softly. the image of an obedient child who understood (or appeared to) what had been said to them. no need to question that, was there?

i can stay here.

a yawn before she allowed her head to drape across oversized puppy paws. curious still, endlessly so, despite the want for a nap.

you stay?

Morwenna’s gaze softened as she watched Anatolia drift, the sight stirring something deep and instinctual within her—a quiet, unyielding protectiveness that had always been a part of her. It was a rare peace, a sacred moment, to watch a young one find such easy comfort, and Morwenna felt the old aches and regrets ease, if only for a moment. How many times had she cradled her own, guiding them into sleep with a soft hum and a steady presence?

Lowering herself gently beside the young pup, she whispered, I’ll stay, her voice as soft as the winter wind over snow. This nurturing instinct had always been a part of her spirit, an ache and a joy both. There was beauty, she realized, in simply being here—knowing she could offer safety, a little warmth, and quiet in a world often too loud. She watched Anatolia’s eyes grow heavier, her own heart growing lighter, as if each breath of the child was a balm to her old wounds.

Rest for a while, little one. I’ll be right here when you wake. she murmured, her voice a soft vow. In the end, she knew, this was what mattered most: to stand guard over the dreams of the young, to shelter them from the world, if only for a while.

last post for mo?— i can put up a new one upon her awakening? up to you!

that would be perfect!

alongside her was warmth, was safety. those things had a name — morwenna.

she did not hide the comfort that she took here. how easy it was to try and nestle in as close as she might be allowed. clutching the bone between her front paws like it was a bedtime plush. something to hold close to her while she slept.

speaking of, it did not take long at all for her breathing to slow and her eyes to close. something new was stirring within her dreams. something new was breaking into her heart or perhaps her soul.