Bitterroot Valley you said you'd always be there for me

set after this thread · @Keda

a storm entered bitterroot valley in the thundering steps of a troubled boy.

truthfully, he didn't intend to get this far. he was supposed to be in camp. but he couldn't sit still. he couldn't stand to be surrounded by people either.

snow was light enough to not yet take the rivers. exhaustion finally claims him and the ghelan collapses into the embrace of the snow and the river's edge, lapping its sparkling surface and quench a thirst that only made itself known to him now.

the hare hung loosely in her jaws as she trailed after him, careful to give him space. she was not there to hover or press, only to make sure his storm did not steer him into ruin.

she found him at the river’s edge, the boy’s form slumped in the snow, his thirst overtaking whatever bitterness had driven him this far. she stepped closer, her movements quiet and soft, before lowering the hare to the ground.

without a word, k’edghildza settled beside him, her presence quiet and steady. her claws worked skillfully at the hare’s skin, peeling the pelt free with care. once the task was done, she turned to him, offering the small, fur-lined trophy.

for your shoulders, she said simply, her voice low, carrying neither judgment nor pity. only an unspoken understanding.

he could hear another set of legs trailing just behind. but he refused to look back, even as he laid helpless to it. his gaze only finally faced k’edghildza when white fur was draped over his shoulders. the way it gently grazed his cheek softened the tension that wracked his body.

it was supposed to carry the herbs. he murmurs into the crook of his arm, the fur in his peripheral as his attention turned to the woman. 
she loomed almost as dark as father. but where sun eater's features absorbed all light and left only an imposing shadow, light gave way to keda's gentler features.

she reached out, brushing the fur lightly to ensure it stayed in place before her voice came, soft yet firm.

your warmth is more important, she said, her lanzadoii still thick with the inflection of a learner. her pale eyes glanced at the fur now against his form, then back to his face, gauging his reaction. fur not... thick yet, like me.

her attention shifted briefly to the surroundings, the herbs she carried tucked safely away. bull furs, she added after a pause, better for herbs. for traveling.

a faint smile touched her lips, a rare show of emotion meant to ease the weight in the air. k'edghildza's hands worked with a calm precision, beginning to inspect the bundle of herbs she had kept safe, though her presence beside ghelan was grounding, unwavering.

the rabbit pelt acted as a shield as she touched his shoulders and back. ghelan didn't move, but sunk into the snow and closed his eyes. the warmth of another reminded him how frigid he felt with his juvenile fur. soon, hopefully, he'd be thicker.

the rustling of the herbs opened his eyes again and caught their attention. from a distance, he inspected them too — even if he had no clue just what it was that needed checking. laying on his belly, one leg kicks the ground to turn, almost mimicking (maybe mocking) a seal. all to better inspect their bundle. peering up from the cavity he'd just made in the snow, he would steal glances. only after a bit of silence would he muster some courage to ask.

is there something wrong with them?

she hummed softly, her gaze drifting between the rabbit pelt and the meager bundle of herbs she sorted through. each leaf and stem seemed to carry the weight of winter’s scarcity, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she mulled over his question.

not enough, she murmured, her voice gentle but laced with quiet resignation. her paw moved to tuck the herbs back into their bundle with care. but— her gaze lifted to meet his, a faint smile tugging at her. he almost looked like a seal! that is winter. it tests us. we endure.

her eyes softened as she nudged the rabbit pelt closer to him, offering its warmth without words. she watched him with a quiet fondness as he shifted in the snow, his movements playful despite the somber air of their task. the resilience in him was something she admired, even if he didn’t see it himself.

then we'll find more. spoken with the same confidence that pushed him back onto three legs. he nosed around, this time no longer guided by the leftovers of the caribou. his sweeps were grand, even as frost bit his paws and the winds snuck into any crevice in his fur. perhaps here, away from the tampering of the herds, the herbs would come fresher. it was a thankless task, but it was this or preparing more pelts. besides, it was familiar to him.
ghelan would lift his head between mounds of snow, his findings clutched between teeth. and he would bring them to her with a hurried gait and wait for her approval. rabbit pelt did him little favors when he stood at his fullest height against the winds.

u decide if theyre bad or not!!

she tilted her head, pale eyes scanning the bundle he carried with a glint of approval. the younger wolf’s energy and determination had not gone unnoticed, and it brought a small smile to her lips.

you found good ones, she said, her tone warm, a rare softness in her otherwise measured voice. your young nose. sharper than mine.

her tail gave a single, approving sweep across the snow as she leaned in to inspect his findings more closely. the frost-bitten air did little to dull the scent of the herbs, their sharp and earthy aroma a welcome reprieve from the iron tang of caribou blood.

we look more for what remain. you give saatsine hope for winter.

the herbs were good. he drinks in the pride, but is on his feet again after a moment. he could get used to this, gathering herbs. but, as his nose thumbs through the snow, searching for the faintest hint of an earthy scent, his head rose.

...how do we use them when we need them? do they.. eat the roots? crush them and spit them out — yuck.

the dark boy returns to look through the snow. it took longer to find another patch, but now ghelan knew it was worth the trouble.

her pride was quiet but apparent in the way she straightened, watching him uncover another patch of herbs. his question drew a low chuckle from her, one that rumbled with quiet confidence.
we crush them... to paste, she answered, her tone firm yet instructive, as though it were the only answer worth considering. then they are s-swallowed. their strength becomes ours.
she moved closer, her nose brushing the herbs he'd uncovered. you will learn them all, ghelan, she said, a spark of hope passing between her, and him if he'd let it. even the ones that hide.

she laughed at the question at first. she wasn't mocking him though, and begins his second lesson in herb gathering. no demonstration this time. but he understood; they were far too precious to waste on an example, so he's left to imagine the texture and taste. what he imagines makes him grimace. blegh. and his tongue rolls out. eat healthy and stay strong. i must never have to eat an herb. only collect. only collect.

how'd you find that out? who taught you that? ghelan stays true to his mantra and continues pawing at any mound of interest.

his grimace drew a small chuckle from her lips, light and warm, like the sun breaking through the frost.
my ...nursemaid, she began. she did not know the word in lanzadoii, her voice carrying a distant warmth, softened by memory. she was wise. know every leaf and root like they were her...children. her gaze flickered to the herbs nestled in the cracks of the rocks, her tail giving a slow, contemplative sway.
she’d sit with me for hours, telling. teaching. her nose lowered to nudge a sprig of greenery from the earth, careful not to damage it. it is about...ah...understand-ing.
her eyes lifted, watching him paw at the ground. it take time.

of course it took time. ghelan pouts, but he understood. just a little. he eyed her greenery, still pawing at the snow in a trance.

nursemaid. he echoed. it rolled off his tongue strange. whatever a nursemaid was, she must've been close to keda. a mother? second mother. are you my nursemaid? a genuine question, made true only by the widening of his eyes.

once a queen, now a nursemaid—it was a laughable thought, truly. but her life had turned a page, and she had chosen to start anew. if this was what her new beginning asked of her, she would embrace it.
yes, she replied, her voice steady and warm. if that is what you want.
she paused, her gaze softening as she considered his words. a mother, but not of blood—such a concept had its place even here, among the traditions of lanzadoii. she tilted her head thoughtfully before attempting the translation, the unfamiliar cadence of the language rolling awkwardly off her tongue.
mother...but not blood. she murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration. is there a word for that?