Sun Mote Copse Now I know that light guided me here

for @Waawaashkeshi or/and any Summerwalkers?

In the end, Merel had ventured west as well.

She had passed by many claimed lands and kept well clear of their borders. Few packs welcomed transients. There was a part of her that still could not bear the idea of settling. Settling meant giving up. Settling meant letting her guard down.

She would have passed these scent markers, too, if she had not sighted the golden wolf. Her belly was unmistakably rounded. She was with child.

Merel froze. Something squeezed in her chest, hard and agonizing, and she wanted to turn and run. But before she could, she was seen. Perhaps she still could have fled; the woman was in no condition to chase her. But Merel couldn’t make her limbs move.

You look radiant, she said instead, her tail lowered with respect.

She had intended to rest today, and yet Waawaashkeshi had found herself unable to settle. Instead she was spending the remainder of the daylight collecting for her whelping den.

All was quiet except for the chirping of birds and the rustle of leafs, until an unfamiliar voice rang out. She turned her head quickly, spotting an awestruck woman who had rather unexpectedly tossed her a compliment.

It was impossible for her not to grin. As do you! She felt her tail waving, Waawaashkeshi all too happy.

What brings you to the copse, my friend?

The woman’s greeting felt like sunlight on wet fur. My friend. Merel could not help but smile, comforted by the simple honesty and kindness of it. She looked young, though her age was difficult to judge; she was close to giving birth, too, if her memories of her mother’s second litter were accurate.

I was following an elk, Merel admitted. There’s a cow with a limp; she’s crossed into your lands just south of here.

At least some of the markers had to belong to the golden she-wolf, though she smelled others now, their scents mingled with the stranger’s pelt. Nearly all were women, as far as she could tell. It made her curious.

Your pack will have more use of the meat than me, she added with a wry grin. May I ask your name?

The stranger did not seem a threat, and given that Waawaashkeshi felt no hesitation in approaching her.

I am Waawaashkeshi, and this is the territory of the Summerwalkers. She responded, gesturing to the surrounding copse. Can I ask your name?

From the scent of the stranger she must be well travelled, a trait that the Storyleader could respect. Had Waawaashkeshi been able to run, maybe she would have offered to help catch that elk.

Call me Merel, she said, hazel eyes bright and curious. Waawaashkeshi approached, and Merel did not back away. For this woman, she would offer her true name. Merel the Blackbird.

I've never heard of a name like yours, or your pack's. How did your pack come by that name, Waawaashkeshi? Merel said, repeating the unfamiliar syllables with care. Although she still held some of her easy manner, there was genuine curiosity in her eyes.

A blackbird! Her pure excitement was undeniable. Merel the blackbird, oh that's just lovely!

Her tail wagging, she already hoped to keep this woman for a while. It's more common in my mother pack. She responded, her tail waving behind her. The same word we use for a white-tailed deer. It had always suited her quite well. Summerwalkers is more of a description than a name, we move territories in the summer months by following the birds.

Given her name, she had to wonder if Merel too saw birds as sacred companions. Your name - where does it come from?

Waawaashkeshi’s excitement surprised her, though she began to understand as the golden-furred wolf explained. Merel did not know if she warranted such a reaction, no matter her name—yet her joy was infectious, and her own tail wagged in response. She gave her a lopsided smile.

Your name suits you, Merel noted. The woman’s dappled coat and long, narrow limbs brought to mind a fawn, and once she had her pups, Merel was certain she would be just as fleet-footed.

Now that the Summerwalker woman had explained, Merel supposed she owed one too.

My parents gave it to me, Merel said. An odd lump formed in her throat, and there was a pause as she swallowed past it. My fur used to be even darker than now, and my parents said I never sat still.

…I suppose that’s still true, at least, she admitted. Are you your pack’s leader, then?

The ability to spark joy in another was always quite the warm feeling. It was something she could not help but hold onto.

Yours suits you quite well too, then. She responded with a light hum of a laugh. She paused for a half-second at Merel's next question, as though she had to be reminded of her role in the copse. Oh - yes, I am. Not the usual big brute, I know. That was what most of the packs seemed to put in charge, anyways. She had never been quite fond of it - the idea of an aggressive leader went against everything she stood for.

But of course, not everyone thinks the same way.

What’s usual isn’t always good, Merel said. I’ve had enough of brutes for one life.

She finished with a silent snarl aimed at her own paws. After a moment she forced herself to relax and look back up; this space, with the radiant she-wolf and her children, was free of regret and sorrow. She would not taint it. She knew she would nonetheless, if she stayed too long. Even now she took a step back, as if preparing to leave. But the sight of Waawaashkeshi’s belly kept her from turning away.

If you and your children are in need of hunters, I can help, Merel offered. Even if the golden female agreed, it would not have to be forever—so she told herself. No harm could come of helping to feed a young mother and her pups.

The blackbird understood. Waawaashkeshi could not help but smile; it still felt rare to find those who thought the way she did in these lands.

We would be happy to have you, Blackbird. She insisted, touching her nose to that of the woman's should she not pull away. If you think you can still track that elk, please feel free. A suitable welcome gift, she thought. My legs urge me back to the den, but let's speak again soon.

The smiling squint of her eyes spoke of a certain sincerity all on their own. Stepping back, she howled to the copse; a blackbird wolf had come, perching firmly within their home. Waawaashkeshi would welcome her with open arms.

Merel nodded with a smile.

I won't return with empty jaws, she promised. See you soon, Waawaashkeshi.

And so Merel the Blackbird flitted away, her lean form carrying her across the grassy meadows of the copse. She found the scent of the elk's blood again as she passed under the shade of blooming poplar. This time she pursued it, her long limbs moving at a steady trot. But she would return.

When she was needed, she always flew back.