Moonspear princes who adore you

Kindle woke in the evening, when the sun was very low to the sky. The bed he'd dug for himself was nestled in the foothills, deep in the shade, but for a moment, the sun was slanted just-so in a way that sent a beam of it straight into his eyes. He sat up, disgruntled, and heaved a massive yawn before dragging himself out of bed.

His mind turned instantly to hunting. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and lifted his nose into the breeze. There were plenty of deer on these lower slopes.

Kindle howled in question, hoping to find a hunting partner to do a little tracking with. How many wolves were on this mountain, anyway? He wanted to know how many mouths they were going to have to feed.

When a strange voice lifted on the darkling air, Tiuttuk froze in place. She was not yet accustomed to hearing voices besides Alaric’s and Tiki’s, though she relaxed quickly. Pie welcomed the presence of other wolves. The more, the merrier, as the saying went. She supposed it just felt a little odd, not recognizing the source of such a call, though there was a swift way to remedy that.

It didn’t take her long to reach the source of the howl: a strapping male with an ivory undercoat painted in tones of muted silver and gold. His dark gold eyes stood out against his pale features, which looked young to her. Perhaps he was around her own age? She suddenly had a sneaking suspicion, though nothing about her approach gave it away.

Greetings, she said, striding up to him with what she hoped was a humble but dignified air. I’m Treepie. And I like to think I’m a halfway decent tracker.

Her head tipped slightly, a little thread of pain worming through her temple before quickly dissipating. Pie hardly registered it.

It did not take long for someone to arrive. A very pretty someone. Perhaps if he had not been so anxious, Kindle would have taken his usual approach to meeting a strange woman — regardless that this was a wolf with whom he would have to learn to live. As it was, his head was too full of thoughts of Haedwig and Cosmo and wondering how they would settle in to turn up the charm.

"I'm Kindle," he replied, his tail whisking in hello. He took in her scent, noting that it felt somehow off — though not necessarily in a displeasing way. "Kat mentioned you when I got in last night. This is your family's mountain, right?"

She ought to know all the best trails, in that case.

"What all do you usually hunt?" he asked her, making a gesture in invitation — for her to lead the way, if she wanted.

The first two words out of his mouth confirmed her sneaking suspicion. Before Treepie could consider the implications of this particular rendezvous, Kindle referred to Moonspear as her family’s mountain. Her mouth opened and shut, lips pressing together as he fired another question her way.

It was, she said simply. We’re the same as most hunters, I imagine: opportunistic. Her lips twitched. There’s a lot of small game to be found in all these nooks and crannies. Or we could scope out some of the resident mountain goats, if we decide to stick to tracking. I observe the rule of three when it comes to them.

What had Katmai told her about Kindle? Not much. They were cousins. And Kindle was fussy, whatever that meant. Pie fought a smile at this particular recollection. She understood that Katmai had been thinking of matchmaking potential, though neither one of them had pursued the topic any further. She remembered feeling resistant at the time.

With the man in front of her, Tiuttuk could admit that he was easy on the eyes. But even as that thought crossed her mind, another nipped at its heels: Too bad he’s not a girl. Along with it came a strong sense of déjà vu. She’d had the same thought before. And it had come from…

Mev, Pie muttered under her breath.

Kindle looked at her oddly, at that. Katmai had been clear enough that this was some ancestral home, and that his girlfriend had some sort of claim to it, and that her cousin and some healer legend and someone's mysterious sister killer storm ancient bloodline blah blah blah — 

Kindle had decided long ago that Dutch's stories were mostly embellishment. Katmai had a little too much of his father's flair for drama in him, so he supposed, ultimately, that Treepie's dismissal was a trustworthy one.

Still. He wondered.

"Let's start with mountain goats, and we can look for somethin' else if the work gets too hungry," he replied, with the air of a man who thought he had many bright ideas to share. He saw his own tendency to overthink as a tendency in others to underthink — and so part of him supposed the Treepie must be pleased to have her worries about a meal answered before she could voice them.

"I just wanna get to know what's in the area, and how best to hunt in this terrain," he explained to her, sensing a bit of preoccupation in the young woman. But it seemed she was not confused — only thinking of something else entirely.

"Pardon?" he asked, having not quite caught the word. He did not think that it had been meant for him, but he'd heard it — she oughtn't talk to herself in company if she didn't want others included in the conversation.

She’d started thinking of it by that name just the other day: Mev being short for “Mean Evil Voice.” Pie didn’t think it was wise to tell anyone—even someone she otherwise trusted, which did not yet include her present company—that she heard voices in her head, even if it was solitary.

Pardon? she repeated, head tilting the other way now. Oh, I was just clearing my throat. Goats it is, she said in the next breath, motioning with both a flick of her foreleg and nod of her head as she turned to begin ascending.

They hadn’t gotten very far at all when something occurred to Treepie and she halted, turning to look over her shoulder to say, I should warn you: they’re way up there. She gestured toward the peak, catching the last rays of the sun. The air is colder up there, thinner too. It’s getting dark. How surefooted are you? Have you ever hunted in mountainous terrain or is it totally new to you?

Though he would've liked to know what it was she'd been so distracted by, Kindle was happy enough that the moment had passed, and that they were back on track. He followed closely, his eyes scanning their surroundings in search of something familiar. He was still finding his footing here — literally!

"Only very recently," he admitted, annoyed with himself for not expanding his repertoire more intentionally. Perhaps if he'd been raised on a mountain, like his elder siblings...

"The dark doesn't bother me, but today I just want to take a look, and get some pointers if you're willing."

He drew level with her, impatient to be on their way.

Darkness didn’t lend itself to taking a look, though their night vision should allow them to surveil the herd under its cover. Tiuttuk pondered this, as well as Kindle’s words, whilst gazing at him thoughtfully for a moment.

You’re not afraid of a challenge. That’s good, she said, swinging back into motion, because this terrain will present plenty of them. Just follow my lead… and watch your step.

As they climbed, she considered calling for Alaric or Tikaani. But it was late enough that Pie didn’t want to risk disturbing them. Besides, they didn’t need to hunt tonight. Kindle should start small, mapping the territory and taking notes on its offerings like planned.

After a while, she broke the silence again to say, You’re Katmai’s cousin, right? Did you know he thinks you’re fussy? Did you two grow up together?

She didn’t know a lot about Katmai’s past, though she wondered how much of it they shared. Had they stuck together their whole lives, like she and Tiki had? Treepie didn’t dare risk looking at him as she scrambled up and over a particularly sheer, steep boulder. Only once she’d found kinder ground again did she shoot Kindle an inquisitive glance.

Though he'd grown up on flat, endless meadowlands, Kindle was sure-footed enough. It helped to have Treepie there; he watched her paws carefully before managing the sheer scramble himself. It wasn't as quick or as smooth, and there was a hairy moment where he thought he might slide right back down, but he did make it, in the end.

He was facing her by the time he got to the top, having just asked a question he was a hair too out of breath to answer. He made a show of looking back over the steeper patch, as if measuring where they'd come from, before replying, just a little breathlessly,

"His uncle, actually."

He turned back to Treepie, his tail fanning in idle happiness despite the burn of muscles he did not usually employ.

"His father is my eldest brother," he informed her, moving to follow once more. There was a faint trail here he wouldn't have to haul himself up, so it was a good little break for walking and talking. "They lived out here at first. Then they showed up at Round Valley — that's my natal pack — when I was about six months old. Older, maybe. We've both got the Morningside curse, seems like. Itchy paws. That's what they call it when you wander off early. Though, mainly, I followed him 'cause he was still just a little thing."

He still thought Katmai needed watching after. He did not need to be a leader of this little pack in order to do that, however. He trusted his status as uncle to keep Katmai in line.

"How about you?" he asked her. "Kat says you grew up here. You'n that girl he's so blame fool in love with."

Katmai had claimed to be no such thing — but Kindle was sure that this was the stories thunderbolt at play. It was in their blood, after all, to fall hard and fast and irrevocably.

Often to their detriment.

The correction surprised her, though she quickly decided it mattered naught. She listened as he spoke of something called the Morningside curse, which earned a wan smile from Tiuttuk. She had known many wolves—both young and old—to wander away in her time. She didn’t say anything, though she didn’t think it was in any way unique to that particular family.

I guess you could say I’m the opposite, she replied when Kindle queried. A homebody. There was more to say on that note, though she found his other words far more intriguing. He’s in love with her? Truly? she wondered, feeling happy for Kinusi if a touch envious. I don’t think that’s foolish. Kinusi’s a great catch, she added with a bit of a playful leer shot Kindle’s way.

Her attention quickly flicked away, as the ascent commanded focus. Tiuttuk felt the familiar burn in her muscles as they climbed higher and higher, as well as the slight shallowness in her lungs. She had never liked the sensation—likely nobody did—but she took it as her cue to lead Kindle to a flat ledge so they could rest a moment and adjust. If she felt it, he surely felt it even more.

Around them, the last of the daylight leeched from the world.

Kindle was quietly convinced that he might soon die as the air grew thinner, and his chest tighter with the effort it took to breathe. He gave a surreptitious little cough, hoping to disguise the sound as just clearing his throat, and did his best to appear perfectly calm. Though he was alarmed, machismo pride demanded that he at least die with the appearance of stoicism, if there was a last present.

He still managed to huff out a laugh, despite that he regretted the waste of air a moment later.

"If I know anything, it's that the more fetching the woman is, the more like a man is to make a fool of himself," he replied, returning her leer with interest — if not just a little weak. The words came out thinner than he meant them as his lungs adjusted to the altitude.

The purpling sky distracted him for a moment. He gave the appearance of being distracted by it, at least, while he stood forcing his breaths to be even, even if he could not keep them from sounding slightly labored.

"There," he said, movement having caught his eye down below. Their pale pelts, while not quite quite, still reflected light well enough. He watched a pair of bighorn sheep pick their way across a distant ridge, tracking them by their silvery outlines and gray silhouettes. "What are those?" he asked, having never seen creatures quite like them before.

Well, Pie riposted, enjoying the banter that had sprung up between them, then Katmai should accept his place as the pack’s jester now, then. Kinusi is not only beautiful, she is many other wonderful things besides. Her tail switched. I’m certain he’ll have no regrets, in any case. She’s absolutely worth the price of admission. Feeling foolish isn’t too steep.

Speaking of steep, there was concern mingled with sympathy as she glanced at Kindle. It seemed to her he was trying to downplay the altitude’s effects on him, which Tiuttuk totally understood. Showing vulnerability in front of someone one didn’t know well was something she tried to avoid as well.

Hoping he would emulate her, consciously or otherwise, Tiuttuk made a point to sit still and draw in long, deep breaths. She never quite achieved the sensation of fullness in her lungs, though the shallow feeling improved somewhat. As her heartbeat steadied, Pie considered her love/hate relationship with climbing this high. It was exhilarating and often worthwhile, though this price of admission was quite literally steep.

Those, she said when Kindle spotted a duo of bighorn sheep deftly climbing a ridgeline across one of Moonspear’s many passes, are bighorn sheep. Not to be confused with mountain goats. They’re more surefooted than we can ever be, plus they come with a formidable rack of horns. But if you have enough wolves—and luck—they’re quite the prize. The meat is tender and you’ll never own a softer skin.

Treepie paused to take a breath, squinting her yellow eyes at the two distant silhouettes. They certainly didn’t seem to struggle with the thin air, probably because they had large lungs. They were a delicacy to the wolf, who licked her lips at memories of hunts past.

One of the best ways to kill one is to use the drop, Pie mentioned.

It was probably self-explanatory, though she intended to elaborate on what she meant by that. Instead, a wave of blackest terror washed over her, inexplicable as it was sudden. It snatched the breath right out of her lungs and set her to trembling slightly. Treepie didn’t understand what was happening, though by now she knew enough to suspect the black hole in her mind, which indeed seemed to pulse and shudder in the root of her brain.

Kindle smirked to himself, quite liking the title of jester for his nephew. Certainly, he'd grown into a theatrical and dramatic young man. His father's influence, no doubt.

Treepie's stauch support of her friend kept him from saying anything more critical on the subject. If he was honest with himself, he knew he trusted the younger wolf to honor any commitment he made to the singer. And if Treepie was equally convinced of her own kin —

Well. They ought to plan a wedding. Or find a jester's hat, at least.

"We don't use the skins where I'm from," he said frankly, curious about the skill and tradition of it — but before he could meander through any more on the subject, the wolf beside him stiffened and gasped. He might've missed it if he hadn't half-turned toward her, having finally regained his breath enough to look her in the face.

"Treepie?" he asked, merely confused right at first. Alarm quickly replaced that feeling, but he hid it well enough. His thoughts spun like a rolodex for just a moment before he landed on a plan of action.

"You're alright, girl," he said, his voice firm and calm as he tried to nudge her away from the ledge, the ghost of his herding dog ancestors briefly taking over his body. "Let's set back a bit, though, alright?"

Now it was her turn to minimize the severity of her predicament. It was too late to escape notice—Kindle already sensed something amiss—but Treepie was able to calm the slight tremors and steady her breathing. She did not refute his attempt to steer her away from the ledge, nor dispel him of the notion that it was the heights which had spooked her so abruptly.

I’m—I’ll be okay, she assured as they moved back from the precipice. Have you ever experienced vertigo? It wasn’t really a lie, though Pie felt a nip of guilt at misleading Kindle when they were establishing a bond and trust. So she sprinkled in some truth, saying, It just came over me out of nowhere, this awful feeling. But it’s already passing.

Indeed, whatever tripwire she’d triggered, her nervous system was already settling. Tiuttuk helped it along by taking even if not particularly deep breaths. She seated herself, surreptitiously holding out a foreleg to see if it would tremble. There was only the slightest quiver. She quickly set her paw back on the stony ground.

I’m just sorry to derail your tracking. We’d barely begun. She huffed a sigh. Maybe we can resume in a few minutes. In the meantime, mind if we just sit and chat a bit? Oh, and it’s woman, not girl, she corrected with a ghost of her earlier playful leer.

Kindle had not experienced vertigo, and in fact, did not recognize the word. But, being both proud and clever, he was accustomed to using context clues for such things. The context here was her reaction, paired with talk of an awful feeling. Kindle determined that vertigo was a shorter way of saying you felt someone walk over your grave.

"Once or twice," he admitted, if only because it would be awfully rude to let her think she was the only one to suffer from it. Then again, it'd never caused him to take such a funny turn.

Despite misunderstanding, he did rather suspect her of being afraid of heights. He judged her for it only because she’d been born on the mountain — as far as he was concerned, being afraid of heights was quite sensible. At any rate, he was pleased to be able to sit for a moment.

"'Course. The air's got teeth up here, don't it?" he said, settling down nearby — conveniently between Treepie and the ledge. "Feels like something's gnawing on my lungs."

He hated to admit to such a weakness, but sometimes discretion was not the better part of valor.

"I'll remember that next time it looks like you're about to fall off a cliff," he snipped, though his annoyance was mostly for show. "Woman." It did not roll off his tongue quite as naturally. It felt almost uncouth, in fact.

Her eyebrows rose and she amended, Or maybe just stick to Pie, as much as she otherwise enjoyed the gender affirmation.

She said nothing for a few beats, still trying to steady herself and figure out what had set her off in the first place. Treepie’s brow dipped into a furrow now. What had she been saying when it had happened? Something about dropping down on prey from above… just thinking the word “drop” made her stomach feel as if it was doing that very thing.

It was one of her stranger symptoms yet. Pie could make no sense of it and eventually shook her head, then raised her yellow eyes to Kindle’s face. What must he think of her right now? She wasn’t really making a very good first impression. And it mattered too. This was Katmai’s relative and her potential pack mate.

She didn’t want to admit she wasn’t quite ready to proceed, so instead Tiuttuk asked, Is that something you hope to find for yourself someday? What Katmai and Kinusi have, I mean? Since that was rather a personal question, Pie volunteered, I do. I’m definitely a romantic, complete with a little sigh.

Kindle scoffed at this suggestion, embarrassed for what had come out of his mouth despite it never having occurred to him before. Wolves talked different here than they did in Round Valley, and he didn't know all the ins and outs of it just yet. He made no apologies now, but filed away the correction to agonize over later on.

For now, they settled in silence. Kindle looked back out over the mountain range to unpin Treepie from his gaze, pretending not to be listening intently to the sound of her breaths. He'd lost sight of the bighorns, anyway, and the sun had dipped completely out of view. They only had the moonlight, now. Enough to see their surroundings by, but not as much of the greater world.

He made another amused sound when she broke the silence again.

"A song in my heart and stars in my eyes?" he asked her, turning his head to face her once more, a smirk curving his mouth. "No thank you. I wouldn't call myself a romantic, either — but of course I'd like to have a partner. That's the way of things."

The spring was creeping up on them, now. Kindle was caught between anticipation and bewilderment at the idea that, this time next year? He might be a father of a gaggle of half-grown kids, already thinking about the next set. He had no idea what that might feel like, nor what to truly expect from the next several months.

"I never met my father," he said to her, less cavalier about this statement. "My momma's real independent-like."

What he meant but would not say was this: He found the idea of commitment rather frightening, if only because he saw himself, a man, as disposable or even obsolete.

She snorted softly at his poetic phrasing. He insisted he wasn’t the romantic sort, though Kindle said he wanted a partner. Treepie felt a little flutter in her belly, though she internally stamped on whatever butterfly was trying to take flight there. They had only just met and she would not get ahead of herself, though she allowed herself to feel secretly pleased knowing there was a single-and-looking male upon the mount.

Pie wasn’t entirely sure what to say in response to his revelation, though she eventually landed on, Do you know anything about him? Have you ever tried to find him?

Those were quite personal questions too, though Kindle didn’t seem to mind the intimate subject matter. She could always volunteer information about her own parental relationships, though Treepie didn’t want to steer the conversation toward herself. She would share if and when the time was right, though for now, she merely canted her head and looked at him expectantly through the gloom.

For the first time, Kindle's smirk was just a little mean. He didn't think much of the man that'd sired him. Perhaps it was just bitterness at having never met him.

"I got the impression there wasn't much worth knowing," he replied. "His name's Warsbane, and I hear he was a looker. Young, too. When it happened, at least. And after that she never saw him again — but she didn't plan or care to, and he never came lookin' for us."

He didn't have strong emotions associated with his absent father, nor the lack of strong male figures in his early childhood. He only worried about what that meant for him, now searching out a partner of his own. That was the way of things, wasn't it? Or was it is mother's way that would prevail?

"We didn't need him around or anything," he clarified, perhaps for both their sakes. "I just mean — I know you got a find a woman who'll keep ya. Not everyone wants a man around."

This was what passed for wisdom, in his mind.

It sounded like there was no love lost there. Treepie drew in a breath, pondering the tone Kindle used when he spoke of this Warsbane man. It sounded like his mother hadn’t needed him much, which was good. Perhaps she’d had another lover to help her rear her pups, or perhaps simply a supportive village.

My anaa and taataa were never an item, Pie shared in turn. They were just friends who both welcomed children. My mother had other lovers too, though I don’t remember much about them. She paused, eyes flitting over Kindle’s. I know there’s lots of ways to approach intimate relationships, but I’ve always dreamed of finding a husband, getting married and having a family. I’ve wanted to be an anaa my whole life… and of course I want to find the right man to be their taataa.

Her cheeks warmed a little as she bared this part of her heart. She wasn’t ashamed of her hopes and dreams, though Tiuttuk had her reservations. Most of them had to do with her unique anatomical situation, of course. Her body’s recent reaction didn’t bode well, though that thought reminded her of another. Pie could not know how things would work until her second spring, though she could always test the waters before then…

Now she blushed more deeply, her tongue poking out to wet her lips as she glanced away toward the distant outcropping. The sheep were long gone, though she stared at the place where they had been, watching the moonlight crawl across the gleaming shale.

It comforted him just a little to know that there were others out there whose parents had been... Alternative. Katmai had told him of the seal hunters, of course, but it sounded like those had still been unified families. Treepie's childhood also sounded as if it had included a father — but it was still not the same perfect mother-father-chidlren family that his cousins had lorded over him.

And, aside from that, he just thought that Treepie's earnestness was awfully sweet. He grinned at her, wide and smarmy, surprised somehow to find such sentiments stowed away in the young woman.

"Tell me about him," he said, not quite a demand, but not quite a suggestion, either. "What's this perfect man gonna be like?"

He was ready to listen, and earnestly! But he could not help the desire to tease her while he did so. He made a show of settling in with all his attention, his gold eyes scorching with interest.

Kindle demanded to know what her ideal mate would be like. Treepie reluctantly glanced at him, then dropped her bright eyes to her feet. He was teasing her, she could tell, and she didn’t know him well enough to feel entirely comfortable with that. But she blew out a breath and rolled her shoulders, choosing to take it in lighthearted spirit she hoped he intended.

Well, he has to be very handsome, of course, she said, drawing her eyes upward again so they danced across his face. She snorted lightly a moment later. Naturally, his looks don’t matter nearly as much as his spirit… but attraction and chemistry are important, I think. Just like sharing goals and values. It doesn’t matter if I find him attractive if he doesn’t want children; we would never work. She paused. I guess you could say that my perfect man wants to be a taataa as much as I want to be an anaa. Nothing else matters as much as that.

She had been looking just past his face for the last several beats. Now Tiuttuk looked into Kindle’s eye, felt herself flush and had to use all the self-control she possessed not to look away. She would not be bashful about what she wanted most out of life.

Nevertheless, she was all too happy to swing the spotlight his way by asking, What about you? What traits do you look for in a suitable partner?

His smile only grew cheekier when she looked up at his face, the word handsome on her lips. Of course, he knew he, like his father before him, was a looker. Men had often found him pretty, and women had often found him handsome, and whoever they were, none had ever found him too weak or too skinny. But these idle flirtations had been ultimately meaningless in terms of partnership. He had value as a donor of genetic material, sure — but he wanted to be a father.

"That's a good start," he told her, his tone conversational despite his throat suddenly feeling parched. He coughed a little, this time feeling grateful for the elevation to use as an excuse. And then he coughed again, saying, "Me?" as if he'd not expected the question to be turned back on him.

"Well!" he said, somehow taken aback by the daringness of the question. "She should be a good huntress, so that we can provide for our children. And she should come from a big family. Healthy stock, you know."

These were the things he had been taught to look for in a mate.

"She should want children, of course," he said, warming to the topic. "And she should be fierce enough to protect them, and wise enough to guide them, and kind enough to nurture them."

He knew what he looked for in the mother of his children. He had no notion of what he might want in a wife.

It made little sense for Tiuttuk to hold herself against his checklist. Nonetheless, she found herself comparing and contrasting. She liked to think she checked all his boxes, save for the size of her family. She wasn’t sure whether the Ostregas were considered large or “healthy stock,” the use of the latter phrase earning a tilt of her head.

It sounded like they could make a good match, though Pie wasn’t sure if it was too soon to make that joke. Did she want to make light of it at all? She took her future partnership very seriously. And because of that, she would be a lying liar who lies if she said she wasn’t now measuring up Kindle in a new light, one aglow with potential.

Do you have your eye on anyone? she wondered next, her heart beating a little harder against her ribs in anticipation—or fear—of Kindle’s answer. I had someone in mind once, but I don’t know if he’s the right match for me, she admitted, the thought of Alaric prompting her to say rather emphatically, I want that romantic spark, you know? I want to be courted. I want to spoil him in return. Oh, I can’t wait for that love to find me.

She was gushing a bit, wasn’t she? Tiuttuk’s cheeks warmed again and she ducked her head a little, though she laughed. Perhaps it made her a little vulnerable to share, yet these were some of her core traits she was showing Kindle. And they were certainly getting to know one another a bit better, perhaps even laying some notable groundwork, even if their hunting endeavor had ended up going nowhere.

Though he made fun of Katmai for his sappy, moppish sentiment, he found it much cuter in Treepie. It was still something he found quite quaint and somewhat bewildering, but he could support her endeavor.

Inwardly, though, he was beginning to feel quite nervous. Was he meant to feel the need and desire for romantic spark? For deep connection? Would he even know it if it came to him? He'd always known intellectually that mothers and fathers were meant to love each other, but now he was realizing that he didn't know how that was accomplished.

Somehow, he maintained a smile, though it had unintentionally gentled into something less wiley and more sincere.

"I have my eyes open," he said instead of answering her question directly. And then, "I'd consider answering more thoroughly if you told me about this someone. I should like to know what takes a man outta the running."

Flirting was easier than contemplating his own uncertainties.