Redtail Rise a path remembered

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The threatening intruder had gone. White Feather scoured the borders for further sign of her scent — but it did not return.

Yet though the aggressor went away, so had young Dark Spine.

Had he pursued her past the plains?

Had something terrible happened?

Moon Runner receded towards the heart of her well-traveled territory and sought the comfort of @Winter Hawk.

winter hawk returns at a hard lope, breath tearing from his chest as he crosses into the heart of the rise.

snow and distance cling to him. miles run without pause. nothing found.

he slows only when he reaches white feather. his head lowers and presses to her nape, feathers at his own stirring as he breathes her in. pine. ash. home.

a low sound leaves him, quiet and apologetic. he did not find the boy. no trail. no blood. no sign.

he stays there, sharing warmth and truth both.

he will search again if she wills it.

White Feather spied Winter Hawk’s red agouti pelt against the snow from her watching place. She descended the craggy scrabble to meet him, the effort of his long journey evident by the clouds of hot breath that snaked from his mouth.

Her amber gaze flicked across his features and searched for any light — but there was only gloom to greet her. They reconnected as his baritone voice uttered a noise, and she is solemn. They became quiet together. Dark Spine, for all his power, was also injured… and thus his outcome was dark, at best. Their first victory had become bittersweet.

She reached out to nibble at the fringe of Winter Hawk’s coat. A tender, comforting gesture for the both of them.

Stay, her spirit said.

For she remembered how Cloud Dancer and Grim Tooth often departed their claim — and she did not wish the same for them. Wolves of the Rise did not chase ghosts.

winter hawk leans into her touch.

his breath steadies as her teeth catch his coat, grounding him back into the rise. he lowers his head and presses his brow to her shoulder, eyes closing for a brief moment. the loss sits heavy. the not knowing heavier still.

a low sound leaves his chest once again. i am not going anywhere.

he lifts his head just enough to look at her, pale eyes firm with promise rather than fire. his tail settles close behind him, no pull toward the plains. no restless edge.

he will not chase ghosts.

Their spirits conversed in quiet communion. Then, Winter Hawk looked to White Feather with resolve. She rumbled a contended response to his conviction and blinked slowly to show the new peace within her soul.

She tipped her chin and stood tall.

I am proud, her spirit said softly.

And in exchange for his promise White Feather, in turn, made a wordless commitment to him. He had her trust, and she had his — bloodfast in their loyalty to the Rise.

One last glace to the wilds beyond was all White Feather spared… and then she turned towards the heart of the territory. A look to Winter Hawk to follow. She wished to walk the path of her youth and show him the hidden places the Rise kept secret.

First… would be Proud Mother’s den, the place where she was born.

winter hawk understands without sound.

something inside him lifts at her resolve, sharp and steady, the hawk within his chest stirring with quiet approval. pride settles there, warm and earned, not loud enough to need showing.

he dips his head to her and steps in behind, falling easily into her wake. her trust is felt in the space she leaves for him to fill.

his gaze flicks once to the wilds beyond, then returns to her path.

he follows.