Horizon Ridge pride comes before the fall

For @Pied and set after her attack, obviously. =)

It was the scent of Pied's blood upon the beach that snapped him out of it. He'd gotten the crazy idea that he could lead from a distance, be the benevolent but ultimately distant Alpha who supposed the pack would run itself without much interference on his part. He'd filled his days with spiritual treks up the mountainsides, with the gyrfalcon wheeling overhead, its black-speckled form urging him onwards. He'd turned inward, instead of outward, seeking to improve himself but failing to improve the pack. So he took it as a personal fault when harm befell one of his most valued members, and he hadn't been there to stop it, to witness it, or to tend to her wounds afterward. He followed the smell of blood to her den, and lingered there, and left without announcing himself, ashamed to admit he'd failed her.

In another life, perhaps they would have met sooner, and been in love. Akhlut admired the woman who'd come to his pack pursuing love, and was a bit envious that it was Kisu with whom she shared her life; a strong yet gentle-spirited female like Pied was the sort who deserved to lead alongside him. Yet they were happy, and he would never disturb that domestic peace. Surely the pair would be angry enough at him for permitting her injury, and for not coming to her side immediately, and for his own self-absorbed hermeticism in recent days. He had a lot to ask them to forgive him for, for together they were two of his most loyal followers, and they deserved better than his recent behavior.

With all these faults and guilts inside his head it was a wonder he had the strength to carry with him a leg of deer when he mustered the courage to return to Pied's den the next morning. Yet carry it he did, and he rallied himself to announce his presence with a low chuff of a bark as he lay the deer meat upon the snow-dusted ground. "Pied? Kisu?" He didn't even know whether to ask, is anyone home? Surely Pied could be no where else, if her blood upon the shore was evidence of the severity of her wounds. It's me, Akhlut, wouldn't come out of his mouth unless it were followed by your good-for-nothing worthless incompetent Alpha. He certainly couldn't ask is it alright to come in? for he felt surely that in his case it was not alright, as his nerves were twisting his stomach gleefully and wretchedly and he didn't think the closed space of Pied and Kisu's home would be a good cure for his roiling nausea. He finally settled on, "Pied, I'm so sorry." He left it at that, shuffling his paws and lowering his head, a Sun Prince in disgrace.

In the days and nights following her accident, Dublin kept Pied heavily medicated. She slept nearly constantly, suspended in a perpetual, timeless twilight. During her sparse conscious moments, she was in so much pain, she could hardly move. Both Dublin and Kisu brought her food and water, yet she could barely get any of it down. She was in a bad way and, though the would-be medic was taking excellent care of her, the piebald yearling wasn't out of the woods yet. There was still a chance she wouldn't live to see her second birthday next month.

Though there was nothing much he could do but keep her warm, Kisu kept vigil at her side, leaving only to fetch food and water. It was during one of his forays away from the lair that Akhlut dropped by to visit his invalid subordinate. Pied was beginning to surface from a long spell of sleep when he paused outside her door. She grimaced as she became aware of the pain, her mouth opening and closing and her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She was desperately thirsty.

The Alpha's muttered apology made her eyes open ever so slowly. Pied couldn't lift her head—she was too weak and it was just too painful—but she was able to move her mouth and rasp through dry lips, "Akhlut...? Is that you?" Was it really him, standing outside her doorway and apologizing? It made Pied think of the conversation between herself and Kisu the night before the attack. She winced slightly. "Come in..."

Akhlut's chest ached and it took him a bit to realize that it was anxiousness, worry, and guilt building up within his ribcage. He'd hardly had cause to worry so much for another wolf in his life; Echo Cove had been relatively peaceful thanks to the leadership of his mothers, and Horizon Ridge had been pleasant enough until now. He'd had few enough close connections to truly be concerned for anybody before. The realization was a disconcerting one. He resolved to do better, to be better, so that this feeling would not make itself at home in his breast and so that Pied and the rest might know the stability and the security that he had grown up with.

"Akhlut, is that you? Come in..." Pied's voice was thready but unmistakeable, and so Akhlut hesitantly entered her den, leaving his offering of food outside in the snow. The dark Alpha's ears flattened back in a way that had nothing to do with having to duck into the den beneath the gnarl of tree limbs that marked their homestead. He couldn't see all that much of Pied's dappled form in the dim light, but the female's face looked dwindled and diminished and tired. Akhlut sighed heavily. "Pied, what happened?" His voice was low with concern, and a deep frown wrinkled his forehead.

He entered, momentarily blocking out the light, his shadow draping over her broken body like a soft, dark cloak. Her eyes lifted and her breath hitched in her throat at the image of the Alpha—who so resembled her attacker, the dread blackfish—silhouetted in her doorway. Already shriveled and shrunken, she somehow managed to make herself smaller, tucking herself into a misshapen and agonized ball of dappled fur.

"A blackfish attacked me," Pied replied to his question, "on the beach." She winced, both at the memory and the pain that even now throbbed throughout her entire body, namely in her broken ribs and paw. On the beach, where I was walking, contemplating running away from here, she thought, though she said nothing as a thought suddenly entered her mind: maybe the blackfish had been sent as divine intervention and the leader's resemblance to the great fish was symbolic.

Akhlut was more familiar with the orca than most, having possessed a fascination with his namesake in his childhood. Long before he'd been permitted to participate in pack hunts, he'd watched at a distance as the dark whales seized seals from the beaches and dragged them into the surf, staining the white sea foam crimson. Always an unnatural silence fell upon the shore when the great hunt was over and their curved fins showed their retreat into deeper waters, and it was this incongruous stillness that had haunted Akhlut for some time afterwards. Seals were by nature a raucous and noisy and bustling creature, but when their own young, or their nursing mothers, or their bravest and strongest males succumbed to the black hunters beneath the waves, they were all compelled, it seemed, to melancholy reflection of their own mortality. It had taken much coaxing, later, for an even-quieter-than-usual young Akhlut to tell his mothers what was bothering him.

He remembered their tales, told to soften the harsh reality of what he'd witnessed. It was difficult for him to now expell the mental image of Pied's form tossed upon the sand as the plaything of a killer whale who'd been either hungry or bored. He didn't wish to imagine her dragged into the deep by sharp teeth, her blood billowing up from below, and yet the mental image came to him unbidden. Swallowing hard, he said, "I'm so glad you're okay," and meant it. He met her heterochromatic gaze with a gentleness in his own pale blue eyes. He realized now he could have done nothing to prevent her injury, but still his guilt lingered. To make himself and perhaps Pied feel better, he said, "Perhaps it was a reminder of the fleeting existence we are all given. You lived, and live still, because you have much more yet to accomplish." Indeed, she had a mate and the future pups of Horizon Ridge to mother, but Akhlut saw more in her than that, a bright potential and keen intelligence that he admired.

A fleeting smile touched his lips as he aimed to ease what he imagined was quite a lot of fear of the great whales. "I have seen killer whales at the hunt before, and it is a gruesome sight, but then, they are known as the wolves of the sea. They live much like we do, in packs with mated pairs and pups. Have you seen them jump clear of the waves? It is an awe-inspiring thing." Surely the prey of wolves saw them as equally heartless, mindless killers. It was all a matter of perspective--not that he meant to minimize Pied's trauma, but there was symbolism to be had and a message to be gleaned, and they were not, after all, monsters. "I am named for a mythical orca who became a wolf at night to hunt on land, the Akhlut. In the northern traditions of my mother, they are honored as the reincarnation of deceased relatives, and seen as the symbol of family, protection, and long life." He paused, hesitant. "I don't know what it means that you've been touched by this blackfish, and in such a way, but I do know that their chosen prey rarely escapes. It is a blessing from somewhere that your life was spared." The Sea, Akhlut privately thought. The Sea tends to its own, a Nereides devotion lingered in his mind and he wanted to speak it, but held back, unknowing if Pied had a faith or if she might dislike his interjection of his own.

When the Alpha expressed gratitude for her well-being, Pied smiled weakly. She was far from okay but she wasn't about to call him out on his semantics. She remained silent as he spoke of the blackfish, though he referred to them alternatively as killer whales and orcas. Considering her own abilities—of which Akhlut still knew nothing—Pied very much doubted that the orcas were the reincarnations of deceased relatives, yet she saw nothing wrong with such a belief and certainly didn't want to refute any aspect of Akhlut's spirituality.

"Maybe I will feel more blessed once I can move again without it hurting like the dickens," she quipped wryly. "Dublin is doing a good job of taking care of me," she added, feeling it was important to drop the would-be medic's name in the Alpha's presence after what she'd done for the ailing Gamma. "I wouldn't be here if not for her..."

With a muffled groan, Pied shifted ever so slightly and then, after exhaling through the pain, mentioned, "I'm not exactly a fan of the blackfish—the killer whale, I mean—right now but I will reflect on what you've told me." Her eyes flicked upward to meet his, holding his gaze for a moment and seeing the gentleness there. She felt another lick of guilt, then quashed it, deciding she would never speak of her plans to run away to the plateau. They didn't matter now anyway.

Even though she'd meant to contemplate his words later, she found herself thinking back on Akhlut's remark about accomplishments. "I do have so much to live for... this pack and Kisu for starters. I just hope..." She felt her throat tightening as she considered a thought that had already begun to gnaw at her. "I just hope I'm still able to carry a litter to term after this. Dublin said there was internal damage." Her voice lowered nearly to a whisper as she admitted this and her golden and indigo eyes began to shimmer.

Akhlut had been a bit tactless, perhaps, in metaphorically singing the praises of the sea creature who'd nearly claimed Pied's life, but he was a firm believer that if Pied had been spared by the great whale, there was a purpose in it. The Sea could be harsh at times, but had been merciful this time, thankfully. Akhlut dipped his head in a silent apology and said no more of the symbolism of whales in general or Pied's attack in particular, instead listening attentively to her words. He made a mental note to seek out Dublin promptly, for it seemed he had her to thank for his Gamma's survival and continuing recovery. He'd like the female well enough, or she wouldn't have entered his ranks, but she seemed to be a capable healer to boot and had proven her value to the pack. A warmth swelled in him towards her, gratitude that Pied's life hadn't ended there on the beach or during any of the surely precarious moments since.

Pied's concern about her childbearing ability made Akhlut wince a bit, having not, in his masculine brain, considered the possibility of that kind of injury to a newly-mated young female. A bit unsure of how to ease her fears without giving her false reassurance, Akhlut stumbled to say, "I'm sure Dublin will know more on that front once you've healed up a bit." Despite his admiration for his Gamma, he rather preferred not to think of her as possessing of female parts, primarily because she was Kisu's mate and therefore not for him. He tried to ignore that she was pretty, even with her tired eyes and her smiles that seemed just a bit too thin as she lay here in her sick bed. She was off limits prior to her attack as the older male's mate, and she remained off limits now for the additional reason of her injuries. Reminding himself of these things, and knowing that he held mixed feelings of fondness, worry, and guilt all co-mingling in his psyche when it came to Pied and was surely not being rational, he shook his head to clear it.

He spoke of reasonable things that would reaffirm her ties to Kisu in his mind, and hopefully reassure her that this attack changed nothing of her value to her mate or to her pack. "Whatever it is, it'll be alright. I know you were excited for pups," he said with a smile, remembering the light that lit in her eyes at the mateship ceremony when he'd mentioned the litters that would come to them in springtime, "and I'll bet anything you'll still be able to have as many as you want, no problem. We'll be overrun with little dappled puppies this spring." The thought tugged painfully at his heartstrings as he imagined a horde of Pied's little girls running across the sands of the beach in summertime; they were all her miniatures and adorable. "Kisu will love you whether you can, or you can't." At least, Akhlut hoped that the tawny wolf would. If Kisu wasted all that had been offered to him, for this or any other reason, then he was a fool.

If Pied hadn't felt like death warmed over, she might have teased Akhlut about his endless optimism. She appreciated it, though. With so much negativity in her life at present, she found his positive attitude refreshing. She clung to it, inwardly reminding herself of what he'd just said aloud: Dublin will make sure I have the best possible chance...

Her eyes shimmered still when he mentioned dappled puppies running on the beach, then the tears began to brim at his final comment, which was decidedly less hopeful than all the rest, even if he meant well by it. Pied sniffled, trying to fight back the urge to cry, if for no other reason than it would hurt and badly. There was also the fact that she didn't want to look any more weak and broken down in Akhlut's presence than she already did.

"I hope you're right." Then, because she needed yet another nugget of hope to feed her broken spirit, she asked, "Do we... do we have your formal blessing, then?" Her watery eyes sought his again, now shining expectantly, with the occasional tear leaving a silver streak down her pale cheek.

Akhlut's initial feelings of guilt and uncertainty as he'd approached Pied's den were returning now, and quickly, accompanied with a growing sense of panic. Alpha he might be, and he'd grown up in a family full of women in all their various personality incarnations from imperious to gentle to snotty, but he still shared that universal male discomfort and discomfiture when faced with a tearful female. He couldn't help but let out his breath in a nervous whoosh when she asked if she and Kisu had his formal blessing to bear pups; if he said yes, which he intended to anyways, perhaps he could forstall more tears tracing down her dappled cheeks. "Yes, Pied," Akhlut said quickly, a smile forming broadly despite his unease with her sadness. "You are the Gamma, and I haven't got girls howling at the borders morning, noon, and night eager to bed me," he jested, with a chuckle that diluted the truth behind those words. "For now, at least, you and Kisu's children are the future of the Ridge, whether they are biological or adopted. You have my blessing in either course."

It occured to him after a moment that perhaps Kisu should have been present for this permission-giving, but the words had been spoken now without her mate there, and so it was done already. The thought of where Pied's mate might be hadn't come to mind until now, but he didn't think that pointing out that Pied had been left all alone in the den before Akhlut's arrival would really be relevant, and he didn't want her to think he was all too eager for Kisu to return and quell her tears. A part of Akhlut ached to be the one to quiet her fears and reassure her, but he had said all he could think of to do so, and the reality was that he didn't know that she was out of the metaphorical woods yet. Knowing no other cliched statements of positivity that he could share with Pied, all he could think of was to shuffle closer to her in the den and move to touch her cheek with his nose, a platonic gesture of comfort that nevertheless lit his nerves unaccountably ablaze.

The tears fell faster, dropping like little jewels, when Akhlut gave her—and Kisu, of course—formal permission. They were shed happily now, though, and even as they dripped over the contours of her cheekbones, she managed a smile. There was a great deal of healing Pied must endure, yet if she simply latched onto this promise of motherhood, she knew she could pull through anything.

"Thank-you, Akhlut. That means more to me than I can describe, especially right now." Pied hoped her eyes told the story for her, shining with the gloss of effervescent tears as they were. She didn't overlook his statement about himself, adding, "You're young, handsome and powerful. I'm sure you'll find an eligible lady sooner than later. I wouldn't be surprised if it happened by springtime. Perhaps you and your mate can raise a litter alongside Kisu and me." She felt good, gently pushing some of his optimism back onto him.

Although he intended the nuzzle platonically and she reached out to receive it in the same spirit, Pied was surprised when she felt a warm sensation where his nose came in contact with her cheek, which sent a current of what felt like electricity through her face, down her neck and spreading into her chest. Although she braced herself against the peculiar sensation, it didn't hurt. In fact, it felt sort of nice, as if his touch had sent a shot of analgesic directly into her veins. Pied sighed softly.

"Once I'm on the mend, I'd love to help you find a partner worthy of you, Akhlut. I don't know you as well as I'd like," she added, swallowing, "but I'd like to change that. I'd like to know you better. Then I can keep an eye out for a suitable female. Along with aspiring to be Caretaker, I can become the pack's informal Matchmaker," she jested lightly, thought he offer and the sentiment were both very genuine.

Akhlut's ears flicked back in mild embarassment as Pied named his pleasing attributes; he liked to hear them from her lips, though he wasn't certain of their veracity, but he didn't like that she would play matchmaker for him. As far as he (and his hormones) were concerned, she would make a fine match for him, if she weren't so damnably taken by his earnest, if plain and typical, subordinate. Still, Akhlut would try to accept her offer. "My mothers were a love match," he said quietly, with a moment of silence in which he recalled the small displays of affection that Nanuq and Aktaie permitted their children to see. Every touch between them was one of utter devotion. Their love was like an iceberg -- the few niceties they let the world see were gentle and chaste, and beneath the surface, each woman was a firestorm of passionate romance, attached and intertwined to the other inexorably. "But I know the value of a compatability match as well, a bond of convenience or political expedience." He shrugged. They were often separate things, love and compatability, and even love and sexuality. He recalled, unbidden, Amekaze's face; they had not dallied, instead sharing a stroll along the shore and speaking of the sea, but his want for her had been one of lust and of the sensibilities of procreation. She could have borne him fine children. And yet he did not think he could love her mysterious self. They did not have that sort of fire between them.

Before he could censor himself, Akhlut asked with a tilted head, "Is there... passion, between you and Kisu?" Passion was the right word, wasn't it, for there were so many brands of love and affection. Was it a love born of care and concern for one another? A dedication that would bond them through fire and ice, to hell and back? Somehow, Akhlut did not think that Kisu had that sort of depth and strength in him; perhaps that was an entirely unfair assumption. Yet maybe Pied was a simple enough girl, easy to please and looking only for straightforward companionship without a passion for the ages. Akhlut told himself firmly that she was entirely happy in her relationship and this line of inquiry would only serve to disquiet the woman and make her uncomfortable with him, so he drew back physically, and drew back verbally, saying, "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that. I was only... wondering." He didn't know if he was wondering about the strength of their relationship, or simply the nature of it; he wasn't sure if he wanted Pied for himself, or if he only liked the idea of having a relationship like that of Pied and Kisu and would be placated with a mate of his own. Things in Akhlut's mind were quite disheveled.

Akhlut mentioned his mothers, something which surprised Pied and made her curious, but he did not make the revelation in regards to their same-sex union, so she didn't think it would be prudent to ask about it. Besides, he moved on quickly, mentioning the value in what sounded to Pied like arranged marriages. The idea put a bad taste in her mouth, though she didn't give voice to this thought, either, in part because Akhlut asked an unexpected and intimate question of her.

It did make her feel slightly put on the spot and vaguely uncomfortable but Pied did not dismiss it. Her brows furrowed thoughtfully; oddly enough, even such a small thing made her ache. "No, no, it's okay," she said quietly when the Alpha began to withdraw. "It is a personal question but," she said, their eyes meeting briefly, "I'm not afraid to answer it."

She paused, less because she needed to think about it and more because she needed to summon her strength. Pied could feel herself slipping into exhaustion even from such a brief interaction. "There is. It surprised me how quickly it all happened. Kisu hardly knew me when he declared his feelings and asked me to be his mate. I rebuffed him at first... but I quickly came to like him, then love him. He's very sweet and charming." She paused. "I have thought about whether I fell for him because he was really the first male to ever show me attention but... I do love and care for him deeply and we are passionate about our mutual dreams, like our children." Her lips twitched, as the joy of Akhlut's blessing was still fresh in her mind.

After a moment, she asked, "Did I answer your question?" in the hopes that she'd satisfied whatever curiosity had prompted it. Unaware that he might be entertaining thoughts about her, even envy of Kisu, she added, "Like I said, I don't know you well yet, Akhlut, but I don't think you're the type to go for some... political union or whatever." Her pale nose wrinkled somewhat. "You seem like a passionate individual. I can't see you settling for anything less than fiery romance. You are the Sun Prince, after all, aren't you? You just need to find your princess, right?" Her lips twitched.

Shortly after, Pied slumped rather weakly and let her chin drop onto her forepaws. "I'm sorry, Akhlut, I'm exhausted..." she said. "Kisu might be back soon. He might provide better conversation. Once I'm feeling better, I'd love to talk with you again..." And though the Gamma fought to keep her eyes open, her healing body demanded rest and, without another word, she fell asleep at Akhlut's feet.

Pied's response shamed him, for his thoughts had not been as kind to Kisu as they ought, and he'd allowed himself to stray into a territory of thinking of Pied as something more than a friend and loyal follower. She was his packmate, but she could not be more; he himself had sealed her to another. Akhlut dipped his head in sheepishness as Pied spoke of playing matchmaker for him.

Before he could make some reason for a hasty departure, Pied made the excuses for him, and furthermore proceeded to drift off to sleep at his feet. Relieved but still rueful that he had not conversed with her longer, Akhlut hesitantly backed out of the den. He realized belatedly that he had not told her about the deer leg he'd brought. He supposed Kisu would see it, and despite knowing he was being unfair to the male, he wondered if Pied's tawny mate would claim he'd found it himself or if he'd give the Aloha the credit he was due.

It didn't much matter, for Pied's love would remain with her mate, meat or no meat. Akhlut traveled toward home.