The Sentinels there lies a leafy island

Anyone that would be allowed this close to the den. :)

Her fear of the Otherworld was slowly abating, and for days, she often found herself sitting squarely before it— with a fierce longing, though the cold still dissuaded her. And Emaleth was quick to appear as though she had been doing anything else, particularly when Deirdre was awake, for this place still seemed forbidden. They had made a pact, anyway, that neither would cross— certainly not without each other— so that they would not be lost to the bright desolation that lay beyond.

And yet.

And yet, it was calling her— ever since her father had brought the strongly scented bough, the pine that Emaleth did not have a word for. Deirdre lay sleeping near the Giver, napping on a full belly, and so too did the Giver slumber. Wide awake and without companions to play with, little Emaleth sat upon the threshold of the Other, and watched the snowflakes— scented the air.

That smell! She wanted it, fiercely, but she could only smell it near the gate, now— and faintly. Emaleth growled quietly, frustrated by this limitation, bestowed upon her by an oath; but then a small thought occurred. How would her sister know, if she lay sleeping...? And the Forgetting was tightening its grasp, so that she did not remember how deeply attuned the sisters were to one another. Nor did she understand that both the cold and scent would cling to her small body.

It was a dark leaf that decided it for her; it drifted down through the falling snow, and landed against the flattened path leading out from the den. Her own thought was nonexistent— instinct drove her, to chase that dark silhouette and pounce upon where it lay in an endless sea of white. And so Emaleth did, startled as it crumbled beneath her. Distressed at the loss of her toy, she nearly cried— but then finally realized where she was, what she had done! The Otherworld!

She paused in wonder, large blue eyes drinking it in. There were no walls of warmth— only openness, and solitude. A curious feeling overwhelmed her, then. One she would later understand as relief. Here, there was room! For play, for herself. There was no Deirdre, constantly demanding her attention— attention she was glad to give, surely, but attention that also seemed to inexplicably wither her.

Feeling no fear, the cold yet to sink in, Emaleth merely absorbed all she could of this calming, peaceful place. Enraptured by each scent, each sound, each sight.

Dante had done well so far in avoiding Lasher, Blue, and their children.  He'd kept to the borders when he wasn't with Osprey, tracking prey in the boundaries and keeping mostly to himself.  He'd convinced himself 100% that the best thing he could do for the pack right now was to isolate a bit and hope whatever this bug was, if it was in fact a bug, only affected him.  He had no way of telling a transferrable sickness from a safe one, and he wasn't observant enough to know when the problems had first come about.  So he jumped on the conclusion and held to it, withdrawn.

After his and Osprey's conversation, though, he found his curiosity almost overwhelming.  What harm could come, really, from a swift passby?  Maybe he could make out sounds, or catch a glimpse, but he'd beg off if seen.  Surely Lasher and Blue would understand and allow him his distance. 

Famous last words.

When he passed through the trees near the den, he ducked out from the trunks to see not only a glimpse, but a full look at one pup who seemed to have slipped past the sentries.  Immediately Dante froze, casting about for a parent.  Uh.... crap.  He opened his mouth to call Blue Willow, certain the mother was likely in the den, but stopped.  He didn't want to wake her for something so simple as escorting her child back to the den.  First he'd try without too much contact.  He took a few steps forward, tail swaying softly behind him, before stopping again and studying the child.

All around her rose tall, dark statues— erupting forth from the white earth like teeth, though she had yet to understood what any of those things were. They had slipped by her immediate notice, for this Otherworld was an endless expanse; it was all she could do to make sense of that, first. The trees seemed to reach endlessly, up into the nothingness above her. Emaleth fell onto her back as she attempted to tilt back and see their end— she giggled, not yet feeling the cold— and wriggled against the earth.

It seemed that as a winter child, her coat had known to grow in thick, though it would not be long until the cold was too much for her to bare. It helped, too, that her fur was dark and so absorbed the heat of the sunlight.

As she rolled back to her stomach to move upwards, back into a seated position, the form of a stranger— large as the Bringer— emerged from the blanket of white. "Daaa?" little Emaleth queried aloud, yet unable to discern the other's scent, and that his coat did not match that of the Bringer's escaped her understanding. She took a clumsy step forward, towards him. Surely that was what the Bringer wanted, if he stood so far— to lure her deeper into the Otherworld, that he might show it to her. Had he wanted her within the den, he surely would have taken her there in the safety of his jaws!

Clueless to the timeline of children, he hadn't really expected her to notice and start towards him.  So when she did... and, as a result, moved further from the intended target... Dante wasn't sure what to do.  Pick her up?  No.  He wished she was correct, and that Lasher was magically appearing to whisk her away.  But a cursory glance around had proved that false.  "Not your da, little one," he said, smiling despite himself. 

He settled for a less direct approach, one that would keep his head well away from her.  Instead of leaning down to pick her up by the scruff, as was instinct, he moved in slowly and lightly touched her side with a large paw.  He'd attempt first to herd her back in, because some base warning clicked that said touch like that was better.  He'd learned to heed such things.  Hopefully she wouldn't spook when she realized he wasn't who she thought he was... he smelled of pack at least.  Her father was there too.  He felt a flash of guilt and regret - he should have told Osprey he was coming by.  He hadn't expected to actually interact with the darn things, of course, but if she was here she could do this better than he.  She had yet to show signs of catching his cold, thank the gods.

He spoke some words to her, and Emaleth giggled with delight— she loved to hear them, though she did not understand the meaning behind them. And even more than hearing them, she loved to repeat them, so his explanation was met with a joyous, "Naahhh daaaaa!" as she kept a clumsy gait toward him. Nearing him, she sat, her tiny tail wagging behind her and making her whole body shake as she looked up at him— a pupil patiently awaiting her lesson.

The Bringer smelled as different as he looked, but a subconscious part of Emaleth attributed that to the difference of the Otherworld compared to Home; and so when his paw came down to nudge her, the babe shrieked with delight, falling to her back— a game! The dark child wiggled slightly, and told him, "tickle! tickle!" though her babble would be nonsense in his ears.

He was endeared, and broke into a broad grin when she babbled up at him cheerfully.  Sadly, his maneuver didn't work out quite the way he wanted it to.... instead of moving towards the den opening as prompted, she rolled over beneath the paw, squirming with delight and babbling enthusiastically.  His ears tipped sideways with concentration, and he nudged her slightly, hoping to roll her closer to the objective and get the point across.  "That way." he said gently, still unable to help smiling.  He took special care not to hurt her, but he would try a bit longer before giving in.

Eventually he would finally be forced to pick her up and bring her inside.  The cold was more a danger than his germs, though he did so with utmost care.