Kildeer Rest Bring back the summer

Wildfire didn't know the name of this place, though she might have found it fitting, considering she bedded down for the night between two small, rocky outcroppings. She slept like the dead, the long days of endless wandering leaving her exhausted in a not entirely unpleasant way. When the morning sun roused her, she pushed herself to her feet with a great yawn, then took her time stretching. It was chilly, dew clinging to her red fur. She licked it away, then blinked the sleep from her eyes as she waited for the usual morning homesickness—she missed everything and everyone from Moonspear particularly badly first thing upon waking—to pass.

When she finally quelled her emotions, Wildfire began to meander across the field, idly searching for something for breakfast. Slowly, the sun began to warm the air. Birdsong caused her ears to twitch and a fresh breeze combed through her soft red fur. The pain of her losses still echoed somewhere deep inside her, yet she took a deep breath and felt her optimism growing a little. Today might be one of the days where she could more fully embrace her new, nomadic lifestyle.

With things at odd ends of her surrounding territories, Thuringwethil felt the urge to explore. To make sure there were no other threats popping up under her radar. Another pack could be forming somewhere nearby if she didn’t pay attention, a Phoenix wolf could cross the river; Heda had to be prepared. 

Leaving before the sunrise and setting out west, she began to follow a scent of prey that she ultimately loses, but she continues to search for just in case. Their hunt several days ago had been without success and their caches would only keep them fed for so long. Searching for a potential kill before her meeting with Reek would make her feel better about settling the alliance.

Distracted suddenly from the prey, she turns to catch a glimpse of red she finds familiar. Thuringwethil takes a deep breath and finds her tail swishing back and forth behind her once she realizes what she’s about to walk into. Craning her head, shifting through the brush, she gets a better view of Wildfire and a twitch of a smile forms on her features that seem to soften as she takes a few more steps.

"Wildfire," she says—purrs—upon approach.

She didn't find much, though when she discovered a cluster of eggs nestled between some rocks, she quickly devoured them. She was still licking the sticky yolks from her lips when she looked up and saw a dark figure moving toward her. Wildfire tensed, bracing her legs in case she needed to take quick action. Yet as the other wolf moved closer, soon purring her name almost affectionately, the yearling relaxed. Her lips even twitched into a faint smile.

"Thur," she said in reply, since it was either all she could remember or all she could pronounce (or both). "It's nice to see you, bunk mate," Wildfire said honestly. She felt the two of them had made a slightly deeper connection than most first acquaintances, on account of sleeping together. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) "Am I in your neighborhood?" she guessed, just hoping she wasn't infringing.

Thuringwethil watches the wolf soften upon her approach and speak only a portion of her name. Where she would normally be compelled to correct, she doesn't, and instead offers a small smile across her muzzle when she closes the rest of the distance. She didn't expect to see the other wolf so soon, especially in her neck of the woods, but there's an ease in her presence that allows her to shed her ethereal façade.

"It is nice to see you too, though I am a little surprised," she confesses. Her scent is different this time, vague in the way of others and her own, individualized smell fills her nose.

The dark leader nods to the question, however, and she looks through the brush. "My home is not far from here," she informs, a slow blink and turn of her head returns her focus on the smaller canine. "Another scouting mission?"

Thuringwethil did not seem irked by her presence, which gave Wildfire some measure of relief. She did seem surprised and even said as much. Wildfire's head bobbed a bit inanely. Her presence this far northeast must seem a little peculiar to wolves who knew she hailed from the Great Bear Wilderness. If it were somebody else, Wildfire probably would have just given an affirmative when questioned about scouting. But there was a preexisting connection here, in addition to something about the other female's presence that the yearling found grounding.

Do you see what I did there, Mica?

"Kinda, sorta, not really," she confessed, scanning the area just over the other wolf's shoulder before staring respectfully in the region of her dark chest. "I left Moonspear." Wildfire almost mentioned that she'd left in less than ideal circumstances, yet didn't want it to make it sound like she'd done anything wrong. She hadn't, much as Charon would beg to differ. "I'm a gypsy now," she quipped lightly, though there was a slight, quavering edge to the joke.

A twist of her expression reveals confusion as Wildfire speaks, presenting that she no longer belongs to a pack. Hear ears cup forward and she tilts her head just slightly as if she expects more to come forth. Concern laces her motive, but the opportunity doesn’t slip by her even if she doesn’t realize her consideration. The urge to ask remains tucked away, without wanting to push too much for answers.

“What brought you all the way back here?” she decides to ask, knowing her former home had been quite the distance from where they met, a little more north of where they are.

Wildfire paused, head cocked, to consider the answer to that question. She had run blindly at first, paying no attention to what direction she was going. She had slowed down near Swiftcurrent Creek, gathered her bearings, then kept moving northeast from there. There was no rhyme or reason to it, really. She wasn't even trying to put distance between herself and Moonspear (consciously, at least). Wildfire was just wandering on a whim. That was the fun of being a gypsy rover.

"Nothing in particular," she said truthfully, "although I've run into a few familiar and welcome faces, yours included," the yearling added with a smile and a twitch of her silky black tail. "How're things at Sleepy Dragon? Can you see it from here?" she wondered, squinting at their distant surroundings.

The smile she sees on Wildfire’s face causes her hidden one to rise, stretching a muscle she hasn’t felt in a while—not like this. A hint often occurs but it’s hidden, tucked away by the darkness of her fur, and in the right angle and light, can be seen. This, however, she doesn’t hide. Thuringwethil can’t find it in herself to correct the girl’s mistake on her pack’s name and instead rolls her shoulder at the question, turning a little to look back the way she’d originally came from.

“Yes,” she says, back pedaling a little for a better view. “Over there,” she points her nose toward the mountain in the distance, across the expanse of the valley. It’s small from where she stands, a hazy silhouette in the distance. “If you tire of the wandering life, you're welcome with me,” she adds with a swish of her tail and glancing back to the smaller she-wolf to see what she might make of her offer.

Unaware of the privilege of her companion's smile, Wildfire followed Thuringwethil's gaze across the plain, nodding as she fixed her sights upon the distant mountain. She could see why they called it Sleepy Dragon; it did look like a giant, curled beast. She considered it at length, though the other female's words brought Wildfire's gaze back to her face, brows lifting in slight surprise at the generous offer.

They didn't know one another well, yet perhaps Thuringwethil had seen and heard enough during their brief time together. Wildfire's lips twitched at the thought even as she replied, "Thank you for that." She paused, her own tail swishing in almost perfect tandem with the Alpha's. "My aunt lives there, you know. Magpie. And I know Warbone too," she added, realizing she was thinking out loud as she weighed Thuringwethil's unexpected offer.

Thuringwethil doesn’t pressure into Wildfire to make an answer now. She gives her time, even if it goes beyond this meeting. She’d given Warbone time to make his decision and his return had been welcoming. A great asset to her ranks, a great warrior that she could benefit from for a long time, and she’d let the offer linger with the smaller wolf for a while. She couldn’t promise a spot, as she hadn’t been able to with Warbone, but that information goes unspoken and so she nods her head anyway.

“Is she?” she asks, tilting her head a little. There had been no reason for Wildfire to come up when she speaks with Magpie but the information doesn’t surprise her. And Warbone’s travels would put him with other packs and meeting new faces but she doesn’t comment on that. “Magpie is training to be my advisor. I’m sure she’d love to have you close by,” she offers, though the relationship between the two is lost on her. Her own familial relations mean little to her. With her brothers and niece within the confines of the dragon, she looks at them little more than wolves that belong to her, and she to them.

She nodded to confirm, her head tipping at the information about Magpie's aspirations in the ranks. Wildfire smiled faintly, happy for her relative's success. She couldn't say they were close—not like she was with Finley, for instance—but she definitely liked Magpie. The woman had indirectly inspired her to become a small game hunter, a fact which Wildfire suddenly realized Thuringwethil might be interested to know. It would make both of them look good.

"She was part of what inspired me to become a small game hunter," Wildfire said, looking down at her toes as she dug them absently into the rich, earthy soil underfoot. "That's my other skill, along with exploration and diplomacy." Her amber eyes glanced upward, resting briefly on the dark female's face, before returning to her small foot. "Are those skills you value in Sleepy Dragon?" she questioned, squinting thoughtfully. "Hunting and scouting?"

Hearing about Magpie from someone else’s perspective eases some of Thuringwethil’s worries. She’d recently given her the position, even if she wasn’t one hundred percent ready, but something that needed to be done in order to get her acclimated to their ways. And to hear the inspiration she left in her new friend began to life to confidence that perhaps the woman would do well in the position. 

“They are. I’m a scout, too, and we could use a good hunter,” she explains. Lorne has expressed interest in it but she’d yet to see the woman’s full potential. Each of her wolves had their own skills and she gave them time to develop over time while Drageda settles its roots on the mountain.

Thuringwethil assured her that those skills would be considered valuable assets. Wildfire drew in a breath, still considering the offer. She tried to gauge how long it had been since Charon had chased her away from Moonspear. It felt like a lifetime ago, though the ache that split open her chest felt as fresh as ever when Floki's face inevitably drifted through her head. All of a sudden, the idea of settling somewhere else other than Moonspear or Redhawk Caldera—of effectively moving on with her life—felt queerly repugnant. She felt herself shying away from it.

She didn't mentione this to her companion, however. She took another breath, trying to clear her head and her heart and focus on what she wanted to do now. Wildfire's future was a gigantic question mark, which was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, she could keep wandering whimsically, letting her feet take her wherever they may. Perhaps she would even get to see a bit of the world beyond the Teekon Wilds. On the other, she felt like she could see herself shacking up someplace eventually, like Sleepy Dragon or even Phoenix Maplewood.

She had choices and Wildfire was notoriously terrible at making decisions. "I really appreciate your offer, Thur, and I know it won't be extended indefinitely. I'd like to take some time to think about it. If it's gone by the time I make up my mind, well, that's my loss." Her gaze flitted up to the other she-wolf's dark features, trying to gauge her expression, before dropping again. "In the meantime, I wouldn't mind getting to know you better. So you're a scout too? Were you born here in the wilds?"

Wildfire gives her an answer, even if it’s not a decision. She lifts her head to mimic a nod before she relaxes again and, this time, allows herself to sit. Not a common occurrence but as the younger wolf goes on, wanting to know more about herself, she supposes it wouldn’t hurt to make herself a little comfortable. They are far enough away from the river to not worry about any of the Phoenix wolves, but her ears and nose remain high on alert while the rest of her settles into position. 

“I was not. It’s a long ways away where I was born, near the sea,” she says, voice wistful as she recollects the sound of the ocean fading from her memory. She takes a moment to try and pull it back, refreshing her mind what it sounds like, but all she can imagine is the view of muted crashing waves on sandy shores while. “Because I grew up there, I didn’t really travel much. I knew the land over time but coming here and resettling… I had to learn the lay of the land for Sleeping Dragon’s benefit. Though, exploring the land has made me appreciate my new home even more.”

Her companion seated herself, so Wildfire did the same, folding her slim haunches and curling her black tail tightly around her hip so that its tip came to rest on her toes. Her large ears tipped forward as Thuringwethil spoke, answering the yearling's queries in a wistful timbre. Wildfire fancied there was a slight accent there, which thrummed pleasantly in her ears. She was a bit of a sucker for foreign tongues.

"What made you leave home?" the young gypsy wanted to know next. She pictured Thuringwethil traveling down the coast, arriving in the wilds and mapping them before settling on her particular territory. "And what drew you to Sleeping Dragon?" Wildfire added with a small smile, having picked up on the other female's gentle, indirect correction.

It’s not a question that surprises her but it’s one she isn’t sure how to answer when it comes to strangers. Wildfire, however, isn’t exactly a stranger—she offered her a place in her home—but nonetheless it feels a little foreign building up on her tongue. Her dark eyes turn, looking out over the expanse of the valley to her current home. “There were wolves in my clan that didn’t believe I was the one to lead them,” she says. Wolves outside of her home sometimes didn’t understand and she hesitates, swallowing a lump in her throat. “They began turning them against me and I’m still uncertain of who they were or their motive, but my home no longer exists.”

When it came to the mountain, Thuringwethil doesn’t have much to say. It had been where she found Gyda and while they scouted a little, they’d settled upon Sleeping Dragon.

“I left and traveled south. I didn’t know where I was going, really, but I knew I needed to cleanse before I could gather my wolves—the faithful ones—again. When I got here, I found an old companion and together we started Drageda,” she explains, glancing back toward the small, red-colored wolf. “Some of my followers have found me again and their loyalty remains strong.”

Many wolves left their homes for less than happy reasons, Thuringwethil evidently included. Wildfire's lips twisted slightly as she told her story. The yearling herself hadn't been spared the wrenching sensation of being thrust forcefully from her home, twice now. That realization hit her like a blow, making her stomach sink. It made her feel especially empathetic toward her dark companion. She even experienced an urge to touch her nose to the other woman's dark cheek, though she held back, of course. It would probably be a little too familiar of her at this particular junction in their burgeoning friendship.

By piecing together contextual clues, the scout realized that Sleeping Dragon and Drageda must be one and the same. Her head tipped curiously as she wondered about Thuringwethil's faith. Wildfire was not the spiritual sort, though she knew others who were and didn't have anything against religion. In fact, the topic intrigued her and she wondered if the other she-wolf would tell her more. Wildfire knew faith could be such a personal thing.

But first, the young ranger stood and quirked a brow, silently inviting Thuringwethil to walk with her. Her feet were feeling a bit restless. Wildfire began to move, leading in the opposite direction of the Alpha's distant home. As they walked, the grass grew greener and thicker at their ankles, peppered by clusters of purple blossoms. There was a yellow dandelion here and there as well. A few gnarled trees cast long shadows and Wildfire stopped to simply admire all these signs of spring.

Gazing at the loveliness before her, the yearling murmured, "Will you tell me about your beliefs?"

Scenery inspired by this photo. :)

Wildfire doesn’t ask much more and as she focuses in the distance, she doesn’t notice the change in the younger girl until she hears the shuffle of her standing. Her head turns and she watches the quirk of her brow and her own breath slows, locking in her throat until she stands and follows the beckoning movement. She finds her steps in tune with the other, carefully keeping her gait slow with her longer legs. It’s quiet for a moment and she enjoys the comfort it offers, something that often comes easy for the dark leader.

They reach a grassy spot and the flowers on the ground don’t hold her attention. Thuringwethil’s dark eyes sweep upward, letting Wildfire take a step so she is ahead of her and her gaze is hidden, but she focuses on the way she watches the beauty of nature below them. Her own rests easy on the reddish color in her cheeks, ears cupping forward with the question. 

“Our first leader, generations ago, had been able to house the commander’s spirit because the vessel for her soul had been big enough. When children are born, it is split among your litter mates, but when there is only one of the litter—the Fos Goufa—it is intact and able to withstand Heda’s power. There is lore that one wolf had survived the conclave, only to die within a matter of days. It came to light there had been stillborns in his litter and it had torn him apart from the inside,” she tells her. Years ago, before her—before her parents. A tale passed down over the generations with no one alive anymore to speak of the truth. Another had been found that had been overlooked, protected by her parents so she would be subject to the training and grooming of power, only to lead to her death in the conclave, but had taken over easily.

Thuringwethil shakes her head once to clear her gaze from staring at her companion. “I was the only child of my litter and survived my conclave against three others when the commander had died.” She knows she is young to lead, each wolf in her conclave had more than a year and upward to three, but somehow she’d survived against them all. "It seems like so long ago," she murmurs as an after thought, looking somewhere else. The lifespan of the commander is never long, taken one way or another in the dangers of battle.

As Thuringwethil obliged her, Wildfire drifted over toward the shrub, touching her nose to the small leaves before her golden eyes flicked over to her companion, a silent reassurance that she was paying attention. It was a bit difficult for her to follow, especially coming from such a secular upbringing. She didn't have the first clue what a conclave might be, though as the other she-wolf finished, she supposed it sounded like a confrontation of some sort, maybe even a battle.

She had bent down to sniff at the tiny violet blooms when Thuringwethil's remark caused her to lift her head suddenly, brow quirking and lips twitching into an amiable smile. "You don't look much older than me," she observed with a twitch of her silken tail, "and I'm only a year old." She squinted, pausing and reflecting back on her own life in a series of rapid flashbacks. "But I know what you mean," she mumbled.

In the next moment, the young she-wolf suddenly buckled her legs, dropping to lay in the bed of flowers. She rolled gently onto her side, then flipped entirely onto her back, arching her head to look up at where Thuringwethil stood nearby. The angle exposed the long line of her faded throat, even baring the small scars there, but she didn't feel at all endangered. This was only their second encounter, yet Wildfire found she trusted the dark woman, just as Thuringwethil must trust Wildfire, to have offered her a space in her family.

"You should come down here," Wildfire invited, thumping her black tail invitingly.

She knew her age had not benefited her in Seageda but, for the most part, the wolves had been accepting of her role. The spirit had chosen her, after all. She’d won the conclave. She’d killed her opponent and it may have been a stroke of luck on her side, but it had been enough for her to win. That should have been enough. Here, however, she’d seen the way others had looked at her, almost questioning, but most never spoken much beyond that.

“You’re not much younger than I am, you’re right,” she observes, moving slightly when Wildfire does, if only to keep up. “I was eight months old then.”

Thuringwethil swallows the lump that formed in her throat, that she hadn’t realized had been sitting there, but outside of Seageda and those of blood born at the sea, didn’t know but those in Drageda are learning, slowly, and had accepted her rule. Gyda wasn’t much older than she, either, but she’d taken her lead in different ways.

Wildfire moves forward and lowers to the ground in a less than graceful swoop and one side of her muzzle pulls up into half a smile. The offer is presented as the girl gets comfortable and awkwardly, Thuringwethil remains standing and watches, considering the option of letting her guard down. Wildfire’s nose turns, exposing her throat more than she ever would have, but she finds herself dropping to the ground. Her belly touches the cool grass and she shifts into a sphinx-like position several feet away, but with her companion turned upside down, she allows herself to crawl the remaining distance, kick her legs out, and rest on her side—not quite pushing herself all the way to her back.

She wasn't sure Thuringwethil would oblige her this time, since she seemed a little too stately to roll around in the flowers with a gypsy rover. But she came to rest on her hip just a few inches away, much to the yearling's delight. Wildfire rolled over slightly, leaning on an elbow to face her dark-furred companion. She wriggled a little closer, remembering the night they had shared sleeping quarters near Redtail Rise. Her personal space was smaller around this particular wolf than other acquaintances, certainly.

It occurred to her that she missed physical intimacy. She hadn't gotten close to anyone since before Goober's assault. Especially now that she was on her own, she missed that connection. Her current proximity to Thuringwethil served as a sudden, stark reminder and she felt a lump in her throat. Suddenly, she was sorely tempted to take the Alpha up on her earlier offer. I could go home with her, she realized. It was a huge decision, not one to be made lightly, but right at this moment, it seemed deeply comforting. It was not lost on her that she felt so comfortable, in part, because of the wolf's given gender.

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to betray nothing of her inner thoughts even as she tried to clear them out of her mind like clutter off a stoop. "Thur," Wildfire said spontaneously, batting a leg in her direction without actually touching her, "I forget your full name," she admitted, wrinkling her nose sheepishly, hoping the other woman wouldn't take offense.

Wildfire doesn’t seem to have anything else to say on the matter and Thuringwethil allows her head to drop to the soft grasses beneath them. She watches the other squirm around on the ground until her their legs are facing one another, not quite intwined, and she finds herself needing to pull her own a little closer into her body to make room. The other wiggles and Thuringwethil’s tail thumped once on the ground as their distance closed and for a moment, Gyda flashes in the back of her mind in remembrance but it doesn’t last long.

“I wonder if my—” she begins, words catching in her throat. Her family isn’t something she thinks about, not as family, anyway. “When I became commander, they only called me Heda,” she explains, moving her nose forward to gently bite at the air around Wildfire’s paw near her face before she rests back on the ground once more. “Thuringwethil. But you can call me Thur, if you like.”

Heda, Wildfire repeated in her mind, only now realizing she hadn't said much in response to her companion's story. She felt a jab of guilt, which she nearly forgot when Thuringwethil playfully snapped at her flailing paw. For the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spread across the yearling's face, so unfamiliar that it made her cheeks ache a little from disuse. She clipped her own teeth in the space beside the dark wolf's muzzle, the twitch of her ears and the thump of her tail demonstrating her playful intent.

But then Wildfire sobered, reminding herself not to just brush off the other female's story. "Your faith and your background are so much more interesting than mine," she thought aloud. "I trained as a warrior too... but ended up failing miserably at it." She laughed a little dryly. "I like to think I make up for it with my other skills. But anyway... I'm impressed." In fact, that sort of summed up how she felt about Thuringwethil, period. There was just something about her that dazzled Wildfire, in a very understated sort of way.

Thuringwethil brushes off the comment. Interesting isn’t a word she would use, but she’d grown up with no other alternative. She supposed she could have ran from her destiny, but she never did and when she survived where she thought she’d surely die, she’d come out on top. Somehow. And even now, she isn’t sure she’s really all that successful. She glances away, looking through the grass the blocks some of her vision. 

“Anyone can be a warrior,” she comments and thumps her tail on the ground, turning her head on the ground to look at the smaller girl. Unsure of how she’d failed, she doesn’t bring it up, but she keeps it in the back of her mind. Gyda is a small woman but a warrior she’d hesitate to mess with if she could help it and plenty of her own were small. Thuringwethil shifts, eventually falling into the air of silence for a little while until eventually she knew she had to get back and their ways were separate once more.