Swiftcurrent Creek the pointy end

A day had gone by since @October had arrived on the borders of Easthollow in a frantic search for her two young packmates. She had come the furthest of her pack to search, casting a wide net so that if the children had been taken somehow, they could account for all possibility of escape; Rickon commended his friend's actions, and showed his support by accompanying her. They had scoured much of the southern range base the night before, stopping only once to eat and sleep as it became apparent that they needed to. He tried to distract her from the supposed tragedy, asking her instead all about Neverwinter and her packmates, and how she got along there.

That afternoon, as they approached a broad, fast-running creek, their conversation had turned to their true families, and what life had been like before coming to Teekon. "I left 'cause I jus' thought it was time to get out an' make a name for myself. Have a family an' whatnot outside of all the bullies and badmouths back at Castlerock," he was finishing telling her about his adolescence in the Trench, and about how his kinder nature hadn't been well-suited for the wolves typically bred there. He avoided stating the real reason behind his departure, unwilling to bring more tragedy unto their journey. "I bet Argent Creek was ten times prettier than the Trench. Sure did pop out a ten times prettier wolf, I'll tell ya what."

Rickon’s companionship was like a breath of fresh air to her. He was the first wolf in the Wilds to seem genuinely interested in her and her life. October cared about the wolves in Neverwinter, of course, but her relationships there thus far had been strictly formal. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed a friend until Rickon crossed her path. His company made the burden of locating the lost children seem much more bearable.
 
Her ears were tipped forward intently as he spoke of his homelands, the crass nature of the wolves there and his reasons for striking out on his own. “Do you ever miss it, though? Your family?” October missed her parents and her myriad of siblings, most of who still resided in Argent Creek. Rickon’s life in the Trench sounded drastically different than what October’s upbringing had been like. Still, family was family no matter what its nature was.
 
 His remark about her birthplace elicited a short bout singsong laughter from the pale girl; she tried to ignore the stirring of butterflies within her belly. “It really was lovely, Rickon. I miss it a lot sometimes.” But she was thankful to have departed to find her own way. As much as her family meant to her, something had told her that she needed to start a different life for herself. “For the record, I have plenty of older sisters who are much prettier. You could visit the Creek and see for yourself.” She winked at him, flashing him an impish grin while her bright eyes danced over his features.

"I miss my maw," he admitted readily, though tucked his ears sheepishly as he realized how silly it made him feel. "Heh... a real mama's boy, right?" Rickon could laugh now, but he remembered his siblings giving him a hard time about it— well, everyone really. He had been most like her, after all, and she had coddled and facilitated his kindness as a boy, which soon became apparent that it only served to single him out among the more ruthless wolves of Castlerock. "I miss 'em all, really. I mean, even if they were a bunch a rockheads, but... she— my maw— she jus' understood me, an' wanted me to be a good guy no matter what no one said. I believe in that, so I think about her a lot, bein' away from her an' all. I jus' hope she's happy, and that she's okay."

October, forever like a flower, lovely and sweet, said she missed her home. Rickon couldn't imagine returning to the Trench, or missing it as she missed her Creek, but he understood the sentiment. Ones birthplace often held a special place in the heart of the young, and considering that her upbringing hadn't been nearly as harsh, she certainly had more reason to yearn for it than he. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little lucky that she had felt some minor discontent with her nuclear family— enough to strike out on her own, at least. Enough to have eventually met him...

"I'll visit gladly, but don't get yer hopes up 'bout me findin' anythin' prettier." He smiled, feeling incredibly light despite the circumstances. They could very well be hunting vile demons, but Rickon couldn't imagine being any place else than with her in that moment. He felt like he knew who he was and what he was supposed to be doing; even if it was just helping October. The bastard had never felt as important as he did now. "Tell me a story, Trips," he ventured quietly, having shortened her Mystery Master Mentor nickname (or Triple M) to something actually shorter than her real name.

Her friend’s words struck a chord deep within her heart. What if she never saw her parents and siblings again? By setting out on her own, she’d essentially severed her physical ties with her family, potentially forever. The thought made her unexplainably sad for a moment and she quickly shoved it from her mind. She focused on Rickon’s voice instead, smiling gently as he reminisced about his mother. “She sounds lovely,” remarked the Epsilon. “And she did raise a very good man.”
 
Orange eyes flickered fondly to his dark face. “Do you sweet-talk every girl you meet?” she teased, nudging his shoulder playfully as a bright smile tugged at her lips. She hoped not. October was loath to admit it aloud, but his charming words made her feel special in a way she’d never felt before.
 
For the time being, her thoughts drifted away from the darkness surrounding the situation of the missing pups. She felt calm, her anxieties reduced to little more than a dull nagging in the back of her mind. Her companion insisted she tell him a story; October grinned as her tail wagged behind her. She’d never thought herself much of a storyteller, but Rickon instilled a confidence within her that helped her believe she wasn’t all that bad at it.
 
“What kind of story?” she purled, tentative that she’d be able to weave a tale out of thin air for him. For Rickon, though, she’d certainly try.

"No. Not every girl I meet," Rickon drawled behind a lopsided grin, giving her a playful bump with his shoulder. "Jus' the pretty ones, with the pale fur and the super orange-y eyes," he amended, then added belatedly: "oh! An' they gotta be from Argent Creek, too, y'know? And those are just the basic things. She's gotta know about dragons, among other things... So as you can see, I got some pretty high standards! I'm a very picky fella when it comes to sweet-talkin'," he winked. Mostly a bunch of charming lies, but for her, he could almost imagine himself that what he said was true. He was mainly just glad he could distract her for a time from the troubles yawning ahead of them.

Though his eyes were often on her, he never forgot to surreptitiously scan around them, wanting to remain observant without reminding October too deeply of what they were doing. The longer he could keep her out of the dire reality that was their situation, the better.

She asked what kind of story he wanted to hear, and he glanced upward in thought. "Hm," he noised pensively. "Well... I like hearin' 'bout damsels in distress," the Hollow wolf pressed, unwittingly choosing a topic that most closely correlated to his desire to be some sort of hero. "Got any heroic tales up there?" he asked, indicating her head with a soft, nip to the one of her ears perked closest to him.

“Sure,” she drawled, quirking a brow at him as she cast him a doubtful albeit playful glance. Rickon was a charming, endearing fellow; October didn’t need to question his ability to make the women swoon at his paws if he so desired. She said nothing more on the matter, offering her companion a teasing nip to the dark hairs of his shoulder.
 
Somewhere in the shadowed recesses of her mind a quiet voice reminded October about the dismal task she’d set out for. The thought caused her cheerful expression to falter momentarily, orange eyes darkening as she felt a dreadful lurch in the pit of her belly.
 
But Rickon was quick to encourage her storytelling, something October was exponentially grateful for in that moment. They could still search for the children while she shared a story. Surely they wouldn’t miss a scent or sighting if either presented itself.
 
She was quiet for a moment as she attempted to conjure up something, anything that might entertain her friend. Then, she looked toward him with an expression of good-humored curiosity. “What about a hero of the comedic sort?” she asked, grinning as her mind began stirring with ideas.

"Oh sure, sure! Comedy's my kinda story," he encouraged her, tail wagging and mind racing for what she might possibly begin saying— though it was impossible to guess. He glanced over his shoulder, scanned in front them and then glanced over her shoulder, but eventually his gaze fell on her, where it stuck in anticipation. Her expressive eyes gleamed in thought, glowing brighter as he imagined he could see the words of a tale spinning together between her ears; her very soft... enticing.. ears... that he just.. wanted to.. maybe... nibb—

Olive eyes, which had unwittingly drifted to her ears, snapped back to her face and he smiled, figuring he had looked pretty dumblost for a second.

So concentrated was she on conjuring up a decent story for her companion that she never noticed his staring (not that she would have minded much, anyways.) She lacked faith in her ability to woo him with any sort of amazing tale, but hopefully Rickon wouldn’t judge her too harshly for her attempt. “Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a king who had a daughter. She was so lovely that word of her beauty spread across the lands like wildfire, and her name was… Sonnet.” She felt silly using the name of one of her older sisters, but coming up with an identity for her make-believe princess didn’t seem as difficult if she had real titles to use.
 
“Sonnet was so melancholy; she never laughed, and her father, the king, was growing tired of her gloomy manner. He made it known to everyone that anyone who could make the princess laugh could marry her and have half of the kingdom.”
 
October paused then, glancing toward Rickon to gauge his reaction to her tale so far while a nervous expression creased her pale façade. She bit her lip apprehensively.

It was easier not to think about October when she was talking; Rickon had something else to concentrate on. Putting images to her words was a welcome distraction, and even though his eyes wandered briefly to scan for missing children, his ears never ceased flicking towards her.

Though the subject of her tale was named Sonnet, he couldn't picture a princess that didn't appear to be October. Sonnet was a figure of white, caped with soot along her spine, and a crowning wreath of flowers and sunrays that marked her as the king's daughter. It was harder to imagine that she was a sad creature— because this meant thinking of October with a perpetual frown on her face— but he found himself enraptured. Wondering. Who or what could possibly make her smile?

Rickon felt a pause in the story, and withdrew from his pensive thoughts to turn a pale gaze upon her. He smiled, "how many fellas showed up? I bet the line of 'em wrapped 'round the kingdom twice, since she was so beautiful an' all."

She smiled, “That’s right. Lovers flocked from north and from south, from east and from west to try their luck, but for all their cleverness and all the tricks and pranks they played, the princess was just as serious and immoveable as ever.”
 
Although her gaze roved the terrain before her, October’s thoughts were focused entirely on weaving her tale. She feared losing her focus and sounding silly, or worse, disappointing Rickon with a lackluster story. Hopefully her companion still had the search for the missing children on his mind, because in that moment October certainly didn’t.
 
“Not far from where the king dwelled lived a man with three sons. Two of them were handsome and incredibly charming, and they believed one of them would be able to crack a smile from Sonnet. Still, despite all their wit and appeal, neither of them could woo the princess.
 
“The youngest of the three, Hans, thought he might have a try. His older brothers laughed and mocked him, and his father would not give him leave to go. If neither of them had had any luck, how possibly could he? But Hans begged and pleaded until his father and brothers could stand it no more; they sent him to see the king, if only to not have to listen to his whimpering for a while.
 
“So Hans visited the princess and instead of trying to entice and humor her, he spoke to her as if she were his best friend. He told her tales of the mischief he and his brothers got into as children, and the clever ways he out-pranked them since he was smaller and had no other way to stand up for himself. Some time passed but soon enough Sonnet’s eyes were aglow with amusement and her sweet laughter filled the air.
 
“Hans and the princess fell madly in love. He had lifted her spirits with his truthfulness and vulnerability, things no one else had ever shown her before. They lived happily ever after in their half of the kingdom.”

October needn't worry about Rickon's reaction, because not only was he startlingly easy to please, he was beyond fascinated with her and every word that came from her mouth. Of course he enjoyed chatting and listening on principle, but there was something special about the snow-drift girl with the sunblazing eyes— something that made normal things seem like a tower of joy.

Her woven tale gave him vivid images, all culminating to the sweet telling of an underappreciated boy, Hans, who was secretly the only one in an entire kingdom with the right kind of charisma needed woo the emotionally guarded princess. He wondered if October had meant to or not, but he couldn't help but feel a small kinship with the story's lucky protagonist. Though he certainly wasn't built like pushover, and didn't often seem clever at any speed, he'd certainly been the underdog the Trenches— the abused and under-valued. Wouldn't it be something if he could charm the most beautiful princess there was?

He looked at October, brows lifted and mouth curved broadly as he smiled. "Wow," he breathed. "Happily ever after, huh?" Rickon looked wistful, as if he saw something in the shy there that needed to be unearthed in the soft creases of her face. "I could use a ending like that."

As her tale concluded, she felt the weight of the pups’ disappearance descend upon her once again. She felt different, though, as if humoring her dark-furred companion had changed her perspective on the otherwise dismal task of locating the missing children.  
 
She met his gaze as he looked towards her; his pale eyes stirred an emotion deep within her that caused her heart to beat faster, but she experienced no fear while in his presence. A bright smile was offered as his wishful words filled the brief silence between them. “I think we all could,” she replied with a jovial wave of her tail behind her hips.
 
To October, the concept of happily ever after seemed vague and somewhat unattainable. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked him, genuine curiosity lacing her soft voice. She hadn’t, but she had witnessed the timeless love that her parents shared. Orleans and Cadences’ mateship had set the bar high for her. She didn’t know if she’d ever find anything to rival it.

Rickon could almost forget her current strife under the illusion that she was perfect in all ways, and therefore incapable of experiencing anything but a happily ever after in her life. He, on the other hand, assumed that he'd always be a pushover and a lackey; a hunter of affection and praise without ever receiving it. This made him think sometimes that he should just head back to the Trench. Nymeria would forgive him for leaving. She would understand how sorry he was, and how afraid he had been of what he had done on accident. His mother would forgive him for being a coward...

Have you ever been in love?

His gaze refocused, a hard lump forming in his throat as he looked at her, her face entirely too kind, too beseeching. He looked away. "I-I.. I dunno," he confessed, feeling a heat rise in his face and unable to know how lucky he was to have dark fur shielding his blush. "I thought I loved this one belle back home, but she never paid me any mind, an' nothin' I did ever seemed to impress her..." he trailed off, seeming to remember something unpleasant. "My mama said that's not love."

He cleared his throat, and started to speak faster than normal, clearly anxious about something. "Then I met this other girl, who's got my heart all up in'a twist like never before, but I dunno what to make of that, or even what a girl who likes ya back is s'pose to act like, so I jus' kinda feel like a giant loser every second I'm around her, tryin'a figure out if she likes me or if'n I even have a chance or whatever, an' I really just wish my maw was here to tell me what I'm doin'." He shut his trap suddenly, realizing he was talking about his mother again. Idiot!

His reaction to her question caused October to almost regret asking him. Snowy brows furrowed lightly with concern and she gazed toward him even as he looked away. Concern for her friend panged her heart; she desperately hoped that she hadn’t pried too deeply and stirred up unpleasant memories for Rickon.
 
But then he spoke of an experience he had once believed to be love, only to realize later that it had been far from it. October shook her head. “I think your mom was right about that one,” she assured him. “And that belle, whoever she is, has no idea what she missed out on.” An encouraging nudge to his dark-furred shoulder was offered.
 
It seemed that wasn’t the end of Rickon’s experience with affection, though. October’s ears perked interestedly as he spoke of another gal who had him aflutter. The female felt her stomach twist sickeningly, although she couldn’t fathom why. “You are not a loser,” she growled at him, grinning brightly through the bizarre disappointment and bitterness she experienced at the idea of him having feelings for someone.
 
“I can’t speak from experience, but I think that when somebody feels that way about you, you shouldn’t have to second-guess it. I think… you should just be yourself around her and if it’s meant to be, it will.” Because Rickon was a great guy, and October couldn’t stand the idea of him not being true to himself for the sake of someone who probably didn’t deserve him, anyways.

You can archive here or post once more. I think this is good place :)

October's concern for him could be both seen and felt. It radiated from her like a mushroom cloud, and he was enveloped in the warmth of it, feeling the cold emotions that had sprung up in memory being swept away by the blast. She assured him that he wasn't a loser, and for a second he thought that she might've understood he was talking about her. For a second he thought she might tell him that she felt the same. She smiled, lifting his hopes, and then dashed them just as quickly by saying she didn't know the feeling. That he wouldn't feel confused at all, and that they'd both just know.

Rickon swallowed the giddy lump in his throat, sending it back to his unsettled gut as he smiled wanly and nodded. "I guess you're right, Trips," he said, nervously laughing away the unsettled butterflies in his stomach. "I promise I won't be different for nobody. I'll jus' be m'self an' see where it gets me." Eager to escape this topic, he gave her a nudge and surged forward at a trot, inviting her into a slow gallop as they went along on their search -- babbling about something or other to distract them both from the subject of love and not finding her pack's missing children.