Cedar Sweep I dropped the berry in a stream

The rise of midafternoon did nothing to quell the chill bite in the air as Saena crossed the expanse of rugged wilderness between King Elk Forest and the cedar wood she could see across the way. Her legs begged for the movement of outriding, and yet she couldn't bear to go far from home. Casmir and Laika would return any day now, she told herself resolutely, and her babies would be in tow. She didn't want to be away from the Creek when they finally returned.

Yet as the days went by and the weather grew colder and the wind sharper, Saena began to have her doubts. Doubts that Casmir and Laika would return at all. Perhaps that bastard's pack had ripped them apart and left them for dead as summer turned to autumn. Her children might not be on their way back home at all. In these dark thoughts, Saena often entertained the notion of taking off to save them herself, and yet she warred on the inside. She had to trust Spring. She needed her babies. She didn't want to die at Reek's disgusting fangs. But she needed her babies.

So she waited, restlessly, for word to return in one form or another, but she needed out, and so she wandered. As she passed through the edge of the Cedar Sweep, her nose was assaulted with the crisp balsamic scent of the trees, but beneath the cloying freshness of that, there was the scent of many wolves. The scent from the glands on their paws, the scent of stray fur, but not the strong and distinct scent of piss, which would've alerted Saena to a claim. Nevertheless, as she pressed deeper into the woods, she became more alert and pricked her ears upright to listen for any sounds of approach.

is it cool if this is forward dated a bit? also i think i read it right that she's close to the borders but not there?

The ritual still haunted Ragna. She had been forewarned that the babes Eshamun carried would not live, but seeing and knowing were two different things. Unwarned, the shock of it would have driven her away from the Malkaria. Knowing the justification lessened the shock, but only just. Troubled, she left the copse. Not for good, but until she could clear her mind and conscience. Only one thing was certain: Ragna would not leave the Malkaria. In her wandering she heard of far more gruesome practices. In comparison, what she had witnessed was almost kind. And the women of the Malkaria took no joy in it.

These thoughts soothed Ragna's troubled mind, and soon they would silence the voice that spoke only of the ritual's inherent wrongness. The thin trees of the copse began to fill out into the cedars of Cedar Sweep. Ragna passed the borders and the cedars took over entirely, and that was when she noticed the woman. They moved in opposite directions, Ragna away, the woman towards the Copse.

When it became clear that the stranger was staying her course, Ragna spoke. You draw near to the borders of the Malkaria, she called out.

She was actually toward the southern side of the Sweep, but since both Malkaria and Royal Fire Court border it, she could smell wolves on the wind! Sorry it wasn't very clear. I'm definitely cool with playing along with her being closer, though!

For a while, the only sounds she detected were the ones she made, and the natural ambience of any forest. This one was heavy with the trunks of the cedars, and their boughs hung loftily overhead, bulky clusters of needles that drooped toward the ground but could never hope to reach it. Cedars were tall, dwarfing some of the smaller conifers that dotted the woodlands, and deserved respect. They were nothing compared to the sequoias of the coast, but Saena gave them a wide berth regardless. Trees could hardly harm her, but she need not encroach upon them, either.

There was the occasional chitter of a squirrel or bird, the rap-tap-tap of a woodpecker, and then footsteps. The blanket of curling orange needles muffled the sound greatly, but the alert wolf was able to pick it up mere moments before Ragna entered her line of sight. She was impossible to miss in the forest with her pure white coat, yet there was a dusting of brown at least upon her ears to set her apart from another white wolf. Saena stiffened and rose her head, but only enough to seem confident yet neutral and not nervous or suspicious. A nervous wolf was one she would not trust, and so she sought to dispel any illusions on the other wolf's end.

You draw near to the borders of the Malkaria, said Ragna, and Saena's brows drew slightly upward. She'd wandered further than intended, lost herself in the music of the forest. So unlike her, and yet not. "That was not my intent," she assured Ragna, "I have no reason to betray Arunik'ra's trust by disrespecting her claim." She knew nothing of Eshamun or grotesque rituals of baby sacrifice or who else might live in these woods, else she may have turned and left immediately. She knew only Arunik'ra, assumed Arunik'ra was the band's leader, and Arunik'ra had been kind and welcoming, not the sort of wolf that she thought would defend her borders aggressively. Not like Saena herself, she reflected.

Oops! Sorry B(

The stealth the padded carpet of fallen needles offered soothed Ragna. Here, beneath the cedars, was where she spent much of her time hunting. Not only for the aforementioned stealth boost, but also for its proximity to the copse. It was this same stealth that veiled her pawfalls until she was close to the woman. The stranger bore some similarity to her, but not in any familial sense. In frame they were near identical, but where the woman was made of sharp angles, Ragna was made of soft curves that spoke of strong musculature beneath. Their fur was ivory, their eyes blue, their ears marked with brown. The woman deviated in her unusual markings; her eyes were shadowed with the same brown of her ears. Was it possible that this was an older sister, like Gyda?

Suspicion only grew when she learned that this was another wolf that knew of Arunik'ra. Like with the firebolt, the simple utterance of the Res Drunak's name instantly bought some trust. Ragna held Arunik'ra in high regard, and any who spoke of their respect for her had to be okay. Peace, she bid. I merely thought to warn you. Ragna was not an aggressor, but would give intruders no quarter. It was her duty to keep the land and wolves of the Malkaria safe, and in this she would brook no argument. Finally her curiosity won out, and she blurted, are you a daughter of Ragnar?

"Thanks," said Saena politely. While she didn't think she needed to be warned, as her nose worked as well as any wolf's and she was a hunter to boot, it was nice getting a verbal warning than an aggressive physical one. She bore a few scars from her past altercations and few of them were fairly won, most of them at the hands of outrageously aggressive wolves or wildlife. She was always happy to see a more reasonable creature, and her respect for Ragna, while small for now, was instantaneous.

She thought to ask about Arunik'ra, but was thrown for a loop when Ragna shot her a question first. Who? she thought, wracking her brain for any memory of a wolf named Ragnar. There was none, but the name was vaguely familiar nonetheless, as if she'd heard it before but couldn't identify it.

"I don't think so," said Saena pensively. "I, ah, don't really remember my parents. I was orphaned young." The story wasn't quite like that, but Saena was already filling in the gaps in her memory with false recollections and it was the closest she could imagine. She remembered Lasher but inherently knew that Lasher was not her father, though he had helped care for her like one. Who her parents really were eluded her still.

"That name is kind of familiar, though," Saena went on, "so who knows. Maybe I just don't remember him."

Ragna nodded firmly, a non-verbal you're welcome. While she didn't think that the ivory woman would knowingly trespass, or even get too close, Ragna would have wanted to be warned so that she could alter her course if she so wished.

She was disappointed to learn that the woman was unfamiliar with even Ragnar's name. No, not unfamiliar, but forgotten. Immediately Ragna released the hope that she had found another lost sister, a hope she hadn't been clinging to, but was still reluctant to let go of. There was still the chance that they were related, but if this woman had forgotten her family, Ragna did not want to try. Not after her encounter and subsequent disagreement (to put it mildly) with Kjallar.

My sympathies, she said softly. Ragna was empathetic, for though she had memories to cling to of her mother, they had been apart for so long that Ragna was unsure of which were real and which were the inventions of her own mind. What is your name? Ragna asked. If the name was of Nordic descend, or even Nordic influence, there was still a chance. As an afterthought she provided her own name. I am Ragna.

While Ragna was no doubt a sentry for the Malkaria pack based on her words and actions, Saena let formalities fall by dropping her rump to the ground. She was going nowhere fast, had no destination in mind, and no reason to feel rushed or unwelcome by remaining standing. Feeling more comfortable already, she dipped her nose earthward in response to Ragna's compassion.

"It's Saena," she replied, and once more had to resist the urge to tack on titles she no longer sported. She didn't think she would ever truly get over that. Thankfully, she was distracted by the white wolf's own name, which bore such resemblance to the one she'd spoken earlier that for a moment, Saena thought they were one and the same. She frowned, but then understood the difference, a curling of the tongue on the former and a smooth soft end to the latter. No less curious, Saena let her ears pan out in neutral interest and asked, "is it just a coincidence your name is almost the same as that other one you said?"

The familial connection was assumed, but Saena dared not make an ass of herself by verbally saying it in case she learned that she was wrong. Better to just ask.

short short

When Saena sat, Ragna felt as though she, too, could relax. Though generally uptight, Ragna did not want to seem this way, and was pleased for the chance to sit and talk. Saena said the woman, and Ragna nodded in approval. It was a pretty name, a soft name lacking in the hard consonants of her own. Your name is pretty, she said stiffly, realizing that it might be a weird compliment only halfway through. Embarrassed, Ragna dipped her muzzle down to look at her paws.

Thankfully, the subject changed from Saena's name to Ragna's. I am named for my father, she said proudly. While the late Ragnar had many children, she must have been the only one to be named after him. There was nothing else to say on the matter, though. Ragna lacked in conversation skills, and quickly fell silent, staring once again at her feet as she picked at the ground with a claw.

Ragna's compliment was unexpected, but not unappreciate. Saena's smile was nearly shy as she offered a quiet, "thank you," and she couldn't help but to look away for a moment, much like Ragna did. They were perfect strangers, after all, and Saena was an abrasive sort of wolf that others either liked or hated. Lately she felt like a specter that others whispered about. It felt good to feel like someone normal, and Ragna's simple compliment had achieved that.

Ragna confirmed her connection to the aforementioned Ragnar with her next statement. The name still smacked of familiarity, but she couldn't place a paw upon it. Instead, she wondered, "what's your father like?" After all, Ragna certainly had her reasons for asking about Ragnar, which begged the question of why. Something to ask later, she thought.

Though she often noticed these things, like a wolf with beautiful eyes or well-kept fur, Ragna was not the sort to point them out. Every so often she blurted these observations, like she just had, but that was entirely not of her own accord. But Saena seemed pleased, and Ragna was happy to have pleased her, so she merely murmured a shy s-sure and let it stay at that.

Ragna did not mourn her father, merely the chance to have known him. She had learned much of Ragnar's history while living in Odinn's Cove, the place of his brith. He had become a character in a story to her, one that she looked up to and enjoyed hearing about. That she was related to this character only deepened her connection to him. So she said without grief, dead, mostly. That this might evoke anything other than a conversational reaction never dawned on her.

"Oh," mumbled Saena when Ragna indicated that her father was no longer alive. She didn't know if her own parents were alive or not, but supposing there was some relation between her and this Ragnar or some other hidden memory she couldn't recall, the news struck a chord. Her heart strings twanged uncomfortably. She was reminded of grief of her own, and unbidden the thought of her sister crept into her head. She missed Junior fiercely, but she'd been dead a long time, killed at the jaws of some creature or another.

"Walk with me?" she offered, as if Ragna didn't have better things to do. The both of them surely did, but Saena was escaping her demons and Ragna, well, perhaps Ragna needed solace from hers. "Did you know him well, before he died?" she wondered next, hopeful that she was bringing up good memories rather than bad ones. The question wasn't wholly selfless; if there was any possibility that she was related to this Ragnar, she wanted to know something of him.

Ragna did as Saena bid, for there was something about the woman that called to her. And so they walked, their footfalls quiet in the wood. I never knew him. He died before my birth. I do not grieve him, she added. She didn't want to make the other feel badly for her question. Once Raga had grieved, when she became old enough to realize what she had missed out on. But was that grief for him, her father? Or was it for herself and the things she could have had? She never looked deep enough to find out, and one day the feeling faded and she thought no more on these things. Something of it must have stayed, for from then on her love of her family, far-flung though it was, grew.

Ragna thought it less and less likely that Saena was related to her, but did not entirely lose that small inkling. Perhaps it would be good for Saena, who seemed to have little family for herself. Though, she seemed old enough to be a mother. Have you any family?

For a short time, Saena trained her ears on the muffled sounds of their footfalls, but then Ragna's voice brought her head back up and around. She scoured the other wolf's face for any sign that she might have been hiding her grief, but she was met with only indifference. While it was likely Saena merely missed the subtler signs, owing to her own lack of perception, Ragna seemed to speak truly. "I grieve for mine," she shared, "but I have no memory of them." She, like the Malkaria wolf, mourned for what might have been.

Saena led them around a particularly stately cedar as Ragna posed her next question, one that caught the white-haired woman off guard. "Good eye," she complimented. She didn't know how Ragna guessed it, but there must have been something about her that gave it away. "I have two daughters," she shared, "but they are missing, and I am left to trust in the efforts of others to find them." Something about her tone suggested that that would only be true for a little while longer.

Unlike Ragna, Saena still grieved her losses. The shieldmaiden did not fault the woman for this. At least Ragna still had her memories of her mother whose name and face she knew well. Saena did not even have that. Just an emptiness where she knew something should have been- or so Ragna understood. She was reminded of Jorunn, the very thought of him still tasted bitter, but now there was an undercurrent of sympathy.

Ragna already felt pity for Saena, who seemed more upset about her late parents. It seemed unfair that she also had lost her children as well, and Ragna's heart ached for the woman. She wanted to help, though she would not stray far from the borders of the copse for a woman she had only just met. Will you tell me about them? If our paths cross, I could help, she offered. She didn't know where Saena was from or what help she had already enlisted in finding her daughters, but Ragna saw no harm in offering. Are you searching for them now? If she had lost anyone, Ragna would want to seek them out herself, not just trust others to do so for her.

For a long moment, Saena didn't know what to say. She wanted to spread word of her daughters to every corner of the known world, anything to facilitate their safe return to her, but she also knew that could invite unsavoury attention. She, for one, could use a little less attention in her life. Ragna didn't seem like the type of wolf to betray her to hooligans and pedophiles, however, and so with a soft whistle of breath, she quietly shared, "Indra and Laurel.

Their names," she amended. "One is copper-furred, one is... sort of pinkish. Pink nose," as if that would help much. It was a pretty unique feature as far as Saena knew. Maybe even one-of-a-kind, like Saena's russet spots. "They were stolen from their home by my ex-mate, who found another woman when I was still pregnant. My pack... my pack failed to protect them while I was too sick to help." Perhaps that would be her explanation for the rest of her life. She'd been sick. She hadn't willingly disappeared.

"Now members of my pack are out looking for them, and I need to trust them," she finished, but there was a sullen twist to her lips as she added, "but I know exactly where he took them, and I won't be sitting idle much longer."

Ragna realized with sudden, terrible clarity that Saena's pain must have been similar to what Ragna's own mother felt. She had disappeared when she was no more than three months old, and though Saena had an idea of where her daughters were, Thistle Cloud could not have known that Ragna had been found and cared for by another. It filled her with an uneasy regret and rekindled her desire to help. Pretty names, she commented, then listened carefully to Saena's description.

She was troubled to hear that they had been stolen away. Kidnapping had yet to become a reality in Ragna's life, something she heard of but never knew of closely. If such a thing was commonplace in these wilds, though, she was glad to know if it. Though the Malkaria had no sons nor daughters, it was only a matter of time. As with their parents, Ragna would be a stalwart defender. No child of Molech would be stolen under her watch.

That's terrible, she said firmly. I hope you find them soon. I'm sure they miss you. There was little other comfort Ragna could offer but her hopes and well wishes.

It was terrible, Saena agreed with a slow nod. She had so many regrets, and while her disappearance was beyond her conscious control, she would have given anything in the world to erase it. But that wasn't possible, and being grounded in reality for once did nothing for her mood on the subject. "Thanks," she offered quietly as she steered them toward a stream that trickled through the woods. Its source, unbeknownst to Saena, was a grand waterfall in the mountains where moonbows formed.

"Arunik'ra implied that her band came from somewhere else," she recalled, eager to change the subject yet again, if only because thoughts of her daughters made her recklessly want to depart right that instant to find them. "Were you with them originally?" Somehow, Saena had her doubts. Arunik'ra had a specific way of speaking that Ragna didn't seem to share, but there was the possibility that their origins simply made them sound different. She was interested either way. With no way of knowing Malkaria's dark secrets, Saena thought them an intriguing and exotic tribe, and Arunik'ra a kind and welcoming wolf. Any under her lead was surely a good wolf, in theory.

Ragna let Saena lead them. It seemed a pittance, but if Ragna could give the woman some semblance of control over her life, then why shouldn't she? She cared little for where they wandered, enjoying the company over the familiar sights. Ragna nodded, wordlessly acknowledging Saena's gratitude. If kind words and a short walk was all it Ragna could do to comfort this woman, then so be it.

The shieldmaiden shook her head in answer. I was born in these wilds, she said. On the coast. Stavanger's Bay. She had never asked about the origins of the red wolves of Molech. She imagined somewhere sun baked, certainly, perhaps shimmering sand shores farther down the coast. I do not know from where they hail. The mystery of the Malkaria is part of what attracted her so. They were strange, beautiful creatures whose grace Ragna could only hope for.

Saena's mouth formed a soft O when Ragna revealed that her origin was not with the Malkaria wolves, but quite a bit closer instead. She didn't know the names of any of the territories along the coast, with the exception of Donnelaith, but the name Ragna uttered was familiar. "I remember that pack," she shared. Only the name, though. Saena could recall nothing about its leadership or its ways, and the fact that they'd saved Junior's life in her distant past was hidden in the fog of her mind.

"I was born at Blacktail Deer Plateau," she revealed, "and I remember your pack. It was a good relationship, I think." But both of them were gone now. She'd surely have encountered Stavanger Bay on her way to the hinterlands the first time, with the remains of the Phoenix Maplewood pack, and Blacktail had moved to a new location. Unbeknownst to her, it had changed drastically from the family-oriented group she'd been a part of. "What made you join the Malkaria?" wondered Saena.

Ragna was impressed by Saena's memory and her age. Though in truth Saena was only a year older than her, she seemed much more knowledgable. Pleased though she was, though, Ragna did not respond. She could not think of anything worth while, and merely smiled gratefully. Ragna had yet to meet many children of the wilds, but she knew they must have been out there, despite the number of wolves that immigrated to the land.

Her companion asked for her reason for joining the Malkaria. A fair question, considering their stalwart beliefs and their exotic origin. They are accepting, she said sheepishly. They were the only ones who had ever given her a name for how she felt, neither male nor female, but both and neither at once.

Saena expected Ragna's reason to be something easily predicted by a leader: she needed a home. Their ideals aligned with her ideals. They were in need of the skills she offered. These were all valid reasons to join up with a given pack, thought Saena, and these were the sort of response she was expecting to receive. Instead, Ragna merely claimed that the Malkaria were accepting, leaving Saena to wonder just what that was supposed to mean.

"Are other packs not accepting?" she wondered. Silver Creek was not an accepting pack, at least not under her rule, but with Spring's softer form of leadership, she would no longer claim that it was exclusive and picky. And Silver Creek was an outlier. In Saena's experience, most packs were accepting of their members, so that being a reason for joining went over her head, as did the possibility that Ragna had something special about her that required accepting in the first place.

Indeed she had other reasons to join the Malkaria, but she voiced the chiefest among them. Their god and their ideals did not clash harshly with her, else she might have left. Though the less palatable of their traditions still haunted her, she could look beyond the strangeness of their culture and see the good of it. And, after all, good is not always kind.

But it was their openness to her most damning idiosyncrasy that truly won them the shield maiden's heart. She did not often speak the truth of her heart in plain terms for fear of being misunderstood, but the Malkaria had emboldened her. Still, would she trust Saena with this? The other had shown trust in Ragna when it came to her wayward daughters, Ragna thought she could do the same. I am man and woman both, something the Malkaria accept, she said, nonchalant despite her nervousness.

"Oh," said Saena in a tone coloured with surprise, and maybe a hint of disbelief. She didn't mean to judge, but as she swept her eyes once more over Ragna's frame, she couldn't understand. Ragna looked like a female and sounded like a female, for the most part. Her accent was different, thicker, distinct... but not masculine. She even smelled like a female.

"How does that work?" she wondered, hoping it wouldn't come off too impolitely. Saena's father had been into males, but she could remember neither Peregrine nor his sexual preferences. Her contact with wolves who didn't follow the "natural order", as it were, was limited. She was interested, of course, but also ignorant, and couldn't guess whether that would turn Ragna off her or make her want to continue talking about it.

She flipped her ears back and tried to look sheepish as she added, "I've just never heard of that before."

The tone with which Saena first responded had Ragna's ears pinning back and her head ducking in embarrassment. She braced for the treatment she usually got in response to this less understood aspect of her identity. She was accustomed to being met with incredulity, shame, or violent denial. So she was not surprised to hear the doubt in Saena's voice, though she was disappointed.

Yet Saena proved to be more willing to understand than most, and Ragna took no issue with attempting to explain. It was a difficult thing to put to words, but she made an attempt. Though this body is that of a woman, but in my heart I am both, she said vaguely. Such a thing was so intangible that Ragna, who was never talented with words, struggled greatly.

"Huh," said Saena wonderingly. "I didn't know that was possible." What else was there to say on the subject? The woman wondered what that must feel like, much the same way she sometimes wondered what it must be like to be a male and have a male's equipment (don't all women?), but to actually feel like a man in a woman's body sometimes seemed... well, incomprehensible. She supposed if it was her she'd have given up the feeling, or tried to. She couldn't grow a dick even if she wanted to.

But Ragna wasn't her, and Saena had nothing but praise for the manwomanwhatevershewas, so she smiled. "I'm glad you found acceptance with them," offered Saena. She didn't think her pack would have been less accepting, but she could imagine there were those who found it weird, maybe even malign. Who knew? "Is it like... sometimes you feel like a woman, and sometimes you feel like a man, or you always feel like both at the same time?" Her expression was sheepish as she asked it, and she hoped to convey that Ragna didn't need to answer if she didn't want to, but she was curious and hoped to understand, in case she ever encountered another wolf like Ragna.