Blackfoot Forest lance of the falling moon

they did not speak.
they did not speak as 'cross the great jagged mountains they travelled, with the scent of their pagi's blood still rife upon them. garait had been scorched, burned; his limp attested to the agony of each step, but he was silent. pressing onward alongside @Venextos. they had no need for words; their grief was deep and shared between the two of them. when he met his brother's eyes, he saw reflected there the morass of emotions that threatened to drag him down.
they did not speak, even as the dark expanse of a forest loomed below them. garait paused, only the twitch of his lip evincing his pain. snow began to fall, and he paused in the cascade of white to scent the air, eyes narrowed. here were wolves; too many; strangers. allowing himself a moment's respite, garait gazed down at the dark emerald of the clutched trees, and then turned his attention to venextos.
he had slowed too much to lead them; he would defer to the sparser brother, though he knew venextos was no less powerful than he. this had been proven several times over during their flight from the spilled blood of their fatherland; he trusted the attalus implicitly, and knew the same was thought of him.
garait laved his tongue gingerly across his bare-scorched shoulder in a single gesture, dark ears cupped to listen to venextos' footfalls. where his brother went, he would follow.

venextos traveled alongside his brother, the silence between them heavy and filled with sorrow. conversation would do little to dull the scythe of grief -- it would simply fill the air with a laughable and tenuous irony.

it could have been them -- but it wasn't.

in a way he wish it had been - not his brother, but at least him. he was still numbed by the shock of their loss, but not enough for a slow trickle of hate to fill him. hate that their lives had been stolen from them. hate that their kin and their future had been killed and squandered.

as garait paused venextos assessed his brother's state, concern furrowing his brow. the two were in poor condition, both parties wounded and limping -- venextos feared it would not be long before someone was alerted of their presence. and what if they were pursued? he saw no viable recourse that ended in their success and their foe's demise.

gently he brought his muzzle a hairs-breadth from garait's sore body in a show of encouragement, his gaze falling on the rustling forest where the scent of packlands weakly lingered in the cold wind. he walked slowly ahead, mindful of his pace in light of his brother's wounds. without his brother he would be lost -- he looked to him for everything. disconsolate as the duo were, the reality of their situation was slowly closing around them. they would need to decide what to do come nightfall, yet venextos could not find the strength to unclench his taut throat and speak.

acutely aware of the turmoil within his brother, garait followed slowly. their attunement to one another was something oft only shared by twins — it had always been a source of amusement for their father and mother. garait pulled swiftly his mind from that subject; he did not want to remember the last way he had seen the two, and scented the air again. 
presently he brushed venextos' shoulder with his muzzle and paused to lick his wounds. no words came to garait, but his eyes had narrowed at the shadows of the forest and he was innately suspicious of so beautiful a locale. where were the guardians of the wood? like venextos, the gaul had considered along the way the problems inherent with straying into a new land, but truly, what choice did they have?
garait gazed up at the interlaced canopy and paused, awaiting his brother's silent analyis of the treeline before he carefully moved into the darkness. their shared intuition was what had saved the pair several times over, even unto the last time they had seen their family together and well.

his gaze followed his brother's, his brow furrowed as he scrutinized the vale and rise of timber ahead of them. from this vantage the many footpaths that curled through the rift of fog and trees were visible; from their shape and width he assumed some were deerpaths -- others, the male felt possibly carried the patter of many pack wolves. 

he would scout ahead; it was better for garait to extend as little energy as possible. as they drew closer the male motioned to a soft bough of snow covered thicket - here garait could salvage some respite and tend to his injuries, while venextos investigated ahead. it would not be long before their presence was noted  - once garait settled, venextos wondered if he should make their arrival plain to any pack wolf, lest their quiet travel be mistaken for subterfuge.

another round? <3

garait followed the line of his brother's gaze and paused only momentarily before crossing over to settle himself. venextos would range and the brennus would heal — when some hours had passed, garait would change places with his brother and stand guard. it was as how they been reared in triva, and how they worked between one another now. venextos was the only creature on earth to whom garait deferred — he was keenly aware he could not have survived the razing of their pagi without the slimly built attalus.
garait cleaned his wound once more, grimacing only slightly as he lay down and turned his brilliant eyes on venextos, seeking his brother's stare for a long moment. he did not like to say goodbye, nor did he greet; the connection of their gazes would be enough to convey all he wished: insubra watch over you, brother.

his brother nursed his wounds, and the attalus reluctantly turned his attention to their ugliness. to look upon his brother's crusted fur and angry bruisings was to relive the horror they had only just barely escaped -- while never a squeamish man, venextos preferred to not to give life to such repressed memories by glancing at the serrated wounds. wounds that had the strange reality to remind him the past was all too inescapably real.

yet the attalus knew his brother was strong -- stronger than most -- and the strong survived.

he did not gaze long before garait's eyes found him: venextos knew the simple words his brother conveyed - all in the intensity of his somber visage. with a gentle trail of his nose against his brother's fur that rejoined his brother's silent incantation, venextos stepped into the open.

for a moment the pale wolf was still, as if admiring the enormity of the backdrop of sawtooth ranges and clustered, snowfallen pines. in truth he was assessing the winds for any dangers, like the tribe that had razed their family and turned their lives inexorably upside down.

fading here <3

garait tensed as venextos paced away, trepidation gripping his heart. if his brother did not return, garait would tend himself, but as he watched the pale wolf draw in the sight of the jagged mountains, garait begged golak to protect venextos. he had lost much already — the attalus alone was his singular companion in the world.
garait kept his eyes upon the other until venextox was gone from view and he could stay awake no longer.