Stone Circle so i'll follow the birdsong

@Caiaphas @Raleska @Ephraim @Svalinn @Rhakios - Hello Easthollow leadership! I know this is a large group of joiners, but I'd like to add that Kierkegaard will not be lasting more than a month or so and will gladly fill an Omega/Joiner rank until I kill him off. We wanted an active pack that had room for five pups, so please feel free to reach out to me if you feel there may be an issue. <3

Their journey had led them far from the sea, and the pups had grown restless and tired of trekking so far on youthful paws. While he had done his best to tend to them as he could, the aged ghost was not in his prime as he had once been and the weight of them had proven to be too much to carry for very long. Once they had rested for a short while, he had discussed with Caiaphas about finding a suitable home – anywhere – that would allow their children a safe place to grow and to learn. He could not stand to imagine what might happen to the whelps if they were to continue on as vagabonds. He had known the lifestyle from his own youth, and it had turned him into a savage and sour old man at a very young age. There were many times that he and his sister had nearly died, and he knew that he did not want that for his own kin.

As they neared the marked borders of a pack, Kierkegaard paused and turned back to his mate and his pups with a tired expression. The glimmer of his molten stare had faded, and his ragged coat stood at odd ends along his neck and spine. The ghost was not doing well, and the travels had taken a toll on his already weak state. He had not been the same since he had washed ashore those many months ago. At that time, he was not picky about where they landed; he wanted only a home for his family. He needed to know that they were safe. With haggard cough, the ghost drew his head and called for any who might meet him on the edges of the territory so that he might present his pups and his mate with a place to live.

I'd like to pop in here, lemme know if I'm not welcome. When Valette joins feel free to skip me if i take too long to reply!

She'd gotten more information and had found new hope in herself since her talk with Howl. She was more active and had just taken down a pheasant to bring to the cache when the weak howl went up from the borders. Concerned as to why it sounded so weak she headed over and was shocked to see the Weakened male with a herd of pups and a female beside him. She dropped the pheasant and flicked her ear, looking the group over and feeling bad for them. "You don't look well...here. Eat this, it probably isn't enough for all of you" she said quickly and shoved the pheasant toward the male. Not thinking of the possible punishment she could get for giving prey away to strangers. "I'll call for my leader and beta." she said and raised her head, summong @Stark and @Valette.

the siren queen had not missed the fire that had been extinguished from her mate's once hale gaze. it was not the fault of their journey, though she surmised its advent certainly did not help. desperately, caiaphas clung to the notion things would be okay -- they had to be okay -- once they found safe ground.

yet deep within her stomach, which had sunk to new depths witnessing the atrophied mien of her children's father, she knew such conviction to be false.

it was with tentative and careful composure that caiaphas hung back, collecting her children beneath her flank as kierkegaard strode forward. svalinn, the youngest of them all, was clutched firm in her muzzle -- the rest of her true-born brood were watched hawkishly.

in no time at all, a steele-bitten female approached -- caiaphas protectively stepped in front of her children, watching the figure as it came close. yet her vigilant measure seemed in vain, for the unknown woman supplied a pheasant from her muzzle and motioned for them to take it.

caiaphas had never been one for hand-outs and felt indignant, yet she quickly scythed down the pride that rose sharply in her throat. we don't need your pity -- only your home -- she wanted to say, yet tempered the hot response that threatened to be spoken. instead she cleared her throat and placed svalinn on the ground, a long sigh extracted as she flitted from feral mother to a more toned, tempered attitude. "we're what's left of grimnismal. i was its' alpha, this is my mate, and our children." she explained, motioning the threadbare crew that assembled around them. "a bear forced us from our home." she frowned, wondering if it was better to wait for the leaders to arrive before launching into an explanation she would likely need to deliver twice. "is there room for us here?"

He didn't want to walk anywhere ever again. All he had ever wanted to do was lounge around, and it was a trial getting him to even move this far. As their journey grew longer, Ephraim grew grumpier and less compliant; by the time they reached Easthollow he was very nearly out of control, inconsolable, and impossible to corral. Even Kierkegaard, who frightened him, was unable to affect him in his foul mood.

Lazy as he was, Ephraim was not a fan of long trips, especially ones with missed meals. As far as he was concerned, everyone that made him come this far could get dead. Especially that pup.

As Caiaphas placed Svalinn on the ground, the masked coywolf fixed him in a hateful crosshairs that only lifted when an unfamiliar she-wolf presented something he couldn't ignore. His stomach screamed the second the pheasant hit the ground and, heedless of any sort of manners—it wasn't like his parents were great role models for good manners and even if they were, he was too far gone in his temper for that—he rushed it, grabbed it by the neck, and began tugging it greedily toward some undetermined spot for himself and his siblings.

Because fuck you, mom and dad, for taking him on the the world's worst vacation.

// will probably keep these short just to keep up with things between doctor's appointments 

Stark was reluctant to leave Valette for too long in any fashion - watching their brood when she needed to stretch her legs, or get some food, or just.... Be not saddled down with their litter. He had to remind himself that Valette was a more than capable parent and didn't need his smothering but he'd never had the chance to just be a father. He'd learned as quickly as he could, mastering cleaning and soothing although him and his worthless nipples couldn't feed for a damn - which @Arlette had quickly reminded him - he made every attempt to keep them happy. When he'd heard the call to the borders it brought him to attention and he cut his path around the territory short to answer the call.

He arrived to a pair and a gaggle of children, the male in particular looking ragged and halfway drug to deaths doorstep. Already he was uneasy with the situation, his own family taking priority and so many other tiny mouths to feed - although Easthollow was proudly thriving with Valette's hard work he did not like the notion of being taxed with so many other young. "Why here?" Stark asked, exchanging a brief glance with Illecebra. 

Valette was starting to grow more relaxed now her children were around the two-week mark. They were becoming more mobile and their ears and eyes were clearly opened. Since they were more mobile she knew that they didn't need her body warmth as much. Only the little white girl seemed to be slow with things but once she opened her eyes Valette knew the little white girl was just like her mother. She would need a good name. She was brainstorming about one when a howl sounded. Valette's ears twitched. It sounded important. She glanced at her young ones and then decided to call for @Steph to keep an eye on them just in case.

Valette then trotted towards the border. She noticed that she was a little stiff with the lack of exercise she had the last few weeks. It felt good to be out. When she arrived at the border there were quite some wolves there. Valette lifted her head and tail at her approach. She noticed that Stark was there, Cebra as well, plus two adults with their young. Valette frowned and then stepped next to her mate. She nudged Stark with a soft smile before stepping forward.

The male before her looked in a bad shape. It reminded her a bit of Mawk and Cebra when they arrived. Stark didn't look too happy about this situation. Valette wanted to hear their story though. Valette eye fell on one of the children that had a freshly caught pheasant. A slight frown came on her face to then turn to Cebra with a warning glance. She must have given it to them. "Thank you for calling us, Cebra. We will handle it from here," she dismissed to pack wolf. She didn't need an overly empathic female while she made her decision which Valette assumed because she gave total strangers food that was meant for members only.

It was clear that Valette was a mother herself, her body and scent told them that much. There was some sympathy welling up internally but also a worry. They had a lot of members already and she would always choose her pack and her own family over the life of strangers. She caught Stark's short question when she approached. She liked to know as well why these wolves would want to settle here. Perhaps there was a reason, maybe they were on the run. Valette didn't want to take any wanted wolves again, last time that female that sought refuge was beheaded. "I'm Valette. I lead Easthollow with my mate Stark. I would also like to know as well why you are in need of a different pack," she stated in a calm tone. "And most of all, what kind of pack you seek."

The first to meet them was a slate-coated female with a bird clutched in her jaws. The sight of the animal made his mouth salivate with a deep-rooted need to devour. Kierkegaard reigned the instinct in and swallowed stiffly. Yet, in an act of selfless kindness, the stranger offered the bird to them and instructed that she would call upon her leaders. Were he a younger man, his pride would have driven him to snap wickedly at his child for taking the pity meal. Instead, he watched almost enviously as Ephraim rushed forward and began to pull the prey bird away with desperate and scrabbling little paws. The ghost knew that they were to eat first; he would suffer until they had found peace for the family.

Caiaphas was the first to speak about her former rank and the home they had left behind. Kierkegaard listened with a single ear swiveled toward her. His dark lips were curled downward in an impressive frown. Once she had concluded, there was a dark-cloaked male who drew near to them. The ghost regarded the man with a curious expression, neither unimpressed nor apathetic to the cut of his gait and frame. It was with a quick remark that the male boiled down to their reason for being there.

Not long after him, a lighter-toned woman was quick to pull herself toward the scene. She entered with authority; just higher than the male and much more evident than the first female who had offered his family the bird. Kierkegaard felt his chest grow tired and his eyes drifted toward his children with a worrisome fluttering – like the wings of a thousand butterflies taking flight – in his gut. The leader of the pack they had found seemed as though she was ready to cut straight to the business of it, as well. Without any formalities, the haggard old man motioned with a swing of his muzzle toward his young and his mate.

“Our home was invaded by a large bear. It is no longer safe for our children to live there. We need a home for them… we need somewhere that they can thrive and grow. We cannot continue to wander these wilds in our state. Our youngest cannot even hold himself up on his own limbs,” Kierkegaard answered her with a respectful and short dip of his skull toward the earth. It was in this action that he felt the weight of his weariness against his shoulders and back. The ragged hound’s limbs quivered with the force it took to hold himself upright. “Our pups are tired and cannot go further. If we should force it, they will surely not make it. They need a home.”

It was as simply as could be put. The ghost did not wish to be part of a new pack; he did not wish to climb the ranks again, or to establish himself as a mercenary for another group. He wished only for the safety of his young, and the opportunity for his mate to thrive. There would not be many days left under his scarred pelt.

getting a single post for illy in here

Illidan had stumbled forward with a drunken tiredness as his father’s call went up over the territory. The young boy did not understand why they couldn’t just make a home right where they stood. It was as good a place as any, right? Lack of good rest and a distinct lack of tasty food had put the dark-hooded youth in a foul mood. When the first stranger arrived with a dead bird in her muzzle, he started drooling at the bird. She offered it to their father, but Ephraim rushed forward and grabbed it faster than Kierkegaard, causing Illidan to smirk pleasantly.
 
The young boy’s larger frame wavered heavily as he trotted toward his brother with the glint of hunger in his gaze. The boy was hungry. He was not about to let his sibling take the entire meal for himself, and he certainly wasn’t going to allow his parents to have a lick of it. With a quick motion of his skull for Raleska to follow, Illidan teetered sleepily after Ephraim and sought to sink his fangs into the tender meats of the bird that had been snatched. He didn’t care what the adults were saying; he cared only for satisfying the ache in the pit of his gut.

to move this along, i am proposing that the pups be skipped (minus ephraim, who just got childed) -- sorry children, even if its agiinst ur sivil rats -- also, skipping illecebra with OOC permission

caiaphas might, had she been younger or less tired, have spoken up -- as it was, her mate had already spoken on their behalf, and explained the sorry lot's grim exodus. may grimnismal burn, for all caiaphas cared -- her only course now was for her children.

she kept her mien subdued, and her head low -- though she did note the slender curve of valette's stomach, the tuck of strained muscles that suggested motherhood. somehow, she hoped that valette's recent sojourn into childbirth might garner sympathy for them; after all, they were wretched displaced from their home.

the sylph, ragged and bone tired as she was, watched with hawkish disapproval as one of her children lunged for the corpse gracefully supplanted at her feet. any other time, she would have let his misbehavior (if it could even be called that -- truly, such a motion was justifed, as the child was starved as any) slide, as she often favored indomitable spirit in a wolf -- but now, in front of the eyes of wolves that might see fit to turn her away, caiaphas lunged after her errant son and attempted to pluck the meal right from his teeth with a quiet growl meant to discipline him.

later, when their fate had been decided, caiaphas would dispense a meal evenly between her children and would have forgotten this unfortunate acting out . for now, she sought to wrench the kill from her son's jaws and, if successful, throw it at the easthollow wolves' feet. it would do no good to eat something without permission;

good god, she hoped they gave them permission.

Not willing to be skipped unless it takes me >48 hours to post during my turn, thank you!

He was too cranky to care about authority in the moment; all he wanted to do was tuck into the meal alongside Raleska and Illidan while the adults talked, which Caiaphas wasn't having. He was so cranky that he reacted with innate aggression when she came for him; she snatched the bird away from both he and Illidan and in response he lunged for the tender skin of her nose, snarling in his tiny voice and whipping his tail with agitation.

He'd regret it later, but right then he was hungry, he was tired, he was grouchy, and mom was being a bitch (sorry, mom). For some reason he was singularly targeted in her disciplinary growl; his eyes slid angrily to Illidan as he redirected his frustration to his brother, whose own teeth had touched the bird's flesh but there was no reprimand for him. But he quickly turned it away from Illidan and affixed his wild glare on Svalinn.

It was that white kid's fault. It had to be. That little brat had changed her and he would pay for it. All the while the rest of the goings on were largely ignored, though he did glance over to the two dark wolves who had arrived and his tail gave a feline twitch at the tip.

His first impression wasn't great. Some of the children seemed ill-mannered, and while he could forgive that because they were young, the way the male worded things made him uneasy. The children, not 'we', needed a home. He wasn't willing to risk his own litter for the prospects of another's. It sounded cruel in his head, and truly it was, but he had a priority to keep Valette and their children safe. He glanced at Valette just before returning his gaze to the adults of the small group. "We have own our litter to raise and protect." Stark said simply. It wasn't that he was heartless, no, he'd raised abandoned children before, but now things were different.

He felt different. 

The Alpha of the Keep might have swept them in with little thought but Easthollow was such an integrated pack he wondered how the strangers would work themselves into their group. "You said they need a home. We don't need an abandoned litter on our borders, especially with so many young mouths to feed." Maybe if it had sounded any way other than 'here's some puppies, enjoy.' Stark might have entertained more of a possibility - as it was he shifted his gaze to his mate to see what her take on things was. 

Valette glanced from the white male to the mother, to then let her hazel green eyes travel over the children. They were with far too many. Valette wished that she could help them but they couldn't. The last bison they took down barely fed all the wolves. Everyone had their share but with these growing pups and two adults, Valette was certain they were not going to make it. Stark was rather strict towards them. Valette caught his glance. The alpha female knew her mate was protective, in a way she wanted to be selfish as well. Her children would go first but seeing the manners on the hungry children she doubted that those rules would be followed.

Valette watched as the mother correct her child. At least, that was something positive in Valette's eyes until the child lashed out to his mother. It didn't change the fact that they didn't have the room. They were a large pack, 16 members*, and that was without Stark and her. On top of that, they also had three newborns. "We do have our own pups to feed," she agreed with her mate. "But most of all, our territory wouldn't sustain more wolves as we currently have. If we take more than our land offers we will be without a home as well," she explained calmly. Valette felt slightly bad. She couldn't even imagine being in search of a home with young ones. She wished she would never experience it. But if she would take in these wolves there wouldn't be enough for the wolves that already lived in Easthollow. "I wish we could help but we can't generate enough for everyone," she spoke, probably sounding much more reasonable than Stark. Though, Valette did appreciate his input.

Valette eyes fell on the mother. "We do have allies," she stated and then turned to face the white male. "Bearclaw Valley might take you in. My brother leads that pack and it is really close. Right here next to us. He might offer you a home, all of you. Though, I do admit that I am not currently aware of how large their numbers are," Valette added. Though, if she listened to the howls coming from the valley she had the feeling that they weren't as large as Easthollow. "You can keep the bird. Hopefully, my brother's pack has some space." Valette had compassion for them but not enough to risk the lives of her own pack. To even risk the lives of their newborns. As much as she wanted to help them she was selfish enough to choose her own family over the wandering family.

*Valette counts the PPC wolves as well as they are part of the pack!

“It is frustrating that you should pick my words apart while my family stands starving and willing to serve at your door.”

The ghost lifted his gaze then. They had been turned away, so Kierkegaard did now owe them an ounce of his respect. As it stood, he had little left to give anyway. The mercenary felt a pang in his chest as he looked upon his hungry children and the newborn pup that his mate looked so carefully after. It meant they would need to travel again; it meant that they would risk the lives of their pups and themselves in search of a home that would take them. The pack before them did not seem hospitable in the slightest. It was evident that they were ragged and tired, that their limbs could not sustain the weight upon them and they were in desperate need of shelter from the outland. The wolf Stark seemed to speak for the Alpha as well, which caught the ragged hound by surprise; he had never seen a pack where the Beta carried more weight than the one ranked above.

Kierkegaard cast his gaze to the bird that had been offered to them. It struck him as odd. Furrowing his brow and releasing a sigh through his nares, the hound shook his head to the female and flattened his ears to his crown with a curious expression. “If your wolves are struggling to eat, I do not believe that it makes sense to offer hand outs to strangers at your door,” he remarked to her in a quiet thundering voice. The ache that he felt against his tired frame was enough to knock him over, but he turned his head to his mate and cast an apologetic stare. He would carry Svalinn for a while so that she might be able to rest against the weight of him.

“We are only looking to tend to our puppies, just the same as you. Should you have arrived at our border with the same ill luck, we would not have turned you away. It is unfortunate to know that your pack does not extend even the most basic of hospitality to someone in need. If your allies are anything like you, we would only be killing our pups in a waste of time.”

Without much more to say, the gruff old wolf turned to collect his pups, nudging Ephraim sharply with a flash of his teeth to force the child to move; he would be punished later for his behavior on the borders of a pack where they sought shelter. His actions had not painted a positive light on their family. Even though they may have been wild things, Kierkegaard had held fast to his hopes that they had found a place of refuge and a home for the children to grow. He was not pleased with the outcome, and he was not pleased with how his boys had behaved. The years when he had been the same had been long forgotten by him; he knew only his age now. He knew only the ache in his traveled bones.

“This won’t be forgotten.”

Pulling his molten stare from the dark wolf Stark, Kierkegaard nudged his children once and cast a look to his mate, hoping that she would be willing to follow again so that they might search.

Once their mother had swooped in to snatch the bird from them, Illidan looked at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. He did not understand. They were starving, and she had taken their only source of food, because why? The child felt a pang in his chest and he could sense tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. There was a burning in the pit of his stomach that reflected shame and cast an expression on the dark-hooded youth to show that he did not understand. It was only then that he heard the words of the adults, and Illidan then looked from his father to his mother and back to the strangers who sat on the other side of the marked border. It was then that he painted them as monsters.
 
“Ma? What happen? They don’t want us?”
 
His question was soft for a child that rarely spoke. He looked to his mother with pleading eyes and then back to the strangers who had seemingly turned them away. He was afraid; Illidan did not want to travel any more. His legs were tired, and he was hungrier than he had ever remembered being in his life. He wanted to stay there in the pack. He wanted to find a den and nestle down without worrying about bears that would come into the night and devour them.
 
“A-are we gon die, ma?”
 
Illidan rose to his feet tiredly and felt a huff leave his muzzle. He did not know if he could walk any further, but he feared being left behind to wolves who were too cruel to accept them into their home. More than this, he did not understand what was wrong with them that they should have been turned away. He looked to his father with a quivering lip and a tail that was tucked close to his rear. He knew that Kierkegaard would have harsh words for them, but he did not fear that nearly as much as he feared trekking out further into the unknown with no end in sight.

ephraim's teeth did catch her, yet they were not the most offensive thing her body would be subjected to that day. pain bloomed in her senses and she issued a clipped growl in rebuke. she tried to subdue him, lest his outburst somehow jeopardize them. in the end it appeared it wouldn't have mattered.

caiaphas' fatigued expression transformed into something indiscernible as she caught a shift in the conversation. the shift was slight, but she detected it. it went from curious to suddenly shut-off, and the swing in tone brought her eyes up as she searched the faces of the two wolves that would deny her children their existence.

no, something didn't add up -- had caiaphas known they were the first in easthollow's history to be turned away, or even had she known the two before them had welcomed plenty less fit or hale than she and her mate recently, she might have set up in a raging furor, and they might have felt the sharp sting of her teeth.

as it was she remained unaware of such condemning facts, yet round that niggling idea snaked again in the chambers of her brain. something didn't add up.

one supposes there has to be first for everything; it just so happened it would be her luck she and her children would experience it.

caiaphas' jaw tightened; there were a thousand things she could say or point out: her mercenary mastery and how it could help them, how they wouldn't be expecting anyone to take care of their children, the socialization that the alpha pair's children would benefit from having with other puppies, the fact the wolf that had originally greeted them carried no scent that suggested relation to either, that their children would suffer... reasons, reasons, reasons .. what use was expecting reason?

anything she said to concrete their validity as members would simply be for naught.

they had made up their minds, and there was no challenging or contesting that. perhaps for the first time in her life, caiaphas accepted news she did not want to hear gracefully. it was not for lack of fury or emotion; she felt livid -- but she knew there must be some other reason they were turned away that had very little to do with the children they were perfectly capable of providing for. 

then she thought of if she had been in their place, and what she would have done. the answer was simple, as caiaphas, in the four separate reigns she had lead, had never once turned away any from her realm: not in nereides, not in ankyra sound, not in saltwinter, and not in grimnismal. it was unfortunate that her welcoming-of-strangers nature did not extend much past ankyra's hearth.

she did not miss the irony of the female's suggestion: bearclaw. in a quiet tone that easily conveyed her honeyed cynicism, she interjected: "we just got displaced by a bear.. and you suggest bearclaw valley..?" the fierce yellow of her gaze was briefly eclipsed by a slow blink, as if she were processing how erroneously insulting that sounded. "keep the bird - you must need it more than us."



the siren queen turned to her mate then, who had spoken his piece rightly. anger had reanimated his old bones, and feeling similarly suffused with bitter energy, caiaphas set to leave. reaffirmed in her conviction their rejection was beyond their control, caiaphas nudged at the crestfallen illidan and strode forward with raleska and rhakios already in tow. 

they would not find succor here, and she would not beg for it.

Little else happened that mattered in the eyes of a small child—the shift in the conversation went unnoticed until his parents shepherded him away, at which point he looked back to the pair of dark-haired wolves who had sternly turned them aside. Click. Just like that, a negative association was made. Ephraim's tail drooped as he fell in behind his family—unlike Illidan, he didn't necessarily associate them with a feeling of being unwanted. Instead, he associated them with hunger, exhaustion, and the pain in his feet, and the fact that that would not be ending anytime soon.

"Hungry," the narrow pup complained, ears turned back as he turned away from Valette and Stark and dragged his paws in reluctant sweeps after his family. Kierkegaard uttered a final threat to the two pack wolves, which piqued Ephraim's ears for a moment, if only because he had never known the dark current laced through his father's tone. No doubt he would one day be forced to face that reality, as all living things are, but for now he cast his sire a curious glance and then hastened after his dog-tired siblings, having already forgotten the altercation, but not the black furs of those who doomed them.

1 post wonder

Svalinn had learned to sleep in the discordant sway of his family's arduous travel. It was only when on solid ground did he begin to stir, and it was always in a sort of grubby, feverish race to find the underside of one large-breasted Caiaphas. By this point his eyes had already opened, but it would be weeks still before those filmy puppy blues would be for more than just show; and even then it wasn't guaranteed that he'd notice the misguided blame being thrown his way like daggers. For now he cared only for his next fix, despite having received some seriously stepped-on shit recently.

Hunger and stress had turned mother's milk bitter to his sensitive taste, but it meant that he was only getting the bare essentials, and her dedication to keeping him alive was making for a hard-pact foundation. He had found also in their grief-stricken journey that whining got him nothing— maybe even less of what he wanted— so it was with quiet squeaks of determination that he snaked his way towards his surrogate's belly.

Before he could discover his present task to be a mountainous impossibility (for you see: this seacow was standing and not prone for milking), Svalinn found himself scooped up once more and rendered still by a feeling of powerlessness as the troupe moved on from a dashed dream of salvation.

Stark had set aside his bleeding heart and turned an ear towards his mate to hear her input. He knew that Xan had a litter, given the state that his mate had been in when he'd visited. She'd already looked ready to whelp when he had seen them, and that was several weeks ago. The addition of the wandering family might not be such a competition to them, and the idea sounded good to him. It was at least a lead on a possible home. Stark listened as the well-worn down male spat his piece, some ire lacing his words as if it was bad of him to think of his own children. Neither adult had presented an option that sounded more than a refuge for their children. Neither had mentioned what they might be willing to do; instead, all they had said was what they would take. Stark's heart went out to the children but his own newborns had to come first. It was cruel, it was ruthless, but it was the way of the wilds. If you couldn't ensure you provided food and shelter, you had no rights breeding and endangering your young.

Bitterly he remembered how thin Octavia had been, how small and scrawny Tambourine seemed - and how he'd run himself and the pack ragged. Even ate the meat of their own, just to keep them alive. No, he wasn't going to do that again. 

He'd waited until they marched their children on, choosing not to respond to the words of the male or female nor the small pitiful sounds of the whelps. There wasn't an option that didn't jeopardize their own, and with Arlette specifically in his mind, he simply couldn't condone any sharing of their resources. He gave a long sigh as he turned to face Valette. "I feel like shit." He admitted freely, reaching out to sooth and errant clump of fur along her nape. "I just.. After seeing what happened with Octavia and Tambourine I just can't risk it with our kids." He felt like a monster, he felt like an asshole, but even if he could he wouldn't have changed his mind. 

Also a one post wonder

Raleska hadn't enjoyed their trip beyond Grimnismal. At first she had liked it enough to be curious, but as the hours pressed on and her limited supply of energy slowed to a close, the girl had become sullen and withdrawn. Even her eyes, bright and freshly minted in yellow, had lost their luster. Bedraggled and emotionally shut-down, the girl had soldiered behind her parents as the monotonous days drew on.

She had been too tired to set up much of a fuss as her parents fretted and met strangers. If she hadn't been so hungry, and if that hunger hadn't sapped every ounce of willpower from her, she might have looked at the strangers with curiosity. They might have been regarded as a marvel, some new playmate or being to befriend for the girl whose life had yet to callously jade her.. but she was too tired, and she only looked at them for a moment before her eyes closed and she stood still with exhaustion boxing her in on all sides.

It was her father's words and the unfamiliar ire in them that caused the girl to wake; she had missed the commotion with her brothers and the bird, but the darkness in her father's words jolted her. Her eyes fluttered open and she swayed almost deliriously, her blurry gaze focusing on the stern wolves that had turned her and her siblings away. It took her a few seconds to piece together that they were not stopping, and when she realized their journey was not ending and that they were still doing this horrible march, it was the straw that fractured her dogtired composure.

She felt despondence press heavily in her heart, and her stoicism had no means in which to withstand it. Overwrought with misery, Raleska broke down in a loud and keening wail that carried on for miles after they had left Easthollow.

Valette frowned when the other wolves didn't appreciate being denied. Sure, it wasn't nice when you were traveling with kids but Valette couldn't accept them. She did cringe a bit when the female pointed out about Barclay Valley and that they had been chased out by a bear. She only wanted to offer them a possible home close to their pack. So they wouldn't have to travel far. The male was mad and then the children asked questions that made Valette feel guilty as well. But the female didn't show it to the strangers. She kept her face tight.

The female watched the group leave. She wished that she could give them a home, a space with food and safety but she couldn't offer that with putting her own children in danger. As the strangers were further away, she glanced at Stark. Her mate then admitted that he felt guilty as well. Valette nodded but her face looked still grim. "I don't feel great about this either," she sighed and then leaned against Stark. "But we wouldn't have the room plus our own kids, like you said," she agreed and then tried to shut off the guilty feeling she was carrying.