Moonspear the return

Blood dripped down the patriarch's face as he made his way back to the mountain -- to his mountain. It seemed like such a petty fight, something that he shouldn't have gotten involved in, but when he saw the look of madness on her face he knew that there was no escape. Fighting had never been Charon's preferred option to resolve conflict -- unless he had the upper hand in numbers or other circumstance -- but here he was, once more dragged into a fight. His face was a mess but through the blood dripping down his brows he could trace his path using the left side of his senses, at least.

The journey was arduous but throughout it Charon felt very little. His anger had easily turned into survival instinct and he knew that he would survive; he just needed to rest up. The urge to crawl up in a shallow den and wait until he was better healed to return home was big, and he actually did spend various nights holed up -- but eventually he needed to return home, he knew that, especially before the snows began to fall. And before his family would start to worry.

As he reached the borders the blood had become a caked mess spread across the left side of his face. The wounds on his legs he had licked and cleaned himself, and the wounds on his shoulder and neck were partially cleaned, partially caked blood where he had been unable to reach. With a sigh he crossed the borders, just happy to be home. Without calling for any of his family he started making his way to the rendezvous site so that he may catch some rest, though he hoped that Lyra might follow the scent of blood and find him so she could clean his wounds.

Worry rose alongside a sharp ridge of her hackles when her nose quivered over trace of her mate--fresh, and rife with the telltale scents of injury, so she made her haste back towards their confines without so much as a second's pause. His absence, while noted, hadn't concerned her all that much yet.. not until now. Her patrol, effectively abandoned, would have to wait.

Outrunning true panic, her long strides got her to him fast on his way to the rendezvous. She breathed deep the acrid trail he wore, mingled with that of neutral grounds.

He was a mess, far worse than she had seen in a long time. An ache reserved for few knotted up tight by the time she could reach his side, and she didn't have words yet. The whine that hitched up her throat when she saw the extent of it spliced with a low growl: who did this? But, too, was he well? He was already on his way to right where she would send him, to rest and to clean first and foremost. To have him back brought relief, but this? What happened? she grated, while lashing her tail and looking all too eager to urge him on to somewhere safe to rest.

Whatever it had been.. she could taste the malice, and he needed plenty now thanks to it. She reached to nose his shoulder--silent encouragement as the rendezvous neared, and there, he could be tended. Ame would start helping him clean before the medics arrived; Lyra should be by soon, and they had recently gained two new hopefuls in that field too--but she'd test the waters of Charon's sea first before she went summoning strangers to him yet.

Hydra had been alarmed to return to the missing figures of one of the twins, and of their father. But not for very long; she imagined the two of them were together. Interesting that Yama had not elected to go, too, but the duo was far different than she and her sisters, it appeared. Moving with @Lyra in tow upon the scent of blood being noted, they came upon a grisly scene... absent of Yami. Assuming the worst, but not caring for confirmation (the only thing that mattered to her within this scenario was her fathers survival) quite yet, Hydra watched Lyra quit the scene to attain whatever herbs might be necessary to assist her father. Hydra did not know them by sight, scent, or name, but would commit them to memory when she returned with them. 

For her own part, the bristling, irate Hydra moved toward her father to see if she could catch wind of any scent upon his person that would reveal to her who completed this atrocity. Hydra rumbled to alert him of her company, should he not have seen her yet... and it was then she observed his eye, a glassy sheen spoiling the blue that they shared. She drifted nearer, and should he allow it she would inspect his furs for something to note, to remember.

✴The scent of blood in the air was like a homing beacon for the boy, but mostly he had been tracking Hydra and when she veered suddenly in a new direction he followed. It was not surprising that she soon brought him to their mother, but much more shocking was the sight of their pale father dragging his heels along the mountainside; the blood was fresh, it poured from his face and from the fresh gore there, and Revui was suddenly transfixed by it. He came up behind Hydra and then stepped around her, hurrying to inspect Charon with an attentiveness that was, possibly, inappropriate. He didn't look away but his ears were pivoting between Charon and the others, waiting for an explanation like the rest. Had he gotten injured in a hunt? Had someone done this on purpose? Would they finally get to show the world the strength of Moonspear?

The scent of blood had called them towards the borders, and the two sisters travelled hurriedly in the direction it had come from until they happened upon the bloody patriarch. Amekaze was already there which was not surprising in the least, but what did cause a startled whine from the healer was the terrible wound across Charon's eye - or rather, what had once been his eye. Her stomach twisted in anger, the same question their mother hissed racing through her mind - who was responsible for this.

Lyra wasted no time in going to gather the necessary herbs; no sooner had she assessed her father's wounds did she then turn on her heel and head in the direction of her cache. Their journey back from Morningside had taken them through several curious forests, and Lyra had discovered many different berries and plants that the three then painstakingly brought back to Moonspear. It had been a chore, but she was glad they had done so now.

Vela was not far behind everyone else to find out her father had returned. She had been worried about him. The speckled female trailed after the others to catch up with her father. When she approached she realized that she was not alone. Her mother, sisters, and young brother. Vela whined in shock when seeing her father injured. "Daddy!," she called out in shock. She wanted to know as well what happened. It seemed more were curious.

She approached him as well but was mindful of not being in Lyra's way. She nuzzled against his shoulder. Anger followed which seemed a common theme here. Who did this to her father? She wanted to take that wolf down and kill them for what they had done.

His anger had subsided as he had made his way home. He had been foolish, perhaps, reckless as he tried to kill her when she got away: Charon had wanted no fight when it commenced, and had been taken by anger throughout it. Then the familiar surge of power as he realised that he could win, that he could kill her, and then there was only blood lust. But he'd been reckless and perhaps if he had shown her more of that ferocity in the beginning and less of it later on he could have gotten away with less damage.

Upon his journey to the rendezvous site and his arrival there many family members found him. Ame was first, and she demanded to know who had done this. Hydra upon her arrival seemed to try and catch some scent but her scent was long gone after the arduous journey home. Revui quickly came close to inspect and Charon finally took a smile, however brief, on his face to greet: "Hey sport." He smiled softly again as his not-so-mini-me arrived -- they grew up so fast -- and Lyra did, too, though she was quick to go away; presumably to retrieve some plants for his wounds.

Then the smiles fell off his face again and Charon looked at Amekaze to address her question: "I don't know her name," Charon said as he sat down upon reaching the rendezvous site with a tired huff. "When I was little, she told me lies about my brother Kevlyn. Said he was taken by.. some pack or other, but he wasn't. She just came at me this time. Didn't even have time to confront her about her lies." He shook his head. "Dunno who she is, but she's got a white body and a black head. Saw her west of here. Only reason I remembered her is her looks, really, such a distinct look..." Possibly, he thought grimly to himself, only reason she remembered him too, for he didn't have your run-of-the-mill appearance either. Charon knew he would be alright again, and though he wished he could, he wondered if it'd be wise to chase her. He didn't even know what pack she was from.

The scent of Charon mixed with blood spurred Andalusia along the quickest path to the rendezvous. Anxiety brewed deep in her chest, and while the feeling did not overpower her, it was enough to push her to a sprint. She had noticed her cousin's absence and had thought it strange, but not abnormal. Certainly, nothing to worry about - but if his scent spoke anything, she had been wrong.

She didn't know what to expect, and mentally prepared for the worst - sifting through the herbs they would need - striking out the ones she knew they didn't have. When she finally neared the site, she caught only a glimpse of her cousin's bloodied face before she found herself spun around and redirecting until she found her place in the quickened wake of her niece.

Andalusia knew the direction this triplet was running, and the names narrowed down to one: "Lyra," she called between a breath, catching up with the younger woman as they reached the cache. "Let me help you." This was Lyra's father, and Andalusia would let the girl take lead. She was more than capable - but the outrider wasn't green to healing herself, and while she'd never had the need to use her herbology here, she had helped to gather, dry, and stock up the cache enough to show her practice in the art, and she hoped @Lyra would trust her in her ability to help her with her father now.

Behind her, some of the family trickled in and she stayed close to Charon's side, though let the others make their own assessments beneath her watchful gaze. Lyra's response to this, of course, interested her most of all. Ame did not like the look of his eye herself, and worried what else was beneath his old-bloodied, scabbed mess.

They reached the rendezvous, and now that he could at least settle in.. she took another long look at him standing face to face, and clenched her teeth against the whine--grateful that he had the strength to come back to them, and that his fight hadn't left him bleeding somewhere in the mountains while they were left to wonder. She was glad he was safe, above all.

He then went on to explain, and though she listened, painfully intent on his every detail (white body, black head), her eyes were all over him, lingering back to his face over, and over. But, a white body, black head. This seemed familiar in some way. She had been here long enough for it to--she had been here long enough to see all sorts and shades of wolves, and for all she was trying to recall--names weren't rushing to the forefront of her mind yet.

A distinct look, indeed.

While processing that, relief mingled with worry still. But it would just take time to get him on the mend, and her faith in their resources and skills here made his easier, marginally. It was the scent of her mate's blood that kept her rooted here, though, and she reached towards him to touch her muzzle to his cheek. Hope you bloodied her worse, then. Did she get away? she asked, and should he allow, she swiped her tongue over a few spots that needed it. Regardless of his aggressor's fate, for it could matter more when he was taken care of, Ame was prioritizing him. Rest now though, she sighed, relieved, and was deciding to shelve some of the finer, more minute facts for later. She glanced among the gathered few and knew Lyra would do her work, and so could the other medics as soon as they knew. What else do you need? Hungry? she asked.

As her father explained, Hydra listened, rapt. Her tail lashed behind her as she, too, tried to conjure an image of this wolf in her repertoire... but there was none to be recognized there, not that were women. The unique appearance would make them easy enough to know them if ever she saw them. He lived and breathed, so death was not on her mind. She imagined the other wolf was worse off than he, and hoped he would confirm it once her mother asked. 

Her gaze turned toward Andalusia as she approached, and she was thankful for her cousin's arrival. Chuffing in greeting, Hydra's focus fell back to her father again, waiting for whatever more details he might provide.

His father was in good spirits. He seemed to welcome their investigations each in turn, whether it was the probing nose of one of his children or the questions of his wife; but it was Revui who remained silent, as was his way. He did not need to ask these things. His interest was something more basic, and he trailed after Charon as the man was escorted by his worried family through the rendezvous site. Revui was concerned for his father, certainly, that was evidenced by the way he appeared today; had he not cared, he would not have come. News of their patriarch's harm would spread down the mountain like wild-fire and soon enough, he believed, Revui would lead a march against the perpetrator. He knew this. Hydra knew this — Amekaze, he assumed, would demand it. Someone would band them together and they would purge the wilderness of this danger. Perhaps in the process, Revui would find himself finally satiated, the blood of their enemies coating his teeth.

Ah, but he was getting ahead of himself. He was still just a boy. Bloodthirsty and warmongering, but a boy. One with an idealized sense of self. He was a wolf of Moonspear, one of Charon's beloved sons. His ego was too great, his skills too undeveloped to be of any use in such a situation. But he could think about it, savor each illusion that his mind concocted. His imagination had begun to grow in strength lately and the prospect of a real fight, with real stakes and real blood, got his own blood pumping. He was here for that, specifically — the blood, dried and matted to his father's coat.

Revui was Moonspear's shark in the water; if they wished for him to bite, they merely needed to bait him.

arcturus arrived late to the family gathering,for in the weeks following yami’s disappearance the boy had become somewhat despondent. withdrawn as he was in his own sorrowful sanctum, his eyes still fluttered with dark surprise when charon’s gruesome disfigurement was revealed. 

the boy did not inspect the wounds that snaked across his father’s proud features; he glanced instead upon their marks, studying them with a weary restraint. 

and then, with his own dark designs in mind, the moonchild swung his tail, turned round on his long, flat hocks, and stalked stormily away.

She slowed as she heard a voice ring out behind her, and glanced over her shoulder to see Andalusia running to catch up. She wasn't all too familiar with the woman, but had heard enough from her sisters to know she was a loyal and capable member of their pack — her bearing of the name Ostrega helped position her favourably in the girl's mind too. While her tail waved in an amicable fashion, Lyra's features remained set in a look of grim determination. Charon's condition didn't seem immediately life-threatening, but infection could come about quickly, and she hated seeing her father in any sort of pain.

Andalusia was well-versed in herbs and healing she had been told, and the girl welcomed the second set of paws despite her possessive side wanting to snarl away any form of help. "I have marigold leaves, take them and anything else you think will help," she ordered breathlessly, retrieving several herbs from the hollowed out tree that served as her cache. The trip back from Morningside had been bountiful, her stores now full with a myriad of curious and helpful plants. Lyra now sorted through them with precision — horsetail to staunch the bleeding, marigold and dandelion for the pain, dried oak leaf to stop infection. She scooped up as many as she could carry in her jaws and gave a nod to her packmate, before tilting her head back and wrapping her muzzle several times in a spiderweb — also to help with the bleeding — that had formed in the low hanging branches above her cache, before she took off at a canter.

She passed Arcturus stalking away as she drew up to the rendezvous den, and noted the dark look etched onto his face. She rumbled a soft growl in his direction; don't do anything stupid. Whatever — or whoever — had done this would be found and dealt with soon enough.

She knew she needn't ask what happened; Hydra would relay the situation later. For now, Lyra concentrated on addressing Charon's injuries, the worst of which being the large gash across his eye. She walked up to his side with no hesitance in her stride, stopping just before him to deposit the herbs and the mess of cobweb she had brought with her. She shifted slightly to the left to allow her cousin to come up and drop her batch of plants too. "Your eye," she started, looking to her father's face and gazing studiously at his injury. The blood was old and dried, his eyelid sealed shut from the gore; it would be hard to tell the extent of the damage until it was cleaned. "Is it still...there?" Turning to look over at Amekaze, Lyra moved to allow her mother to clean the wound if she wished.

Vela stepped back to give her sister room to heal her father. She watched him with a worried expression. The female learned a lot of new things, for example, she didn't know that her father had a brother named Kevlyn. The girl listened closely, white body, dark head. She cringed slightly because it sounded a bit like Drogon. He had a dark colored head and lighter around his neck. Then again, his body was not all white and he had not been female. Still, it didn't sit well with her. What if they were related or something bad like that?

Her father's eye didn't look well. She was pretty certain that it wasn't going to turn blue as it was before. Vela felt her anger rising. She wanted to find this female and make sure to make her pay for what she did to her father. She glanced at her sister Hydra she would be one to go on a witch hunt. Vela would make sure to let her know she was eager to join her if she would.

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His legs felt like he could collapse at any given time, but Charon didn't want to look weak in front of his youngest, and so he remained seated on shaking legs after having reached the rendezvous site. Lyra was quick to return so that he could be tended to, and she brought with her another wolf whose name slipped his mind in that instant. They'd never properly met, only greeted each other briefly, so he wasn't too sure. Amekaze of course got to war matters, and Charon grinned at her words. Considering the pain it looked more like a grimace. "She fled," he said, both to answer his mate's question in regards to her getting away as well as reassuring Ame that she had been bloodied worse than he. She offered rest and food, and to the latter question he nodded. "Food," he repeated, knowing it was enough to make Amekaze go and get him something.

Revui remained silent, as ever, and Vela took a step back to make place for Lyra and her friend's care. Lyra looked concerned as she studied the eye that was caked in blood. As she asked 'is it still there' in her typical hesitant way, Charon laughed briefly; his ribs hurt from the movement and he quieted down quickly. "Hell if I know, I haven't tried looking at it." Which, of course, was a reference to how he couldn't look at it. He hadn't tried opening it either, because it seemed best to let these matters rest, in his experience, and let someone a bit more expert look at it -- like Lyra.

Now that Charon was stationary (seated, even), she felt more at ease with greater space between them and kept her worry at arm's length for the time. She worked to chase off the taste of his blood, and slowly, with a thoughtful sigh, she backed off so Lyra could have her space; Ame trusted that her daughter could finish whatever he needed. In the meantime, she had other matters.

In the instant that her mind began to whir over the possibilities of what could come, and who this enigmatic enemy of his was truly, some of it seemed more tantalizing than the rest. But her mate's grim countenance here before her kept the counterbalance strong enough to focus on him and, as he said, he could mend best on a full stomach. She would brew on this in private, doing well to remember that his foe had fled in the end.

And although she reigned back her all-consuming worry well enough, it was not so simple as that, even with the mantra to trust the medics and the care of it her daughters in her head. She finally nodded deeply, and traced the wounds again—memorizing, and contemplating, until she finally had to stop herself after meeting his eyes, quietly: I will be back. Maybe once the others had settled down some, and especially when it could be them. She would see to him.

In her silent way, she moved to collect her sons so that together, they could bring him something fresh and the rest could have their space.