Dragoncrest Cliffs viciously and fatally attacked by an unknown animal at Claire's
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#1
All Welcome 

Bringing back Artaax was supposed to fix everything. It was supposed to go back to normal. Wolves aren’t supposed to be up their ass anymore. She doesn’t know much about what’s going on but there are familiar scents, something that ties her memories to Ingram. He does not reside there but the link is there, nonetheless, and she wonders maybe if someone knows what happened to her friend. She doubts she can ask anyone, either, with the tensions rising between the two.

Mallaidh finds Hougeda boring and despite the heavy winds beating up the redwoods, she slips out of the cavern and into the open by the lake. The approaching storm is cold and wet and she’s thankful to the thick, northern coat her mother passed down. It makes it easy to brave the heavy wind attempting to penetrate the barrier she has against the elements. With a little extra force, she picks up speed and trots quickly toward the redwoods. The wind blows, attempting to throw her around, but she makes a beeline for the treeline and uses the tall giants as armor against their forces.

The trees still sway, creaking and moaning, and she starts to question whether it had been a good idea after all.
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#2
Her coat was not quite as thick as Mallaidh's, but Grayday had passed down enough of his floof that she didn't feel the wind on her skin. Nor did her large frame feel buffeted by the force of the storm - despite the Spiritwalker not being her blood mother, it seemed that some of the woman's affinity for the sea had been shared with her as well.

The smell of the storm was exhilarating to the bear-like woman, and for this reason, she was dancing in it. Being among others had gone a long way toward soothing her sore spirit, even if she hadn't gotten to know them very well yet.

When she caught sight of a two-toned form racing for the trees, she paused her graceless twirling and followed after her. "Hi!" she called out, tail flicking droplets of water as it swayed back and forth. "This is gonna be some storm, huh?"
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She turns around quickly when she hears the greeting, ignoring the groan of the redwoods as they sway back and forth. She doesn’t recognize the girl standing across from her but she’s damp from the drizzle and her fur is tussled every which way. There aren’t many wolves Mallaidh feels small against but the bear of a woman in front of her strikes a weird feeling. Where did she come from? Is she… meant to even be here?

“Hey,” she says, carefully, before nodding her agreement. “Yeah, I think so… wet and cold,” she adds, though she doesn’t really want to talk about the weather but it seems to be the only pressing matter at the moment. “What are you doing out here?”
i'd give anything to hear you say it one more time
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It'd been a while since she'd had to interact with others, so she didn't notice Mallaidh's discomfort. Maybe if she'd been a little less distracted by the creaking and groaning of the trees - which were far larger and more impressive than they'd had at either the Plateau or the Maplewood. And then the plains and the cuesta hadn't had much in the way of trees at all.

"What?" she asked, glancing back at the girl and telling herself firmly not to stare up at the branches in company. "Oh - I was just... I don't know. Having fun," she explained, feeling a bit sheepish. Hopefully, the other hadn't seen her. "I'm Blackbear. Or Easy, I guess. I don't think it matters anymore. What's your name?"
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While “having fun” isn’t a foreign concept to Mallaidh, she does struggle to grasp it in the wake of the storm. The wind is blowing this way and that and there were bursts of rain. The sound it makes when it wipes in the open is different than that in the redwoods but a little chilling nonetheless.

“You’re not worried about the storm coming?” she asked, ears twitching upon her head. Is she? Would she be out here if she was worried that much? Part of her kind of regrets it and wants to find shelter but if Blackbear (or Easy?) doesn’t seem to have a problem, then why should she?

“I’m Mallaidh,” she instructs and offers a smile. “Which do you like to be called?”
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At this question, Easy cast a cautious glance at the open area behind her, thinking it had felt a bit safer there than between the creaking trees. She did not say this to Mallaidh, though. "A little," she admitted, "But the rain and wind won't hurt a wolf, and sitting around worrying about trees and waves won't do any good, since there's nothing we can really do to stop it."

The reasoning seemed sound to her, but some of her carefree mood had been sapped away by the subject matter. She was glad for a change of subject, even if it was something she didn't really want to get into. "I really don't have a preference," she said - both names made her equally uncomfortable. "But what about yours? What's Mallaidh mean? I'm always curious when I meet people with sound-names instead of... I don't know. word-names? Thing-names? We always had word-names in my family."
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Mallaidh finds she doesn’t have anything to say. Easy says she’s worried a little but maybe she’s only saying it so she feels a little better. There isn’t anything they can do about the storm and whatever is going to happen will happen and somehow it makes her feel a little better. She nods her head a little, glancing up as the sky brightens for a few seconds.

In an attempt to not linger on the storm, despite the looming presence, she tries to decide which she likes better. Blackbear is cute and fitting. She’s a large wolf, as tall as Mallaidh, but she is bulkier where her frame is thin (although the floof she has in the winter doesn’t make it seem so obvious), but Easy is… well, easy. Well, whatever comes out of her mouth next time will be the verdict.

“Uh…” she drawls a little, eyebrows knitting together in obvious confusion. “I don’t know what my name means but my mama always called me varjotanssija which means shadow dancer. Maybe that’s what it means,” she explains as best she can, despite her lack of understanding. She doesn’t know much about what part of her parents are what, mixing up both of their culture into one solid memory.
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The woman's ears fell back in disappointment at this admission, only to spring right back up at the sound of another foreign word. "Shadow dancer," she repeated, pumpkin-orange eyes blazing bright. "Does that mean you can dance? Do you sing?" Easy had always loved singing, but although she was better than she'd been in her youth, it would never come quite naturally to her. Neither was her dancing top-rate, but it was fun and her boundless energy lent itself to her movements until they were executed with a sort of jagged grace.

"I was dancing," she admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "Just now, I mean. When I was little, my dad would always sing for us, and since I couldn't sing very well, I would dance. And I can't do that well either, really - but it makes me feel closer to him." She didn't know why she was saying all this, but whenever someone brought up parents (even mothers), she had to think about Grayday. "Do you wanna dance?" she asked somewhat breathlessly.
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#9
“I…” she starts, though she doesn’t have anywhere to go. She’s never really thought about it. If anything, she feels like a warrior when she hears the word. “I have never danced or sang in my life,” she admits. Normally someone is talking to her about sparring or tactics or border patrol that she’s thrown off a bit by the question and Easy’s demeanor all together. She doesn’t fit the typical Drageda wolf she’s used to but there’s been weirder things.

She’s asked to dance and Mallaidh stammers a bit with a low hum. “I don’t, um, know how to dance,” she adds. “But my mom used to sing to me.” Still sings to me.
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#10
Easy visibly balked at Mallaidh's declaration - as though she couldn't imagine there was someone out there who'd never sang or danced, and especially not a girl with such a moniker or such a graceful form. But she swallowed back the surprise and no small amount of pity and said, "It's easy. I can teach you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to follow that up with, " ... if you want." But she didn't, because it seemed an incredible shame to her that a girl like Mallaidh had never put her mind and body toward the finer arts. Doubly so since she'd had a mother who would sing to her, who had thought to call her shadow dancer. "My dad used to sing to us all the time," she said, and neither of them knew that her father had once sang to Malliadh's mother. They would never know. But the esteem Grayday had felt toward Lotte had a chance, in that moment, to be carried on through Easy and Mallaidh, and somehow, the Morningside girl felt the weight of it stirring in the air.
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EasyBlackBear offers to teach her and Mallaidh smiles, nodding her head. She doesn’t yet know the benefit dancing might be to fighting, or for her to associate swift paws with such an activity, but maybe. She only wants to make her new friend feel welcome and the thought of dancing seems like it might be fun, anyway.

“I miss it, sometimes,” she says. All the time, really, but sometimes she hears the hum of her mother’s song and she fills in the rest. Her voice cracks but so does a hit of thunder and she looks up. “I would like to learn,” she adds with a swish of her tail.
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#12
Easy felt a wild surge of affection for the other girl at this admission. I miss it, too, she said, her voice thick with bittersweet nostalgia. She felt a strong urge to start serenading Mallaidh, but they were perfect strangers even if they were pack mates, so Easy swallowed down that desire and held it deep in her chest.

It's easy, she repeated, stepping away from Malliadh to give herself room. You just take what you're feeling and hold it tight until you feel like your body can't possibly contain it anymore... and here, Easy screwed her eyes shut to demonstrate, even though she didn't usually when she was by herself.And then you let it go.

And Easy let it go with a wild, spinning leap, remembering how it had felt the day she learned of her father's death. She'd turned and started running with no plans to stop, and Easy danced to the tune of her grief and exhaustion, zig-zagging through the steps of her deepest despair.

The steps grew slower then, as she reached the part of the story where she'd met Aditya once more. She stumbled back a few steps, only to prance forward once more, and then a sudden bolt of lightning - coupled with the deafening roar of thunder - highlighted her as she turned and danced in a wide circle, spinning so fast it was a miracle her legs didn't tangle. Every way she turned, there was sorrow and emptiness -

Until she facd Mallaidh, and she came to a slowly swaying halt. The grief that she'd held in her chest was now flowing all around her, but there was hope, too, and a soothing balm to her loneliness, and the knowledge that although a wolf's body might die, their spirit lived on in souls of those they'd loved most. Easy paced toward Malliadh with a whisper of, Just do what I do, slowing the steps in a way that echoed the tentative formation of what Easy hoped would be a strong friendship. Step left, step back, meet again. Step left, step back, meet again. Step-left-step-back-met-again, stepleftstepbackmeetagain - and fast and faster if Mallaidh could keep up.
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Her smile widens slightly when she admits to missing it too. Part of her wants to know more about the girl’s father and what he used to sing and… where he is. The hint of sadness in her tongue warns her of the answer.

She doesn’t ask, though, as Easy goes into explaining how to dance. Well, good for them Mallaidh is filled with a lot of feelings. Holding them tight is her forte, too, as it sends her easily into a dizzy spell. Lately, she’s been able to express herself but there’s still a lot under the surface she doesn’t even know how to touch.

As Easy begins to move, Mallaidh watches. the storm around them does the singing for her and each step falls in tune with the sounds around them. As thunder and lightning hit, her mouth opens slightly. No matter how good or bad Easy is, Mallaidh has nothing to compare it to but she can feel the pull of each step and the music in her feet starts to itch.

Sleep, good, forever, slow and deep, spelled rare and wise,
my girl ranging the night in the rose and shire


Her ear twitches behind her and she closes her eyes, taking in a breath. Easy slows and she moves to the hum of her mother’s voice and eventually comes to stop in front of her. Pale eyes flicker up and she feels lost, taking a step forward to mimic what Easy does. Just do what I do, she says and Mallaidh tries to keep her feet together, one in front of the other in time with her friend’s steps. “Okay,” she says, quietly, focused.
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Mallaidh seemed to be a quick study, and Easy was grateful the other girl had not laughed at her. She continued teaching steps, sometimes adding something in and sometimes simply focusing on how to transition smoothly from one step to another, until, finally, Easy herself stumbled. A giggle escaped the sterling girl, and her tail swished as she tried to get back into it.

I've never danced with someone else before, she admitted to Mallaidh, slowing a fraction to circle in close. It feels like something's missing, doesn't it? For while they danced the same moves, it did not feel like truly dancing together in this, perhaps Mallaidh would be able to tutor Easy - sparring was a lot like dancing, after all. I think... hmm...

Her ears flickered in thought, but she wasn't sure how to articulate her feelings to the other girl through words. Instead, she nipped at Mallaidh's shoulder in a playful gesture and spun away, breaking the synchrony of their dance.
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She does her best to copy each step but she stumbles or missteps. It would be a surprise if they bumped into one another once or twice or if she stepped on Easy’s feet. Eventually, they find a nice rhythm (albeit a bit repetitive), but it’s not long before her mentor is stumbling over her feet. Her smile widens and she giggles herself, glad that she is not the only one with clumsy feet.

Having never danced before, she isn’t sure what’s missing, but she watches as Easy puts a little space between them and halts the dancing. She offers a slight tilt of her head in confusion but Easy jumps forward, nips her, and sprints off in the other direction.

“Hey!” she shouts and launches forward after the other girl.
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The repetition is broken. Easy didn't go far when she wheeled away and spooned turned to face her partner again, feinting forward and falling back in turns as she turned the dance into a round of shadow boxing. Thunder rolled and lightning crackled around them, and Easy felt free and alive in a way she hadn't in many, many moons.

The dance was no longer a story, but a grand aria of wordless adulation - Easy danced the swift steps of life, of danger, of perseverance. In this, she thought Mallaidh was better than her. There was something about the other girl - Easy could see parts of herself reflected in Mallaidh's eyes, but something older. More tempered.

Are you sure you've never danced before? asked Easy breathlessly, the dance winding down as she grew winded - the emotions roiling inside her having been spent.
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Mallaidh doesn’t quite catch up to her. Easy moves in a way that keeps her from doing keeping up but she invites her along for the ride anyway. She challenges Easy in her step, bounding forward and quickly back when Easy returns the gesture. She forgets about the storm (it is background music to their movements) and everything she feel loosens just a little and circles her. They’re still there, she feels them strongly, but they are not so tightly wound that she is crippled by the upset.

She slows once the other days, careful not to crash into with one final twist of her body.

“Yeah,” she says and smile, fancy writ across her face. “I wish I could have started before now. Thank you,” she adds, stepping forward and offering gentle kisses against the girl’s cheek. She’s never felt so free.
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Easy's heart skipped a happy beat at the sight of Mallaidh's smile, and she gladly accepted the other girl's affection. Well, it's never too late to start, she offered, returning the gesture in a bit more of a perfunctory manner. She stayed close to her new friend, however, not quite ready to give up the intimacy they'd shared during their dance session.

Will you tell me about her? she asked after a moment. Your mother?

It was dangerous ground, but Easy was rather desperate to strengthen the connection she felt with the other girl.
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Easy gives her a few licks back and she smiles, leaning into it. “Good to know,” she says, quietly. She wonders if Blixen or Rose or Ali would dance with her. Something tells her Artaax wouldn’t. She snorts a little at the thought, pulling away as Easy asks something.

She blinks a few times and looks down at her paws. She hasn’t really talked about her mom, not like this, and she sighs. The rain starts to pick up, pelting their fur with large, icy droplets.

“She…” she starts, unable to really put words to how she remembers. “She was big and strong and she kinda looked like me but darker, bluer, somehow.” She thinks of Roarke and how much he carries her pattern and color. She wishes it had been here. “She had a song for each of us, my littermates. I hea—” she chokes on the word— “I pretend she sings it to me, sometimes, when I really miss her.”
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At the vague discription, Easy let out a soft sigh. By Mallaidh's tone, she surmised that the woman was no longer around, and Easy wasn't quite brave enough to ask if she'd gone the same way as Easy's mother or Easy's father - it just didn't seem polite. Besides, what really mattered to her was that they were the same in this small way.

The dark woman let out an irritable curse as the rain began to come down harder, and she motioned for Mallaidh to accompany her into the deeper, more covered areas of the forest.

"My dad and I had a song together - but he died before we could finish it," she told the other, looking up at the broad boughs of the redwoods and receiving a drop of conifer-scented water on the tip of her nose for her toruble. "Maybe you could sing me your song one day," she suggested. "Daddy used to say - well, it's not all that relevant. But he'd say a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. And I don't know... feel better."
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Easy mentions her dad died and she wants so much to relate to her. Wants to her to know she understands the pain but something keeps her muzzle sealed. Mallaidh barely remembers her mom these days, despite how much she clings to the memories. That part of her childhood feels far away and Lotte has become nothing more than a passing thought, a scent, a sound, the way the light shines; they are all her mother. Her face? She wishes she could still paint the picture. These days, it’s often filled with Roarke’s face, angry and full of hate, and that is not what she wants to remember.

Her chest seizes and she slowly nods her head, holding a painful breath. If this is shared sorrow, she does not want to know what it feels at full blast (though she’s certain she’s felt it already), but she does feel a little comforted by their connection.

“Me too,” she adds, even if it’s not the truth.
i'd give anything to hear you say it one more time
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