Firefly Glen in shape no bigger than an agate stone

@Midar?

This new world has brought her more than she expected. But if one looks for long enough, will they not find something of interest? Her sister had come, long ago, to settle here. Her descendants--Megara's relatives -- are scattered throughout the lands.

Can it get better than this?

She knows no other life, however, beyond wandering. So wander she will, until the next miracle. Perhaps one day, she will find young Meloniis to which she can impart wisdom. Only then, will she settle. Without that occurring, her old bones will keep moving until they fall apart and become one with the earth.

Hopefully, that particular imagery is a long time coming.

He had his task, and the beast would do whatever Damien asked of him; even if it had been to stay in the mountains with the pack he didn't trust one bit, he would have dutifully done so. Thankfully, he was tasked with searching out more eligible members for their clan so that when everyone was ready, they could take what was rightfully theirs. 

He moved through the hibernating forest turned brown by the bitter cold of winter. Snow covered most of the ground, and Midar moved through it with panther-like grace leaving a trail of prints behind him, caring little to conceal his presence anywhere. He spotted the stranger not far in front of him, her similarly-colored fur standing out against the snow and making him freeze in place. He had only seen that coat on his family, but he still couldn't be sure, so he just watched, calculating and and assessing, and waited for her to notice him or not--he didn't particularly care either way. If he was being honest, some part of him was hoping she wasn't family; that came with questions and expectations that he wasn't very find of facing, especially given his recent memory episode.

For a moment, she feels as if she is back home again. A black-pelted wolf with long-limbed grace, moving through the trees. He stops upon seeing her, and their eyes meet for a heartstopping moment, before she makes the decision to come closer. She stops a few tail-lengths away and could cry upon seeing the indigo of his gaze.

Who are you? Megara asks, a little breathlessly. What are your parents' names?

No use beating around the bush. He knows just as well as she their connection; their near-identical appearances leave no room for doubt nor games. Whether he answers truthfully is up to him, and there is a good chance that he lies.

But she knows. She knows what lies within that dark Melonii heart of his.

She did finally notice him, and their eyes met briefly before she made the decision to move closer. He noticed the color of her eyes as well--the same color as his and the rest of his family here. Then she was speaking, asking who he was and for the name of his parents. His ears flattened abruptly in irritation at the question about the family he couldn't remember, but he quickly composed himself, pushing the anger deep down inside to deal with later. 

I am Midar Melonii, he answered first. Best to throw the family name out there to being with so that if she was family, he would know better how to proceed from here. As for my parents--I don't know, he said, a little less evenly. It was a sore subject, and he especially wasn't about to inform this stranger of his troubled past.

for the sake of everything i'm just gonna assume she knows the names of Malene's children

My sons, her daughter had purred. Milar and Midar. Two beautiful, healthy Melonii boys, their newborn pelts as sleek and black as a raven's wing. Perfect in every way.

Midar, Megara whispers, almost overcome by the past and present coming to a sudden collision. Midar Melonii. You have a brother, Milar, yes? She swallows, blinking. Your mother is Malene—my daughter. We are close kin.

But how does he not know his parents? That must mean Malene had come to some end, soon after his birth, and Megara fears the worst. She has not seen any of her children in some time. You weren't supposed to pick favorite offspring, but Malene had always been dear to her. Her newborn sons, too.

Well, at least she has been reunited with some semblance of blood.

What brings you here? she asks. Looking for Melonii? Descendants of Meldresi? Meldresi—your great aunt, Megara adds, with a smile.

She was throwing all of these names at him, and he could feel the rage growing. His breathing started to get faster. He obviously knew he had to have a mother somewhere, but he had no memories of her or her name--and a brother? He didn't remember a brother either, or this woman in front of him, or any of the fucking names she kept saying. 

His breaths started coming and going even faster, his ribs rising and falling with each action. Just stop with all the names, he finally said through clenched teeth. I don't....remember....any of them, the confused beast spat out between breaths. He hated this fucking feeling--like there was something he should know but his messed up brain wouldn't let him remember. 

He started to pace, his breathing getting even faster as the rage grew. He didn't want to lose it in front of this stranger, but it was all beyond his control now.

Family has always been Megara's weakness. She can wax poetic about the Melonii, spinning listeners through an hours-long recollection of her lineage. To hear him cast these names so callously aside--Meldresi! Meldresi not known?!--is almost more than she can bear.

Almost. For he is family, too, and her grandson to boot. She will not give up on him so easily. 

I am your grandmother, she says simply, remaining calm, but her voice is icier than before. These names are your family. You don't remember, or you don't want to remember? Perhaps she is pushing too hard, but she is insulted on behalf of her daughter, forgotten by this boy. 

She knows not whether Malene is alive or dead, and yet she must deal with petulant angst? She blinks slowly, waiting for his response.

She spoke again, and he continued pacing until she accused him of not wanting to remember. He froze mid-step, anger coursing through him as the words settled over him. Midar slowly turned his head to her, expression dark and indignant. Of course I want to remember, he snarled, the words quiet but heavy with rage. Who did she think she was standing there and accusing him of such a thing; she had no idea the utter torment he felt at being without half of who he was. He wanted to rip her face off for such a statement, but if she really was his grandma, he would possibly feel guilty for doing so later if he did ever remember. He swallowed hard. I don't remember any of my life from before--my head injury, he finally explained, sucking in a deep breath to try and calm himself. The fact that she was clearly related to him in some way was the only thing keeping his teeth from her face right now, as well as the only reason he offered this troubled part of his past to her. He rarely talked about it, even with Alarian, so he felt like she certainly didn't deserve to hear it, but maybe it would wipe that accusatory look from her face.

Her face remains impassive as he speaks, the rage clearly palpable in his voice. It never has done any good to stoop to that. No, where he is angry, she is coldly serene. It is only when he mentions his past injury that something akin to sympathy blooms over her face.

Then let me help you, Megara responds softly. I will tell you whatever you want to know. She is more than happy to lead this lost little lamb back into the fold. He has gone too far astray. 

She tilts her head, curious. Who do you travel with here? the old seductress asks. Is this your home? She ought not to linger for too much longer, but the joy at finding a grandson outweighs her natural wanderlust. Even if he is somewhat rough around the edges.

Another family member offering to help him find his memories. If only it were that easy. He never got to choose what he wanted to remember or when he would get flashed of his past, but maybe it would be helpful to have someone to clarify things for him. Someone who actually knew who he was. He sighed and his face relaxed some. I have a brother? he asked mostly calm.

There are other Melonii wolves here, he began to answer. They temporarily reside in the mountains east of here, and I've been out searching for more like us, Midar added, lifting his nose towards the sunspire mountains where his family was staying.

The tension eases between them, and she allows herself to smile again. You do, she responds. Milar. He looks much like you. She hasn't seen Milar in some time, come to think of it. How had her family scattered so quickly to the winds, and her completely unaware of it? It must have happened when she was traveling.

Her eyes widen in intrigue. I will have to pay them a visit, she croons, warming further at the thought of more Melonii. Will you join them, eventually? I would enjoy my grandson's company, for as long as my old bones have left. This very well might be her last winter. It isn't a pleasant thought, but she's long resigned herself to her impending demise.

Milar. The name didn't spark any kind of recognition, not even in the deepest tunnels of his fucked up mind, and he found himself growing irritated again. How could he not remember his own brother? Why hadn't hearing the name triggered any kind of memory? Didn't he deserve that much? He was tried of living his life without half of his memories. He kept the small spiral of despair and frustration mostly to himself, not wanting to lose it in front of his family member again. He simply nodded at her description of his brother, storing it away in his mind for a day when he would hopefully need to recall it. 

He nodded to her next question. Yes, once they leave the mountains and claim their own land, I will join them again, he answered. I--do not quite trust the wolf who leads the pack there, and I don't think I can pledge my loyalty to a leader who is not Melonii, so they have asked me to scout for new members instead. He couldn't really give a good reason for not trusting the Diaspora leader--it was just a feeling he had, The beast supposed it was a symptom of being a creature of natural distrust of anything unfamiliar, but still, he knew he couldn't live there and pretend to be something he wasn't; that just wouldn't work out for him, and he didn't want to mess up their chances at having a safe place to raise their future young pups until they would be old enough to travel. I'm sure you would be welcome there if that's what you want, he added with a small shrug. She was clearly Melonii, so they would welcome her just as they had welcomed him.

Megara nods, understanding him completely. Through various stints of infiltration, she has had to feign loyalty to those not of her blood. It is difficult—sometimes near impossible. If she hadn't needed to, she wouldn't have done it. She admires her grandson's faithfulness to a family he can barely remember.

I will go, for a time, she says, voice soft with contemplation. Though I want us all together as soon as possible. Melonii may wander, but they always come back to each other. She blinks at the young man, thinking of the extraordinary circumstances that had brought them together once more. Gods, how different he is from the boy he had been!

I will go soon, but tell me first about your life here, Megara insists. I want to hear more of your story.

fade this out?