Wild Berry Meadow o, how my flesh summers

u get my 500 @Maegi ❤️

---

---

It was a drowsy, suffusing spring afternoon in the bejeweled meadow, and the fauna residents — once so rowdy in the daylight hours — were quieting now, for the moon had begun to crest regardless. They were starting to roost into their earthly homes; to rest and to prepare for the next day’s labors.

Aurëwen, however, was infuriatingly restless, and some hours ago had set southbound for some manner of forage. She longed for balaur and belea to roam with her, farther and further; but for now, she lounged in this berry-bliss, and furrowed a silver brow at why she’d never crafted one of those animal-skein totes earlier. Only then would she be able to return to her babes with worldly treats, as she wished to.

Presently, the silver was lain upon an elbow and her side, scarred face canted to nibble and lave at the tufts between the toes of one dainty paw; rivulets of mauve and blush dribbled down to the elbow, only to return back to the warmth of the earth, droplet-like. The stains had to come out eventually, right?

In some anguish that said stains were being so stubborn, Aure promptly unfurled onto her back and stuck all fours out in a predominantly Isilmë-ish manner. She sneered at the heavens, lolled onto her other side, and gave a long, luxurious stretch that ended in a bereft, grumbling groan.

Should she simply snooze another hour away, given there was nothing to fear, here, aside from paint smudges? 

so sorry for makin' you wait on this

She didn't know why the meadow called to her today, only that her hobbling steps took her from the trees into the blinding light of day. Squinting, Maegi paced slowly, belly swaying to and fro as she went along, cramping from what she assumed were kicks and barrel rolls from her future spiderlings. Gods, they were strong!

The presence of another ghost caught her eye; she stopped, staring the woman down, before coming closer, ears swiveling in wariness. Was she alone? There was no other presence to be felt nearby, no other scents accompanying. Still, best to be cautious—the dark mountain woman had seemed innocuous at first, too.

What are you doing? Maegi asked, tone cool but casual. The stranger was in a strange position, and. . .oh. Her face was marred: not as badly as her own, but still enough to be notable. She acknowledged this with a brief glance before turning her gaze back to the silver eyes, staring at the sky.

pff your posts are always worth the wait hon <3

Perhaps it wasn’t time for another snooze, after all. Lashes had fluttered closed, and remained so, even when she heard the tepid words drifting from above and not too faraway. Aure did, however, part her lips to reply; but her lungs took that opportunity to nudge them further into a warbly yawn.

With that, the silver rolled onto her back once more, and trilled blearily, ”Would you like to roll in ze hay?” A dopey giggle followed, and finally, her eyes crescented open. Those gleaming argents flurried in several blinks — her own listless acknowledgement — at who stared down at her before jesting: ”How kind of you to provide shade for me.”

Tipping her head back even further, her marred facade bloomed considerably, and Aure promptly rolled upon her belly to congratulate the ladenness found there: ”You are expecting? Felisistations!” — well, however that word was pronounced.

At the cheeky remark, Maegi continued to stare flatly down at the woman, clearly unamused. It was only when she mentioned her obvious condition that the girl's mouth twisted in a minimal smile, slightly preening. I am, she said, nodding. It'll be my first litter of pups. She was more than happy to brag about the blessings the daedra had bestowed upon her.

What were you doing? Maegi asked again, her voice a little impatient. Even within the Woods, she wasn't that relaxed—well, unless she had indulged in one too many a poppy seed. But that was a special circumstance, these days; she barely came in contact with the intoxicant. I haven't seen you around here before.

So, her first litter, too? Still beaming, Aure opened her pale maw to agree with the other sprecter of this; but then a question was lofted her way, so the herbalist answered to that instead. “Eating these... berries, I suppose. I haven’t had them since I was a whelp, you know, because springs and summers were so short in my realm.” Well, not her realm anymore, but—

”Ah, I haven’t been this far south before. I’d like to go farther, someday,” the silver admitted. With a shiver through her coat, Aure situated herself back onto her haunches, taking a seat as she idly tongued at her stained jowls. “I wonder how much land there is, between this place and... and, uh, anything else that’s southbound. Have you been confined to this north, too?”

Berries, eh? Maegi peered at her with interest, eyes flickering briefly to the bushes before returning to the scarred face. What do they do? she asked, raising her brows. The berries. How do they make you feel? Because obviously, if she was going out of her way to eat plants, they must have some strange, wonderful effect. Right?

She shrugged at the question, giving the woman a bland smile. Your guess is as good as mine, Maegi responded. Beyond these lands, I haven't traveled much. Definitely not south of here. But I'm terrible with directions, so. . . She might have gone south at one point and not even known it.

Do you live around here? she asked. Her nostrils flared, catching a whiff of the scent cloaking the pale wolf. Mountains. . .and she shivered, thinking of that crisp alpine air and the taunting stare of Molag Bal.

Terrible at directions was what both she-wolves seemed to inherit; it’d only been because of Greyback’s and Wintersbane’s guidance that she’d ever reached the coast in the first place, all those moons ago. When the hinter-wolf questioned of her living area, Aure mused, “Yes, just over ze range, in a pack called Diaspora... for now, anyways.” For now.

“As for ze berries, well, they’re for the pleasure of simply... eating,” Aure hummed, rolling one scrawny shoulder as her thoughts drifted into frostive memories. Memories once so repressed, which would come to resurface unforgivingly in the next days to come. “There is... black-berry, rasping-berry, and blues-berries. I am sure there are more sorts of berries, but...”

Shaking her boney figure with a wobbly stand, Aure listed to one bristly bush — puckering up with red, dimpling produce. “I know that rasping-berries have anti-inflammatory properties,” skirting about it to wander to the darker harvests, “and that black-berries do ze same, but moreso with swelling and irritation, especially... ah, bowel movements.”

“Blues-berries—“ Aure paused then, teetering on three paws to awkwardly scratch at an itch at the pale bulb of her ear. “Blues-berries, I’m not too sure about. They are my favorites, however; never ze small, pebbly ones, though.” With that, she resituated herself back on four paws and looked to the expecting mother, hazy.

She had never heard of Diaspora, nor did she care to, if they were anything like the wolves that had kidnapped her. Then again. . .perhaps they were the wolves that had kidnapped her. Had the woman gotten her scars from them? Was she taken by force, too? Maegi's mouth pulled tight in a contemplative scowl before loosening again; now, the stranger was going on about berries.

They were named simply enough—well, except for the rasping-berries. Maegi didn't know why they were called that. Anti-inflammatory was a term she was unfamiliar with, but swelling, irritation, and bowel movements were all concepts she could grasp. She would have to remember these, for future use.

But they don't do anything to you? Maegi clarified, head tilted slightly. Like poppies dull your senses, and some other plants will make you hallucinate. These are just medicine, and good to eat? Of little use to her, then. . .but knowledge was power, after all. The more she knew, the better.

Before the woman could answer, however, she cut in quickly, chasing her earlier thought. Do you know a big gray wolf with purple eyes and a scarred face? she asked, frowning again. I don't know his name—but he lives in the mountains, or at least he used to.

At the next query, she’d begun to shrug; to loll her head in the universally elusive manner of “Perhaps?” But before the silver could answer, the other blanchard hastened in another question — a great, greyed wolf, lilac eyes, scarred. For a moment, Aurëwen hesitated ...but she couldn’t truly see what the matter would be.

”Oh, yes, Mahler,” she trilled breezily, drawing a rosy tongue down a long forelimb. “That scowler still resides in ze spires. Whatever for?” She knew nothing of the expectant before her — was she in search of a midwife, as the herbalist herself had been? Were they related in some way? By blood, or some other sort of relation?

Of course, this she-wolf held the right to not portend any information to the silver. But Aurëwen supposes that she was surprised that others... knew of Mahler. lmao

She mostly expected the woman to be totally unfamiliar with the description Maegi gave. She really did. The fact that there was any familiarity at all brought her up short; a name was even more surprising. The Melonii stiffened, straightening, her gaze growing blank and cold.

I should go, she said abruptly, already taking a step or two back. If Molag Bal—Mahler—was the kind of company this stranger kept, then Maegi wanted no further part of it. She seemed nice enough, but. . .alas. She couldn't be trusted, not if there was no apparent malice between herself and this Mahler.

She turned and hobbled away through the grass, glancing over her shoulder every so often. Blue landed suddenly on her shoulder and she started; he dug his talons in and she winced. Keep an eye out for that wolf back there, Maegi said in a low voice. If she comes around with a wolf that she calls Mahler. . .let me know.

If the frolicsome silver read and knew the chill in the Blackfeather’s eyes, she didn’t let on. For all the world, the herbalist was as blithely unaware of the bleakness of Magei’s countenance just as she was of who, exactly, she referred to. But the description had matched that of her midwife, and she’d seen no harm in telling this she-wolf what she knew.

With the ravaged lurker taking her leave, so did Aure see fit to begin a hazy, content traipse back to the Falls and to her children. She strode for the spires, unfettered by doubts; and soon hastened in her fervidy to see them again, and tell them of what she’d discovered here.

All the while, she didn’t take note of blue wings, fluttering high high high above her scarred crown; or of the whispers which been woven moments before.