Witch's Marsh I'll never forgive Orange if they've wiped the twins

For any Uaine Gorsedd wolf!

Despite the dank atmosphere, Pygmalion was beginning to take to the marsh. There was no doubt it had to do with the company here. They were all charming, interesting beings. . .and then there was Bhediya, a notch above all the rest. He was content to stay for now, even if it did mean more than a little mud here and there.

But he traveled the dry paths Ibis had mentioned, looking for small game to replenish the caches (and his stomach). Something had happened around this place—large prey were noticeably absent, and there was a gauntness to everyone that signified trouble. Had that trouble been of such a degree that things were so fractured?

Had he made a mistake in coming here?

Ah. . .frogs. The scent wafted over his muzzle, and he grimaced slightly; he didn't have much of a fondness for the taste of the amphibians. Nevertheless, he was hungry, and others had to eat, too. He prowled along the trail, ears cupped to pick up the tell-tale croaking ribbits that would lead him to his quarry.

Mammalian life did not thrive in the marsh. There were no traditional prey animals to go after, much to Bhediya's dismay. Frogs, fish; they'd never been appetizing but now they were her only option. A bullfrog, large enough for a midday meal, sat croaking a few feet away.

Bhediya was hidden behind a nearby bush for cover. Tracking and hunting had never been her forte, but she figured that ought to learn. Her stomach rumbled. The frog took a cautious half-step forward.

The distance between them had obviously been miscalculated, making the jump ambitious at best. Bhediya leapt with all of her might and managed to land some two feet away from where she'd planned. Had she been given another moment, Bhe might have tried to run after the frog, but he was running in the other direction before she could even notice.

The shadow that passed by caught his attention, the smell a split-second later confirming it was no shadow at all—but Bhediya. Silent, he watched her, intrigued. She seemed to be engaged in the same errand as he was, but she was closer. . . Would she grasp the frog?

No, bad luck! The woman jumped but to no avail, and the creature sailed away. Pygmalion removed himself from the shadows, giving her a sheepish grin and a quip: Slippery little buggers, eh?

His tail waved happily as he padded toward her, face sympathetic. Ye'll get one the next time, lass, he responded amiably. How are you? D'ye fancy this place at all, then, or is it not much to yer liking? He grimaced in illustration, pressing his paw down upon one of the more solid bits of mud around them.

The humiliation of having been seen lasted only a minute. It helped that the viewer had a familiar face. Pyg? Bhediya asked. Despite what had been said, she wasn't expecting to see him again. She approached him with a wide grin and gave his shoulder a gentle bump. I'm done hunting frogs.

The marsh would have been easier to adjust to if it housed more conventional prey. It wouldn't have made Bhediya any better at hunting, but she was convinced that it would help her chances. The marsh is good at keeping out intruders, so I like that. It was about the only good thing she could think of. A telling look was shot at Pygmalion, revealing her general disgust.

That's me, he shot back, pulling a face. Pygmalion laughed at her retort as she approached, even as his skin tingled at the touch. So close. . .so sweet. She smelled of lovely things. 

He shrugged, looking around. Aye, I suppose it does have its merits, Pyg said amiably. Even so, he wrinkled his nose. Still. We'll no survive the winter on frogs alone, he chuckled. Especially if neither of them could catch one.

Ye were traveling, when we met in the glade, he continued by way of observation. What made ye come back, then?

Me. Say me.

Bhediya wasn't in the business of breaking spirits. Pygmalion could romanticize their relationship for the rest of his days, if he so pleased. He didn't have to know that her heart had long since closed. I don't know, she replied. A curious grin appeared across her maw as she settled into a seat.

A sigh broke the silence. Maybe it's the scenery, Bhe teased, I've always loved brown. The ascetic scanned the arctic run of Pygmalion's body and took note of the muddy boots he wore. The company is okay, too.

He let out a guffaw at her joke, rolling his eyes. Aye, sure, Pyg retorted, and I'm the king o' the north. I'd say the company is a little more than okay. He gave her a gentle, amicable nudge, gaze sparkling a deep and fathomless hickory. Ye've got Ibis, Awol, Kulkoo— er, Kookoo— och, whatever. Him, and others.

Pygmalion scrunched his brow in exaggerated thought, glancing off to the side. Who am I forgetting, now. . . He shrugged, sighing, and looked back at Bhediya. Weel, I suppose there's me, too, he chuckled.

With a small groan, he sat back on his haunches, avoiding the soggier bits around him. I'm rubbish with the frog hunting, too, he went on, nostrils flaring as he tried to find the fishy-earthy scent of them again. Up north, we have these little furry creatures. . .lemmings. Swift as hell. They remind me o' the frogs, except not nearly as stinky.

No, his burly body was built for big game, for tracking the caribou herds across vast distances. This small fry stuff was not to his liking.

You're the King of the North? Bhediya asked. The tease should have been obvious, but she added on a laugh for clarity. Pygmalion was charismatic, a trait that she appreciated. She wondered what it might have been like if they'd met earlier in life. Yeah, there's you, too.

A splash from behind stole her attention. It won't be big enough, she thought, Don't waste the energy. Bhediya shifted herself to quiet the rumbling in her stomach. Lemmings? The word was foreign to her, a native southerner. Bhe hoped that Pygmalion had a hunting story to share; she could use a laugh.

He shook his head ruefully. Nay, that's my faither, he explained, grinning. Which makes me the prince, I reckon. Except that I've got more brothers than ye can count, and probably all wanting to be prince. . . Pygmalion shook it off like a dog clearing water from his coat, rolling his eyes. It's fer the best that I left.

The young Pangloss glowed at her admission, and beamed further when she asked about the lemmings. Aye, wee brown furry things, he explained in what was perhaps the most cryptic description possible. Small and round. Fat, especially in the summer. Sometimes they travel in big groups—

Pyg began to laugh, albeit grimly. Once, a great lot of them ran right off a ledge, he recalled. Dinna ken why, and we would have had ourselves a feast, except their path to doom was right into the icy sea. So strange.

The banter between them seemed to momentarily fade. There was a story to Pygmalion, Bhediya thought, and it was likely more interesting than the lemmings. She nodded along to his story and even gave a few laughs. Strange, she replied.

She wondered if their death had been immediate or if they'd had to suffer. Bhe didn't know if suffering alone was the same as suffering with someone who understood. Can you tell me more about your family?

Indeed, he chuckled, and then she segued to his family. Honestly, he loved them, but he'd rather talk about the lemmings than the myriad white wolves that made up his lineage. But she had asked, and thus she would receive. Weel, there are aboot a thousand of us, Pyg said cheerfully. Okay, perhaps not that many, but still a lot. I have. . .

He began to silently count, mouthing the names as he carried on. Eventually, he lost track. Oh well. Like, twenty siblings? Has to be up to that number, now. That seemed right. There were quite a few.

I was a middle child in a middle litter, Pygmalion said ruefully. I didna get much attention, which is mostly why I left. My faither was verra powerful, verra fierce, and so were many of my older brothers and sisters. I was never going tae make anything of myself there.

Who would inherit Atticus's position? Tristam was probably the first choice, being the oldest boy, but Gulliver might give him a run for his money. . . But not his circus, not his monkeys. Not anymore. He was here now, and hopefully here to stay.

Their situations differed, but the feeling of inadequacy was one that they both seemed to understand. Bhediya nodded along with Pygmalion's recounting, though his accent made some of it difficult to understand. I get it, she replied with a grin, You need attention to survive. To some degree, Bhe did, too. 

How long ago did you leave? Pyg was assumed to be fresh from adolescence, no older than three winters. Are you finding any luck here?

He shrugged briefly. I coulda survived just fine, I reckon, I just would've been completely ignored, Pyg remarked. This way, I at least have a chance to leave a legacy, rather than just die another Pangloss drone. A wistful sigh escaped his lips at the thought of his even more passive brothers that would likely succumb to that fate.

Not good, not bad. Just mediocre.

I left in late summer, he explained, and I've not been here fer verra long. I'm still settlin' in, really. Time will tell. He gave her a smile, eyes twinkling. Perhaps she could be his luck. He already counted himself lucky to be in her orbit.

Pygmalion cocked his head in query. What aboot you? What's yer family like?

The family that Bhediya had been born into was too complex to cover. Their culture was different from that of the Teekons and it worried her to imagine Pygmalion's potential judgements. Well, she sighed, I'm a Mom. That was the only facet of her backstory that really mattered, anyway. 

Thoughts of Morningside were difficult to quiet. Grayday, their father, had a pack not far from here. Of course, this was a long time ago and he's passed on now, but... It was the first time that Bhediya had verbally acknowledged Day's death. The words stung as they were released.

Our kids are all grown, too. I haven't seen them in a while. Most pups eventually left the nest; Bhe and her sisters had done it, albeit under different circumstances. When it was time for them to go, they didn't think about how much it would hurt the wolves that they left behind. The scout doubted her own offspring had been any different.

His ears perked far forward at that revelation. A mom? That somehow made her even more attractive to him. Knowing that her kind nature had manifested itself into motherhood. . . (And perhaps would again—?)

Maybe one day, ye'll be reunited with them, Pygmalion offered with a smile, blissfully unaware of the complications within that simple statement. To him, a reunion with family after some time sounded lovely—especially with a parent. If their faither wasn't far from here, perhaps they haven't wandered so much.

But then, they could have. He found himself far from his home, after all. D'ye have any siblings? What were yer parents like? He wanted to know more, more, more.

trying to wrap this because three (threads) is a crowd and this one is pretty much good anyway lol

pygmalion's words of encouragement did not go unappreciated, though bhediya doubted that they held any truth. if the family had chosen to stay close to the cuesta, she was sure that they would still be there now. 

she hoped that he wouldn't take any offense, but bhe didn't want to talk about her birth family. the memories of home were too painful to divulge. maybe later? she chirped, hoping that pyg would accept it. i, uhm...i need to talk to ibis, if that's okay.

the scout, assuming pyg wouldn't have an argument, began making her way to the heart of the marsh.

That's fine!

His ears flattened slightly, but Pyg nodded, at least giving the pretense of understanding. She was evasive about her family and he wondered why. A conversation for another day, perhaps. Not everyone had grown up in the glorious chaos that was the Pangloss clan.

Aye, sure, he said, a bit wistfully. See ye later, Bhediya. He watched her pad away, eyes tracking her steps as she disappeared into the mire. 

Family. Maybe they'd have one of their own, someday. One she wouldn't be afraid to discuss. Pyg did a semi-circle and resumed his frog hunting, nose low to the damp earth in search of squishy grey-green prey.