Sawtooth Spire For thirty minutes bet we played that game

It must've rained overnight, thought Wylla as she splashed through a puddle that hadn't been there the day before. The air was thick with fog and heavy on the lungs. The grass was laden with dew. A typical spring morning that she drank deep breaths of as she set off for a morning jog around the northern perimeter, eager to do a patrol in Wintersbane's absence. Unlike Mahler, she wasn't worried about it yet. Men sometimes ranged far and wide in search of a place to put their goods, and she was positive that's where he'd gone.

She wondered how @Stag was faring now that his mother was mysteriously back in their midst. An uncomfortable thought, that, though the reversal of their roles and the end of the fertile season took the edge off Wylla's opinion of Takiyok's return. Where she might've been testy about it before, she was mostly glad for the peace it would bring Stag. Even Wylla, nearing the start of her fourth year of life, found comfort when her mother was around, whether or not she admitted it.

She also wondered how @Greyson was settling in. He'd shown promise as a hunter, but since then, she'd been too busy with the cubs to seek him out. Wylla lowered her head to brush the wet grass with her nose, trying to suss out the scent of either of the wolves on her mind.

sorry for the wait!! CLOWNFOOT'S HERE

Stag wasn't expecting Wylla, so when he saw her jogging neatly around the perimeters he paused for a moment and studied her in quiet awe. She had always been something of an inspiration figure for the young boy; she was capable, she was strong, and most of all -- she never let anyone treat her like a doormat. She knew her place in the world, from what Stag could gather -- and he desperately wanted to be more like her.

He knew little of what it took to rear cubs, but assumed perhaps Mahler was watching them if Wylla was out. Clearing his throat with his mother far from his mind, Stag settled into a loose-legged jog after the Eisen with an amicable wag of his tail.

Little did she know, Stag was not only already watching her, but was also behind her. The sound of a harrumph drew her ears back and she turned her head to spot emerald eyes in a stoic face. She'd never met his father, but if she had, she might spot a streak of resemblance there, except Stigmata had been a severe wolf, and Stag was anything but.

Hello, Stag, she greeted with a wan smile, slowing so he could catch up and job alongside her rather than behind. She'd felt a little animosity toward him in light of his inexperience with cubs and the proper etiquette surrounding that, but it was all forgotten now. In fact, the boy had stepped up for Phaedra in a way that even her father was failing to do nowadays, and she couldn't put words to how grateful she was for his visits. They distracted her daughter from her sorrow and gave her something to smile about and look forward to.

Phaedra's really taken a liking to you, she commented, wondering if the boy was aware of just how precious he was to the little Skarp. Thank you for visiting so often. It really means a lot to her, and me.

"Hi, Wylla." The yearling returned, his breath half-held as she motioned for him to come along. Stag hung back for the briefest moment as he analyzed Wylla's invitation -- he was giddier than a school-girl to be invited to stride alongside her, but he planned his advancement carefully: one big fat clown foot in front of the next.

Out of deference, his nose did not pass Wylla's shoulder: he followed as she lead the way, an ear turned attentively to her.

Some wolves were bashful under compliments, others drank it in. Stag was neither of the wolves; he accepted the statement with quiet poise unusual for him, his tongue ever so slightly tied as he tried to explain what the little Liebling was to him.

He might not need to say anything at all; his eyes lit up as he thought of Phaedra, of their silly games of kiss tag, of him rounding up flowers for her, of her little quaint garden. Life was brighter with her in it, somehow.

"Thank you for letting me watch her. It's fun -- and she's always showing me new perspectives. There's never a boring moment." He smiled to himself -- that was the odd thing about children, they tended to make you see through their eyes rather than your own, which often became clouded and jaded with time.

She's a bright kid, Wylla agreed, having been caught unawares more than once by the perspectives her daughter held. Somehow, she'd expected to birth another just like Tiercel, but Phaedra was a sweet thing that Wylla wasn't sure she deserved in her life.

Stag did deserve her, though. If nothing else, Wylla could be proud to have brought some light into the boy's life. She didn't know a lot about his history, but he was awfully sombre for a wolf his age. Borderline melancholy, even. When she was a yearling, she was wild and crass and unfettered. He seemed so serious all the time.

So, she said, putting on a little burst of speed before asking, completely without warning, tell me what your plans in life are.

Stag would have noded enthusiastically after Wylla's comment, if it were not for the speed in which they were power-walking. He tried to hide that he was short of breath, only to lightly gasp as Wylla suddenly shot off and left him in the brambles figuratively. Grinning, he put his feet to the floor and hauled after her, only to be floored by the whiplash of the conversation's abrupt change.

His ears fell momentarily, his somber gaze lifting. What a heavy question -- and god, he didn't even know the answer. "Uhmm.." Stag breathed through his nostrils uncomfortably. "Iunno. I mean, I want to stay here with you guys forever, and it'd be nice to someday have a--" His eyes fluttered shyly and his tone dropped -- "... girlfriend -- but, I dunno! I don't think about that stuff much. It just gets too stressful whenever I think too much."

Wylla thought he might say something about exploring the world or seeking his place in a different pack or trying to form something for himself—typical male yearling aspirations. Instead, Stag seemed content to remain a Sagtannet wolf for life. She admired that he knew at least that much at his tender age. She couldn't say she was even remotely decided on her future when she was a year old.

She was four now, and still undecided on the trajectory of her life. She wanted to say something about it, but became hung up on his nervous bluster about getting a girlfriend. Latching onto that, Wylla cracked a grin and shot him a sideways glance. Got your eye on any pretty little ladies?

Ask Stag about exploring the world or setting on new horizons, and he might respond in Gene Belcher fashion - no thanks, I've seen it, not impressed. To Stag there was very little merit to leaving the world he'd built behind, to explore one he hardly knew -- especially when so much of what was important to him was here. 

He blushed under Wylla's question, for while he was her packmate and he was pushing adult age, he still felt like a teenager -- especially around her. Umm.. He dug a forepaw into the ground. There aren't really a lot of wolves here my age. He often felt he was caught between two big age groups in Sagtannet -- he was not old enough to be Wylla's peer, and he was far older than those like Phaedra, which was incidentally where he spent most of his time.

Who says they have to be your age? she ribbed, shooting Stag a teasing sidelong look. There was some merit to being similar ages, she supposed, but it wasn't the most important thing about a relationship. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't watched Stag with Phaedra now and again and started on a thought or two about his suitability for family life. She'd also be lying if she claimed she hadn't had a few thoughts on how.

But he didn't need to know about that. No one needed to know about that. You could always go and try to lure some nice girl home, she suggested, watching carefully as they walked to see if she was getting under his skin at all.

Stag hadn't thought of it that way at all; he snuck a glance to Wylla to decipher whether her ribbing was meant cheekily, or not -- was it really okay to find mates in separate age groups? He was young (and dumb) enough that Wylla and Mahler seemed like they were the same age.. In reality, they were almost as far apart as he and Phaedra.

He didn't know that, though for now he entertained both of Wylla's suggestions. Maybe as one grew older, the age gap lessened. Or maybe it didn't.. He kept pace, not at all annoyed but certainly perplexed with the newfound world Wylla inavertedly presented. "That'd mean I'd have to leave here, though.. or.. she'd have to leave her family, too." Stag bit his lip, not liking the idea of pulling someone else from their family -- he assumed naively since he cared so much for his family, that all wolves were the same. He would soon learn that was not the case for many. "Maybe someday, though." He looked down, realizing he'd selfishly been the subject of their conversation for a little longer than was polite. "What about you? Are you and Mahler mates?" He hadn't quite wrapped his head around that, and felt ashamed to ask so boldly.. but his youthful mind insisted he needed to know.

All wolves one day leave their homes, she said with a rolling shrug. Naturally, she hoped that Stag would lure someone back to Sagtannet and they would stay for all their days, but she had to be realistic. She'd left home when she was scarcely over 6 months old. Not intentionally, mind you, but she'd still left and she'd turned out just fine, depending who you asked. Maybe she'll already have left hers when you find her.

The muscles in her jaw tensed slightly when he asked about Mahler. She didn't want to talk about that. She didn't want to think about that. They could've been mates if she wasn't so stubborn and insistent on proof of his fidelity, but she was far too busy being mired in paranoia and jealousy for that. She couldn't bear the thought of tying herself to Mahler only for him to promise Nyx a second litter the following year, or any female a first litter, because she "deserved it". She held her fellow Eisen at arm's length on that assumption.

No, she said, a little more firmly than she intended. He has too many other obligations.

Stag accepted the news gracefully, even if he did not agree with it. He never wanted to leave home. Not now, not ever - not for pretty ladies or gorgeous vistas. Not for nothing.

Time had a way of chipping away at youthful idealism. He would learn, soon enough.

His eyes dropped as he caught the terseness in Wylla's expression. Wylla wouldn't have known it, but Stag would have likely felt the same -- he was cut from a cloth similar to Wylla than Mahler, and in that, would have understood steadfastedly her reasons for keeping the General at bay.

Sensing it was a sore topic Stag tried to reroute. "Oh. That's too bad. Have you ever met any other guy you'd be mates with? Maybe we could both find someone who has just left their home and were looking for a new life." Wistful and feeble thinking, though Stag briefly entertained the idea of this alternate world where both he and Wylla (and Phaedra by extension) were happy.

Stag probably didn't mean to push all the wrong buttons, but Wylla felt a stiffness spreading down the length of her back at the idea of taking anyone else as a mate. Raptor flashed momentarily across her mind and that was even worse—she'd long ago convinced herself that that was assault, even if she'd sort of allowed it, and there was nothing about that raucous piece of shit she admired. Aside from those two, she hadn't exactly spent a lot of romantic time in the company of... well, anyone.

Stag would make a wonderful mate for someone someday. A niggling in the back of her mind caught her attention. She shooed it away. Much too young, although what really mattered was that Mahler saw him as something of a son, and it was just plain wrong. And Phaedra. He'd make a wonderful mate... but that was pretty complicated, and Wylla didn't like complicated very much.

No, she said. I'm not in any rush to have a mate. You have plenty of time. So far, she'd been let down too many times. C'mon, let's go for a run, she suggested, eager to shed such heavy topics.

Fade here?

yes! thank u for the thread <3

Stag was just young enough to be totally oblivious he had pressed a button or two; he stopped stride as Wylla spoke something about him having plenty of time. Nevermind him, but what about her?! Before he could say that and press another button, Wylla saved his heiney by suggesting they go for a run.

He was in no position to argue. A glint showed in the yearling's eyes, unaware these topics were heavy and confusing and conflicting; he was just a young, stupid teenager -- the world as he knew it was largely uncomplicated (but largely unkind). When he was older, he would realize his folly.

"Okay, race you." Stag challenged, motioning towards the rock at the top of the slope. "Second one there wins and first one there has to hunt for me for a week." Of course, he knew Wylla would beat him and was stacking the odds in his favor; fast was not his wheelhouse.

The pair were off, and dusty scree tumbled noisily down the mountain. For the first time in a long time, Stag forgot about the heavy things -- all thanks to Wylla.