Sawtooth Spire and so she spoke chiding the heart in her breast

after spending some time at arrow lake, having sought out the resting place of her parents without consciously making the decision to, she departs with a heavy heart. she wanted to speak to the gravestone, wanted to give voice to all the thoughts and the sorrow she feels. the uncertainty. the lack of identity. of how she could have stayed in crogeda and led but that she always felt like she was missing something and that it always draws her back to these wilds. like a string of destiny guiding her back, refusing to relent. her words had stuck in her mouth like cotton.

so, she ventured on after a bit. the climb up to sawtooth was steep and treacherous in some places where the rocks were slick with morning dew. fear gripped her and her heart dropped to her stomach a few times; wild flashes of images of the boulder that had dislodged and crushed her mother beneath it's weight bearing down upon her cruelly. yet, praimfaya persists. she pushes onward, upward and hesitates at the borders. some scents spark a vague familiarity within her while others — most — are unknown.

after a moment of slow pacing and deliberation she tips her head back and lets out a howl, wondering if the few scents that ring with familiarity will remember her and tells herself then, as she waits, that it is probably unlikely.

@Wylla, @Mahler; someday i'll remember to tag, oof.

life had settled into a familiar pattern, broken only by phaedra's cold regard of him. or how she had been since the move to their new locale. mahler mulled over this; he set it aside for a brisk swim in the cold currents of windholme, a much-needed shock to a body he felt had become rather middle-aged and slow.
a hunt to be had, though the eisen found himself distracted by the young howl that spiraled up over the wild trees of the sawtooth land. a charcoal ear flicked, and then he had set off with light steps toward the sound. it seemed to have come from a familiar throat, though mahler could not place the name.
there was a pallid girl at his borders; she wore moonwrought eyes and smudged darkness beneath them. hard for her age, scarred. knowingness filled him, and mahler stepped forward. "i know your face."

it does not take long for someone to arrive and when he appears, familiarity settles in the cavity of her chest. names bounce around her skull, words ...but she cannot call to her mind his name. it seems that he faces a similar problem. i am praimfaya, she informs him and then adds with the hope that it might help, daughter of blodreina and ingram.

is ...this diaspora? she asks him, knowing that if asked she will face up to her wrong doings — running away after blodreina's death without so much as a word — and ask for forgiveness if the diasporians would give it to her.

blodreina had been a strong woman, with child, and had whelped quickly. the last time mahler had seen this girl, she had been small, scarce higher than his ankle. praimfaya. he blinked. "this is sagtannet. diaspora is part of it." he considered her travelrun appearance, lifted his chin. had she knowledge?
"you have been avay long," he observed, though his tone was gentle. "the last time ve met, you vere just returned from a journey then, as vell."

he doesn't give his name in return — leaving praimfaya with that relentless tick of familiarity. she knows him and she knows she knows him ...but the more she tries to sift through her memories for his name the more they slip away from her. she'd been young the last time they'd met ...and had never — even briefly — entertained the notion that she would return to diaspora. he informs her that the borders of the pack she stands before is sagtannet, that while not diaspora is a part of it. diaspora and what else, she wants to ask but does not. perhaps it is not her right to know.

i didn't know. she offers as a form of apology; and stifles the further press of her curiosity. for now, at least. yes, and it felt like lifetimes to her as opposed to months. was i? she inquires because truly she does not remember. she only remembers that in diaspora, for a brief time, her family had been whole and perfect. i'm alone now. she tells him, though is sure he can scent it well enough. the scents of crogeda have faded and though she knows should she have need of them crokru would come to her beckon she ...isn't sure. maybe the wilds is no longer a place for her people, for her mother's people. and that was the point of this, after all. to find praimfaya.

i know i probably don't deserve a second chance but ...i was hoping, maybe, you'd take me in. i'm willing to work for a place here. i can fight.

surely she knew who he was. why else would she speak with such familiarity? an oversight on mahler's part. his stoneflower eyes watched. "as far as i am concerned, you have a place here." did praimfaya think of diaspora as her home? she had only been there a short while.
wintersbane. a breath. he wanted to speak of the other eisen to the girl, but with all that had happened, mahler's tongue remained bound. "sagtannet is home to many children this year. it is a large place," the gargoyle grunted, stepping back and inviting her to his side, "but there is little reason to descend vonce you have come all the vay up."
self-sufficient, how the girl seemed to be.

thank you. praimfaya says, with more sincerity than she felt she's spoken with in a month, at least. though there is a hesitance at living upon the ascension of the sawtooth spire — an ingrained fear of meeting a death like her mother's own — but she is wanheda. if she could stare death in the face again and again and again then what was fear? merely something to be conquered. i will help with the goufas in any way you see fit. whether it be sitter or train them to hone their instinctual fighting skills, she was willing. praimfaya joins him at his side upon his invitation.

when you say sagtannet is part diaspora ...what is the other part? though she expects not to know which pack they merged with. when she'd led beneath dacio's tutelage she had only been concerned with immediate packs — moonspear and nightwalkers largely. an error, she realizes. regardless, she is curious and figures that knowing the history of sagtannet might better help her with intercepting stragglers at their borders.

"a man named vintersbane used to lead vith us. he vas from a pack called courtfall, and he helped me to found and to lead sagtannet." wherever he had gone. mahler felt the seed of melancholy take root in his breast. but he would not show it now, and led praimfaya higher. goufas must be her word for children; he made a mental note to ask after the language.
"ve are small, but closely bonded." the five children who had yet been born to them, with star's brood to arrive; these were the thriving points of the spire pack. "do you remember my name?" the gargoyle asked by and by, turning to glance inquisitively at the young woman.

wintersbane. the name is unfamiliar to her, just the same as courtfall. just as surely as roangeda would be to him and his. praimfaya makes a small noise of acknowledgement in her throat, offering it in the stead of something more verbal. she is half tempted to ask a cursory question of where he was since it was made to sound as if he was no longer with them but bites it back before she can. that's a good thing. she offers and then gives a slight sheepish flutter of her ears. she had once thought roangeda was closely bonded and they'd fallen all the same. at least ...at least sagtannet didn't seem like it was in danger of that any time soon. she could help make sure of that, at least. she owed it to them...in some capacity; repentant for abandoning diaspora.

when he asks if she remembers his name — which she does not — praimfaya feels called out and she supposes while she should have been upfront about it she had held onto the hope that he would supply it all the same. her cheeks flush and burn with a blush that she is glad her fur hides; but her ears and the expression upon her face — apologetic — betray her feelings. no, i'm sorry. i know i know you but it's been a long time.

after learning his name again — mahler — she apologizes once more and tries her best to pay attention as she's led upon the tour of sawtooth spire.

edited in a conclusion for archival.