Nova Peak wasserfarbe

@Ciri in tow, mahler walked along the line of odd white trees he had found toward the center of their territory. from time to time, the eisen paused. they bore no scent, and as he watched, their boles began to swirl into one another, thickening like paint and falling down upon him, coating his nostrils, his mouth. he searched for his tawny daughter, but the trees filled his mouth when he parted his jaws to shout for her.
mahler came awake with a searing pain eating his ravaged body. somewhere beyond the reach of the denmouth, @Wylla would exist. he steadied himself upon that knowledge, searching for any trickle of water while his mind filled with feverish worry for his daughters. why had the dream come at all?

On the day that her father's pained howl rose with his return to Nova Peak, Ciri had turned to her mother for explanation. She'd been able to detect that things weren't right with his tone, which was enough to spark concern, but it was the sudden change in Nyx' energy that she felt most of all. 

She had asked to see him repeatedly in the days that followed, a request that the lioness had cruelly refused and Ciri, frustrated with this denial, would frown and sulk. She hated that he was hurt out there, without her there to kiss his ouchies away like he did for her. "The pack will take care of your Papa," came her mother's firm but gentle assurance, "and I will take care of you."

Too young to understand the severity of the situation her father had found himself in but old enough to know that she wanted to be close to him. On the fifth day of no word of her sire's condition, Ciri deliberately disobeyed Nyx' instruction and stepped beyond the boundaries she'd marked for her. The little blackbird, eager to locate her most beloved parent, roamed the foothills with no idea on where she might find him.

She did find someone else, however, and paused to gawk in surprise at the vaguely familiar form of Wylla who guarded the hollow that unknowingly housed the very wolf she sought. "Hi?" Ciri offered in a soft, uncertain greeting to accompany the friendly twitch of her tail.

Just a cameo to fill in the blanks, this'll be my only post unless Wylla is addressed in some fashion.

Wylla's ears lifted and her sharp gaze cut to a rustle in the foliage. Along her slender back, every muscle tensed. By now, the pack had likely drawn their conclusions about Mahler, so Wylla hadn't bothered to abandon her post to inform them. She remained in the foothills, hovering near Mahler's sick bed, hunting for him in the lower hills and obsessively reinforcing the borders toward the sea. No doubt this was someone coming along to check on him, but depending who it was, her reaction would be drastically different.

It was a small, dark brown pup that emerged from the foliage, smaller than Phaedra, and the tension all along Wylla's back ratcheted up to one hundred. So far, she'd kept her distance from Nyx and her family, for a multitude of reasons. She had no love for Mahler's other cubs and didn't want much to do with them, but it was actually the golden she-wolf who was the problem in that equation, not Ciri or Elke. Wylla had cultivated the belief in her time with Sagtannet that Nyx's goal was to undermine her at every turn, and so she cultivated disinterest and didn't bother reaching out to her, despite their past status as Grimnismal packmates. By extension, she'd never interacted with Mahler's children with Nyx, either.

Her expression was twisted with deep displeasure at the sight of Ciri, sharp yellow eyes boring into the pup's, but at length she rose from her position near the den and slunk some distance away, granting Ciri access. She didn't return her hesitant greeting. Tolerance, but not warmth. Wylla would never harm a child who hadn't done something to deserve it, not even one whose existence had harmed her own child irrevocably. That wasn't Ciri's fault, though it did cut a rift between them that Wylla would not bridge. Mahler had only asked her to keep Phaedra away, and Wylla only cared about her own daughter's psyche. No business of hers if Ciri or Elke wanted to come and traumatize themselves. She would keep careful watch and intervene immediately if the girl did anything to harm her ailing love, but that was all.

mahler had little awareness of the silent missive wylla communicated to ciri. he had fallen back to a fitful doze, heavy crown laid against the floor of the cave. when his umber child had presumably drawn near, her small footfalls would wake him, and mahler lifted his scarred muzzle to regard the girl with a smile that tried to be more than itself, to draw away the fear she might feel upon seeing the healing wounds along his lip.
"es ist schön dich zu sehen, süßes löwenmädchen." the words fell guiltily from mahler; he blinked and straightened, refusing to let ciri see his wince. "tell me how you and your mother and sister have been." shame now, to allow this daughter close but live in worry that phaedra see him so.

Another hesitant wave of her tail came as the adult shifted to point her muzzle toward her, though it was stilled by the sharpness of the adult's stare. Ciri blinked up at Wylla with wide eyes, acknowledged the chill of fear that crept into her being and felt herself shrink beneath such scrutiny. A whine gathered in her throat and threatened to slip past gritted teeth as all that seemed to radiate from this she-wolf was pure dislike.

Thankfully, the exchange didn't last long, but the memory of was destined to burn in days to come. The Eisen slunk off elsewhere, and relief was quick to slacken Ciri's tension. She watched her go for only a moment before attention turned with hesitation to her original intention of seeking her father, and her button nose twitched as it worked to gather his scent. Stepping forward and into the cave that sheltered him, the littlest Ostrega detected the distinct aroma of exposed flesh - one that she was quick to associate with death.

Her heartbeat quickened, and terror came far swifter this time.

"Papa," said the soft echo of her voice in the hollow as vibrant, fearful eyes scanned desperately for the sight of his face in the darkness. Ciri followed the sound of his voice until she came upon him, closer until the pungent smell of days-old blood could make her stomach writhe. Mahler's question of her little family went unheard, so surprised she was to see his grim condition. The sight of his marred features was enough to stall her; "wh-what happened?"

"oh, little goose." he lifted his head, grimaced with a wince. "your papa vent off to defend sagtannet. the lands close to us can hold no packs. it is my responsibility." his tone was soft, rueful; he could see the shatter of emotions behind her eyes, little ciri and her blondeing tufts. it was nyx' eyes that watched him now.
"i am sorry you had to see this," the wounded gargoyle sighed, reaching to brush her dark ear if she allowed it. "i vill recover. i am in good hands." was also not a healer? but he could scarce expect her to trust him, not as he looked now.