Wapun Meadow grind to a halt

She knew the valley well enough. Indra's look-alike might not have realised that when she fled away. Laurel knew that ghosts of her past skulked around these parts and that the Wapun meadow that had once been like her front lawn was now tainted with death and pain. Initially she had been unable to pursue, but she knew, she just knew the girl had to live in the Bearclaw Valley, along with all the other ghosts. She'd made up a plan, and though she wasn't too sure yet if she could go through with it -- but you're not crazy, dearest, they are the crazy ones -- you tried nicely -- they didn't listen -- you tried so nicely. I did try nicely, she murmured to herself in response to Iliksis' whispers in her head, loathing herself for agreeing with him, or perhaps loathing him for agreeing with her. Maybe both.

While Laurel tried to find Avicus' trail again in the northern edges of the meadow she thought of the plan. She wondered how she could get Xan involved. Maybe she could say that she'd been hurt, so that he would help murder her. By that time she would be old enough for it to be plausible, and everyone knew the Bearclaw Valley wolves of these days were murderously insane so it wasn't too far out there. She didn't want to murder Indra again, but the options were slim. And you did try nicely first, dearest. She knew what would follow. Don't say it, don't say it, don't-- Just how I asked nicely, too. She halted in her tracks and closed her eyes tightly while grinding her teeth together in frustration.

Avicus hadn't expected to see the woman again. she'd chalked it up to some sort of daydream, some strange occurrence outside the valley. but her scent had been intertwined with that place of standing stones, which wasn't so far away. and after the skirmish at that border. . .

well. this just makes sense.

she is likely incredibly visible, even against the brilliant colors of the meadow. it is the curse of her burning pelt. but her eyes are black ice as she stares at the wolf from afar; she is standing a short distance outside the entrance to Ursus's home. clearly on neutral ground, but close enough to dart away.

Avicus does not like this woman, and she does the only thing that makes sense in the moment:

she howls for @Merrick.

her hunting partner — bonded by blood in myriad ways.

"aunt laurel. you're far from home. don't you know we're in a fucking war?"
merrick's voice was teasing. he had come up immediately to attend avicus' call, and now stood alongside her as he had before. master killer and red-hued pupil.
indra indra indra
the scent of easthollow clinging to the air, engendering a violent pulsing hunger in the madman. one step, a snicker etching itself into birth from between his teeth. but above the sharp curve of his mouth, that single baleful eye burning, burning, burning.

True to his nature, Riley was hardly in the riverpack a week before his feet got to wandering. What had first started as a stroll around the perimeters gradually became a mindless journey, as his feet found old trails at once immediate and intimate.

Trails that lead him back to Easthollow.

To home.

To Laurel.

He stopped at the edge of a meadow he recognized as one of the last stops before Easthollow. A scent lingered, pervasive and suggestive of a frequent wolven audience. Riley stepped warily.

He dared not come too close to the hollow, and swore to himself when he got to the fanglike ridge of Bearclaw he would turn back — yet before his feet found that trail, he saw shapes stirring in the autumn grass.

Normally Riley would walk by, avoiding these wolves. He had every mind to do so, when the wind bore a scent to him as familiar as the paths beneath his feet.

Laurel.

The yearling approached slowly, flat gaze wary — yet what chilled him more than seeing his mother was the presence of his aunt; only young, and short-furred. A basal instinct shivered in him, and his gaze climbed to Merrick — another wolf he much preferred he wished he did not recognize.

Why were they here?

It did not take long for the object of her attention to come along. Just as she thought, then; indeed the red-hued girl lived in Bearclaw valley with those mutts who had smeared the origins of the pack. Once this had been a good place, a place where her and Indra's children grew up together, where she had been Alpha, once. Now it was nothing but the place where Lucas' body had deteriorated and where her deranged nephew now lived.

As though he'd been a shadow waiting just behind the corner he showed up -- speak of the devil -- and greeted her in his own sick way. War meant little to Laurel. She had noticed the bloodshed upon the Easthollow's borders but at the same time, she hadn't been keeping up much with pack politics; inside or out. Laurel had been at war with the world her whole life. This was just more of the same. It wouldn't stop her from going where she wanted. Perhaps some part of her hoped that he would tear her limb from limb and rip out her throat just so that her suffering would end.

She felt defiant now.

But we both know what you'll do when he goes for your neck.

Not because she was afraid to die, but because she was afraid of worse. She hated being afraid with a passion, but she knew she couldn't stop it. Her last encounter with her despicable nephew had taught her that much, and that time she had been at the borders of Easthollow rather than out here in the meadow, between their two packs' territories.

I asked nicely first, she said as she stared at them. The ramblings of a madwoman, perhaps, to anyone who would not dig deeper. Dead inside, but not dead enough not to feel the small heartbeat of life, the small heartbeat of possibility, at the thought of getting Indra back. Not dead enough not to hear the constant screaming inside of her heart.

Everyone is always at war.

Her presence and appearance was haunting, and it would be hard to kill her when it came to that.

But she had to.

There was simply no other way, not right now.

How does it feel to have her back? Laurel asked Merrick as she stared at him, the expression in her eyes as cold as her screaming heart. To have her walking beside you once more? Does it make you feel better?

For now she didn't notice Riley's presence, so focused was she on Indra.

she feels a sense of relief as Merrick arrives. he speaks across the meadow to the woman, and when he falls silent, Avicus speaks to him out of the corner of her mouth. i know her, she says quietly, then pauses. thinking back on their first interaction. then: she. . . i missed you. i'm so happy you're back, she recalls the stranger's words.

except it's a strange mimicry, like something dead trying to speak once more. the words that fall from her mouth ring unnatural. Indra, Avicus says, as if to clarify.

yes, the woman had greeted her with familiarity. but another unfamiliar wolf approached, and her hackles lifted. even more so as further words were exchanged—

how does it feel to have her back? does it make you feel better?

what is wrong with this wolf? Avicus keeps her cool eyes trained on the other pair, drifting back and forth between them. she thinks she may taste blood today. she thinks she may shed it, too. whatever transpires, something must be done; she cannot live with this uncertainty.

a cunning light flickered to life in merrick's eye: the waking radiance of knives he had honed to pry up the edges of someone's mind. the boy who drew closer provoked a merciless chuckle from the coywolf; he gave avicus all his attention, that catacombs voice rolling out of her small body. 
he would have said something, except that next his his tiny rosefinch uttered the name of his own mother, and to hear it from so visible a resemblance shook merrick for a brief moment he exchanged only with the child. and to the bitch he gave his attention then. "she said that because she is your great-aunt laurel. and this must be," he said of the half-familiar young man, though his voice simpered back into a fang-ridden smirk. "quite the reunion."
"she isn't back," he cut toward laurel in the next instant. merrick turned on a dime and this moment proved no exception. "she's dead. forever." indra did not live in avicus. he was convulsed with fury at the very notion, an affront to his offspring. he thrust his body between them, prickled by the possessive nature of her frozen stare.
"i put her in the fucking ground," merrick chuckled, voice crystalizing into that self-same frost. "go look for her bones,  auntie." a moment, and then he shifted the harsh golden flint to the darkshade boy, lips still thinned into that odd, wan smile. "'kill your mother, so that you might live.' that's how i thought of it."

His mother ignored him, but for now, Riley's attentions were steadfast on the startling imitation of his late aunt and the girl's companion -- the very familiar, very unsettling Merrick.

Riley remembered their last meeting; the memory invoked the involuntary lift of hackles along his spine. His mother was making no sense, and worse yet, seemed totally unhinged. Riley was trying to grapple with the total (alarming) change over his dam when Merrick spoke of Indra, of putting her in the ground himself -- meanwhile, he laughed as if recounting a funny joke.

The yearling's gaze lifted slowly to Merrick in mute horror, observing the wicked burn of that single eye. He had killed Indra? Riley hadn't known Merrick was Indra's son up until that moment, and now a ripple of true fear fluttered to life in Riley's heart. For the safety of his mother.

"Mom," Riley stepped forward, his offset gaze holding Merrick in full. "Mom, leave." His tail climbed gradually higher, and while outwardly his body language seemed assertive, within Riley was but a quivering boy facing a many-fanged demon. No matter -- if Laurel came to her senses, he might hold Merrick off long enough that she could escape before she too was put in the ground.

Riley had never loved Indra, and Laurel had never loved him, but an instinctual pull overtook him then to protect his mother no matter the cost.

"There's something wrong with you." Riley directed towards Merrick, his speech slow while his mind raced. Fumbling over ways he might hold Merrick's attention in full, invoke wrath, anything that would draw his wicked cyclopian interest from Laurel. Riley's thoughts flickered to Orlaith, and how no matter what, she did what was right always -- this gave him short-lived confidence. "I thought I was fucked up -- but you --" Riley stepped forward, hiding the quivering of his breath: "You really take the fucked-up cake."

Some words exchanged between the pair of them. To her question, he laughed and he said that he had killed Indra. Laurel felt a flash of anger, but worse yet, by the way he had said it --

-- she is dead. forever. --

-- so pointedly, so harshly, she knew that he was like her. She knew that he must hear her voice in his head. Except his wasn't an abuser, but his was her sweet sister, her sweet Indra, her--

mom!

She turned her head sharply to see one of her children there. Surprise overtook her for a moment as she lay eyes on her, one of her sweet babies, one of the children who had left her -- like they all had --

Riley!

But then when surprise was gone she snapped her head back towards Merrick and said: No. She's not gone. She's right there. Everything about her is Indra. She's standing next to you and she's with you every breath you take and she... she SHOUTS in your head -- Her voice was erratic and uneven now; if there was ever a time to fear Laurel, it was now, -- you could kill her again, this version of her, but she will never die. She's with you, always, that's what's forever, you can't get the voice out of your head, you can't get her out of your system, ever! The last shouted exclamation was paired with a mad burst of laughter.

And then, as if Riley's words suddenly burst through to whatever sanity she had remaining, if there was still time for it before they might turn on her, she turned around and ran -- not all the way back to Easthollow, but just a little bit before turning around. Just to keep a safe distance between herself and them should they follow. If she was followed then perhaps she would run further, but if they would turn on Riley or if they would simply talk back to her rather than follow her with violence -- we haven't forgotten last time, dearest -- then maybe she would do something else, talk more, laugh; who knew.

That's right. She's just like me, my pet. And you... You are just like him.

i left a lot of "what ifs" in the last paragraph based on what others do, I'll just write the next post based on what y'all's characters do (like if any would attack during laurels speech or such)

that accusation. always so obvious. always so glaringly devoid of the sense it took to understand merrick in a moment. he had taken the corrupted sense of normalcy and wore it proudly about his shoulders. 
"no shit," he lipped toward his cousin, laurel's words descending like a curse upon his torn ears.
for a long moment merrick only stared impassively at the aunt who had dragged his mother away, but the inward seethe began and did not end until he had clicked the lopsided stare to avicus.
she wore indra's colors, bloodstained, autunnal. but never, even despite her young age, had the girl ever evinced such weakness. such denial. 
yet laurel leant so heavily upon the lever of merrick's ever-present paranoias that it shifted a minute click and he wondered for the first time if the wretched spirit of his mother indeed listened.
and waited.
his aunt, consumed by some devil that churned her voice to ash and carved her into flint before his very eye as she shifted it back — and merrick saw the serpent in laurel as well, not in the brave, stupid boy who sought to intercede on behalf of a mother who was so 
"— worthless," came the reeling weathervane of his voice toward riley, the note of his own threat in the hardening of his stance.
laurel, retreating
her blood would be acid eating through his gumline — he swing his battle-rent muzzle around and grabbed for laurel's son, teeth clicking toward shoulder.
had the bitch not taken indra from merrick in search of her own brats? then thrown another litter — ah, the woeful mouldering corpse of his sainted mother had at least not done that to him. or perhaps he had only taken the choice from her. 
he knew not how laurel had come by her brood, nor the etchings it had left in her mind; merrick saw only the opportunity for a revenge long-basted in soured wine. let her now be ripped from her son as she had bid indra do to him.

Any relief Riley felt to see his mother turn away (insane, she's just as insane as him --) was bled from him the moment he set his attention back to Merrick. Merrick, ghoulish -- full of venomous hate, which pooled in that singular eye like a glimpse of an abattoir's charnel keep -- the yearling felt his bravery quaver, his good sense withering away like a soft cloud on the breath of draconian wind. 

He was too slow to dodge the swipe of Merrick's teeth. The boy, still concerned for his broke-wit mother, felt teeth tear down his cheek and broadside him. He staggered back as if to raise his hands against his assailant, feeling terror seize his heart. Terror for him, for his mother, for his survival -- yet in that moment, Riley seemed too stupefied to fight back.

She turned away and turned back to see if they were following, only to see the madman's teeth rend into her son's flesh. The feeling was mixed -- Indra had hated Riley and she had never been a very good mother to him, but Laurel didn't want to see him harmed either -- and she halted for a moment as she saw teeth rend into his face. Run, you idiot!! she half-shouted, half-snarled, a dominating and demeaning tone to her voice that must be familiar to Riley; when they were little, she would either be apathetic and in sorrow for her lost sister, or she would snarl at them and make impossible demands of them and snap at them.

A part of her wanted to run towards him, to help him, to save him, but the bigger part of her, well, simply could not. Her legs were buckled and she well remembered the last time that he had taken her, that he had grabbed her and pressed her face into the dirt -- that he could do whatever he wanted with you, if he wanted to -- and she couldn't get there again, couldn't get too close. So instead she just stared, as flinched as her son was, stood still at a safe distance and ready to run if she had to, and hoped that he would listen to her demands.

laurel did not come back for her idiot son,
his cheek burst into shreds beneath merrick's teeth, but this willowy hulking hardbit wide-eyed boy — riley did nothing. enraged by such weakness from someone who through laurel shared his mother's blood, the bearwitch pivoted to smash his shoulder into the boy's ribcage.
"go ahead," he tittered, tongue lolling; a bauble of saliva dripped watery and red-tinged from its tip. face contorted; he looked behind the pathetic cousin to where his aunt stood, and then dragged the single eye back to riley.
"go to her," he commanded, no air of mercy in him, and in the next moment merrick was snapping a second time, low and hot for the legs of the loser, sore, sore, sore; see if you can get back to your bitch mother before i —

Familiarity in that voice that told him to run; not of love or even kindness, but of cold contempt and cruel command. Riley was spurned to life, not by the fang but by the words.

Riley jumped, jolted into action. Merrick's single eye burned with furious contempt. Riley did not flinch a second time. His gaze tore to Laurel, who was staring at him as if rooted to the spot.

RUN, YOU IDIOT. A staccato ringing in his heart, climbing to his temples, pounding and pulsing through the opened wound on his muzzle. He tore his gaze from Laurel and back to Merrick, realization slowly dawning across his features.

He knew Merrick was not going to let him go. He knew, too, that once he started running Merrick would be on him like carrion-bird on a corpse.

And that's what he would be in a few minutes, wouldn't it?

Just another corpse in the meadow... Like Iliksis.

Like Indra.

Riley fumbled into a run, stumbling as if drunk. Only, he did not run for Laurel -- no -- if he was going to die, he would do so by leading Merrick away from Laurel. He began to clumsily gain speed, strides reaching in desperate earnest to put distance between himself and the hellion that seemed hellbent on destroying their lives.

Breath was held for what seemed an eternity while she waited for him to do something, anything. In the end he came into motion, at long last, and Laurel let go of her breath. As he started to flee away from Merrick -- away from her -- finally it was as if her own paws came to life again.

With a start, Laurel turned around and ran away. She didn't look back as she heard Merrick's snarling snaps and thought of Riley's blood on the floor. Her heart pounded as she ran back to Easthollow, her mind wild with thoughts of what'd happened. Did Riley survive? Would Merrick murder him? Of course he would; his murder of Indra had shown that he would go to great lengths to get what he wanted. And what he wanted was nothing but sick satisfaction.

Laurel kept running until she reached her pack, and then she landed on the ground in her safe place near the frays of the territory and she cried, thinking of what was going on with Riley even now; and if he was alive at all.

my last :o

last for me <3 tysm to u both, needed this arc

riley turned away with foul stupid lolloping steps that carried him not toward laurel, but away from her. merrick, who had expected his body to writhe into a snapping frenzy of murderous intent, savage enough to divorce his cousin's blood from body, found himself still.
in the distance, laurel turned, disappeared over the gliding land toward easthollow.
in the distance, the bearwolf's throat constricted to watch her abandon this long-legged idiot boy whose worst mistake was loving such a putrid bitch, the stench of failed motherhood clinging to the smudge of shadow through the grass that was his aunt.
a blink that drained light from his face.
riley, stammering away, helpless and yet loyal.
merrick's torn lip curled.
it was laurel. it had always been laurel.
she did not even care to defend the little bastard — merrick blinked again, spat into the dirt, turned back to ursus.
what, then, the point of slaying riley when it would do nothing to shift the rotten gears within laurel's hapless mind.

He expected Merrick to give chase - to run him down and kill him before his mother. Laurel was gone from what Riley could see, and as he fled he thought he heard Merrick pursuing.

No, not Merrick. The sound of his breathing. Wild gasps of galloping breath. The sound of dessicated oak leaves underfoot. Of somewhere, a terrifying silence collecting.

Merrick. That single eye would burn like a demonic lantern in the back of Riley's mind for months to come. Neat rivulets of blood came down his cheek, but Riley didn't notice them.

For now, Riley ran until he reached the gates of his pack.