Nova Peak If I'm to have regrets, let them be for deeds and actions.

Ciri, having been brooding quietly since the pack's relocation and even more so since the attack on her father, spent more time by herself as the weeks crept by. She'd been so eager to meet all the new faces at that first gathering back on the spire, other children to build friendships with, but it'd become clear to her over time that this desire was her own. From the moonlit girl's rejection of her to the scowl on the charcoal Eisen's face when she'd simply been looking for her father, young Ciri had become a shell of who she'd been back on Sawtooth.

Her mother spoke nothing of this mood shift, likely hoping that their move and Mahler's injuries had shook the balance for a short while, and for this the blackbird felt grateful. She didn't want to talk about it, though she was always on edge with the expectation of a lecture to come. Keen to avoid it, Ciri didn't spend much time in Nyx' company without Elke present - the lioness would surely not touch base on such sensitive matters in the presence of her sister.

As the sun dipped that evening, the young Ostrega found herself trailing up into the higher slopes of their mountain home. She hoped to find a better view of the night sky up there, maybe count the stars if the clouds would allow it.

For over a month, her daughter had been building barriers. Nyx, inexperienced still in the rearing of her daughters but determined not to push them away, hoped fiercely that Ciri's quiet spell would be a phase she would soon grow out of. 

Alas, things were never quite so simple for the lioness. With each passing day, more recently after the attack on Mahler, she feared losing little pieces of what made Ciri who she was. More than anything she wanted to reach out, offer a shoulder to lean on, a sympathetic ear - but the opportunity never seemed to come around and nor did Ciri seek such comfort.

Lifting her head, Nyx watched as the darkest of her daughter ventured quietly from their rendezvous that evening. Elke had settled for the night, so the tawny wolfess trailed from her snoozing stoneflower to pursue Ciri upward toward the higher slopes.

"Hey," she crooned as the youngster's tracks led her to the very same ledge where a poor attempt had been made to share her feelings with Mahler. Nyx' heart skipped an uncomfortable beat at the memory of this exchange, and cast is aside as quickly as it had come; this precious time would be dedicated to Ciri. "It's quite a view, isn't it?"

She settled near the edge of a rocky slope, not close enough to see the evergreens down below. Ciri, despite her usually fearless nature, had been taught from the days of her first steps to respect their ruthless spire. This mountain, she was sure, was no different, and the little blackbird was unprepared to test it.

Her response to the sound of approaching paws was a simple backward cant of a raven lobe, as she expected that perhaps her sister had followed. Ciri wished Elke away and did not bother to look over a dark shoulder to see her, hopeful that her lack of acknowledgement would be a clear indication that she had no need of her company.

When it became apparent that the noise did not belong to her littermate's gait but instead that of an adult, Ciri swung her head to peer through the trees with wild yellow eyes. She spotted her mother's familiar tawny hide and slackened, released the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, and turned her face away once more.

"Yeah," she answered simply, gaze cast over the valley before so she could examine the swirl of warm shades surrounding the sun as it dipped below the distant horizon. Orange and pink melted into lavender, which faded gently to darkening blue. Soon, they would be enveloped in darkness.

Nyx settled in alongside her daughter, vivid gaze soft on the tufted bronze of her cheek as she lowered her haunches to seat herself by Ciri's side. She shifted a little, awkward in this situation, and curled her peppered tail in quiet consideration of how to approach an obviously sensitive subject.

Silence lingered. The lioness lifted her stare from her cub at last, followed Ciri's matching gaze to find the watercolour horizon. "You know..." Nyx started, and stalled. She wished so much that her baby's fierce confidence would return without this discussion, that she could come to her for support no matter what - had she not encouraged this from both girls, for as long as she'd held them to her?

She exhaled a sigh, entirely unprepared in how to approach Ciri about whatever plagued her in recent weeks. Afraid of shattering her trust, Nyx veered the topic in an entirely different direction than where she'd intended: "I know I said we could visit the beach soon, and I'm sorry we had to delay it. Maybe I could take you and your sister to explore some place else? Until your papa is all better and can come with us."

Lashes fluttered closed over her bright eyes as her mother started, and she felt dread settle into her belly like a lead weight. Here we go, she thought bitterly with a soft exhale, but the tawny adult seemed to stall. Ciri blinked, twitches her dark ears in surprise, but maintained her silence. 

Instead of a prompt to speak her woes, Nyx spoke if the trip to the shore she'd promised weeks ago. Ciri remembered how excited she'd been to see the vast sea from afar, to hear how her parents had once made their home beside it. She felt a little guilty to have shelved that anticipation, and let her lobes droop a little as she listened on.

"Sure," the blackbird answered, and the word was thick on her tongue. Sorrow gripped her throat, worked its way tighter as the Ciri struggled to keep from breaking down in tears. "Bu... but where?"

The moment that emotion started to pool in the corners of Ciri's bright gaze, Nyx did not hesitate. She swept low, reached for her baby with only a desire to comfort and crooned to her in a low, rumbling sound as she aimed to tug her closer with a flaxen paw. Nose pressed snug to the tufted raven fur behind the blackbird's lobe, she squeezed her own eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath to compose herself, so desperate she felt to keep herself from sobbing in response to her daughter's visible turmoil.

"I'm here," the lioness murmured to her cub as she curled close. "Talk to me, Ciri. Tell me what's wrong, and what I can do to make it better."

Her mother swooped in close, and with her acknowledgement of building emotion, Ciri released the floodgates. A sob racked her little frame, unforgiving. The child resisted at first, turned her dark face from Nyx and slumped to the ground, curled away, but the lioness was unphased. Nyx wrapped her baby in the warmth of her, let her cry, but was sure to remind her that she was there to be leaned on.

CirI turned, shifted to push her damp cheek to her dam's throat and trembled against the pale of her chest. "There was a girl," she cried at last, "and I wanted to be her friend, but-but she... she didn't want to be mine." She gritted her teeth then, squeezed her eyes shut. It was not unusual for there to be rejection among youngsters, but it was something Ciri had been sheltered from - and it was an awful experience engrained into her memory. 

"And I-I looked for Papa when you told me he was hurt," she continued, sniffing back the clogging of her nose that came with free-flowing tears, "but I found someone else. She was there - at the cave where I found him, and-and she -" Ciri stalled then, as she sucked in another breath to accommodate the wail that was swift to follow, "Mama, why doesn't anyone see me!?"