Bearclaw Valley it's by the light of the plasma screens

@astayanx

following the blackbird's session with karst, she sought out the other. astara did not profess to know either child intimately; she saw to it every now and then that they were not starving under averna's  care, and that was the extent of her maternal reach for either bastard child.

but child they were quickly outgrowing: had either made a kill yet? she thought of her daughter, savage and beautiful -- of her son, collected and cold -- killers.

what would astayanax's legacy be?

Astara was not looking for him but that did not stop Ashlar from stumbling across her path.  He immediately went cold and tucked his tail submissively, watching her with an intimidation that rode very closely with fear.  He'd been here a short while and still every wolf he met felt impressive in a way he would never hope to.

S..sorry.  He managed only one word, then waited with an averted gaze.  She was probably in the middle of something and would scold him for being careless, coming upon him without warning like that.  So far no one in this pack had been anything but kind to him, and his guard was beginning to fall.  Ashlar's expectations were still shy however and it would be a time before he could meet them with confidence.

WC: 133

astara's pursuit of the second child was put on hold as she came across ashlar -- or specifically, he came across her. a svelte, rich-coated boy with capturing gold eyes -- astara was reminded of a molten sunset.

the boy demonstrated admirable submission in the form of his averted gaze. for that, astara's briefly flared posture settled. she advanced, sniffing his ruff and nape curiously -- no scent of the other child on it, but he did hold several scents of the pack.

ashlar would find in short order astara was not one to talk; once her inspection of him was over, she began to scent the ground for any sign of astyanax's presence.

She sniffed him but didn't speak.  Ashlar was immediately reminded of the quiet girl, but just like then he did not mind.  He did not have much of a head for noise anyway, and when strangers did not speak with him then he did not have to show off his stutter.  He balked self-consciously just at the thought.

She turned from him to continue sniffing.  He wondered if she was looking for prey, hunting like Avicus had been.  I can h-help? He said quietly.  She was older and bore a presence similar to the bear.  He quailed before it, but also held a spark of admiration in his eyes.

astara paused from her inspection of the dirt only long enough to acknowledge ashlar with a sweep of her cold indigo eyes.

she made no motion to discourage ashlar from following, but there was little inviting about her either.

finding a threadbare scent that lingered stale and old in the bushes to their right, astara stood by it pointedly and waited for ashlar to inspect it, or lose interest and leave.

Ashlar stood quietly and watched.  He caught on quickly that she wasn't going to speak to him, and like Avicus, he didn't mind.  One pleasant thing about the boy was he expected little and loved all he was given.  Even silence was better than being turned away.

She seemed interested in a space in particular.  Ashlar crept tentatively forward with his curious golden gaze trained on her hesitantly.  If she showed any sign of unwelcome he would retreat immediately.  When she didn't, Ashlar took the scent in.  It was not one he recognized right off, but he hadn't met a good number of his packmates.  His tail waved, though.  Was she looking for this wolf?  If so, he could help.  And he took a step in the direction as a small smile spread across his face.

ashlar followed her dutifully as a shadow, a small smile brightening his ochre countenance. the expression lingered in his eyes and for a moment astara wondered how something so warm could find its way into the arctic soul of ursus -- certainly, he was not cut of the same cloth as she.

she pressed on without comment. astyanax's scent was inconsistent and stale -- but she stood at one spot in particular where it was strongest and nosed it pointedly, waiting for ashlar to catch on before she explored the area for any further evidence of the boy's passing.

He caught on after a bit that they were tracking a scent, but there were many scents to be found!! It could be wolf or prey... he sensed rabbit maybe, and wolf, and deer ever so faintly.  But the second place she chose held only the taste of wolf above the foliage, and it was the same as before.  A packmate then!

Ashlar could help!  He began to wend a circle about the place and enthusiastically filtered for a trail to follow.  He chose a direction where it seemed the path led and caught more faint traces, then turned around to check if he'd done right and she was following.  Somehow this felt like a test, suddenly... and nerves pinched at his stomach like leaden claws.

not hare, not quarry -- not in the literal sense, anyway. astara was guilty of eyeing each of the bastard children as if they were prey, but today she had a different purpose.

ashlar caught on, leading the way with a jovial bob of his tail. he turned around to survey astara's reaction, and the blackbird lowered her head at the scent and sniffed; correct.

wherever their mark had gone, his scent was well faded. astara moved alongside ashlar with her nose to the ground, losing the trail somewhere between two ridges of bluestone and wintered juniper.

Ashlar followed the scent as long as he could, but at some point it shifted.  A few others had come by here and broken the trail with their own, but Ashlar could not find where it separated.  He let out a low small whine of disappointment.  Perhaps he'd joined them, perhaps just gone the same way, or perhaps the scent had just faded too much to be picked back up.  No matter the happening, the boy had failed the test.

Sorry,  he said quietly, dropping his gaze and tucking submissively.  He didn't know her well enough to know if she'd be angry at his failure.  Merrick seemed to like him, but he sensed that meant little to the silent one.

it was not like the blackbird to give up -- if the pursuit was worth it. but this was not her child, not her errand to raise -- she gave a careless shrug of her shoulders and resigned herself to the fact (not unhappily, either) that the boy they had been searching for was no longer in their fold.

a shame, really. she turned to ashlar, who now stood with his back hunched and his body tucked. i'm sorry.

what good had words ever done the blackbird? her gaze combed the boy absently. soft, wasn't he? just like that other not-child of hers...

maybe her legacy would not be ruthless killers. maybe her legacy was tied to these creatures; vulnerable as a grub upended in the dead of winter.

she rolled her shoulders in a dismissive shrug and began to make her way back to the den.

Ashlar didn't expect any reassurance and, of course, did not receive any.  He felt the failure thick in his throat, and he did not look up as he heard her leave.

At home, baba and mama would have both praised him for the attempt.  They'd have shown what could be done to improve, patiently taught and quietly applauded when he learned.  This was not home, and more and more he was being shown that he would need to learn some things for himself.  

Maybe he'd failed, but he could try to do what he couldn't expect the silent queen to.  Ashlar drew himself up with a resolution, then began to stare at the place where the trails met.

No answers would come, but he'd remain and try a while longer, learning as he did.