Broken Antler Fen I hear the wicked get no rest.

When the snow had stopped falling so aggressively and the sky had stopped being hard to distinguish against the snow-covered earth, Ibis felt a little more at-ease. She stared heavenward at the rolling clouds, their murky grey bodies an acceptable change.

She sighed. A plume of breath rose from her and dissipated quickly. Akavir had not come back as promptly as she had hoped. There had been no sign of him - or Arielle - since the initial discovery of her absence. Ibis thought of all that could have gone wrong; it was difficult not to.

Soon her body's biological alarm would sound. She knew it was only a matter of time before that flood of desire would strike at her, and without Akavir here - her husband, her beloved - she worried for herself.

She'd kept oddly close to the den in the past few days. Dunno—maybe it was her mama's constant underlying sense of sorrow that had gotten to her, or maybe Lilitu was feeling down, herself. Either way, her drive to explore and interact had waned lately. 

And misery loved company, so when she saw her mother ahead on one of her circular strolls around the fen, Lilitu made a beeline for Ibis.

D'you think they'll come back? she asked. She knew that Ibis was thinking about them, too. The way she stared . .the girl did the same, often, looking for the familiar silhouettes of her father, her sister on the horizon. She sat with a small huff next to her mother, allowing herself to lean slightly against Ibis—

But only slightly. Grown as she was, they were about the same height now, and Lilitu was still growing. She could no longer brace herself against her mother like she used to; she would bowl the poor diminutive woman over.

The sound of an approach stilled Ibis' movement, and as she looked over at the shape, she saw her daughter. Not the red-brown of Arielle that had begun to shift in her memory to something amorphous, but the silver-clad feminine figure of Lilitu, flourishing despite everything.

She would rival her father in size one day, the mother thought, if only he would be here to see it...

As if reading her mind, Lilitu offered up a single question as she settled beside her. D'you think they'll come back? It was uncommon of late for Lilitu to seek Ibis' presence, so Ibis was cautious to answer, afraid she might say the wrong thing and lose this much needed closeness.

Yes, they must. Ibis answered. She wanted to be more definitive. She wanted to have the courage of her convictions for the sake of her daughter, but at the same time Ibis had lost others before this — who she rarely spoke about when the family had been whole — and it pained her, knowing how often the lost stayed that way.

She draws a shaky breath and finds comfort in the sweet, light scent of Lilitu's fur. In an effort to distract herself she begins to groom at a part of Lilitu's coat but her heart is not in it, and it does not last.

Have I ever told you about my big brother? She knew she had not, and waited for Lilitu to react to this shift in the conversation.

The words were certain, but Lilitu took little heart in them. How many wolves had just. . .never come back? She remembered a lot of faces from the Empire that she never saw again afterward. And there were faces here, too, of which she'd caught a glimpse, only for them to disappear, too. 

Sure, Papa and Arielle had a connection to this place, more of a reason to return. But what if they didn't? If they. . .couldn't?

She swallowed, trying to keep this thought at bay and grateful at the shift in topic. Uh-uh, she murmured, shaking her head. She remained alongside Ibis rather than shifting to face her, though gave her mother a sidelong golden glance. What's he like?

What was he like, Lilitu supposed. If he was so important, wouldn't he be here? Again, someone with a reason to stick around, who simply hadn't.

In thinking of her brother, Ibis' face breaks out in to a wide smile. For all the weight of her losses she looks suddenly pleasant again, like her old self. He was—is, a sweet-heart. She catches herself in time but the pang of the slip stings all the same.

He is bigger than your father, like a bear! His coat was always darker than mine, closer to your — your sister's. A twist of the gut. She swallows that down too.

We did everything together. One day when I was a little older than you are now, I wanted to leave the Willows where our mother lived. Our father lived nearby but not with us, and it gave me a chance to explore. It was the first time we were separated... And it was hard. Why was she telling it like this? Why was she not focusing on something brighter, like his booming laugh, or the way Okeanos' smile could always bring one to life on her own face?

The story had a path all its own.

I spent a lot of time... alone; singing to myself, decorating things with flowers that I'd collect. He came to visit one day and I was so happy to see him again. Okeanos asked me if I would go adventuring with him. As Ibis mentioned this she grew quiet, reflecting on her past experiences. It struck her suddenly that she couldn't remember the actual conversation — or at what time they had left together, or what their father had to say.

It didn't matter. The pause broke with Ibis leaning in to her daughter and trying to hold her close. Ibis breathes her in, and cannot help but think that something is missing. It wasn't right — that Lilitu be here without Arielle.

One day she'll come back, Lil. You can go on an adventure together, like nothing happened. It is hard for Ibis to stop  her voice from breaking as she says this, but her resulting silence speaks volumes.

The description of Okeanos was very nice, and she very suddenly and fervently wanted to meet this uncle of hers. At Ibis's closing sentence, Lilitu realized the point her mother was trying to make, and appreciated it. She smiled, but there was uncertainty hidden in the corners of her mouth, the turbulence in her eyes.

After all, where was Okeanos now?

Yeah, I hope so, she replied wistfully. She missed Arielle. Her sister was kind of quiet and boring, but she missed her all the same. They had a bond she had found with no one else so far in life, and her absence felt like Lilitu was missing a little piece of her heart. 

It would do no good to pick at the fallacies in Ibis's argument, so she remained quiet for a little while. What about Papa? she asked, noting that her mother had only referenced Arielle's return in depth.

Ibis was pleased that her story had a positive effect on her daughter. It was a wonder that Lilitu would choose to accept the tale without pulling at the threads which wove it; but that made Ibis happy, too. She would not have the capacity to explain everything; it hurt too much in thinking of Okeanos, and the distraction was short-lived anyway. Lilitu's question nearly took Ibis' breath away. She steeled herself as best she could, holding the last piece of her family close.

Papa will find her. Before he was your papa he was a great adventurer too. He saved me, you know. Another story for another time, perhaps. And he'll save Arielle too. They'll come back to us one day and we can throw a big party for them. It was difficult for Ibis to voice these things. Her tone became somewhat constricted, and she had to look at the ground a moment to collect herself, blinking away a build-up of tears as one might banish an illusion.

Another story for another time, pah. So she thought. Once Ibis had put that little morsel out there, Lilitu couldn't help but want the whole pie.

How did Papa save you? she pressed on. Maybe talking about the past would make them both feel better about the present. She hated to see her Mama so sad, and it seemed like that was all there was these days.

She gave Ibis another gentle touch, muzzle to cheek. I want to hear about all of his adventures. And yours, too, Lilitu added, smiling. She hadn't known that her father was so full of stories, but it made sense. He had lived a whole life before she was born—and would hopefully be back, soon, to add to that life.

To tell her more stories. To give her more hugs.

She hadn't realized how much she missed him, too, until this moment, and she felt her chest tighten and her eyes burn.

*Pulls story out of butt*

Ibis had not meant it in a literal way, but now that she had spoken of it aloud, Lilitu was fixated. She would not drop the subject and Ibis had to go with the flow or deny her; and they were having such a good time together that the mother was loathe to do that. She could come up with an answer easily enough.

Well, she started, taking a breath as if this were some kind of great secret she was being forced to divulge...

Before you were born, I was living in the Empire with my friend Reiko. You probably don't remember her. She met you when you were very, very little. Her voice hitched in her throat there, because Ibis wasn't sure if that was the truth or not. Had Reiko ever had a chance to meet her girls? She did not want to get distracted, but it would be something she'd ruminate over later.

Reiko was my very best friend. Before I knew your father, before we'd even thought of the Empire, we were very close. The way you and Arielle are close. But once we built up the Empire and she was named the empress, things changed. She thought a moment after she said this, trying to piece together bits of reality with fantasy without losing the tempo of the story. One of the rules of being the empress, for Reiko, was an arrangement. She had to be married. It was a custom from her family that she felt she had to follow... And the man she had to marry was chosen when she was little, around your age.

He was very handsome, and kind, and he never had a bad thing to say about anyone. It was strange to think of that man as any of those things but Ibis had to build up a certain character — and for a while Takeshi had been a good influence within the pack, even if he had given Ibis the heebie-jeebies. They were married. An empress and her worthy knight in shining armor.

Ibis' expression turned a little sour, a tight little frown emphatically taking up residence on her face. Then things began to change. Little by little Reiko stopped coming to visit with me, and her other friends. Soon she was convinced that I was the enemy and only her knight could be trusted. I became very lonely. More importantly I was worried for Reiko, but no matter who I talked to I could not find a way to see her, because the knight had locked her away.

When I met your father I was very sad, but he listened when I told him of Reiko and the knight. With him at my side, and his brother Viinturuth, we bravely set out to confront this man and save our friend. They fought the knight and drove him away, while I tried to appeal to Reiko. This wasn't how any of these events transpired at all; but Ibis chose to leave out the sudden absence of her friend from the mountain, which was one of those things that prompted Ibis to flee with her children. In the fantasy version of the story things were much simpler.

Reiko cast out this man, and while he sulked away from the Empire he vowed that we would forever be in danger. Your father, bless his heart, chased the man out of the territory and all the way across the Wilds to make sure he would not come back to hurt anyone. And when Akavir came back, I knew there was no other man for me. I would never be lonely if I had him.

It was a long tale, one with many holes that bright-minded Lilitu might see through. That or, maybe it would put her to sleep. Ibis smiled, kissing her daughter on the top of the head. And now I have you, too.

NICE

She leaned into each word with fascination. There were characters that were familiar—Reiko, Uncle Vin, Mama and Papa of course. The valley rose up around them as Ibis spoke; Lilitu could almost smell the crisp mountain air again, see the clear stream rolling across the fertile vale. There had been some not so good things about the Empire, but at least it had been beautiful. No denying that.

Things seemed. . .well, a little too good to be true. For the one thing— Reiko is dead, Lilitu cut in. She remembered all too well the decaying body, of Hotaru weeping and retching over her mother's corpse. I saw her body. It was horrible.

And wasn't that bad man there, too? Wait, no. Dang it, they all looked the same.

I love you, Mama, Lilitu purred, choosing to ignore her many questions in favor of returning her mother's embrace. Maybe we'll end up finding Papa and saving his life. That would be cool.

Maybe that prospect, too, was too good to be true. But it was also too good to ignore.

To date, no words had sliced through Ibis as swiftly nor as cleanly as those uttered by her daughter in that moment. She had no idea that Reiko was more than just vanished; the cavalier manner in which Lilitu shared the truth was more jarring than anything, and left her speechless. Maybe the girl was wrong. She wouldn't lie, though. There was a weight to Lilitu's comment and a sense of certainty. The story fell away immediately.

I love you, mama. Maybe we'll end up finding papa and saving his life, Lilitu went on to say while her mother silently reeled. That would be so cool.

Had Takeshi won in the end? Yes, I... think it would be cool, too. She murmurs, followed by a tired sigh. Imagining her beautiful friend's face as best she could, Ibis added her to the long list of the lost she would never see again.

Her tired sigh was contagious; Lilitu tried and failed to suppress a yawn, once more leaning gently against her mother. 

I'm sleepy, she admitted, rising to her paws after a quiet, serene moment, the two of them together. I'm going to bed. Wanna come?

The offer hung in the air. Whether or not Ibis accepted, Lilitu would be off, letting loose further gaping yawns. 

Tiredness was sometimes a curse. She imagined she saw her father in the shadows, or Arielle in still-dead foliage. It was all too easy to imagine them here, that they could all curl up together and descend into sweet dreams. 

One day...