Silvertip Mountain turnkey blood

no word from aventus.
astara had gone to ground, searching for asperas through her fever, no doubt. apophis did not yet hear the word of the bear.
merrick went down to the fine new borders of ursus, brooding.
it was only @Avicus, then, to whom his mind could now cling, and like a limpet, it did so. he had no doubts in his son. 
but neither did merrick know that this self-same den of valley wolves had marked and maimed his red-girl.

patrol is in her blood. she's there already, not leaving any scent—this is not her home—but watching all the same, a silent sentinel on the frontier of Ursus. she smells him before any other sense kicks in; she turns, watching, waiting for him to come closer.

fa— the other syllables fall away, useless. merrigh, Avicus amends. it is formal, stilted, solemn. it has been a long time since they've spoken without an audience.

the question that's been on her mind since she arrived surfaces once more. where Ave? she's seen hide nor hair of her brother, and while she's glad of it, it's not the least bit confusing. he had been such a presence. . .she doubted he would abandon the pack purposefully.

maybe he's dead, says a voice in her head, and it's too loud for comfort.

her ears fold back, as if she's afraid her inner monologue shows too well upon her face.

it hurt merrick to hear avicus turn her voice from father to his name. he gave her a sharp nod all the same, accepting what could not be changed.
"he has gone to infiltrate our neighbors, and bring back what can be used." it was on the top of his list to ask her if she would stay, but merrick felt she would not.
he watched her face.
"are you afraid he will come back, now?"

she sucks in a breath, myriad questions entering her mind. how? why? what neighbors? it doesn't matter. before she can ask, Merrick speaks again, and she finds herself hot with anger, turning away, looking down, fur bristling at the spine.

no, she insists sharply, and it's true—but she's ashamed Merrick would even ask. he's asked, which means he thinks her the lesser. which means she'll never be able to return.

her nostrils flare, hard, and then she whirls upon the bear-king. i heh'ped him! she snaps, indigo eyes blazing hard as any fire that ever burned. whih' womanh. i 'lyoo'khed for her. i. . .waneh' 'oo khhhhill her. the penultimate word burst from her mouth, a not-quite-right syllable, guttural, but true.

you. . . pighck him, Avicus accused, staring at her father.

the old bad blood surged and steamed between father and daughter. avicus had scarcely said a single word before, and now merrick could hardly understand her.
his heart hurt.
"do you remember when evien died?" the man's voice was strained with a deep and horrible melancholia.
"it was your brother who called the bear. i did not choose him. ursus did."
"and the bears sent you away." his tones trembled. "i did not know it would be forever, blood flower. i wanted only for you and for him to love one another."

the reminder of Evien's death does not help, for she remembers her brother's words. he saidh i should'ha. . .dah. . .dhhhied. noh' Evien.

she narrows her eyes at her father. he never 'yovedh me.

so how could she have loved him?

she moves past Merrick, tail thrashing, lips curling in a snarl that ever threatened to slip into sound.

"it was by his hand that evien died." merrick's own lips were hard, and he followed avicus. he would not be deterred. he would not be ignored. "he believes something about you that i do not understand. the two of you fell apart after that witch's mauling."
he lashed his tail, voice growing more quiet.
"your mother is sick. the mother that all four of you share. if you cannot feel for one another then consider ending your strife for her sake."
merrick wanted to turn away now, but did not, he remained as he was, willing his daughter to listen.

she is rooted in place. whah? she says coldly, regretting that she cannot put the icy, clipped 'T' upon the word that she should. he. . .Evienh. . .wha? 

that is unconscionable. how can Merrick allow Aventus to stay, knowing the boy had brought about the healer's death?

fuck Ursus. fuck the lot of them.

i 'yovh my maa, Avicus says, her eyes hot. moh' 'han any'hing. buh'. . .

she trails off. does she really need to explain? it was Merrick's job to rein in his megalomaniac son, not hers.

"he spoke to the bear. the bear worked through him. imagine for a moment that i am not in control of these things, blood flower. that i never have been. i am only the bear's mouthpiece."
"i know that you love her. she is no less loved by any here."
at last the blazing sun of his single eye burnt into angered tears, but merrick was unashamed of their silent rolling.
"she will be well. i wish every day that evien was here to work his magicks, but he is not. we go on. it is the will of the bears."

bears, bears, fucking bears!

curse her father and his stupid superstitions—and curse Aventus, too, for what he'd claimed to have done to Evien. her mother is unwell, and all Merrick can speak of is the bear.

her frustration is written clear upon her face, and she shakes her head slowly, trying to clear it.

she cannot. Avicus will never understand him.

i gghhoh. be wih' her. with that, she slips past Merrick, unless he is to stop her, and begins to hunt for the latest traces of her mother's sickly scent.