Mudminnow River it will break my heart to go against your wishes [m]

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evening fell in long shadows.
merrick turned an unseeing eye toward the last fading light. she was with him, sheer, wondrous, fierce, inexorable; his blackbird queen who had been at his side since his skull was borne home. 
heart;
tick tick tick tick ticking;
one two three four five —
the bruinwolf straightened. something burned low in his throat; unmended phalanges and rot stropping slowly through his legs. cowled in a miasma of blood and anger, merrick had grown further and further away, unraveling to putrid shadow which slunk along the borders, inhabited by a soul howling miserably for meat.
for blood;
but he had shed that; merrick had glutted himself, and still it had changed not a single wisp of void within him. he did not know what stung in his gut; arielle would know better than him.
the ragged bear ran tonguetip across teeth-ridge and abruptly began to trot toward the mouth of the valley. the meadow spread around him. merrick moved north. if any followed he would turn savagely upon them until they had dropped from eyesight.
for long hours he moved in the direction of the raided bypass. his spirit cried for the red life, for only in this had he ever been made flesh. he came to a silted river and waded through its shallows, but even the cold did not jar merrick from his questing malevolence.
northmost, and astara shimmering beside him, obsidian and indigo and black feathers.

tag just for reference so you know Laurel isn't at the Bypass anymore <3

Evening fell, and Druid didn't need to tell Laurel that she was gone for her to know it. It was only herself and Witch, now, and of course Jorunn who'd come from Sapphique to aide them. But what was it worth? One wolf. A drop in the ocean compared to Merrick and his band of madmen. Not anyone that Laurel wanted to involve, not alone; they needed so many more if they were to succeed. And Sequoia'd been gone for so long by now.

Thoughts of Indra plagued Laurel; Indra I, Indra III, the fight with Indra II. All of their faces were with her, from how she remembered them when they were there. And yet they weren't with her at all. Yet they were very far away — Indra III most of all. How she must've grown in the time that Laurel had not been with her.

The witch had given Laurel the poison like she promised, and Laurel kept the poison-laced meat wrapped in a piece of leaf. Now there was only the matter of getting Merrick to eat it. She hadn't thought it through entirely just yet, but Laurel figured that she had the time to figure it out as she made her way closer to Bearclaw Valley.

Where Indra and Laurel had returned to the Teekon wilds years ago, at the Valley. Memories of Indra, happy, careless memories, before — I found you and conquered you, dearest. Shut up! You never gave me anything! You promised to make me strong, to get them back, but instead there's just... She trailed off, starting strong but ending weak. I made sure you recovered. The rest is up to you, my dearest. I'm just alone. How am I going to get my sweet babies back? Laurel paused and sniffled to herself. She hated this. Feeling sorry for herself. And so do I, dearest, Iliksis sneered. Either end it now and take the poison yourself, or shove it down his throat and get our precious children back. They were never yours, Laurel murmured quietly, almost as if not wanting him to hear her. They were the first ones that were really only mine. No auntie Indra. No Iliksis to claim their lives and make Indra hate them. Nothing. Just Laurel.

And look where that got you.

Laurel grabbed the skin that she carried the poison-laced meat in and continued out of the Bypass with determination. I'm sorry, Jorunn, she thought, herself this time. I wish it could've been different. But she would not pull Jorunn into a crazy person's mission. A younger, more selfish Laurel would've let others suffer for her cause in that way, but she was done with it. Not Jorunn. Not Sequoia. Maybe even not Mahler, if he'd still been there. How she missed him now. He probably didn't even give her a second thought after he had left. What do you need him for? You already have me, dearest. She pushed the man from her thoughts and pressed on. Her shoulder had healed mostly, though the skin was still showing. Her gait had improved considerably.

When she noticed the figure head towards the river in the dying light of the day she halted in her tracks. It's him. It was him. Small and coyote-like and yet somehow hulking like a bear. She stopped in her tracks and looked at him, the skin with the meat still dangling from her jaw.

abhorrence was a liqueur that flushed through merrick as he ground to a halt and watched the familiar figure stutter to her own. something hung from laurel's jaws, something given a cursory once-over and dismissed. the bearwitch stood saw-edged and glowering, a slight wind buffetting the filth-stiffened raise of his hackles.
astara waited beside him. merrick turned his gaze just until he could see the curve of her throat; the set of her jaw. he did not glimpse her eyes as he faced front again; he did not need to see them to know that the blackbird's gaze would hold a stunning and resolute ferality.
thus encouraged, merrick cleared his throat;
flexed mud in the paws of the riverbank;
approached one two three four five; steps, and no more. his was not an advance of war; it was the rangy, casual step of a wolf who has seen a relative and wishes to bring them greeting of their kind. but that which he bore for laurel was only the deranged and incensed glitter of his single eye. 
merrick's laughter rang out, bold and bright and bedlamite;
he put his head to one side and looked with open desire at the way his teeth had torn her flesh. 
not so close — closer
he held himself reined, tail arched upon his hips and lips swiped with tongue;
"i killed them, you know. the first day i had them."
his breath hitched in his throat; he waited for her response, and whether or not laurel fell to her mother's heart and mother's grief, rushing the bearwolf; 
his own legs braced for what he certainly anticipated;
"before they died, they denounced you as their mother and asked the bear to save them."

Laurel dropped the pelt to the ground, exposing the meat within, as she looked at Merrick. This wasn't how her plan was supposed to go. He'd never eat it now, with her there. Laurel considered turning and running, and hoping that he would eat it, but why would he if he knew that it was hers? Oh, my foolish girl, your plans are already foiled again. Laurel's posture was guarded, her hackles raised and her tail too, but she did not hold an arrogant or dominant posture. She wasn't here to fight over turf or rank. She wasn't here to fight at all. But it looks like you don't get to decide how things pan out once more, my dearest.

Her worst fear bubbled from his lips, and Laurel felt a rage within her stir. She'd tried to rush Sequoia and Witch and Druid, tried to make them see that they didn't have much time, but nobody listened. She was at their mercy, forced to be friendly to them every single time because they were helping her out, but in the end it made no difference. Even her only friend didn't come to her aid when she most needed it. Instead, she disappeared during her trip to search for help, and her worthless traitorous child followed suit not long after.

It left Laurel no choice. And there only seems to be one choice, doesn't there? Iliksis' voice whispered in her ear, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck. You almost did it once, my dearest. She remembered the way that Merrick's throat was within her jaws, ready for her to tear it out, when her head began to swim and she passed out. So close you could taste it. Death upon her tongue. What she could not do to Iliksis she could to Merrick. Because you saw that he had our child. My child, she murmured softly under her breath, not so loud that Merrick could hear it.

And now?

Now, she did not have a child to fight for.

You have nothing, my dearest Laurel.

She had nothing left. And it was precisely that what made her fearless today.

You're a filthy liar, Laurel said coldly as she stared straight into Merrick's single eye. It was colder to peer into as the hollow void that he had on the other side. There was only madness inside. You might've killed them for sins they didn't commit, but they would never heel to someone like you. Abel was too stubborn, and Indra was too perfect. Even now, it was easy for Laurel to conjure Indra's perfect little face, with her single white ear. So precious and beautiful. She hated to think the dreadful fear that she must've gone through being with Merrick for even a single day. The things he must've put her through. How slow her death must have been. Iliksis' voice was cold now, too. If he had eyes left to stare into Laurel was certain they would've been as cold as Merrick's.

Laurel stepped forward and headed in Merrick's direction, closer and closer, calm and collected, almost as if she was a different wolf altogether; not the cowering that she had done all her life — for what was left to live for, and therefore, what was left to fear? — and neither the rash anger she had held. Her lips curled up as she closed in on Merrick, waiting to see if he had any last words left to say before their teeth would clash once more.

I told you I would make you strong, my dearest. I told you I would give you the strength to retrieve them.

Her eyes were cold now.

merrick's nostrils flared;
his single pupil dilated with a hot and anticipating pleasure. the savageness that suddenly limned laurel was unhinged; it reminded him so vaguely and yet so strongly of his own —
blood of my blood
last remnant of whatever disaffected line had spawned his mother; indra, are you watching? indra indra indra — i am going to kill her. i am going to kill you — again. you will keep dying over and over again. merrick's voice rose again into that stilted laughter, high and boyish and delighted —
"YOU UNDERESTIMATE WHAT MADE ME!" the bearwolf thundered; throat cracking and constricted, a thicket of lightning. his was first leap, claws propelling him forward through the loamy mud of the dingy river.  overhead, darkening clouds, gravid with bellies of spring rain which they soon birthed down upon the continued battle of laurel and merrick.
once upon a time she had taken him to see the birds; he had run to the borders and she had caught him there, and made him stop. what would have happened had he run away that day? might all of this have been changed
and her voice had been soft, soft, soft, and her eyes filled with a love from which merrick had never grown accustomed to from anyone but his mother, the
"nobody likes a naughty boy."
had laurel seen him then for what he would become?
oh — in the seconds before their collision, merrick discovered an even deeper vein of hatred for her, that she had not culled him early. had she never come at all; been alive at all; been there at all; indra might have been saved, for she would not have abandoned him to chase after laurel's worthless spawn.
my mom left, my dad left, my aunt left, my sister left
YOU LEFT YOU LEFT YOU LEFT YOU LEFT ME TOO
he wanted to tear laurel's shoulder open again;
merrick accepted eagerly the predictable nature of his own attack;
he wanted to feel the scars he had given her puncture and part beneath his fangs;
perhaps this was the blood which might give him atonement; 
which might remake merrick, reforge him; he the hammer and she the anvil, and between them caught the red-hot iron of his own salvation.

Madness sparkled in his single eye, darker than the one that was not there at all. Laurel's own eyes were dark, now, danger glowing inside of them as she moved forward, war in her eyes, the darkness of the rain clouds above reflected in her determined gaze. A different gaze than the desperation she had attacked out of to take his attention off Indra.

It made sense that he would go for her shoulder, and this time she was prepared. While he chased unworthy targets she leaped straight for his throat, planning to tear it out for good this time.

her body arced neatly;
merrick felt the skin give way beneath the sharp hatred of his teeth, and scarlet flowed forth.
laurel's jaws however closed elsewhere, and so at the last merrick jerked his muzzle sideways, sawing toward her own windpipe. it was too late to guard his own throat, and in him glittered something beneath the instinctive pain,
the silver sunlight of relief.
he ripped his head to and fro, hoping to begin her gouting blood before she began his own, rivulets of crimson running freely from the torn flesh of his throat as laurel locked them both into the countdown.
astara burned beside him.

He wasn't prepared for -- for me. My strength -- and her teeth found surprisingly easy purchase onto his throat. She felt the pain shoot through her but this time she wouldn't pass out or give in just because of it. She had to be stronger than that. You are stronger than that. His voice and hers together. Unified. It felt wrong and she wondered for a moment if the sacrifice was worth it.

All she could think about was hold on hold on hold on. There was blood everywhere and she couldn't tell which was his or hers or who was bleeding faster.

The pain slowly turned into a strange sort of peace.

When she was born --

Her first memories were of being left.

Everyone left, and then Indra left.

She had died that day. It wasn't just Indra that was murdered. He'd killed her, too. Laurel should've killed Merrick when she first saw him; but it was a mistake that she knew she needed to right today.

All the pain would go away, and before long she'd be with Indra again. She just had to

Stay conscious, and --

Keep holding on, dearest.

oh you've gotten me good, you bitch
but the thought was almost buoyant.
almost jubilant
something hummed and snapped and broke inside of merrick —
a cold climbing his river-soaked toes;
the morass inside him, banking down from the infected boiling.
he clawed for purchase in the wet dirt and pierced his fangs deeper, but for every centimeter he took, laurel was inexorable, dogged, chained to his own throat.
and perhaps in another world merrick with his greater skill might have torn away, might have beaten her here, might have drowned her thereafter, but you must want to live to survive such a thing.
and merrick did not.
scarlet cascaded down his chest; he wrapped tingling forelegs around her shoulders and dragged them both down, still connected at the crucial juncture of the other's body.

The first time that she wrapped her jaws around someone's throat for the sake of Indra flashed through her mind. Jhala's teeth around hers. Thoughts -- if you take my sister away I don't even want to live -- and yet somehow she lived, a shell of her former self, a lesser favourite child. And yet somehow she found back Indra.

All roads lead to Indra.

Then she lost her sister again and she had become a shell of herself again. Somehow she lived. She tried to find Indra back in everything she did, but in her dying moments, Laurel realised that none of it was the real thing. None of it was really, truly Indra.

She had so little left in her life; without Indra and Abel, it wasn't enough. She did not doubt they were dead, but this time she would not let the culprit go. There was no Jhala to take her off Merrick's throat now. There was no one to stop her --

And no one to stop him. Soon, we will be together, dearest, he whispered eerily, but Laurel knew it was just another lie. Indra -- Lucas -- Indra, Abel -- I'm coming, she thought as blood continued to gush through his mouth and the realisation sank in that she would not live to tell the tale of how she murdered Merrick and saved her children.

Because she didn't want to. She wanted to give in to the peace, to being with her beloved ones again. Sequoia wasn't enough to keep her here. Everything else to keep her alive was already gone. And so she gave in; accepted fate.

the irony was that merrick no longer knew where he ended and laurel began;
he no longer felt blood nor the weakening of all his veins;
he no longer felt pain.
the cerise pooling around them was a birthflood; he thrust his tongue against the thudding of her jugular and found it just as wanting as his own.
astara;
he had died when she did;
he had not been alive from that day forth;
he had carried her skull to ursus;
but in merrick the living fire had been killed and he had gone forth in numbness and in unreality;
if the blackbird did not live, then neither did he.
relief, again; relief, swallowing, drowning, eating, ending his malevolence.
— laurel's death was the final key to salvation that merrick would carry with him to the underworld.

Aventus and Arielle invited in by Ebony!
Aventus invited @Arielle to accompany him on a walk outside the valley. He wanted to do some recon on the bypass and knew his wife would never allow him to do so alone, so he framed it as a walk and led her north along the waterways into the dying light. After the trip to Silvertip Mountain and back, this little jaunt was gentle on his side.

He was on guard in case there were bypass wolves about even at this late hour, but no amount of wariness could prepare Aventus for the carnage they discovered at the creek. The scent of blood came first, cloying and heavy in his nose. It drew him toward the site of their mutual demise.

There he came to an abrupt halt, staring down at the flame-licked body of his father entwined with the bloodied body of his great aunt. He could not peel his eyes from the scene, even when his heart slowed and thumped loudly in his throat, even when his ears filled with cotton and static, even when his vision went white and curling burning at the edges, or even when something sinister and foul skittered in his veins. Aventus became rooted to the spot while his soul crawled up his throat and threatened to break from the cage of his mouth.

---

PLAYER INFORMATION

Arielle was a little hesitant to return to the bypass, but she knew it was worth checking in to see what was left. Aventus had only just healed from the last time they were there, and their recent journey to silvertip had likely taken its toll. Still, she agreed; the bruin-heart was curious to see if they might find anyone looking for the children. 

It seemed they were both on alert; they would be stupid if they weren't. As the two bearwolves neared the creek, Arielle pick up the metallic scent of blood—a lot of blood. 

She followed the bruin-jaw towards the scent, unsure what they would find when they found the source. What they found was too horrific to even process at first. She froze next to her husband, her eyes moving slowly over the two gored bodies of Merrick and a woman she didn't know; something about her scent was familiar, but her brain pushed the thought away for now; it only had the capacity for what was in front of her. 

The healer's stomach turned from the grief that suddenly stabbed her heart. Arielle went to the bear king and got to work pulling the woman off of him. Her teeth were locked on his throat; the sight made anger rise up to mingle painfully with the grief. She viciously grabbed the dead woman's scruff and threw her body back; the stranger's body slid with her—not very much but enough to dislodged her from the bruin-witch. 

Arielle left the heap of dead wolf and moved to Merrick. She gently nudged his head with her bloody muzzle. There was nothing she could do to save him; he was long gone, his blood a congealed mess below him and his eyes staring ahead blankly. The bruin-heart closed her eyes and looked away; she swallowed the bile in her throat. 

Her thoughts rapidly switched to her mate. Her eyes flew open and she looked at him, at the same moment throwing herself forward to close the distance between them. She pushed her face into his fur as she reached him. Aves, she murmured against him. It was all she could get out. Too many words and emotions swirled around in her heart and mind, making it difficult to find the right words—if there even were any.

Long had Aventus doubted his family's faith in the bear's spirit.

From his first breaths, fear rooted his reverence for his father. His soul remembered the feel of the man's teeth on his newborn flesh, the hot, rancid rush of his breath and the crackle of danger. Aventus could not access these memories, but his soul remembered. In his early days, he listened and worshipped because he was afraid of what would happen if he did not.

Then his sister pulled away from the bear, and in response, he drew closer. His fear became a sense of duty. The siblings grew apart. He remained ever in Merrick's shadow, eager to live up to his father's expectations. The bear never came for him... but it came for everyone he held dear.

It came for Evien at his command, a regret he held caged within him. It came for Avicus, too, and at the time he had wished it succeeded, but in hindsight, he was ashamed and glad she still lived. Avicus turned her back. Merrick brought them to the mountain where the bear was strong, and it came for his mother then, casting her into the jaws of the Saints and giving them the victory. Asperas had forsaken the bear. Apophis was likely dead.

Now, Merrick's faith in the bear led him to Rivenwood. To Indra and Abel. To Laurel, and this very moment. The image seared itself into Aves' mind. Astara and Merrick both gone. Avicus and Asperas both departed. Apophis... Well, the boy had hardly made a mark before he disappeared. That left Arielle. How long would he get with her before the bear came and took her from him as well?

The bear was responsible for everything.

Something vital gave way in Aventus when she pressed against him. It was all he could do not to draw away from her and shut her out. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. He had misgivings about keeping those children, but this wasn't supposed to happen like this.

This wasn't supposed to happen

This couldn't be happening

This

couldn't

and Aventus slammed shut the door to his mind, locked away his thoughts and his feelings for the time when he might be able to confront them. His eyes were cold as they lifted to Laurel. Laurel, who had taken Merrick's mother from him. Laurel, who had sent Merrick on this insane path to begin with.

Laurel was responsible for everything.

Aventus surged, seized her corpse by the neck, flung her this way and that with all the frenzied might he possessed, every hair on his body on end. The sound of flesh tearing was music to his ears. It was a balm for his shrieking, unraveling soul. He tore and tore and tore, ripping fur from flesh and flesh from muscle and muscle from bone, exposing the innards, and painted the creek red.

For what felt like hours, Aves didn't say or do anything. Arielle didn't even feel him react to her embrace, which only made dread pool in her stomach. She didn't know what he would do. Both of his parents were gone now, and she knew nothing she could say or do could fix that. She would have to watch him suffer and not be able to help. 

He finally moved, and the bruin-heart watched with concern as he made his way to the carcass of the woman. She stayed where she was as his anger finally showed. He picked up and tore the body to pieces. The sounds of his movement in the water was the only thing she heard. Time seemed to have slowed down, and she watched everything with acceptance. Aves needed this, and she had no intention of taking it away from him. 

She would wait for him to be done, and then she would suggest they bring Merrick back to the valley. We should bury him there. Maybe it was more fitting to give him as an offering to the bear, but she just couldn't do it. The bear had enough of him already.

Arielle spoke, but Aventus was not done. Not by a long shot. He heaved with panting breaths over the desecrated body of his aunt, filled with rage and grief and a confusing amount of lust, given the circumstances. It was all he could do not to turn and seize his beautiful Bruin-heart then and there.

He knew it was because he was in a passionate frenzy, whipped up by the death of his last remaining family. Avicus, Asperas, and Apophis were all long gone. No, he thought, only Avicus. The other two were not worthy of the title at all. He wanted Arielle so badly to fill his veins with some other sensation, to chase away the crushing feeling in his breast, and he turned his bright eyes to her for a moment, but he refrained. Now was not the time or the place and it would not fill the emptiness in him.

It was only a sort of mania taking hold of him, and he was not confident he would not hurt her in the process.

She spoke sense and brought him back to himself. Merrick would be buried in his kingdom. But there was business first. Laurel's body was a wreck. He bent and wrenched open her belly, fished out her innards, and turned to where the bypass was. We will leave her on their border as a warning, he decided, shutting down the voice of reason in him that said it was dangerous to leave such an obvious calling card for those who cared for her.

She considered helping her husband rip the woman to pieces; she was angry over the bearking's death and joining in seemed like a tangible way that she could help Aves. But she stayed back, deciding that this moment was his. Merrick was his father, and no matter how much she felt for the suicidal man, it was nothing compared to the bond between a father and son. 

At some point he paused his ripping and tearing and fixed her with a bright, heated gaze. She stared back at him, her breath stuck in her throat for a moment. Arielle swallowed. She knew that look, of course, but she hadn't expected to see it here, in the middle of all this gore and grief. Then he looked away, seeming to change his mind, though she would have given him whatever he needed; she was desperate to ease his pain in any way possible. 

Her words brought him somewhat back to the present. The bruin-jaw wanted to leave the body on the borders of the bypass as a warning; the bruin-heart couldn't think of a better idea. She didn't care what it might mean for them in the future. The rivenwood wolves apparently needed a reminder of who they were dealing with. 

Arielle nodded and moved over to him. She tried to grab hold of the woman's mangled scruff, but the flesh was tattered and friable and it only tore further the first few times she tried to pull. She finally gathered enough mangled skin, though, and it withstood the force of her pulling the body. 

She waited for Aves to find a place to hold on so they could drag the carcass to the borders together.

Can probably wrap this one with your next post!

Watching while Arielle sought purchase on Laurel's mangled flesh, Aventus felt a surge of gratitude for her that ran so deep, it nearly drowned him. She would always be the heart of Ursus. She reminded him so fiercely of his mother, but possessed of all his father's conviction, that at times it felt like Astara had never left. Ursus was as much a part of Arielle as she was of it. There were no words to describe how much he loved her then.

She was the only light flickering within him when he bent to grab the other side of Laurel's mangled corpse and began the long process of hauling her to the bypass. Without her, he likely would have curled up here and died as well, or stormed Rivenwood alone and paid with his life. Because of her, he still had something to live for.

His grief over the death of his father, and his renewed grief for Astara, would crush him into a thousand shards when they got home, but he would not succumb to it because he had her.

sounds good <3

Arielle was eager to get Laurel's body back to the bypass and return home. She worried about what all was going on inside her husband's head. Once they were home, she could better gauge where his mind was. He had made her a promise, back when they were still learning each other's vulnerabilities, and she had no doubt he would do his best to keep it. That all felt like a lifetime ago. 

Aves grabbed a hold of the other side of the carcass and started to pull, so Arielle pulled with him, attempting to keep time with him so their efforts were efficient. 

The gravity of the situation wouldn't really hit her until way later when she lay awake in the den with a busy mind and a broken heart.