Hushed Willows what happened to the charm of a small town?

for @Mae whenever you have the time!!

People. There are people here; people nearby. People Dinah did not find herself fond of.
But her body was weary, and her mind even more so. Weak, bony legs; a heart still beating with the mindnumbing trill of agony. Numbness. Push on. Eat. Avoid eye contact. Breathe.
The flowers were gone, and in their place came a blanket of ice-capped snow. She had never seen snow before; never so much as felt a harsh chill before this night. It was odd, the chapped blistering of her nose, the redness to her eyes; the way her feet tingle as the ice snaps with soft crunches.
Mama stayed near with the others while Dinah tore herself away with her nose to the ground. A girl now old enough to hunt, but not old enough to catch much more than a vole on her own. She kept her distance from the border, from those people. She did not know them, and they did not need to know her.

In keeping up with her weird game of trading gifts with Reverie, Mae had brought back several treasures from her trip to the coast. A shell in muted sunset colors; a pink pearl; a smooth stone of deep red dappled with black and grey. She kept these things in her chosen sleeping spot for now, a space tucked between the large roots of one of the willows. She would decide what to do with each of them later, she figured.

But she found Hearthwood changed from when she'd left it. There were others. Many others. A surge of resentment drove her away from where the scents gathered most thickly. She pursued trails of prey scent without truly hunting, mindlessly keeping busy to avoid the prickling deep in her gut. She'd only left for a few days, and now, once again, her home was filled with strangers.

When had she started thinking of it as home?

Mae almost didn't notice the other girl even as their paths began to cross. But after a moment she did see her, and she froze, surprised by the sight of another girl close to her own age. Her throat tightened. Did Reverie and Boone just... adopt every kid they came across?

She turned away abruptly, eager to cast these thoughts aside.

Perhaps unbeknownst to the strange girl, Dinah still had one living parent. Their stay here was merely temporary. A blip, yes, a blip in time before they could gather Simeon and reconnect and escape to — Rivenwood. Wherever that was.
Even with the tragedy that hung over her head, the chaos that had become the young Redhawk's life, she was still but a child. Freshly six months old, hardly a teenager — the equivalent of, say, a human thirteen year old. You think you know everything when you've hardly even seen a full lap around the sun. Dinah, in particular, had not yet.
Her lollop comes to a soft halt as the rustling in the brush earns a swivel of her head, eyes wide like a deer entranced by a pickup's bright incandescence. There is a girl here. Another girl. And she has things; items, prizes. Her heart churns with a pained nostalgia for a time not even so long ago.
She stuns herself, even, when speech falls from her lips, and it is not malicious in tone or intent. I like your, um, blinking softly, the beachdweller pads a few steps closer. I-I used to collect those. Seashells, I mean.

Before Mae could fully flee the way she wanted to, the girl called out to her, stepping closer. Mae half-turned back toward her, standoffish in posture and expression for several moments. Then her gaze softened. The girl was a pretty redhead, blue-eyed and sea-scented, not like anyone the shadowy adolescent had seen before.

They're gifts, Mae explained a little gruffly, setting them down to speak. Or, they're going to be. For a moment she thought about explaining the weird game she'd established with Reverie, the trading of gifts back and forth that Mae sort of wished would come to a conclusion already. But that seemed dumb, so she swallowed the thought.

So, what, you another stray they picked up? She asked instead, looking the girl up and down with a critical gaze. She was pretty, but weak-looking; as much a delicate flower as Blossom and Reverie. Another liability, then; another one to protect. Mae would have to work harder at learning how to fight.

i'm messing with fonts do not mind me

they're gifts.
dinah's throat closes as the memory of judah runs through her mind. the sand clumped in his fur, the missing milkteeth in his juvenile grin. daddy's face when he discovers the trail of wet paw-prints that wind through the den. the sound of seabirds as they circle the greenhills.
i used to do that too, her cheeks dimple as she blinks away the glassiness of her eyes. for my brothers. and my dad. it's fun, isn't it? but this girl had not asked for her life story. dinah quells the urge to fall to her knees and instead inches closer to inspect the hearthwood girl's findings. wow, they're really pretty. good eye.
realizing then that she must've looked like a massive nerd, she peels herself back to meet the smokesilver gaze yet again. she realizes then that she is being examined, even ogled. her ears flatten and her tail instinctively brushes against her ankles. i'm not a stray, she retorts, though it sounds more pitiful than threatening. my family and i are-- we're moving. and we needed someplace to rest for a while, so my mom decided this was where to do it. sorry for being such an inconvenience, she wanted to add, but forces her mouth shut.

I promise they will have another soon ok this just felt too fitting

Thanks, Mae muttered, unimpressed. The girl was near to her own age but she still acted like a child, like someone too young to know that something as trivial and stupid as gifts didn't matter or that her brothers and father would leave her one day. Well, it wasn't Mae's job to educate her.

Oh, so you're just like, homeless, An imperious lift of her chin accompanied the words, subtle enough to be missed. She cast a glance down at the coastal treasures laid at her feet, and after a moment reached out to roll the pink pearl toward the girl. Her next words came in an odd and unreadable tone; Keep it. So you can remember your home.

She gathered the other gifts and turned to leave, this time determined not to be stopped. The girl was infuriating to her for some reason she couldn't put a name to. Mae would spend the next several days thinking about her, thinking she might seek her out again — only to realize, when she finally searched, that the girl was gone. And Mae didn't even know her name.

homeless. homeless! i am not homeless, you bitch, but that part stayed clasped between her lips; we're going to rivenwood. your pack is just a pit-stop.
dinah puffs up like a pissed off cat, eyes narrowed fiercely into fine slits of sea-blue and back arched defiantly. if one looked at her, they could have easily expected a hiss to fly from the trenches of her throat. who did this, this, this— this fucking hippie think she was? and y'know--
something hard and cold clinks up against her nail. keep it. so you can remember your home.
a deadly mixture of fury as well as exhaustion had boiled harshly inside of her, but now it felt as if someone lifted the lid and left her as merely a simmering puddle. so much for being nice. so much for having felt like herself, even if only for a tiny, fleeting second. she felt almost guilty for that, for having entertained her old hobby instead of letting the mourning suck her back down, for having stopped to talk to this stupid girl with the pretty eyes.
and now she was alone.
her eyes linger on the rose-hued pearl for a while before she can no longer hold back the tears.