Blacktail Deer Plateau I don't wanna hate you

Scarred Visage pushed past the bsrrier of stone and wood. Icy eyes on the rising sun. The orange colors painting patterns on the early morning frost. Shadows seeking and dipping in the lines and plains of his faces.

Blunt paws hard on the dirt. The gentle retracting and pulling of claws across the dirt. A plume of fireless smoke as he breathed in and out. Broad shoulders tight at the base and easing as he bent forward and stretched.

Good Morning World.

She missed the vale—it would be a lie to say she didn’t. But as one who had never held the opportunity to settle in one place for long, it was easy for her to push such a notion on a territory from her mind and focus on what was truly important— and there she found him.

Reyson was home. Her children were home. Tamar, Arsenio, their children. They were home.

And sidling up next to the mountain of a man, she found her features brightening, if only for him. “Hiya.”

excuse me while i crash your thread. single post only.

She was tired. So very tired. There was no more fat on her bones. The fur that was once dark on her face was all but stark white now. Her gait was stiff, and her eyes cloudy as she trekked toward a home she had once known. If she noticed the stark smell of piss warning away others on the borders, Tytonidae did not blink as she walked over them. Her mind had gone elsewhere in the past year, and now it was only her body that drove her toward the place where she had taken her first breath.

The old woman did not acknowledge the couple who stood, speaking to one another. But she had found what she was looking for. It was where she had taken her first nap. Today, it would be where she took her last. She curled up, sighed, and her last exhale stilled her body.

---

Though she did not know it, her beloved Waxwing had accompanied her right up to the pack's borders, watching her wistfully as she disappeared where he dared not follow. His heart twisted as he turned away, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see his mother.

Reyson's head curled around Meadow. Giving her face a gentle lick if she'd allow.

Hello Meadow.

But the next instance he was on guard his powerful shoulders bunching tight. And he quickly shifted and stepped on front of Meadow. Unsure.

The wolf smelled strange a bit musty and careworn. But she seemed in good health weight wise. Before he could say much else she was laying down. And she closed her eyes.

Reyson had seen enough dying to know when she took her last breath. He walked forward to bend his nose near her throat where no pulse raced.

She's dead. he spoke quietly.

She could scarcely speak—how she wished to unburden herself to him—when the protector within him surged forward, and Reyson stalked toward a gentle-looking figure not far from them. Meadow watched with a growing sense of dread as the woman curled in upon herself—and then remained unmoving.

Reyson’s words were no surprise to her as she closed the distance to where he stood—a trained eye upon the woman, circling to her backside. “Is she Raventhorpe?” Meadow hadn’t recalled seeing her—and honey eyes traced over the still body, wondering of this woman.

Dread settled itself like a pit in her stomach—knowing that one day, this was all their fate, if they were lucky to live to such an age.

Reyson knew his wife well enough to know that she wanted a chat about something. Amd that was fine. But too quickly a lone figure came upon them and just died.

He shook his head. I smell only one other on her pelt. She must be alone.

He looked at her with sadness. He had made his peace with death long ago it no longer scared him. But it was still sad.

I will take her into the woods after we chat and give her, her last rest.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth—eyes glazing over as she studied the features of the other woman. One would have considered her a dark ebony until they looked to her tail, where it brandished an even darker hue—

—she had been a pretty thing. Hopefully having lived a full life…

Reyson mentioned he would take her to the forest and bury her—and that was where it began. The worrying of her lower lip turned into the softest hint of a lip wobble—the realization that no matter whatever life this woman had lived—she had died utterly alone.

Away from any loved ones. No one knew she was gone.

No one would likely know she was ever gone.

And before Meadow knew it, the tears were beginning to stream down her face, and she abruptly turned away from Reyson, furiously swiping at her cheek to rid the annoying dampness.

Because before she had come to Epoch, was this not always her fate? To live alone, and to die alone?

Reyson saw the forest through the trees and knew. His gentle healer was more upset than she led on about this poor females demise.

And though he felt badly for the woman who lay so cold near them. His healer was his main priority at the moment.


Reyson shifted and immediately gathered her to him if she would allow. Completely encompassing her as he always did though not so gentle as before. As his wife he now knew could handle a little roghness and he wasn't trying to hurt just pull her as tightly and as quickly as he could.

Meadow. Its okay.

He pulled her to him—of course he did. And she sobbed.

She cried for the woman—she cried for herself, and the years of loneliness, and having found a cousin after all this time…

“It’s not okay,” she sobbed against his chest, burying her muzzle into him. “She just… She just up and died with no one she loved or knew to know." She tried to still her breathing—to not seem like a complete train wreck as bleary eyes glanced up at him—“Do you know how easily that could have been me, almost my whole life?”

His fur grew wet with water and salt. Meadow crying ao hard he felt his own chest tighten. He looked down, ears splayed forward at her words.

We don't know that, Meadow. She may have just wondered here. Someone was taking care of her. You can tell by the pelt and her weight.

His face softened as he licked her face. I do know, Meadow. Cause it also could have been me most of mine. I understand. But youre not alone noe and you won't be ever again.

He soothed his muzzle across her head. Gentle wuff against her downy ears.

She hated crying—but it sure felt like she was doing a lot of it lately. Reyson tried to soothe her—and while her sobs died down, it didn’t stop the aching fissure in her heart. Certainly, her misery was given to the random stranger who literally just trespassed and then passed out dead—but most of her turmoil was  for herself.

Because while she belonged at Reyson’s side, and as the matriarch of their own little family, the majority of her life had very much been nothing but abandonment.

They had been laying down roots in Epoch. And now she wasn’t sure they could do the same at Raventhorpe.

“Her family will never know,” she whispered. “Why can’t anyone just…" She huffed out a soft sigh. "Just stay where they belong…”

Reyson had figured out enough by now to know that even if she wasn't crying. There would still be emotions deep in her chest. That she was still feeling awful about it all without tears. And he wished that he could fix it for her. Were it an enemy he could wound or kill. He would have been all over it, but he couldn't. And as such he felt at a loss.

Reyson had to stop a chuckle. It was vastly inapproiate for the situation. But damn if she wasn't cute all sulky and sad. It was adorable. And her offense that no one stayed where they belonged was very real. And he understood he did. But he had never abandoned or been abandoned. Even with the shit with Meadow and Germanicus. She had come back to him, hadn't she.

I wish I could answer that for you. But all I can do is promise thta I am staying where I belong.