Blacktail Deer Plateau green flash sunset

Sending Deja and Granite off board for a while to give myself a break! Anyone is welcome to add a reply to this thread -- single replies only.

@Baldr and @Leifa’s brother, @Nazair, had unexpectedly dispersed from Raventhorpe.

“Why don’t we go look for him?” Deja suggested. All of Raventhorpe’s kids had reached an age when every young wolf developed an appetite for adventure. Day by day he explored farther and climbed higher like a fledgling eagle ready to soar. Even Raventhorpe’s resident gargoyle, @Granite, seemed interested. Perhaps even @Rhonen, too.

With their traveling party assembled, Deja approached the adults. His parents @Reyson and @Meadow first. Then, @Solveig and @Rusalka. Deja didn’t fret about danger. They had one another to look after each other!

Then, a fairweather day came, and the small band of youngsters set off into the wilds.

Deja wasn’t the only wolf who felt restless. Granite, now nearly nine months old, grew restless as he navigated the strange time between puberty and adulthood. Uncomfortable in his skin, Granite honed his skills in solitude and preferred to roam the borders of the pack.

Yet, despite his lack of social skills, Granite had attached himself to the other teenagers. When he heard whispers of Deja, Baldr, and Leifa while they searched for Nazair) the idea of being left did not sit well.

“I’ll go,” Granite rasped as his tongue fell out on one side.

He joined the others, said farewells to the rest of the pack (notably promising @Rusalka he would keep Baldr and Leika safe), and then fell into place as the caboose of their caravan as the youngsters disappeared into the conifers.

Reyson was sad to see Deja go, but he had faith that the others would help keep him safe. He imparted what he could teach and told Deja no matter what to always come home. He'd be here.

Reyson knew like many before there was a thirst of apirit. He also knew and hoped Deja would be happy. His children had more choices than he did.

Nazair had been gone for some time. Having some other kids join who were around his age had been a distraction, but when the suggestion to disperse together as a unit came up, it felt like a lightbulb moment. He agreed the moment the idea was volunteered, ears pricking for others to join them as well. 

He was quiet when the others spoke with their parents and when the time came to approach his, he gave them a reassuring hug only to have the air near squeezed out of him by his mother. He chuckled, knowing it was simply her way of showing how much she cared before she let him go, lightly dizzy. 

Alongside the others, Balder set out for adventure- and in hopes of finding his brother.

In first seeing the procession of children, she thought they might be proposing a hunt, or coming to ask for a rite of passage as they grew up before her very eyes. She had had such things planned, but it seemed that a umber of the pack's fledglings would be leaving the pack before such celebrations could occur. They would celebrate as they travelled, she knew; day after day, joyous about their liberation. 

The mention of Nazair's name brought a tear to her eye. She reached for her children if they could come in for a hug. One extra-firm for Baldr who had earned it for pouncing her in her sleep two nights ago. Her daughter would receive whispers of encouragement, soft words of encouragement. Granite, if he came close, would be called 'son' and would be told how very much he was loved. 

To the children belonging to Reyson and Meadow, she offered open arms as well (she was a hugger, after all) and as gracefully as she could, she announced them as the official travelers of Raventhorpe, and wished them well on their way. 

As was her custom, she would sit there and wave a paw at them, watching to smile every time one looked back over their shoulder, but she would not continue waving until long after they had disappeared from her sight. It was a tradition, a way of wishing someone well on a journey. 

Her heart ached, but it pounded with happiness as well- and in her belly, new life squirmed.

though he is proud of his children for sticking together, for sticking with deja, he cannot help the tightness of his chest; the wave of panic he feels as he watches. it is strange, how these two emotions war within rusalka as he stands beside solveig, watching the children depart. he fights the desire to rush forward, to ask them not to leave. they are young adults, and all he could do was trust. trust them and that solveig and him had done what they could raising them.

he does not realize he is holding his breath until it escapes him in a heavy sigh when they disappear into the horizon.

his tongue and chest feel heavy and so, not wanting to speak, he offers solveig a lingering kiss to her cheek.

Just a little cameo since Gyr’s been wild busy

After she had finished her walk along the border with Tamar, she returned to see a procession of children, now young adults leaving the borders…. Just as she did when she was of that age, granted it did hurt quite a bit yet her heart was too full for official goodbyes, and instead turned her cheek and walked off to her densite. Her emotions were different, a bit more sensitive maybe… as she matured more and more.

She would go home, and tend to her hunting partner before heading out to meet Heph once again.

There was sorrow in her heart. As much as she cradled Deja before he departed—instilling his scent to memory, the perfect way in which only a mother could hold and console her young—she knew that when and if he came back… he would be so very different from now. And she would have missed it.

Still, the rust-tipped woman put on a brave face for her boy and the other children, and only when they departed did she turn to her husband, burying her face into the thick fur of his nape and trying to hide the sobs from her other children—mourning the absence of another child.

She studied her mom—the quiver of her lip, the sag in her shoulders. Reyson, his solemn expression, and then her gaze drifted to Deja, who’s excitement exuded from him—unaware or uncaring of his family in that moment. She felt a frown tug at her features—a dour expression before she turned away, feeling a hint of betrayal that her littermate had all but traded them in for a small band of pups he had only just met.