Bearclaw Valley can't complain

limit two. on the outskirts; not trespassing on their claim-to-be.

She was still exhausted, but Fiona pushed through it. Twenty days—ten trips—remained before she could abandon the hollow for good. Her route back toward Rivenwood led her close to a valley she had passed by several times. The scents there had been steady and consistent, but now another—@Glaukos—mixed in with those who went unmet and unnamed. Perhaps he had moved on for good; Fiona could not yet know.

Whatever the story was, she didn't have any intentions of sticking around and finding out. She kept her distance from the pack-in-making, her head down, and her feet moving toward Rivenwood.

It would not take long for him to recover.

Glaukos repayed the debt by doing what he did best: small patrols to stretch out his muscles and keep himself ambulatory.

He came upon the sentinel stones in time to see the fleeting figure of Fiona passing by—and while he knew his purpose as a guard, he also did not have the same attachment to this valley the way he had to Rivenwood, so he would not do much beyond keeping watch as she roamed.

Is she alright? He called out against his better judgement, but did not move from his post. Fiona would know what he meant, if she heard him.

An ear turned back at the familiar voice—a voice she, Anselm, and Etienne had discussed silencing for good. He posed a question, and Fiona slowed to a stop, pivoting so she could face him from a distance. She wasn't sure how unstable he was emotionally, but physically he looked worse than she remembered. Druid hadn't done all of that, had she? There was no way a single glancing blow could have delivered that much damage. So what the hell had happened?

She'll recover, Fiona replied, trying to gauge his reaction to that news. What happened to you? Are you staying here? A million other questions bubbled up to the surface, but Fiona limited herself to those two for now. There would be more time to ask. And if there wasn't, she'd be on her way, knowing the guard dog's updated whereabouts.

He knew it didn't matter what he said, or thought. The people of Rivenwood had never seen his value. They had never accepted the work he had put in. They all saw danger when they looked at him; and knew this when Fiona paused, when they shared a glance with one-another. She did not get closer. She watched him in the cautious way of a deer ready to bolt. He knew that look.

Glaukos did not want to answer any questions either. The effort he put in to Rivenwood had felt like a one-way street for too long, so this would not be an exchange; he asked, she answered. Her questions earned only the slightest shift to the tension in his jaw, which she might not have even noticed at that distance. A hardness to his eyes.

Why ask after him? It wasn't because she cared; he saw then, it was self-preservation. Fiona was afraid of him just like everyone else, although Glaukos had given them no reason to be afraid. Not those that mattered.

He turned to go, to stalk between the sentinel stones; but he answers one question: For now.

He was even less forthcoming than their last encounter, but she wasn't surprised by that. He'd been cast out by Rivenwood, and she wasn't even sure now if he would come back. The guard dog didn't ask for clarification on Druid's condition, seeming uninterested in her well-being or the six children he left in Rivenwood. Fiona was beginning to wonder if he really even acknowledged their presence at all. She couldn't remember him coming around the den all that often when he'd still been in Rivenwood, but perhaps their schedules had never lined up.

If you make your way back to Rivenwood, come find me, won't you? she called after him, but she didn't expect an answer. Maybe he could be reasoned with. At the very least, he hadn't attacked her on sight which was a good sign.

He frowned, and stopped, and looked to her. The expression on his face was rigid as usual, but there was an exasperated, questioning sort of concern there too, as if he asked without asking, why would I do that?

She sent me away. As if that wasn't obvious. As if he would ignore her wishes now, when all he'd ever done was exactly what she'd asked of him. He began to march again, this time he would not turn around, but his voice carried—Next time she needs a cuck for the season, she can ask the healer.

With that he'd depart, because there was nothing for him here.

The Ash only hoped he was being sincere—even if it was crass and uncalled for. Like many fathers, he would leave his children behind. But the children would have Heda, perhaps even Druid, Anselm, and Etienne, too. Fiona? Well, she would have to see about that. Right now, she had a job to do: find food so they could make it through another day.

She didn't say anything further to the stoic, reserved man as he marched off to his new (temporary?) home. Fiona wasn't terribly keen on him moving so close to Rivenwood, but perhaps he would move on again when he had healed. If he changed his mind and came back to his children, she could only hope that he would heed her request to see her first.