The Bracken Woods we were diamonds, now we’re dust

The tag is an invitation, not an obligation! This is open to anyone (and comes with a soundtrack).

She would never forget looking for Avicus in these woods, only to find a stranger and ask him if he knew how far they stretched. In much more recent memory, she had sought refuge in them following one of the worst days of her life. Although things were on an upswing now, Masquerade still nursed some of those old hurts as she wandered through the endless corridors of trees.

“I’ll always support you, y’know,” a familiar voice echoed from the past. Putting her tracking aside for the moment, she folded down beneath a black cottonwood, letting her favorite brother consume her thoughts momentarily. He’d come looking for her, according to Redd. Her chest tightened. Masque owed @Mulherin an apology and explanation more than anyone. What if he was angry with her? What if he couldn’t forgive her? They’d once planned to rule Dragon’s Back Ridge together, and now she didn’t know where they stood.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Masque gently set aside thoughts of her younger sibling to heed the demands of the hungry little ones swelling her sides more every day. She rolled back to her feet, long tail twitching as she roved deeper into the endless forest.

I meant to get something up for these two earlier, thankies!!

Masquerade couldn't face him, again. Once while leaving, once while returning.

and maybe he resented her for it.

He waits and waits, till he realizes she doesn't have the gall to face him at all.

Mulherin searches for her once more. There is nothing prepared that he has to say to her. In a way, he knew everything and nothing at all.

He'd know what to say when he sees the look in her eyes; once so familiar, now, almost foreign.

The Rise falls behind him as he ranges to the ridge. There is no sign of her here. 

Further he goes, and he finds her scent carried from upwind. 

Quick black paws follow her trail into the forest. He searches.

There—from the corner of his eye, a flash of silver amongst the woodland. He follows behind, idly furtive and quiet.

How similar this was to the last time.

Some deer had forged a trail through the underbrush, which Masque discovered and began to follow. The scents were old, though she continued wending along it for a while. It carried her roughly eastward, sometimes curving a little south only to double back. The forest grew darker around her, the trees growing more closely together the further she ventured.

She hit the point where she knew she needed to turn around, lest she expend too much energy and wander too far from home. It was still a little strange to think of Nova Peak that way—Masque still ached not only for Redtail Rise but now Shadewood as well—but it had a lot more to do with Riley than any particular location. He was home.

Abruptly, she found herself face to face with Mulherin. She jolted in surprise at finding him here again. What were the odds? She corrected herself mentally: he had found her. But what did semantics matter? Masquerade’s lips parted on a small gasp. Before she could doubt herself or worry about how she might be received, she ran toward him.

Her body dipped low in apology as she neared him, little whimpers of joy escaping her. She rushed right up to him, then hesitated to touch him, no matter how badly Masquerade wanted to grab him into a hug. Mulherin might not want that. He might not want anything to do with her at all. But he was here. He had found her. That had to mean something.

Feeling the pressing need to speak first, Masque whined, I’m so sorry, Mul. I’m sorry I left without saying anything.

It was odd, seeing Masquerade after all these months, like this.

She seems more demure, her steps are heavier, the silver gleam of her coat is subdued. There is no doubt in him that she traveled far—farther than the scope he could ever possibly search. The journey had stolen the brightness from her.

Or maybe that was the toll of pregnancy, he finds.

And it all made sense now. 

Any frustration or animosity he's held onto has unfurled into pity. He doesn't know what to think, or how to react—anything he feels is lost on him, his emotions swirl like a whirlpool within his brain. 

After what seems like an eternity, she turns.

There was nothing he could say. His gaze softens at her warmth, her face, the sound of her voice.

Silently, he embraces her in a hug; tense and stony, yet fiercely.

He didn’t speak. For an instant, Masquerade wondered if he’d adapted the rise’s monk-like tendencies in her absence. That would be preferable to the silent treatment, though she wasn’t left to wonder or worry for long. She found herself being embraced.

Quickly, she pressed into it. She whined and tucked her muzzle into his nape, feeling a jolt of dismay when her belly prevented her from getting as close as she wanted. For several minutes, she clung to him, struck speechless by her immense and grateful relief.

Mul… she murmured when she finally pushed apart and stepped back, albeit with one forepaw still grasping at his shoulder. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.

She wanted to mention his promotion but she found herself too choked up to say anything else right away. Masque took some steadying breaths, shining eyes never leaving his face. He looked a little older and wiser than she’d left him.

I hear you’re a leader now, just like we always talked about, she managed after a moment, deep voice throaty. Berserkr… leader of the fight.

She was proud, though the feeling came with a bittersweet edge. She’d gone away and found out she didn’t belong with the rise. In the meantime, Mulherin had found his place solidly among their ranks. It made Masquerade incredibly happy and profoundly sad all at once.

I'm just glad you're safe. is all he murmurs in reply.

And he thinks to himself, maybe, in this moment, their bond was not lost on them. 

There is a lot of catching up to do, though. Masque acknowledges his most notable development, his rank.

Yeah. I am. It's quite rude to call for a Wealda without her Berserkr, actually. He replies with the trace of a smile on his lips—bittersweet humor. 

Then, silence envelops them for several moments, only to be broken by his revelation.

I would've come with you, y'know.

But I guess that was the point of leaving.

When he broke his silence, his words kicked up a dust storm inside her head. She didn’t know which allegation to rejoin first, though she would answer any question Mulherin asked. She swallowed thickly, twice, trying to sort through the whirlwind inside her skull.

She began with, I wanted to get her okay before I infringed on anybody else. Even after I got it, it didn’t feel right to loiter. I’m sorry.

His smile reassured her somewhat, though the internal maelstrom did not lose any of its force as she contemplated the words that came after that dry remark. How could she explain it to him? Masque was reminded of that other day, right here in these woods, where she’d struggled with a similar quandary.

I needed to be selfish, leave it all—you all—behind to figure out where I really belonged, she tried. That distance, that time, helped me get some perspective. She paused, letting out a breath. I came to realize I didn’t fit in with the rise. I never really had. At first, I thought I needed to stay as far away as possible… but that’s not the case. Just because I’m not part of the pack anymore doesn’t mean we have to be strangers.

It was the same sentiment she’d expressed to Redd. Would Mulherin understand, like their sister had? Or would he have a different take? She wondered what he’d make of her claim of Dragon’s Back Ridge, now Dragonspine. He’d been in favor of it once but her departure had shifted so many dynamics.

She slowly withdrew her lingering paw, just so she could shift her weight. Her baby bump wasn’t very big yet and it really only swelled one part of her body. Yet it made her feel heavier and slightly out of balance, a thing Masque had never anticipated even with her background as a Caru.