Mount Apikuni That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever

Symptoms had settled in now, Viskani growing more irritable by the day from the soreness of her limbs and growing appetite. With all the trouble it was giving her, she thought this had to be a large litter.

She had left the vale once again, this time to hunt. It had been a success, Viskani now sat on the lower ridges of the mountain where she tore into a rabbit. Though she knew well that it would not be enough to satisfy her, it would keep her going long enough to find more to eat.

Sat on her side, her baby bump was revealed with it's thinning hair and swelling teats. Her condition would be clear now to those who came across her, this simple fact having given Chaudry all the more reason to worry. She had continued to dismiss it.

Sighing, she looked to the bump. Si l’un de vous est une fille, je vous pardonnerai à tous cette douleur. Though of course she knew she would love them all, daughters or not.

Nose lifting, she checked the surrounding scents out of curiosity. She could not help but wonder if anybody was nearby, strangers or not, or if it was just her and her unborn children.

hopping on this one, can delete if needed <3

The scent of fresh blood brought her to the peak. The woman ate not long ago, yet any type of meat was more than welcome as a loner. Even if hunting was much harder, she knew the Lord was looking out for her in some way or the other. Sandwoman stepped on the cold snow, shivering ever so slightly from the breeze that brushed through her veiled back.

Suddenly, she came upon another; a grey woman, carrying new life. She spoke in a language unknown to her while watching her belly. The tip of her lips curled into a grin, making her presence known with a grunt. Hemera lay not too far from the woman, not once breaking eye contact. She knew how unpredictable and hormonal pregnant women can be. She most likely was a pack wolf from the scent; yet the mountain belonged to no one.

„Bless you and your children, mother,” she uttered under breath a blagoslovenie, lowering her head slightly.

Happy to have you!

A stranger comes; petite, possibly a bit older than herself. Viskani watches her in momentary silence, offering a light nod in greeting.

By now she had grown familiar with the presence of many of the lone wolves in the mountains, but this one was new. Have you visited the mountains before, ma cherie? We have not met. She offers a smile. The perpetual anger had not kicked in yet; it usually came near the end of her pregnancies.

Licking her lips clean, she briefly glances towards the vale. Chaudry would surely take off to look for her soon, and he was not one to be kind to strangers. He took the winter border closure a bit more seriously than she would like him to - it was about disallowing guests, not turning away wolves as a whole. This one was well away from the vale; he should not be allowed to say anything, but he likely would.

„No,” she murmured under breath, her tail curling beside her in a gesture of newfound ease, „It is my first time here.” Hemera, a mountain woman herself, had once called the towering peaks of the north home alongside her late family, yet she never shared the same pull her sister had toward them. And here, she had never set foot upon the mountains.

The fae observed as the mother’s gaze drifted toward a distant vale, perhaps her home, where her family awaited her return. „Have I…” plum gaze glanced back at the woman, „tresspassed?” A question tailed by a grin, one that held little weight, for she already knew the answer, yet she longed to hear it from her own lips, an assurance.

„Is a mother not meant to find warmth and safety within her home?” She arched an eyebrow, her confusion mingling with a quiet intrigue. She was a striking vision—her coat woven with shades of brown and grey, her yellow eyes gleaming under the sunlight. Hemera hungered for more, the unknown beckoning her forward.

She nods, offering a smile. They are quite the sight. She muses, looking out over the horizon. The mountains were quiet; the independence of Montagne de Cigue strengthened by the difficult terrain. Not many were willing to travel through.

You have not trespassed. My pack lives within the vale, just west of here. She gestures towards the home which she previously gazed out at. We are small now, but once spring comes and I have given birth we will be able to pursue some diplomacy with other packs. Which she hoped would bring in more wolves.

The woman's question left her confused, so she only offered a polite laugh. What is your name? She asks before offering her own. I am Viskani, Matriarche of Montagne de Cigue.

The woman smiled, her gaze drifting toward the mountains. They were, undeniably, a breathtaking sight, vast and imposing, but they had never truly called to her. She belonged to warmth, to golden afternoons where the sun kissed her sand fur. She could bask beneath its glow from dawn till dusk and never grow weary. Summer was her season, when the mountains shed their icy mantle and embraced the lush whisper of green.

Hemera had wandered these peaks for days, yet the air carried no trace of other packs. Perhaps few still dared to claim these heights. „Establishing relations with other packs is wise, gathering allies, fortifying your hold over the vale.” Diplomacy was a craft she knew well, though she had no doubt the Matriarch understood these matters just as keenly.

„Hemera,” she murmured, lowering her head in quiet reverence. She bore no allegiance to any pack, a truth made evident by the absence of their scent upon her fur. „Pleased to make your acquaintance, Matriarche.”

She gave a polite nod, noting the woman's name for later. Hemera. Where have you come from, Hemera? She asks. Your scent - it's lonely. Viskani had rarely been truly alone within her lifetime, it was something she simply could not fathom. Upon meeting lone wolves she could not help but wonder what had put them in such a position.

Abandoning the remainders of her meal as she stands, Viskani closes the distance between the pair. She is far too curious to not take a closer look.

The woman in front of her is nothing to dismiss. Well-crafted by her home, surely, and it is in the nature of the matriarche to question the orgins of strangers. It is how the mother pack built up such a perfect pool of warriors.

Dark lashes swept downward, a slow and deliberate flutter beneath the Matriarche’s curious gaze. Hemera welcomed the scrutiny with ease, unshaken in the presence of a watchful eye. As a priestess, she was accustomed to such closeness; standing before those who sought absolution, listening to whispered sins in hushed reverence. The smile upon her lips did not waver.

„Far from here,” she murmured, a pause lingering between them like the hush of prayer. „To the north.” Beneath the sun’s gaze, the tip of her tail twitched, her own eyes tracing the lines of the Matriarche. A warrior queen, formidable in stature and presence; one fit to lead, to command.

„My home was prosperous,” she went on, her voice laced with something wistful, something mournful. She rarely lingered on the thought, yet a quiet longing for home still stirred within her. „But I was sent here, to spread the Lord’s wisdom.” Half a truth, yet not a flicker of doubt stained her tone, nor did uncertainty touch her expression. A pious servant, yes; but in her heart, she was something beyond that. Still, humility was a virtue she must uphold. For now, she would embrace it. Lowering her head in reverence, Hemera pressed a paw lightly to her chest. „I am nothing more than a servant, Mother, beneath the Lord’s ever-watchful gaze.”

Her plum-hued eyes lifted once more, locking onto her golden gaze. A simple inquiry, yet to her, it was everything. „Tell me, Matriarche; do you keep faith?”

She listened with a soft expression as the woman responded to her question until the final statement for which Viskani furrowed her brow. She smoothed it over without issue after barely a moment.

Keep faith? She repeated, as though confused by the question. You will need to explain further, I'm afraid. Viskani was not a religious woman, that was for certain, but she found faith elsewhere. It was the way the wolves of her own mountain home lived; there was no god to pray to, and so it was women they praised in one's place. She had no interest in swaying from those beliefs.

A soft laugh slipped from her lips, light yet knowing. Hemera was always eager to speak of the Lord, to carry His word like a torch against the dark. Her lashes fluttered under the light, casting delicate shadows over her plum gaze.

„Do you believe in God, Matriarche?” Blunt. Intentional. She did not dance around the question this time. Viskani was clever, strong; perhaps even valuable to know. A woman like her could prove valuable, should their paths ever cross again. And if, one day, Hemera sought refuge, she might return, standing at the threshold of the vale. But that thought she kept to herself. The sandwoman needed to tread carefully to earn her favor.

Her tail flicked once as she rose, stepping lightly away from the heavily pregnant woman. „Perhaps the Lord willed our meeting upon this peak,” she mused, her tone weaving certainty into the air around them. Fate, even. Nothing in this world was mere chance. Every moment had its purpose, every meeting a thread in a divine tapestry. If she was here now, it was for a reason. Perhaps her purpose was to guide the De Cigue Matriarche toward repentance. If she would accept it, of course. Hemera was not one to force the will of others. But she always, always, found a way.