Permafrost Hollows I cannot stay where nature's embrace is lost

Deeper into the pines, down the glacierside to where the trees were thick and tall the druid wandered. Sometime ago her pads had split from the cold, each step now a knife's edge. But she was loath to stay cooped up in her den. 

A clearing arose from the ice, a shallow dip in the terrain where the permafrost had melted unexplainably so. The druid picked her way gingerly down to investigate further, but as she neared the bottom, the air seemed to still. Stepping out onto a carpet of pine needles, Satori heard a sickening crack as her feet plunged through a thin layer of ice and disappeared into the darkness below. 

The druid hardly had time to scream as her body was deposited in a disgruntled pile on a rough stone floor, turning skyward revealing a jagged circle of light no more than a wolf's-length above. She dared not move yet, dared not speak even, instead beginning to scan her surroundings for an escape.

nature had spurned the man from qeya river once more, along the ridge that separated territories. led by the curling scents of stranger wolves—but two were brazen, and familiar. one belonging to the black and gold man he had seen before, with a scent unmistakably crownore. the other was one embedded so deeply into his senses that it stirred a slurry of emotions in his calloused heart. @Jora. thick paws are muted thuds against the earth as he skulks with every intention of finding his sister.

but then there is a sound. distant, muffled, but wrong. the stillness of the pines betrays it, the sharp crack of ice fracturing the silence like a bone snapping clean in two.

his head lifts, ears pricked.

then—nothing.

his hackles bristle. he moves toward the sound until he finds the place where the earth has swallowed something whole. he peers down into the jagged hole, eyes adjusting to the dark below.

a woman. sprawled, motionless. alive.

he exhales sharply through his nose. what in the fuck are you doing down there?

the glacier stretched vast and unbroken, a kingdom of ice and silence. faust moved through it with measured purpose, broad shoulders cutting through the wind, eyes sharp for anything that did not belong.
he liked this part of the day. the patrols. the knowing that darukaal’s borders were secured, that no one would step where they were not meant to.
but then—
a sound. distant at first, barely more than a whisper against the wind, and then sharp, fractured, clawing into the frozen air.
a scream.
satori.
his blood turned electric. his legs carried him before he could think. snow churned beneath his paws, ice cracking beneath the weight of his run. the trees blurred. satori, satori, satori.
the scene came into view in a rush—jagged earth, a gaping wound in the ice, and a figure standing at its edge. he did not spare the man a glance.
instead, he lunged.
move, he commanded, his voice a snarl of ice and iron. he reached for her, claws scraping against the rim of the hole, muscles coiled with intent. nothing else mattered. not the man, not the forest, not even the land they had fought to claim.
just her.

Her chest heaved. The pain had taken a moment to set in, clouded by adrenaline now dissipated to reveal an agonising ache in her hindleg. Twisting her neck, she stared wide-eyed where the light softly illuminated her pale fur, nosing gingerly aside her tail-

Darkness. A figure, silhouetted. "I fell, amadan." Stupid man. Had he come to gloat at her? Well then, she sure as hell wouldn't give him a show.

Satori was about to fling another stinging retort when a familiar voice split the quiet. "Faust?" What was he doing here? "No - stop! Get back!" The heavy oaf! "Or you'll both join me down here." A pain-fuelled growl, poignant and commanding.

up close, recognition comes. he has seen that face, the gold cloak, the eyes of flaming evergreen. a ghost of blood and name, something long buried.

he had thought he'd seen the last of his cousin long ago.

blackfell tucks the revelation away, filing it in the depths of his mind for later. he is in no mood for familial reunions now, instead, choosing to be content with what unfurls before him. faust does not want help? so be it.

blackbird chooses to circle instead, eyes of crimson never straying too far from the man of black and gold. watching the way his desperation makes him reckless; the woman is in no immediate danger, and yet he toils as if death is seconds away.

he barks a half laugh, half comment: i suggest you listen to your woman.

her voice is garbling as she halts his attempt to reach down, knowing full well his body would plummet, too. that wouldn’t be good for anyone, would it? he takes a step back, ears flickering toward the stranger—
wait.
he knows that voice. a flicker of nostalgia rolls over him in waves. he knows it. he knows it. help your woman, help your woman!
he turns, sharp and abrupt, facing the man from blackmarch.
blackfell, he breathes, a glint of a smile rolling over his features. how he had grown into the male his father was, stature embraced. faust is plagued then with satori’s clumsiness.
will you help me get her? he asks, urgency overruling the damnation. i will be in your debt, brother—
whatever it takes.

It was difficult to discern the goings on beyond the darkness, but the steady muffling of voices at least signalled the men's departure from the hole's edge. Without their noise, Satori could finally begin to collect her thoughts.

As her eyes grew used to her surroundings, she could slowly begin to discern more features. The cave ceiling was arched, thinning up to her entryway in such a manner that made it nye impossible to climb back out. There were smaller openings here too, if she squinted closely. Tunnels, barely large enough for a wolf to pass through. If she was small enough, could she?

Too dangerous. There was no telling if the walls would collapse and leave her buried under the rock.

"Have you got any bright ideas?" It sucked, feeling helpless. Sitting here, waiting for rescue. She flexed her legs then; one moved, two then three, eyes settling back to the narrow passageway in thought.

blackfell stares.

it is strange, seeing his cousin again after all this time. strange that faust recognizes him so quickly, when blackfell had long since abandoned such memories to the past. but he does remember, now that he is forced to. remembers hrafnvaengr, the visits with his father, the bastard boy he used to wrestle in the snow.

nemos had not been fond of blackfell's relationship with faust. he was a stain on the crownore house, his father said. he will grow to fill the paws of his traitorous father, blackthorn had said.

but blackfell does not see in the man before him the arrogance which he loathed so much in his winterhelm cousins. the bastard is not his father—faust could not be blamed for his father's sins. so blackfell's lip twitch into a faint smirk, ears rotating upwards atop a black crown. chin lilting upwards in consideration, appraising faust with two crimson eyes.

a debt? he questions it. his gaze flicks to the hole, to the woman peering up at them, then back to faust. he has no reason to trust faust—yet blackfell could not turn away any chance at alliance. bastard or not—he was crownore—and their house must remain stalwart. together. they would face threats together. and when war came...as it was inevitable... his eyes narrow sharply. fine.

he moves, scanning the rim of the pit for stable ground. paws stabbing at the compact ice, testing the strength of it. it was not so weak where they stood—but he and faust were no lithe men. this was certainly a predicament—and they could use some lighter paws. but they would have to make it work. with a thoughtful huff, he blows smoke from nostrils ringed by wet and stalks around to the opposite side of the gap.

you join her. he orders. lift her onto your back and i will haul her up by the scruff. he did not think he needed to voice this, but faust was strong enough to push himself up while blackfell dragged him out. if they move fast, they can avoid further incident.

thank you.
the words are gruff, but sincere as faust gives blackfell a firm nod of respect. there is no time for more; his eyes fall back to the pit, narrowing as he braces himself. he launches down with a heavy thud, limbs absorbing the shock against stone.
his gaze finds satori immediately.
relief floods his chest, though he masks it as best he can. still, he moves to her without thought, pressing his muzzle to the side of her neck, breathing her in. his hold is brief but firm—an embrace that speaks louder than words.
you’re alright
he pulls back slightly, eyes sweeping over her to ensure she’s unharmed. his breath is steady now, the tension in his body only easing because she is here, in one piece.
get on my back, he instructs, lowering himself so she can climb up. we’re getting out of here.

SO sorry for the wait

Faust, every so gracefully, descended to her level and Satori welcomed him with a swift touch to the furs of his cheek. It brought a comfort she did not know she'd needed, a respite from the stupidity of her actions that he did not judge too harshly.

But they could not remain here for long. Following his lead, she wobbled like a newborn calf until her front limps latch onto his shoulders, and for good measure her teeth grip his scruff. And then she is lifted and passed to the other, hauled onto stable ground and gathering herself with a strained "Thank you."

She would come to peer round the man's dark legs as Faust too would soon emerge, eyes flicking between them both as they very clearly knew each other.

blackfell watches as faust lowers himself into the pit, the heavy thud of his landing echoing in the hollow space below. he waits, breath curling in the cold air.
when the woman is lifted, he braces and clamps his jaws around her scruff. a single sharp motion: he hauls her up, the weight nothing he cannot bear. she stumbles onto stable ground, and blackfell releases her, stepping back.
he only offers a manful grunt in response to her thanks.
faust appears from the hole next and blackfell fixes him with a measured stare. i thought that had been you i saw before. he appraises the man, silent, numb as he does so. it has been long, and the time has weathered faust—the same as it has blackfell. you are far from home, cousin.

faust pulls himself up, shaking dirt and snow from his coat. satori is safe, standing, whole. that’s what matters.
but his cousin’s voice draws his gaze, sharp and knowing. far from home.
a breath huffs from his nose, half a scoff, half something else. home’s wherever a man can keep it, he answers, eyeing blackfell in turn. the years have been unkind to them both.
but he grins, weary but real. didn’t think i’d find you in a place like this. his gaze flicks between the two—satori, blackfell—before settling on the latter. or are you following me? a jest, but there’s weight beneath it. a question unspoken.

blackfell snorts, low and dry, snow flaking from his shoulders as he shifts his weight. crimson eyes linger on faust—measuring, knowing.
don’t flatter yourself. a blunt reply, but there's the faintest pull at the edge of his mouth. it does not last long, before blackfell simply dips his head to the man—passes a lingering gaze to the wounded woman, and then turns on heel. beginning to walk away.
get the woman taken care of, cousin. black words echoing in the snow.

exit BF

Their conversation petered out with the departure of the stranger. "Cousin?" Satori busied herself with tending her pelt, shaking and ridding it of cobwebs and dust with a few hasty licks as she got to her feet and turned to Faust in full. Adrenaline still masked most of the pain; a blessing that would wear off in the hours to come, but for now she was relieved to stand in one piece. "You haven't told me much of your family."

A topic she would quiz him on later. "But if you'd excuse me, I better go clean myself up." The druid shot him a grateful smile, moving to nudge his cheek briefly before she pulled away and began to pick her way back up the slopes. What limp she would develop later was invisible for now, obscured in the hurry of a woman eager to return to her den and stew in flustered isolation.

exit!

faust watched blackfell go with a quiet solemnity, the faintest nod granted in return. cousin. it struck something old and worn inside him, but he gave it no breath. not now.
satori rose—still strong despite the blood—still stubborn. his gaze trailed her movements, heavy with the weight of unspoken thought. the touch to his cheek drew no flinch, only the brief press of his muzzle to her temple in reply.
as she turned, he followed. close. silent. protective. no words passed between them, but his steps never strayed far from hers. each crunch of snow behind her proof that faust—kaan of darukaal—walked at her side. even if she pretended not to notice.