Swiftcurrent Creek vesnianka

for @Trailhawk !

The blue-and-gold sky was fractured by branches that now bore leaves of vivid green. In the broken sunlight, a wolf lay on a rock overlooking a trickling waterfall. His fur was still slightly damp from the bed of grass he had thrashed about in all night. With his thick winter coat already shed, all he could do was wait for the afternoon sun like an overgrown lizard.

A bored one, too. Not once did it occur to him that getting up and moving around might be beneficial. Instead, he just lounged onto his side, trying to get comfortable on the hard rock. He did not have much to cushion his bony frame, even after a few fishy meals (though his fur was looking much nicer now). He sighed to himself and began to hum a tune to the sky.

Without realizing, he found himself singing something he knew well: a hymn to the spring and the earth. It was meant to be sung together in a chorus made up of the pack’s voices, with his mother’s steady howl to guide him. His own voice sounded thin and meek without them. Hardly a proper welcome for Nature’s return to life.

Yet he sang anyway, because he could still remember it and it would not leave his head.

It was then that he finally realized someone else was present. He looked around in surprise, and in so doing, managed to roll directly off the rock and onto the grass. His last note trailed off into an undignified yelp.

Ahem. Pardon me, Hirundo said as he quickly got back up, attempting to comb bits of grass out of his fur with his teeth. Hello! I’ve not seen you before.

She moved beyond.

She saw many things but nothing worth noting. Perhaps that was an issue with herself more than anything she witnessed. The goal was onward, continue along trails. She would know when to stop.

Or so it had been said.

There was song in the air, lured in like a sailor. She continued onward and crept closer to this temptation of voice. When she spotted them, she was not displeased. A handsome man who she was content to watch and wonder what he made song for. Maybe it was a who and not a what.

Soon enough she was noticed and his grand realization of an audience was enough to quirk one corner of her mouth.

No. You have not. She told him directly. Nearly puzzled! She liked to think she might remember a singing man. Were they supposed to have seen one another before? Politeness had not occurred to her.

Why do you sing?

Though her words were blunt, the woman had not immediately attacked him. A small miracle! Hirundo was grateful, and he gave her a calm, lupine smile, pink tongue lolling. Still, he kept his head respectfully low, just in case. She was a striking sight: tall and powerful, with eyes as yellow as an owl's. Jaws as strong as an owl's talons too, probably. Definitely stronger than him.

To welcome back spring, Hirundo answered simply, but also because I feel like it. Small joys can be hard to come by.

His mother's words, he realized, and Hirundo swallowed past the strange lump in his throat. He tried to put his thoughts out of his head; fortunately, a distraction now stood across from him.

Do you like to sing? I can teach you this one, if you like. It sounds better in a duet.