Redhawk Caldera you must become an island.

@Elwood ;_;

It was time.  Something in Finley's very bones told her that she delayed for far too long.  It was wrong for her to keep carrying on as though everything was fine, that she wasn't a complete disaster of a wolf and that she at all deserved a life like the one she'd been given - a respected and loved beta, blessed with the sweetest and most adoring of godchildren, and an absolute prince that loved her as though she actually deserved it.  It was too much - she had failed him, had broken his heart.  She had let her beautiful little firebirds get hurt when had she just left the cache and gone to them immediately, they never would have been harmed and her pack would never have been tossed into this terrible turmoil.

Finley had failed, in so many ways, and she could no longer stand to be loved by these wolves when she had no right to even be looked at by them.

The beta stepped quietly through the night, following a scent that she knew so well as it would along the little stream that would eventually lead to her den.  After a while, she suspected that the most obviously place would be the actual place where she would find him, and so she quickened her pace along the stream towards the home they shared.  She did not move as quickly as she usually did of course - the miscarriage had left her weak and physically out of sorts.  But in spite of how bloated and heavy and ill she felt, Finley eventually made her way along the path that was so achingly familiar to her.

When Fin found him, he was sitting upon the flat rock that overlooked the little stream that trickled along past their den.  Coincidentally, it was right where they had first met... Where she'd named him 'Twig'.  Her heart wanted her to smile at the memory, but joy seemed to be just some figment of her imagination - some wonderful, now painful memory from her past.  Instead, she approached him quietly, her gaze remaining trained upon his paws, knowing that one look at his face and she'd fall into the same trap where she couldn't ever save him from herself when he needed it, he needed it so desperately.

For a moment, Fin said nothing - just bit her lip and turned to stare at the water as it slipped lazily by.  She knew that there were things she needed to say to him, but this was a conversation that she had no idea how to begin.  Nor did she truly have any desire to, in spite of how necessary she knew it was in her heart.

omg

In the week since the tragedies -- although the rest of the pack was only aware of one death that day -- Elwood and Finley had grown apart. She had taken a brief excursion outside of the territory, and he had doubled his efforts to protect the pack. The majority of his time was spent prowling along the borders. Only when they retired together to their den in the evening did Elwood allow himself to be faced with their losses, and although it felt as though Finley was far away, they clung to each other desperately during the midnight hours.

There was a distant expression on Elwood's face as he sat upon the smooth surface of the large stone near the den; his eyes were glazed as he stared blankly ahead, completely ignoring the vibrant spring landscape around him. He barely heard the gurgling of the creek as it tumbled along nonchalantly at his feet, following its set course with no deviations. If only life could be more like that; no unexpected twists and turns, just one easy, predictable situation after another.

One ear twitched as he felt, rather than heard, Finley's approach. He blinked, slowly drawing himself back into the present as he turned his head to look at her. She looked tired, worn; the light was gone from her eyes and she almost appeared to be a shell of herself. Elwood's heart dropped as he gazed at her. Despite what had happened, his love for her was still strong -- but it was hard for him to feel anything but sorrow.

She didn't speak, and neither did he. The silence was filled with background noise; it seemed that was becoming their standard, as of late.

Elwood quickly made it apparent that he too had no intention of breaking the silence that had grown between them.  It hadn't grown in just this moment, of course.. It had grown over the past week, ever since that terrible night when they'd both realized the most wonderful thing of their lives and had lost it in the very same instant.  Fin let the moments of silence linger as her gaze remained trained upon the stream.  She didn't want to look away, just as much as she didn't want to speak to him.  There were only certain words upon her tongue and she knew that if she were to speak, they would be set free to bring the walls around their happy lives down.


But... that was the whole reason she'd come here, wasn't it?

"We should talk," Fin said finally, though she found herself unable to continue as her mouth ran dry and her tongue lied limply in her mouth.  Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but did not fall.

"We should talk," she finally said, and all he could do was nod. He knew it was coming; they hadn't really talked, not since the first night, and there were so many unspoken thoughts and emotions hanging between them. He wasn't exactly sure what either of them would say, but there was a grim undertone in Finley's voice that commanded his attention.

So he turned towards her, his ears pressing forward expectantly. I'm listening, his expression said, as his gaze probed her face. He could see the tears gathering against her lower eyelid, threatening to spill over like water from a dam. Suddenly, it became hard for him to breathe.

Elwood again said nothing, and Finley felt her throat tighten uncomfortably, particularly because she could feel her heart struggling to pound right within it.  She swallowed hard to control the swarm of doubt and misery that threatened to dissuade her from this path she knew was the right one to take.  Their cries were fierce, but she turned a deaf ear to them as she marched on, letting her cold resolve lead the way.  Shutting her eyes, she took a moment to shut off her emotions completely - there was no room for them here.  Not for this.


"I think..." she said slowly, her tone suddenly becoming strong and hard as she grew determined to power through this, "I think it's time for me to move on from here."

Elwood never really knew what to expect when waiting for Finley to speak. More often than not, she threw him for a loop -- and usually in a positive way. But this time, her words shocked him to the core. His blood ran cold and his eyes widened, then narrowed as his brow furrowed. He couldn't fathom what the hell she was talking about; in what world did it make sense for her to leave the caldera? Especially now?

He struggled with language for a few long seconds, but finally was able to sputter, "What do you mean?" He knew exactly what she meant -- but he refused to believe it. Not now. Not when they had been so close to the future they both wanted but had been afraid to admit. His mind whirled and he thought back to the night of her miscarriage, the blood and confusion and pain. He felt sick to his stomach.

How had things spiraled out of control so quickly?

Elwood asked her to explain, and immediately Fin felt her gut wrench with guilt.  He hadn't seen this coming.  No matter what she'd told herself - they'd grown apart, he loved her so he knew she was wild and untameable, he too knew that being without her was the best thing for him... He had had no inclination that he was soon to lose her.  The tiny splinters of her heart shattered into even smaller pieces, and yet the cold determination won out when it came to the character that appeared outwardly.


"I mean, it's time I leave," she insisted, in a rather deadpan voice, "I've stayed too long already.  I mean, come on.. we both know I'm not made for.. commitment."  Every word felt sour upon her tongue.  None of them belonged there, but those were the only words she knew, so what else was she supposed to say?  Besides, this was for him.  No matter how much it hurt him, this was for him.  That was all Fin needed to focus on to get her through this, no matter how much it destroyed her.

Leave...too long...commitment...

The words echoed in Elwood's head as Finley spoke them. Sure, the thought may have crossed his mind before -- that Finley wasn't necessarily cut out for a relationship, due to whatever had happened to her in the past. His frown deepened as he realized that he still didn't know her background, other than her childhood nickname and that she had met Peregrine and Fox while living in Blacktail Deer Plateau. But this wasn't the time nor place to pursue more information -- or was it?

After the initial shock wore off, he felt anger bubbling in his chest. Old habits died hard, apparently, because here she was, trying to run away. Again. How could she think that this was the answer to their problems? He needed her; Peregrine and Fox needed her; the firebirds needed her. She was an important piece of the Redhawk Caldera puzzle, yet she was willing to throw it all away when things got difficult.

Granted, this situation was more than difficult; but she wasn't going through it alone. Had she forgotten that he, too, had lost something that night? His lip wrinkled and though he tried to stop himself, he couldn't help but say, "So you're running away again?" His tone was sharper than he anticipated, but he didn't look away from her. He was validated in his anger, and he wanted her to know it.

Finley felt the hair along her spine prickle at the accusatory tone he very suddenly and unexpectedly spat at her.  Running away again?  Is that really what he thought it was?  Truth be told, that was exactly what it was, but Fin had spent a great deal of time convincing herself that what was truly cowardice was done for altruistic motives.  She turned her head sharply awat from the stream and frowned incredulously up at Elwood.


"What are you talking about?" she replied, her nose wrinkling as her ears pressed back upon her neck, "I'm not running away.  I'm just.. moving on.  You should try it."  The words came out harsher than she'd intended, but it seemed that her lover was not going to give this up without a fight and the cold, misguided self-preservation that currently held the reigns was not about to lay down and submit.

He faltered slightly when she replied. Though it had been okay for him to express his frustration, he felt a flash of irritation that she had done the same. She made "moving on" sound so easy; he would be lying if he didn't admit that his heart was wounded. Had she been considering this for a while? Was the miscarriage the last straw? Maybe he hadn't been supportive enough afterward. Was this his fault?

Elwood's head filled with doubts, but he was still angry. He was angry with her for giving up so quickly. He was angry with himself for missing the signs, whatever they had been. Finally, he broke her gaze, looking back at the water rolling placidly along beneath him. How was he supposed to respond to her? He wasn't ready to move on, but he didn't want to admit that to her.

Finally, he murmured, "Should I?" There was still a bitter edge to his voice, though he was beginning to feel defeated. He wasn't sure how much longer he could fight for something that clearly wasn't meant to be.

Fin felt stung by his words, though there had been only two and they flowed easily in response to what she had spat at him.  She looked away from him, fuming for no real reason.  He had done nothing to deserve her ire, and yet she was suddenly so full of anger she felt as though she was about to burst into flames.  How dare he accuse her of running away.  How dare he ask why he needed to move on.  He was so stupid - she was doing this for him.  She was doing this for him.


But then, her anger broke.  It was so sudden that not even Finley herself had seen it coming.  Her resolve had been so strong, so unfeeling, but suddenly.. this tiny glimmer of need had just slipped on through, like the wall had been nothing at all.  All at once, the tears sprang back to her eyes and she felt her limbs trembling as she fought to retain her strength, however false it had been.  "Don't you think so?" she asked very quietly, trying to brace herself for what she knew would be an onslaught of well-deserved insults, but failing miserably.

Elwood could sense the change in Finley's voice, but he didn't turn to look at her. This was the way things tended to go -- she got worked up about something, made cryptic suggestions, then fell apart at the seams when things started to get real. He was getting tired of her never saying what she meant, or meaning what she said. This vexation didn't change the way he felt about her, but it was wearing him out. He was beginning to think that a lifetime with her would be like endlessly chasing his own tail.

He heaved a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling with great effort. "Don't you think so?" she had asked. No, no he didn't. But how many times did he have to convince her of that? "I don't know," he mumbled. He was tempted to provide her with another catty response -- two could play that game. But instead, the truth came pouring out.

"I don't want to. I love you. But if this is what you need to do..." His sentence trailed off. Their relationship had been tailored by Finley from the start -- no labels, no true commitment. And now he could see why: so that she could plan her exit strategy and make a clean break before anyone got hurt. The twist was that they had both been hurt.

Fin shut her eyes tightly at his response.  He didn't know.  She knew that he ought to say to hell with her and chase her away and out of his life for good, and yet to hear him uncertain of whether or not he wanted her to remain in his life was a crippling blow.  As much as she knew the world was better off without her, there was still that tiny, naive, selfish part of her that didn't want the world to realize it.  She wanted desperately for Elwood to want her, even though she knew that no matter what happened, she would only hurt him.


Fin stole a glance at him.  She looked away quickly, but still recognized that there was anguish upon his face.  She had almost missed it with the rampant frustration that quiet obviously claimed most of his being, but it was there, and it fueled that tiny voice that wasn't supposed to be allowed to speak.  "But...." she argued, her voice shaking now just as hard as her body, "...I killed your children."  The tears began to slip down her cheeks freely after she'd said it, and she shut her eyes futilely against them.

He froze. Her words hit him like a punch to the stomach. He had to steady himself to keep from losing his balance and teetering into the water. In a sense, she was right; she had been carrying their children, and they had passed away. But that didn't meant that she had killed them. There was nothing purposeful about it, and he had reassured her of that time and time again. Sometimes, nature just had to take its course.

But that didn't make it any easier to accept. There had still been tiny lives lost; little firebirds of their own that would never know their cousins or aunts and uncles or the caldera itself. It would have been easy to blame Finley, but somewhere, deep inside his heart, Elwood knew that he didn't. He could try to convince her that he did -- he could throw hateful words at her, send her running like she so badly wanted to.

Instead, he felt himself getting to his feet. He stepped down from the rock, circling around Finley and folding his body against hers. He expected to be met with some resistance, but he came to rest his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes even as hot tears pricked at his lids. "No, you didn't," he whispered. They could try again -- they could prepare themselves, ensure that she stayed healthy, and raise a litter together. Couldn't they?

Fin felt herself shaking as he hopped down and came nearer.  She pulled her head back, craning her neck away from him as he swept against her and settled his head upon her shoulder in a sweet embrace.  She froze then, the salt of his tears stinging her nostrils just as her own joined his, sliding down her cheeks and staining the corners of her mouth.


"Yes I did, you know I did," Fin replied, tugging herself away from him before she could lean in and get lost in his embrace.  She took a few steps back, her face twisted in misery as she gazed at him, "I should have known.  I should have known I had them, but I was too stupid to realize.  It's my fault.  I'm the one who kept throwing myself into things and hurting them.  I'm the one who killed them.  I killed them, and I hurt you.  I have to leave, Elwood.  I can't do that anymore, but all I'll ever do if I stay if hurt you over and over again.  How can you not see that?"

Indeed, she stiffened against his embrace, but that didn't stop him. He inhaled swiftly and held his breath as she unleashed an onslaught of words. She made a strong case against herself, but he was already shaking his head in disagreement. "You couldn't have known. It wasn't your fault," he insisted, though the syllables sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Another ragged breath, and then: "You have to trust me. Just let go and trust me. You put up this wall...you keep me at arm's length. That's how we end up getting hurt. But if you just...let go, let me in...please, Fin. I don't want to be here without you. I can't." He withdrew, putting enough space between them that he could look down at her.

"I can't lose you too..." he whispered, dropping his gaze abruptly to his own paws.

His pleas were like knives to her heart.  She shrunk away from him, clenching her eyes shut tightly as he spoke.  The tears were streaming down her cheeks now, but when she opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of her face, she thought for a second that she saw him clearly - her prince, her everything, her soul.. her Twig...  But almost at once it was clouded with doubts that had held her heart back all her life, and she shirked away further in desperation.


"I can't," Fin insisted, "You're better off without me, Elwood, why can't you understand that ?  I'm... I'm such an idiot.  I'm irresponsible and I'm unreliable, and thoughtless, and selfish.  And I don't deserve any of this, and I can't stand to have it anymore.  I'll just ruin it all and hurt everyone.  I don't deserve to have this."  A black face flashed into her mind then; a black face with bright blue eyes beneath the ice, whispering the words into her ear.  They weren't her own, but that didn't mean she didn't believe them any less than had she come up with them all on her own.

He felt like they were going in circles. She refuted his every statement with her own flawed logic, making a strong argument against herself. The more he insisted, the more she would push away, so Elwood was at a loss. This was turning into a lose-lose situation for them both, and though he tried to stifle it, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was right...

"I want to convince you otherwise. But I don't know if I can," he said sadly; it was time to wave the white flag. It would be better to go about this peacefully than with guns blazing. "If you go, though, I will, too. I'll find my own way. I can't stay here without you." The caldera wouldn't be home if Finley wasn't there.

omg gdi why ;_____________________;

It seemed that Elwood had no fight left in him for her, and Fin felt her hope deflating.  It really was over.  Quite suddenly, Fin felt the tears freeze in her eyes, and she looked at him with an expression that echoed the forlorn, defeated feeling that she held in her heart.  He wasn't going to fight for her.  He was just going to let her go, let her walk away from everything that they'd built her.  Not only that, but he was going to leave behind everything that he had built here as well.  Suddenly, the depth of the damage she had done came crashing down upon her and she felt completely helpless to fight against it.  Not only had she broken his heart - she'd broken his entire spirit and the entire life that he had built for himself.

"If that's how you feel..." she choked out finally, sitting up a little straighter as her cold resolve returned to the driver's seat.  It seemed the two had nothing left to say to each other, and so even that tiny voice of hope was willing to let the hollow emptiness steer it away from his horrible pain.  Fin looked away, out into the night across the Caldera where she knew in the distance she would soon be headed - nothing more than the shadow of a memory on this brief piece of time.  It was more than she deserved, and no matter the significance of what she left behind, the Blackthorn had not the slightest ounce of doubt that she left with selfless and terrible purpose.

It's not how I feel! Elwood wanted to scream, but the words got stuck in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force them out. What good would it do him anyway? Finley was convinced that her solution was the only one. And had he known that she was disappointed -- that she had wanted him to fight for her -- he would have felt a new flash of irritation. She was putting him through the ringer, and all for what?

It's not how I feel, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered. She had to know this wasn't easy. She had to know that it wasn't what he wanted. But she hadn't given him any other options. It was hard to hear anything over the drumming of his own heartbeat. He knew that the minute he moved away from her, it would be over.

It's not how I feel... he thought, one last time. But instead, what came out of his mouth was, "If this is what you want..."

The world began to crumble around her as Elwood, in his final words, essentially admitted defeat.  Finley looked at him then, allowing her gaze to linger upon the sharpness of his cheekbones and the dark freckles that lined his muzzle and shadowed the corners of his eyes.  In that moment, she knew that she had never loved anyone in her life as much as she loved him.


Which was why she felt the briefest, most fleeting moments of peace as she turned away.  "This is what has to be," she replied, barely even waiting a moment before she began to trot steadily away - following the edge of the little stream away from their home, out towards the boundaries of the Caldera, and away from the lives she had no doubt were far, far better off without her.

And with that, it was all over.

Six simple words, and then Finley untangled herself from his embrace and left. She didn't even spare him a glance over her shoulder; though she had been in tears only moments before, she suddenly moved with a resolve that he had never seen before. All Elwood could do was watch her go, his mouth agape and his heart resting firmly between his forepaws.

Their whirlwind of a romance had unraveled just as quickly as it had started, and in a way, it was a proper ending. They had been doomed from the start, at least in Finley's mind, and a "happily ever after" just wouldn't have suited them. A shiver raced down Elwood's spine; he was suddenly frigid, though the midnight air was warm and humid. What had he done?

He remained, still and silent as a statue, upon the rock until morning. He couldn't bring himself to retire to their den -- her den, it once had been. Only when the sun's first rays crept over the horizon did he finally move, slinking down and into the underbrush with his tail curled shamefully beneath him.