Thicket of Secrets who i am hates who i've been

It had taken a grand amount of patience to wait out her packmates. Since the attack, it seemed they were stubbornly insistent on hovering. Pip refused to go into the den. It wasn't that she adamantly turned away from it. Rather, she hadn't moved from the spot she'd found under a broken cedar tree except to drink and relieve herself. Finally, there was a break in their vigil and she was able to silently slip away.

Her limp was even more pronounced than when a beaver had injured her back leg. Each step brought fire to her shoulder and her breath gasped in and out unevenly. But Pip refused to let it stop her, intent on finding silence and solitude to recover alone. She couldn't face @Veho either, hating that it would put him at odds with his daughter. She didn't want that for Ophelia. Even if the pup had acted poorly, Pip didn't want to see her become ostracized as she once had been. It was such a lonely existence the young girl didn't deserve. But Pip, she was already used to that lonely feeling.

She could survive it again.

She limped farther than Frog Chirp Creek, knowing it was likely where @Tomen would check first if he noticed her missing. He above the others would know her favorite place. The rivers would be next, no doubt. So Pip headed for the woods so dense that she could disappear in for a while. It didn't help that her wound was starting to ooze again, however, leaving a red trail behind her in the snow.

The small wolf pushed on with determination until her sense of direction was wholly turned around. Satisfyingly lost, the mute curled in the snow and fell into a fitful sleep without the help of the herbs offered before. They made her feel too weird, and the others were too insistent that she take them. Yes, getting away was the best option for now. Away from the tension she no longer had the ability to dissolve. The little omega couldn't do her job properly; it was for everyone's sake that she remove herself from the equation. The disheartening realization that they were better off without her was what left her sleep so fitful.

Pip flinched awake, dimly aware of the new warmth curled around her. Pack scent flooded her and she relaxed, fully expecting to turn and see Tomen or Yvly or even Veho. Who she saw instead brought another jolt from her, twinging her shoulder sorely. @Nineva. The mute had always felt the girl didn't much care for her, though she never had any solid proof that it was true. So the tawny female had simply stayed well out of her way and tried not to make waves that would potentially upset her.

To have her here, now was...

Even if she had a voice, Pip had no words.

A sharp inhale that may have been a whimper from any other preceded the little wolf pressing her face close to the larger female's in search of comfort. She gave a soft lick along Nineva's gray muzzle before drifting off in sleep again.

Pip woke several times, though she seemed less lucid with each waking and her fur burned hot until she went from curling in a ball to spreading herself across the snow to cool off. Her breath quickened, and then she was panting. She wished it would snow. That way she could lay beneath a blanket of the cold white slush and not melt away.

During one of her waking dreams, she swore she saw Kjell. He was handsome and kind and he smiled at her sweetly. She thumped her tail a few times as if to invite the apparition closer. But he was soon gone as well, leaving only the dense thicket around them and Nineva. When did she get there?

Pip blinked blearily around herself, eyes fighting to remain open as if the sun was too bright in her face despite the fact that clouds blanketed the sky thickly and the thicket was so dense that it alone could have blocked out much of the light. The mute turned, her gaze lacking full understanding as @Nineva dipped her head down close to her burning shoulder to sniff.

It looked ugly, the Mizuno decided. Even with her thick fur, the wound was plain to see. A deep pocket had formed where Ophelia had punctured and stretched the skin in her attack. Would it heal normally? What kind of scar would it leave? Would her fur grow back normal? Pip never would have thought herself vain, but couldn't help but wonder these things. There was a scar on her hock from the beaver's attack, but that wound had been far less extensive compared to this one.

Owlishly, Pip blinked at Nineva's greeting and then looked away at the question. No. No, she was not. Would she ever? Did she even have the courage to return? Not on her own, that was for sure. But Nineva was here. And wasn't that strange? Again, she marveled at the yearling's presence. Pip had always been convinced the girl didn't much care for her, but had never been given explicit reason to think that. The Nineva beside her now didn't feel like the Nineva from before. Had something changed? Or had her perception changed only?

The mute turned suddenly. Though she knew she should not, Pip began licking incessantly at the wound, unable to stop herself without @Veho's medical mandates. The action soothed as much as it hurt, inspiring even more licking and pulling and tugging. On wobbly paws, she sat up only to have better access to her shoulder before flopping dazedly back against Nineva's side and looked around with confusion as if uncertain why she'd fallen. Maybe Nineva was on to something. Maybe she should get back to the Hollow.

Pip's ears flattened as her packmate kept her from going after her wound again. Anxious, hurting, and confused, the mute's mouth fell open as she panted forcefully, each breath longer than the last as if she were trying to expel a high-pitched whine. The little sea wolf's mind felt fuddled and thinking was a process she wasn't sure she could complete.

@Nineva's words glanced against her conscious and the girl caught only part of what she was saying in the midst of her panic. Three words stood out among the garbled mess. Fever. Weaker. Home.

Yes, she should go home. They should go home. They belonged there. Nineva more than Pip, but she did, too. Even if she was not wanted. Grizzly Hollow was her pack. Her home. Bella Coola was but a memory - and one that held little sentiment at that. She recalled her aunt with perfect clarity. The cruelest of the bunch. Always sneering at her and calling her ugly names when no one else was nearby. Nipping at her tail, her ears, her muzzle. It was she who trained the mute to cower. She who taught Pip how dangerous it was to meet a wolf's gaze. From her, Pip learned she was useless, and thus stayed out of her birth pack's path and kept mostly to herself unless her brother and sister were around.

The Hollow wasn't like that. Maybe...Ophelia was a little like that.

But the pup wasn't all there was to her home in Cedarwood Forest. She should get back. Home. Like Nineva said.

The girl pulled away, ducking from under Nineva's muzzle and tripping over the monochrome female's paws in an effort to stand. She was shaking, her stance wobbling weakly while her head hung low for balance.

Feverish eyes found mismatched ones and Pip gave a quick nod. Yes. She wanted to go back home. She was weak and putting Nineva at risk here. They had to return quickly. Pip knew the girl would not hesitate to defend her - and wasn't that an uplifting revelation? - and she wanted to remove the risk as best as possible. They both belonged safe at home, not wallowing out in the thickets with fever and sorrow.

Winter had not been kind to the Zamora. The dark masked male's ribs showed plainly despite his thick coat, his gait stiff with partial muscle wasting. Zerxes's success with hunting had been harshly limited ever since his fall at the jaws of that damnable dragon and his meek little mouse friend. Where once the male had left a path of blood behind from needlessly slaughtered prey, now he was lucky to catch anything at all. Clearly by his emaciated frame, it wasn't often.

The scent of carrion is what drew him to the area. Days or weeks old, Z couldn't afford to be picky. While the winter was a harsh mistress and kept prey scarce, it had the benefit of keeping death fresher. After gorging himself on the remains of a deer picked through by the lynx that took it down, the loner lay down nearby to clean his paws from the frosted gore there.

Midway through, the Zamora paused and his pale green eyes glinted with recognition. The scent of fresh blood drifted to him, but more than that was the scent of something far more familiar.

Gravewalker.

Zerxes had committed her scent to memory. At one point, he had determined to make her his own in whatever way he could manage, though his half-hearted attempts to cajole her had been thwarted with stubborn determination by her. The idea to force her had been far more appealing a thought. In his condition now, there was no way he could do either. But the prospect of harassing her and whatever creature she was leading to the grave now was too enticing to ignore. With more energy than he'd had in weeks, Zerxes trotted eagerly to find her.

"Oh, this is too rich," he said loudly when he spotted the pair. "Leading the dragon's bloody little mouse to her grave, are you, darling?" The teasing lilt to his voice that hadn't made an appearance since his fall returned twofold. "Is it not exciting to have such a grip on life and death?"

Turning his devilish gaze on Pip, Z let his teeth show in a full smile. "Can't say I feel sorry for you. You deserve worse."