Weary and hungry, the travelers had not stopped much on their way home, and once the three had crossed the borders of Hearthwood River and in to their home once more, Kisla cast a glance to either comrade, giving them a nod. They had made the decision to inform their pack mates of what had transpired, but first, she knew she needed to tell Maksim of Minka’s death. “A pack meeting will be held shortly. I just want to tell Maksim..” She informed them quietly before tilting her muzzle back, her song soft as it called for her mate – there was news, and he would need to hear it before the others.



As her voice faded, her green eyes swept to both @Kjors and @Naia trying to discern their thoughts. There was a relief that had found its way to her heart at knowing they were no longer tied to the likes of the Crest, but there was still a solemn regret. Minka never had been able to find out who had killed her mate – and that was unthinkable to the River Queen.


Settling down to her haunches, Kisla felt a yawn slip past her muzzle as she awaited the presence of her mate. The sun only just began to drift down across the horizon, indicating that by the time they pulled the pack together for a meeting, it would be dark.

They had not been gone long, but the time missed from her mate was enough to enrapture her heart the moment he came to view. She weaved away from Naia and Kjors then, seeking a bit of solitude to embrace the man of her children as she swept herself forward in to his embrace.



Warmly, he wrapped himself around her, and the honeyed woman pressed gently in to his side, though withheld pressure so as to not disturb his lingering injuries. It was promising to see him heal, and she made a silent note to herself that she would need to thank @Lachesis for his capabilities.. and the attention he doted upon Maksim.


For only a stolen moment she let his touch wash over her, smiling gently at his words, though it did not quite reach her eyes. She was uncertain of how he would take the news of Minka’s passing, but he needed to know. Stilling, she did not pull from him, but the seriousness of her gaze did not falter as she regarded him gently. “Minka is dead, my love. We have delivered the description of Tokino’s killer and were told the news. Gent has pulled the alliance.” She paused, studying him with more concern. “Which helps us from not having to do so ourselves.”

Maksim studied her, as if thoroughly considering her words. Had he understood? She had always believed that he and Minka had held great respect for one another – a grand friendship that had stirred her self-doubts about the potential of another he-wolf taking his attention from her alone – and now the woman was dead.


Her ears cupped forward at his sigh – his soft words stirred her heart to ache for him. The news meant little to her – she had never known the woman, though had always intended to solidify a friendship between them. This was only testament to how drastically life could change in such a short time.


Kisla made no comment about how Minka had died. She had not asked the Crest leader what had been the cause – it would have surprised her if he would have even given it. A small part of her wondered at it – the convenience of Tokino and Minka’s deaths and the rise of Gent. Had Kjors not been one to witness the murder of Minka’s mate and described the wolf as light furred, she would have allowed her hesitant assumptions to wander further.


“Nothing stops him. Gent is a snake and he is not to be trusted,” she determined, her lips thinning to a serious line as her eyes cast back to both Kjors and Naia. “Perhaps you should ask Naia what she thinks of him – she is the only one he truly greeted at our meeting. They seem to.. get along.” Bless their lead scout – she got along with everyone.


At Maksim’s suggestion, she gave a nod. “I’ll call them,” she offered softly, hoping him not to expel too much energy. With her muzzle grazing gently against his cheek in one final sweep of comfort, the honeyed regal then tipped her muzzle back, beckoning the wolves of Hearthwood River forward – Kisla, Naia and Kjors had returned – and they had news to share.

The demanding voice echoed in the distance, narrowly reaching a pair of lowered, charcoal ears, which perked stiffly at the sound. Orren jumped to his feet with a start, scaring off the pair of pheasants he had been stalking, sending them fluttering into the trees with loud squeaks. The young hunter paid little attention to his lost prey, turning instead on his heels to rush back towards the pack lands, scolding himself as he ran; He had almost missed the call, again! Just like when Maksim had been injured, and his irresponsible son had been too far away to hear his cry for help; I promised myself it wouldn't happen again! Though his mother's howl had not been panicked, it had held a measure of urgency and it was obvious she wouldn't call the pack together for any old dishmaclaver. When the yearling finally reached the gathering of River wolves, he felt certain he would be the last to arrive, and his ears  drooped shamefully. Surely enough, as he approached the group, he saw most of the pack members sitting around his parents, watching anxiously. A few were notably absent though, most remarkably his eldest sister; Guess I'm not THAT bad… Still slightly breathless from his sprint, the prince shuffled into the group, nodding first at Karpos and Lachesis, before sending a small smile to Kjors, and a bigger to Naia; He felt like he had seen so little of his teacher lately, now that he was full grown and hunting on his own, and this new land demanded extra work from the scout. He was happy to see her home and safe though, even if it was just for a little bit. Then bright orange eyes turned to his parents, narrowing slightly at their somber expressions; "Mom, dad… Something's wrong?" It was really more of a statement than a question, he could tell from the atmosphere that it was not good news they had called the pack together to share. Instinctively, the big brother stepped close to his sister, who sat close by. She had grown too big for him to stand over her as he would have liked, but he pressed into her side protectively, looking from Kisla to Maksim broodingly. Word count: 373 ”Speech" Thoughts

FurLined @DA