The last time that lights had flown in the sky, the song of traitors had reigned from their cowardly home near the mountains, and Marsh had listened to them with bitter anger. Since then, he had clashed with more than one of their foolish members, but ever since his called meeting, there had been none. Perhaps his voice had carried to them as well, or perhaps they had finally realised what was good for them.

The copper beast's trials and tribulations did not revolve around Ice, not purely, but ordinarily they would have focused on nothing but Corinna; the fact that the white guardian featured at all in his thoughts was unusual. But then again, perhaps it was not. Ice had proven himself where dozens past had not. Ice was dependable and truly a part of Swift River, and Marsh appreciated him for it. Once, he had waited expectantly for the challenge to come, but it never had; the white giant had lingered just beneath him, never a threat, always a comfort. Being in his presence was as easy as being alone. Marsh had never shared such a thing with another who was not his designated world - and even if he thought on it now, pondered his own idiosyncrasies, he knew that he did not share the same thing with Corinna. His devotion was an altogether different thing. Ice was an anomaly.

The memory of a black figure, elbow-deep in his river, and strongly spoken words - they haunted him still, though he tried to forget.

There were no traitors' songs tonight. Slowly his steel eyes followed the lights, uncomprehending of their purpose or reason but he did not care. There were things in life that were simply unimportant to survival, and he was too old to wonder about things that he would never understand. It was one of the reasons why he did not spend much time pondering Ice. Real friendship was not something that Marsh was used to. In fact... when he thought about it, he had probably never experienced it; he had left all the wolves 'like him' when he had followed Albion all those years ago, and ever since he had been Marsh, the wolf who got strange looks far too often, whose name was not even his own, not really. At least here, he incurred respect rather than pity. He should have settled here a long time ago.

There he was.

Sat quietly by the riverside, Marsh caught a glimpse of white fur, and he wondered how long he had been lost in his thoughts. He was not accustomed to brooding in this way. Indru's subtle rejection had been an intense burden that Marsh had been valiantly trying to ignore, for did he need it on top of everything else? Corinna and her offspring had Marsh's undying protection, and that was what mattered. The father was irrelevant. Marsh refused to linger on it.

But this... this was not so easy. He had not enjoyed Ice's strange behaviour, his distance, his... his lack of being himself. But it had not lasted forever, and now Marsh could not help but wonder about it, and quietly he snorted to himself, finding all of his own speculation and pondering ridiculous and a waste of time. Yet he could not help it.

What to do? The borders were safe, Corinna and her children well guarded, so Marsh had a moment to spare. On a whim, he moved forward, near-silent despite his apparent lack of grace, and came to stand beside the white wolf who stood so much taller, yet had never intimidated him. His ears rolled forwards and he dropped his gaze to the water, where he could see Ice's own eyes were lingering.

Irrationally and abruptly, he wished for something to say.

He did not understand.

As if in slow motion did Ice remove his paw, but Marsh could not bring himself to look away from those silver eyes, so similar to his own... and yet, all their own.

Marsh was not a wolf accustomed to feelings of enchantment. As a base instinct, he simply rejected them.

Silence reigned, and the copper wolf was gripped by it, unable to move or make any sound to break the incomprehensible tension, the barely-concealed energy which held him in place. He knew that it was not impossible to break free. If he wished it, all it would take would be a shake of the head and he could turn away, and leave it behind. But what was it? Marsh was not alien to devotion. His existence revolved around it, around finding his gravitational centre and then settling into his role as satellite - into his role of whatever you want, make use of me, I'm here to serve you. It was a straightforward existence. He wanted for little, particularly in a moral sense. Marsh was not a wolf plagued by past mistakes, regrets, or emotional torment.

Not usually, at least. It was the reason he did not understand.

Ice moved, then, and for a moment Marsh wondered if he had broken it - but instead, he simply fell deeper, and as the white wolf moved towards him, the smaller wolf permitted it. Welcomed it? It was not possible to have two compasses, two centres. He was Corinna's. Everything she needed of him, Marsh would strive to be; even here, now, he was somebody else's wolf.

Yet... Indru was her wolf also, and Marsh had no intentions of replacing what the Tainn was to his leader. He did not want or need to be her mate. If Corinna could have two wolves... could Marsh belong to two wolves?

The familiar scent was thick in his nostrils, Ice's heartbeat in his ears, and still Marsh stood, as yet unresponsive. He was trapped, but he knew how to escape. He could not decide. He did not understand. What was Ice to him that Corinna was not? Or was Ice merely a poor imitation? He had never felt true cohesion between him and anyone, save maybe his own blood. But that had been such a long time ago. It had been six years since he had stood amongst blood family, amongst wolves who thought and acted like him.

Suddenly, he felt weight of that time, and it near suffocated him. He had never felt ashamed for who he was - what he was - and yet, and yet, and yet -

Marsh, said Ice, and inside Marsh collapsed, his escape route falling out of sight.

A heartbeat later - but whose? they both beat so loud, he could barely distinguish them any more - Marsh leant back into Ice, relishing the solidarity, the comfort. His presence.

"Hhhh," he breathed, it's been so long, it's a lifetime ago, you don't need to be the same forever, "Hhhn, hhiccccce."

A madness descended over them. That escape route was long gone by now, and as they stood there, huddled together, as one reflection in the water - where Marsh could see Ice's joy, and he quietly marvelled at it - Marsh wondered if he would ever find it again. Something had changed, illogically, irrationally, it had changed. He did not know what. He was struck by this madness.

After years of a growing hatred for speech, it had been a powerful compulsion to overcome it. He had not offered a real word in many months - not since Cali had he tried, and it had been a long, long time before that had he last been coherent. He had never felt truly disabled over it, or, at least, not in Swift River, where they took him for what he was.

So what was different now? He had no intentions of reversing the last year and undoing all that hard work. He was not going to re-learn all that he had been busy ignoring. It made no difference in the long-run. So what was different?

He looked upon Ice's reflection then, and saw that smile.

Marsh, said Ice again, and then finally something snapped for the older wolf - a constraint fell away. The escape was gone... and he found he did not care. Whatever relief had washed through Ice came through Marsh next, and suddenly it was all easier. Simpler, yet he still did not understand it. Instead of another garbled attempt at the guardian's name, Marsh snorted. No way was he going to play that game. Instead, he pulled back just enough to reach the other's cheek, where he placed his nose, a gesture that was so familiar, so comforting. Though his lips never smiled, in that moment, his steel eyes held it all. Whatever had just happened, they were okay. They were okay.

Intimacy - true intimacy - was another foreign concept, and it was only Marsh's incredible self-control and confidence which prevented him from being overwhelmed by this sudden truckload of it. Even with those he dedicated himself so, the relationship was almost always held at arm's length. It was a distant devotion, unerring loyalty but without the need for closeness. Since he did not share blood with anyone, he was more than used to being treated with distrust, at first, and then with appreciation but not... not quite the same as family. It was different, here, where he felt truly needed, but he spent more time out of Corinna's company than otherwise.

Was that why this was different? He and Ice had been oft inseparable, a single entity which kept the borders safe, and he had grown so incredibly comfortable in the presence of the white wolf. Had he not believed that Ice was worthy of that trust, he would have felt uneasy for it.

But he did not. Save for that blip by the riverside, with that dark traitor's bitch, Ice had never given him cause for doubt. Still that night played at the edges of his mind, but he had watched Ice, had kept notice of the scents on his pale fur, just in case something funny was going on. Looking back on it, he could date that night as about the time when Ice had withdrawn inside himself, and as much as Marsh lacked empathy, he could not help but wonder what exactly had happened there. Given the chance, he would run the girl out all the same, but perhaps pay the guardian more attention in the meantime.

It was a blip, though. Staring into those grey eyes, he knew it meant little more.

It was unsettling, relying so much on faith.

The quiet, high sound came from his companion, and Marsh remained silent, watching as Ice's gaze fell away before the gentle lick. He was unable to resist the urge to pass his tongue over the end of Ice's nose, following the grain of hair a few inches up the ghostly muzzle. There his jaw lingered, hesitating, but Marsh was not one for self-consciousness (his trials and tribulations with speech aside - yet he curiously felt no shame about his most recent effort) and so when he pressed his head down, his chin on Ice's brow and muzzle, it was with a steady assurance, a confidence. A promise. Gently he slipped his head down, the sides of their faces brushing as he brought them level, once more watching Ice's eyes, waiting for them to join his again. He did not demand submission now. They were perfect equals.

It was a strange peace, a peace like he had never known, and yet his gut accepted it without contest, without further question. Ice opened his eyes, and the two pairs of vibrant, monochrome eyes fixated upon each other, and in that moment there was little else.

The shape of Corinna patrolled the edges of his mind, and his duties ever coloured his instincts, but whatever was left of Marsh was, at that precise moment, Ice's, and Ice's alone. It was a thing which had never happened before. Marsh, who was always another's wolf, and yet in this way had always belonged to himself - it was a fresh, untouched part of himself that he shared this night.

A virgin to true, private affection. Had he been a less sure creature, he would have questioned it, doubted it, but Marsh lived and swore by his instincts. Every fibre of him trusted this white guardian implicitly. This bond could only strengthen them.

It was not atypical of Marsh to momentarily brush aside sentimentality and consider how beneficial that would be to the pack in general.

Marsh could not bring himself to break from Ice's gaze, too charged to stomach a disconnect. In this short space of time, it had all changed, and yet everything had fallen into place simultaneously; he did not waste time wondering if this was related to Ice's previous dullness of mood, or just how this strange union had come into being. All that mattered was that it had. The only thing which tainted it was the memory of being beside this river, darkness washing them, and an even darker face lurking on its surface... but he saw no falseness in Ice's eyes, no trickery. Whatever had passed had passed. Everything and everybody that still mattered was safe. The memory was old and irrelevant, and Marsh cast it aside, willing to forgive and forget under the trusting assumption that, in the end, it meant nothing.

After all, everything that mattered was within the boundaries set out by this river. Softly he exhaled, wanting to stay here with this moment that he did not understand and yet made perfect sense. He had not come here to rest, but he was filled with a pleasant lethargy, a willingness to lie here with Ice and enjoy the sound of water.

Corinna and her offspring were safe, surrounded by trusted packmates - by family. Smoothly he sat, keeping his muzzle pressed against Ice until the last, when he broke away - with a flick of his tongue on Ice's nose - and laid against the grass, wishing the warm white body to join his again.