Hearthwood River buried in the shadows

Lilya had lost sight of Lilliana again, a soft frown on her features as she searched for the girl. Lavender was never too far, seemingly having picked up her parents cautious nature with sticking close to them or the den… something that seemed like a blessing, though Lilya knew how much of a curse it was to be like them. Neither of them could stop worrying and she found herself hoping the pup grew out of that nature with time, lest there be three worrywarts in the River. She’d been using her close watch on her children as a way to escape what she was feeling.

Kisla was dead. She’d had to step up and become queen again… but it was far too depressing this time. She’d gotten it not because Kisla wanted her to have it, but because the queen had died…. on pack territory. Lekalta had still not been seen next, and Lilya wasn’t sure how to proceed with Matheo or Risaela, or for that matter, what she was supposed to say to them either. She intended to offer that they could stay with her and the two Stark children if they’d like, so they didn’t sleep alone… but even then, she had yet to actually see them for longer than a couple seconds since it had happened a couple days prior.

She felt more worried than ever, and it was showing. On top of it all, the images in her head of how Kisla had died weighed on her, and the nightmares of her sister were returning to her, making it difficult for her to sleep.

The days following Kisla’s death blurred into each other—mostly due to lack of sleep, but also because Lachesis was hoping this was all some terrible dream. He couldn’t wake up, no matter how loudly he screamed into the hollow depths of his mind, or how long he went without allowing his eyelids to droop shut. He couldn’t.

Speaking with Inna had made him feel a little at ease, but not by much. He still fretted; worried. The ghost could not shake the anxious feeling that consumed him, for it cocooned him, embracing him like an old friend. After the loss of his son Lachesis had hoped that death would evade them for another year, or two. With Kisla’s death they had lost another—her daughter, Lekalta. The tawny Baranski had torn through the forest, leaving a trail of blood as she led the murderous feline away from the pack. Whether she had escaped or suffered the same fate as her mother, Lachesis did not know. The girl had not returned to Hearthwood yet and, as her absence increased, he doubted that she would. Even if she had escaped the cougar’s claws and successfully put distance between them and the river, what reason was there for her to return? To her Hearthwood was a beacon of death, for she had lost her father the year prior and just witnessed her mother’s brutal death.

Lachesis was still wondering if he and the rest of the river wolves should still call the haunted place home.

His weary paws continued their meandering, the leader’s ethereal body weaving through the trees of the Kingswood. Eventually he would have to call the rest of the pack together—to see how they were holding up and discuss what the future held for Hearthwood. His heart continued to ache and the thought of gathering a bunch of miserable wolves together in a clearing did not seem appealing, but it had to be done. They were family after all, regardless of the blood that flowed through their veins.

He stumbled upon the blue-eyed sparrow by chance, or perhaps he had been subconsciously following her scent. Without a word the leader sidled up beside her, his chartreuse pools glazed with concern as he pressed his nose to her shoulder. Whether to comfort her and seek comfort himself, he did not know, for she looked just as troubled as he did.

The silence that crept around her went undisturbed as the leader found his way beside her, pressing a nose into her shoulder as her ears fell flat against her skull, a soft whimper from her maw. She didn’t know what to do, felt lost knowing there was no one she could go to for advice on this. Kisla had been the wolf she’d gone to, and now she was gone. She didn’t want to burden him anymore than he already was. Kisla had been his friend, much more than she had and they’d been through thick and thin together. Lachesis had helped her with her children, been her medic, and one of her closest friends and she’d been almost the same for him.

She managed to pull herself together, as much as she could say that she was ‘together’ as she posed the soft question to him, her voice barely breaking the silence she’d let surround them once more. “How’re ya holdin’ up?” Her priority was always going to be him, even if it was a feeling she couldn’t explain with words, and especially not to him, he was always going to be her priority – him and their children both. Besides, it might just be the distraction she needed to get her mind out of her head, to pull herself away from the images of her past that had returned to haunt her every step.

She brushed her side up against his, trying to offer what little comfort she knew she could.

He did not know how he was feeling—how he should be feeling. The pale leader was desperately trying to remain composed, but he was falling apart at the seams. Part of him wanted to continue the search for Lekalta, to bring her home, but he couldn’t leave the Kingswood. Not yet. There were too many wolves that needed him; he could not leave them while the shock of losing Kisla ripped through Hearthwood. They had lost three wolves in the span of a month—the swelling river pack had begun to diminish once more and Lachesis worried that with the matriarch’s death that the numbers would continue to decrease. And he could not allow that to him. This place was far too important to him, and he could not let his fallen friends down.

A frown creased his features at her question and he shrugged absentmindedly, his nose pressing deeper into the fur on her shoulder. “I don’t know,” he mumbled into her fur, his chartreuse eyes falling shut as he inhaled her familiar scent, hoping that it would soothe his troubled mind. His throat felt dry, words hesitating on the tip of his tongue. He did not know how to process loss, even though he had already experienced enough in his five years of life. It never got easier. “Am I supposed to be strong? Am I supposed to not let it bother me?” He asked, unable to stop the word vomit from tumbling out. “I don’t know if I can. I want to be—for Inna and the children—but it hurts. Fuck, Val, it hurts so much.”

His response made her heart ache, dying to find some way to piece together the fractures of his heart. He asked her these questions, ones she’d once asked herself, when she’d had to keep her sister’s death a secret, letting her family slander her because it’s what she’d been told to do in those dying words. It was all she could think about now that she saw comparison after comparison between situations. “No, you’re not.” She murmured softly as she tilted her head so she could look him in the eyes.“You’re supposed to feel this Lachesis… you’re still mortal. You’re just one wolf and as strong as you may be, this is not something you should ever shut out or ignore.” Her voice was stern, pained, and filled with the remorse that she’d done exactly what he told her not to do.

“Let me be the strong one. I wasn’t her child; I wasn’t one of her closest friends like you were… I can hold things together just don’t let yourself hold this inside, Lach. If you keep holding it in, it’ll never fade, never get easier and there won’t be a single day where you don’t feel the pain you’re trying to block out.” The words had been so articulate, her accent had sounded sharper and lacked it’s usual earthy drawl that made it so comforting. Maybe he’d still feel it, she had no way of knowing… but she knew if he took the route he had just told her he was trying to take, he’d feel it deeper and deeper each day until that pain threatened to consume him.

The corners of his eyes fell as she turned to look at him, pools of sapphire meeting meadows of peridot. He wanted to look away, to dismiss the words that danced off her tongue, but he couldn’t. He did not want to be mortal if these horrendous feelings were part of the package. Lachesis could do without the pain and suffering. “I feel guilty,” he admitted in a small voice, his tail tucking against his leg, “because I should be comforting them. They need me, but I can feel myself breaking apart.” The words came out before he could stop them, and Lachesis quickly realized there was no use in holding back how he was feeling to Lilya. She had always managed to get his thoughts out of him, even when he wanted to keep them to himself. Was this what trusting someone was like? Loving someone? Being completely open and honest with them, without fear of being ridiculed or cast aside.

He dismissed the thought with a sharp flick of his tail, his chartreuse gaze falling the ground once more as he (reluctantly) pulled away from her. “It’s so much easier not to feel,” he countered in a small, sad voice as his hindquarters slumped against the ground, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I feel like I’m failing them. All of them.” Maksim, Kisla, the rest of Hearthwood… Lachesis worried that his own emotions would tear the pack apart. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to be strong; composed. Falling apart was not an option, no matter how easy it was to do…

His words danced across her heartstrings in the most painful manner, a soft frown on her features when he started to explain how he felt. “Yer goin’ through exactly what they’re goin’ through.” She argued as her voice returned to somewhat normal, not quite strung with the thoughts of the pain, but instead seeking to comfort him once more. He had nothing to feel guilty for. She hurt too, but it wasn’t the same. Kisla had been her alpha, and while she’d been loyal, she had not been one to get to know Kisla on a personal level.

“Ah know it is right now, Lachie. Ah’ve done it.” She admitted softly as her frown grew with him pulling away from her. “Yer not failin’, Lach. Yer grieving, n’if ya don’t grieve properly, now, because yer too worried ‘bout everyone else ta feel this pain yer feelin’, then yer gonna feel it fer the rest of yer life. Trust me on it. This pack is a family, n’ya don’t ‘ave ta bear the weight of this on your shoulders alone.” She didn’t know how to make him see. She cared about this pack, obviously, seeing as she’d called it her home for the past five seasons… but she also cared about him. She wanted only what was best for all of them and him holding everything in wasn’t the right way.

She couldn’t help but try to give him a reassuring smile, trying to take that frown away, his worries coming out like a waterfall as he admitted that he didn’t know what was going to become of the pack. She wanted to take all of his worries away, but she knew that she could not – they were a part of who he was. “Ya don’t have to have all of th’answers… each person can ‘ave a small part… it’d probably be best ta ask th’rest of th’River after th’shock has settled down a bit.” She offered, trying to be helpful.

A part of her wanted to try and take his mind off of it – talk about their children, or something that wasn’t what would happen in the wake of Kisla’s death, but the words never came. Instead she saw that look of panic on his face – one she’d seen in herself as well not too long ago. She liked to think she was good in a crisis. His next words took her off guard, her gaze softening as she met his eyes. “Ah couldn’t do anythin’ without you.” She whispered in return, barely letting the words fall off of her maw. Hadn’t he seen how much he helped her recover from the abuses of her past over her time in the Hearthwood. Didn’t he know how he made her feel? How he was sometimes the only one who could soothe her when she had her nightmare, and how his presence caused clarity in her like nothing else she’d ever experienced? “Ah really like ya too…” She was scared of the other 4-letter ‘L’ word because how did she even know what that felt like?