Mountain of Dire no pain for my gain

He was still bitter.

Bitter that his mother had moved on so quickly after his father’s death.

Bitter that he couldn’t talk to anyone about it, as his closest friend was days away from the mountain.

Bitter that he was about to have younger siblings to tend to.

Just bitter.

He knew, eventually, he would get over it. Accept the changes in his life because he knew it would make his mother happy. That maybe this Lorcán was good for her, as it would prevent her from living in the past. A past that with filled with the broken body of her mate and the blood-soaked lowlands. A past that Cyril was still trying to move forward from—for himself, his mother and his father. The dream still relayed vividly in the back of his mind, reminding the sullen boy to let go. To stop blaming himself. It was hard, and he was trying, but it didn’t help when it seemed that those around him had forgotten about the ebony Kael.

A familiar call sounded from the tarn, beckoning the small group forward. He couldn’t help but hesitate, a grimace tugging at his dark features. But he couldn’t retreat; he couldn’t do that to his mother. Not when they worked so hard at starting over. She was excelling, and Cyril wanted to show her that he was too, even if he was confused at her current situation. With a heavy sigh he pushed himself through the trees.

He approached the tarn with cautious, hesitant steps. His yellow gaze was fixated on his mother as he maintained his distance, his expression softening as he saw the joy that radiated from her. Eventually he’d get over what happen and return to his happy, functioning self. Today wasn’t that day. Tomorrow wouldn’t be either. But he’d try. That’s all he could do.

Tossing his chin to the sky Cyril joined her chorus. At least they had found a home. That was the first step to recovery.

The morning started with a light snowfall that covered her pelt as she slept under one of the trees around the Tarn. Things had changed and she wasn't sure how she felt about it any more. The last days had been hard she blamed it all on her heat so chose to stay away from the others for the remainder of it. Which was why she had slept under the tree for the past few nights. She hoped that once it was over all the things that had crept up in the past few days would be forgotten and she could go back to her life the way it was.

There was one thing that bothered her though and she knew it shouldn't months had passed since they had lost their alpha. It bothered her that Piety had moved on so quickly or maybe it was Lorcans fault for preying in her when she was vulnerable. Were wolves supposed to get over their mates so quickly? Mittani wasn't dead but she still wasn't completely over him, maybe it was just how she was. Cheedo didn't know and she I'm didn't understand and until she didn't know how to react to it.

When the pale woman's voice called to the small group that now lived in the Tarn Cheedo rose to her feet and shook the snow off. She then made her way to the edge of the water where she found Cyril and Piety already. She approached tail tucked between her legs hoping to keep her scent under some kind if control. She held her head low as her gaze went from one to the other. She only rose it to add her voice to their chorus as they claimed the Tarn as theirs.

In all honesty, Lenae wasn't sure what they were waiting for. They had been at the Tarn for quite some time and whilst it didn't feel like home home the little Selwyn was content to stay. She wanted to try again, to close the book and start afresh but thinking about life like that was so hopeful, so innocent. It was hard to be cheerful when she knew there was no doubt more strife on the way, that it would hound her and bite at her heels, because that's what misery liked to do.

At the very least she had a nice little den to hide away in, Lorcan and the other's had been so kind to dig it out for her, and they'd done such a wonderful job. It was just the right size, snug and cosy with more than enough leg room for the little wolf. She liked the location too, hidden amongst tangled roots, it reminded her of her stay in the Ghastly Woods but was less...scary, intimidating. As she laid inside, her chin resting on one of her forelegs, her ears tipped forward at the sound of Piety's call. It sounded important and Lenae couldn't help but get the feeling that something was afoot. Pushing to her feet she dropped down into a stretch before heading out into the early morning light. Her den was situated in the treeline, so it took a few moments or so to gallop down to the Tarn's shore. By the time she arrived a crowd had started to form, all familiar faces- so far.

Lenae slowed to a walk and went to stand beside Cyril, knowing that Lorcan would want to claim the coveted position by Piety's side. She bumped into him, gently, and allowed herself to take comfort in his presence. He'd grown up so much, she was endlessly proud of him, knew that despite all he'd been through he'd be a wonderful man. Just as his Father had been. Tilting up her head, Lenae added her pretty little voice to their song. She was here and she wanted to do her part in building something worthwhile, even if her presence would be a burden on them, in time.

His shoulders sagged in relief at @Lenae’s familiar tawny frame as she sidled up next to him, her shoulder bumping against his. He might be angry and confused at the world, but never at her. She had always been a source of comfort for him; a ray of light in the dark. The sullen boy was pleased she had decided to join them; he had worried endlessly about her after their encounter in the mountain. But she seemed to be doing better—slowly but surely. Just like him.

Another familiar face had joined the pair—@Odin. Another wolf that had narrowly avoided his teenage angst.

Cyril was quick to end his song after the last wolf—@Kip, a face he barely recognized due to her limited time on the monadnock—joined them. His mother addressed the group once she dropped her muzzle, her voice warm and dripping with excitement. It made Cyril want to vomit. Or stomp off. Both, maybe? She said something about claiming the land and sending scouts out, something that he would not oppose to doing. If his mother would let him, of course. His yellow gaze fell onto her pale figure, a small frown creasing his dark lips as she asked the group if they had any questions. Plenty of them, he thought bitterly to himself as his gaze flitted over to the tawny male at her side. But they didn’t need to be brought up now. Cyril wasn’t interested in making a scene.