He made haste in his trip south, barely stopping to rest or catch a quick drink of water. Guilt consumed him for not making the trip sooner, as he’d been feeling off for a few days before deciding to seek out his mother about making another trip south. The pair were no stranger to distance; they often went weeks without seeing each other. But this time the length between their visits had grown. Originally Cyril had blamed it on being busy with the formation of the Tarn, but something felt different. Wrong.

As usual the charcoal boy kept close to the mountains, as he had learned quickly that it was the fastest route down to the willows. It kept him at a safe distance from the other packs in the area (and away from the strange wolf he’d encountered once before). There were plenty of streams for him to stop at to replenish himself but he seldom stopped (if he did it wasn’t for long). He cursed the distance between their two packs as he moved, his legs growing tired as he continued south. But he refused to stop—not until he was within howling distance from the Ridge. Or his legs gave out beneath him, whichever came first.

Unfortunately for Cyril, the latter came first. He slumped to the ground at the base of the mountain, his chest heaving as he sprawled across the frozen ground. Snow was still piled in heaps around the strange cave but the sullen boy did not mind. He just needed to catch his breath before he carried on… he was so close…

He didn’t know how long he’d been on the ground for. Minutes, he hoped, but it was also possible that hours had passed since he collapsed. It was still early, as the sun was starting to poke through the trees and illuminate the forest surrounding him. A few more minutes, that was all he needed. A little longer to regain his composure so he didn’t arrive at the willows out of breath and disgruntled. But, the sooner he got to see Adeltra the better. He needed to put his worries to rest and figure out what was troubling him so much, even if it was nothing.

Oh, how he hoped it was nothing and that he’d just been overdue for a visit south. But things didn’t usually work out that way.

His eyes had blinked shut as he embraced the warmth of the sun on his back, almost as though it was recharging him while the forest fell silent around him. Part of him felt selfish for stealing a few moments to himself after he’d been so frantic on meeting up with his friend. But he was tired—three days of almost non-stop running was deserving of a rest.

The sound of another approaching, however, disturbed him from his chest, but he did not move. Correction: he could not move. His legs still felt like jello as he struggled to find his footing. Eventually he gave up, his stomach still pressed against the cool ground as he waited for the intruder to make an appearance…

Fortunately it wasn’t an intruder. Instead, it was the wolf he had been looking for. But this was not a face he recognized. It was filled with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stumbled toward him, her own body crumpling at his side as words stumbled off her tongue. Wait—what had happened?! His brows snapped together as he shuffled closer to her, his chin draping over her shoulders as he embraced her in a feeble attempt at calming her. I’m not going anywhere, he countered quickly, his voice strained as he tightened his embrace, I’m just tired, that’s all. Been runnin’ for days to get here. But something stuck out in her words: you too. Something had happened. He drew away, his nose hovering inches away from her own as he met her amber gaze. What happened, Del? He breathed, his expression growing soft as he waited for an answer he wasn’t sure he was ready to receive.

He’d never seen her so upset and it scared him. Had that war she’d mentioned all those weeks ago finally happened? Was the Ridge even still standing? Had she lost someone close to her? Questions spun around his head, threatening to spill off the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. She would tell him when she was ready; he did not want to rush her. She had never done that with him after his father had passed. The ebony girl had been calm and patient; a beacon of light in the dark. She had been caring and thoughtful; offering her support with silence and food. Cyril intended to do the same for her once she told him what had caused her to be in such a state. He remained quiet, his yellow gaze holding her leaking amber pools until she was ready to speak.

Oh. Oh.

He swallowed, a low whine escaping him as his ears flattened tight against the back of his crown.

Cyril had not been expecting that.

First her mother had disappeared, then her brother… and her father… he remembered that she had mentioned he’d been sick—that he was going to pull through—but it appeared his illness had caught up to him. He swallowed, unsure of what to say as he embraced her once more, his chin tossed over her shoulder as he tucked her into his chest. I’m so sorry, he wanted to say, but Cyril knew that wouldn’t help. It hadn’t worked for him when he lost his own father. He just knew that he had to be there for her and offer her the same support she had given him. While she was surrounded by other family in the Willows Adeltra had lost all those closest to her; while he could imagine what she was going through to an extent he couldn’t relate completely, as he still had his mother. But, he sympathized with her and he wished she didn’t have to endure the same pain he had. It wasn’t fair.

With his lips pinched tight and words shoved to the back of his throat, Cyril kept his chin draped over her shoulder in order to keep her close. His heart ached for her; she deserved so much better. He wished that he could endure the pain she felt so that she did not have to. So she wouldn’t have to feel the same pain he had experienced months ago (and was still trying to recover from). The sullen boy knew that death was a normal, unfortunate part of life—when there was a natural cause behind it. Not being murdered by a rogue stag or succumbing to an unexplained illness. The pair had already endured enough a short amount of time—he hoped that there were no more misfortunes coming their way. He didn’t know how much he, or her, could handle.

Why’re you here?

He almost missed the question as she spoke into his fur. His tail twitched uncomfortably behind him, the frown tracing his dark features deepening. Wanted to see you, he answered, his voice soft as he tightened his embrace. Felt like something was wrong. Why couldn’t he have been wrong? What pained him the most was that he couldn't stay and comfort her long. That,
eventually, he would have to return to the north. To his mother and the new life she had forged for herself.

He was trying not to think about how he couldn’t stay. How this trip, like all the others, would have to brief. He knew that he had a legitimate reason to stay longer—that his mother would understand, if he explained it to her—but he couldn’t stay without consulting with Piety first. Unfortunately, for both the Kael-Santoro and his ebony friend, his mother was three days away. He struggled to swallow a sigh from escaping his chest; his brows knitted together instead. Me too, he hummed into her fur, his voice barely above a whisper as he refused to end their embrace. He worried she’d crumble to the ground, just as he had, if he let her go. Cyril would always keep her afloat—both physically and mentally. She was just as important to him as his mother was, but in a different way.

The question took him by surprise, for he had not expected the girl to push aside her own issues to hear him talk about himself. He hesitated, the corners of his mouth tightening as he unhinged his chin from over her shoulder. He shuffled so he was sitting beside her, his shoulder bumping against hers as he pressed his cheek to hers. I, uh, yeah. He offered a half shrug as a lacklustre response. We formed a pack on the mountain. Clearwater Tarn. He exhaled sharply through his nose as the name dripped off his tongue, his yellow gaze narrowing as it focused on the ground beneath them. Mostly former Whitestone wolves. Mom’s, uh…—his scowl returned, deep and dark as it cut across his stoic features—she’s pregnant. Some old friend of hers, apparently. He rolled his eyes, his tail thudding against the ground in frustration.

S-sorry! He stammered, his gaze returning to her as he nosed the spot at the base of her ear. I shouldn’t be complaining. Despite losing his father Cyril still had his mother, and was now getting an unwanted sibling. Adeltra’s family had gone.