The sun slowly began to sink below the horizon, vivid orange light shining through the red petals all around her. The world was ablaze, a sight to revere and remember: she would cherish this image of Fireweed Rise. It had been the first home she had known in months and Miskwaa may have struggled with the idea of parting with the familiar territory if not for the simple fact that she was hardly a woman of sentiment. Rationality drove her and all the information they had gathered in the past month told Miskwaa that further opportunities lay deeper in the heart of this foreign land. In truth, the Rise offered little aside from solidarity and beauty; other locations seemed more plentiful when it came to came and better hidden, more easily protected.

In spite of the possibilities, the past few days had been spent grappling with this decision in near solitude, uncertain if this was the right call. She had seen the plenty in the forests to the north and Ziigwan had mentioned that there might be a home for them in the mountains... But Miskwaa was not foolish enough to blindly believe the promises of strangers. Life in the Rise was not perfect, but it was better than struggling among strangers who could not be trusted. Were she on her own, Miskwaa may have been more patient; as it was, the anxious worry for her uncle's well-being had made the decision a more urgent matter. 'He deserves the best life possible,' Miskwaa told herself — and she knew in her heart that the best was simply not something she could provide him.

And so while it hurt her pride, Miskwaa headed northwest and made her way to the trampled bed of flowers that they had taken to calling theirs, purpose guiding her steps as she sought out the elder male.

Ziigwan had been incredibly satisfied to share the name of this place with Miskwaa, almost to a ridiculous degree, and now that the time was coming for them to leave he almost felt regret. It was the first place he had lingered since leaving the tundra, the first horizon that he had taken the time to learn, the first name he had wanted to learn. Though it had been barely a moon's cycle that they had slept together in this red-covered Rise, he had begun to think of it as a sort of home. The wound of leaving the rest of their pack behind was slow to heal, still almost fresh in his heart, and this would tug at it. But it was for the best of both of them, and he knew that, accepted it. His reluctance was nothing but silly sentimentality, and, he knew, largely just leftovers from his deeply held guilt.

All he was leaving behind this time, though, was their makeshift den. He did not have to slip out in the middle of the night and face abandoning a heartbroken face he loved. Besides, they were likely to only travel a little north, and he could even come and visit if the fancy struck. That was a greater luxury than he deserved.

Aware it was possible, even likely, that this was to be their last day on the Rise, Ziigwan had opted to stay with the den for most of the day and dig up the last scraps of meat they had hidden in their own small cache. With a content stomach, he had laid the last half of the game bird in the centre of where they slept, awaiting Miskwaa's return in the case that she had any hunger.

From the den, he watched out over the Rise and saw her familiar form even as the light failed. Softly he woofed to her when she was close enough to hear it, and once she had arrived he reached forward to greet her with a lick to the chin, a quiet affirmation of their ranking with each other. It was something he had given more importance ever since her display with Alphinaud and the moose. Glancing back at the remains of the dead bird, he stepped aside to let her take it if she wanted, watching her face, waiting for an answer to a question he didn't need to ask. Was this it? Had she decided it was time?

He called out to her an greeting, placing the ceremonial kiss upon her chin; in return, she softly nudged his cheek with her nose. Slowly but surely she had grown more open in her affection for him, evolving from icy solidarity to something warm and comfortable. This was the way things should be, though Miskwaa would not voice her feelings to Ziigwan. Sentiment was a foreign concept to her and so her uncle was left guessing her thoughts and intentions based on her closed-off body language — for the most part, he was never very far off. It was a routine she had grown used to

Stepping back to survey his work on the cache, Miskwaa nodded her head in thoughtful approval. “One step ahead of me, I see — good. I think it's best we leave tonight.” Her words were direct and unfaltering, bright eyes studying his expression carefully. It was clear that he was well-aware of her plans, rooted in concern and the need to be ever vigilant. Ziigwan was a smart man anyhow and even though years of subordination may not have made him the best leader, Miskwaa knew all too well that he was competent and capable. (He had followed her, after all, which was testament enough to his intelligence.)

“We should head north through the willows, then stop for a few days in the woods north of there to rest... From there, we can search for the Cove wolves if that is your wish.” It seemed they had few other options in that regard, though the idea of travelling for days without a guarantee of success did not exactly sit well with her. Indeed, the woman was skeptical about this Fallen Tree Cove and the woman that Ziigwan had met from there, but what choice did she have? “If they do not seem capable and trustworthy, I won't join their ranks. It'd be foolish to burden ourselves with the wrong crowd.” That being said, Miskwaa gave a huff (impatient, agitated) and bent down to tear into the remains of the bird, allowing Ziigwan to speak his peace while she ate her fill. 

Swiftly she confirmed his suspicions, and Ziigwan was grateful for her decisiveness. He would not have wanted to be the one to say when they left and what their future intentions were. His role was one of advisor and supporter, and he had settled into it comfortably. He nodded his assent to her plans, smiling at her praise, saying silent goodbyes to this place he had grown fond of.

He was still as she continued, letting her speak uninterrupted. He knew that she was hesitant regarding Des' Fallen Tree Cove, a sentiment he understood; having not met the woman herself (and indeed Ziigwan's impression was riding off one encounter alone) some caution was wise. He worried that Miskwaa's general distrust of strangers would hold her back from embracing whichever opportunity she chose. That distrust was something he completely empathised with and struggled with himself, though this new land had done much to soften old prejudices. Perhaps with her greater perceived responsibilities, Miskwaa was less inclined to let it go. He knew she felt responsible for him, something which he was still processing.

"Of course." Ziigwan did not want to add to her stress with dissent. He sat up as he watched her eat, scratching behind an ear as he waited, eyes slowly drifting back to the dark view of the Rise he liked. He fought with himself over whether or not to try to placate her concerns, aware that any soothing thing he could say had a high chance of being taken poorly. "We'll do whatever you think is right," he settled on in the end, though it was barely half of what he wanted to say. Distracted with emptying the cache and the prospect of the next few days, he doubted she would notice, and was indeed counting on it. Patient, he waited for her signal.

"We'll do whatever you think is right." Snout pressed into the abdomen of the bird, her golden eyes flickered upward to glance at him. For a short moment she considered him, exhaling slowly out of her nose, tense shoulders falling just as she busied herself once more with the meal. Though she would not say as much, the words were precisely what she needed to hear: tone calm, words expressing a loyalty and confidence that was mostly foreign to her. Such validation was all she had ever sought all those months ago, the support of like-minded dissenters... It was cathartic to have that now, a stable presence to reassure her when such doubts presented themselves.

Finishing the remainder of the bird not but a minute later, Miskwaa straightened with a satisfied lick of her lips. She allowed her gaze to follow Ziigwan's, golden eyes surveying the red of the flowers, overwhelming even in the darkness. It was impossible to miss such a sight and Miskwaa would miss seeing the sea of maroon that rose to greet her when she stepped through the forest to the north or over the rocky crags to the east. Indeed, this was the closest thing to home she had embraced in what felt like eons and with a sigh she remarked, “It was nice while it lasted.” But such an existence was unsustainable and unpractical, so she quickly turned her back on Fireweed Rise in favor of the woods to the north. “Shall we?” she pressed softly, but with the sense of growing impatience; unwilling to go without him, but unwilling to dawdle any further.

Either she did not notice anything awry, or tactfully chose not to comment. Ziigwan was content with both, just happy that he had managed to say the right thing. They needed to be a strong unit, not divided by doubt. Ziigwan would not fight her on any decision so long as he agreed with it - he was her ally and supporter but he would not be a simple yes-man, not anymore. This was a choice, not a role forced on him. What little agency he had, the wolf would relish.

She was swiftly finished with the bird, her comment thrown out to mirror his own sentiments, his agreement signalled with a grunt. At her question, he inclined his head in consent, and turned to leave their den behind for the last time as the sun continued to set on this final day. The pair fell easily in stride with each other, Ziigwan hanging behind by half a second to allow Miskwaa to entirely dictate their route and pace. Comfortable silence hung between them, their goals aligned and agreed upon; no doubt both had their own thoughts to occupy themselves as they moved through the night, slipping from the open Rise into the heavy forest towards the north.

Without a sound the pair made their way northward into the forest of willows that bordered their temporary home. The silence was comfortable, peaceful and everything seemed to be going off without a hitch. For a foolish and naive moment, Miskwaa allowed herself to think that perhaps everything would be alright. There would be no issues and the journey before them would be uneventful. Perhaps it would not be successful in regards to finding a secure home, but as long as they were safe and together, who was Miskwaa to complain?

And then a commanding howl rang through the trees, demanding both her attention and respect. Heart pounding heavily now, worry gripping her nerves, Miskwaa merely grunted, picking up the pace in the hope that they could avoid any confrontation by bypassing their pursuers entirely.

Their follower was quick, however, and soon a series of sharp barks rang out among the drooping leaves. Slowly, so as not to startle the stranger, Miskwaa turned to face the woman. She seemed alone for now, but the howl earlier gave Miskwaa the impression that perhaps she would not be for long. Stance neutral — tail limp, ears perked forward, gaze averted to stare at the stranger's chest — Miskwaa called out calmly, “Stand down, we mean you no harm.”

He heard the howl, too, and its unsettling proximity to the area they had just left coupled with its call-to-arms message. The willow wolves, maybe, or one of the other forest-dwellers? Ziigwan did not know if the call was about them but by the way Miskwaa picked up the pace slightly, he couldn't help but wonder... had they left at the right time? The idea of being run out of their den had dimmed as a possibility as time went on - they'd settled in neutral space, he was sure of it.

Then again, feeling protective over the surrounding territory, even that which doesn't strictly belong to someone, he could understand. Sakima and Nokomis had done no less on multiple occasions.

Their pursuer was more determined for a confrontation than he and Miskwaa were desperate to avoid one, it seemed, though Ziigwan had not anticipated being tracked out here on this journey of all journeys. They were leaving anyway! As the barks sounded out, and Miskwaa stopped to confront their source, Ziigwan mirrored her, though reluctant for a confrontation. Here, in the dark, now treading even more unfamiliar ground and a good distance from their one safe place (or what was once a safe place - perhaps no more), the idea of conflict was extremely unappealing.

Still, he thought, turning to face their tracker, whose size and posture could be made out despite the lack of light, it did look to be two on one if things turned bad. If only they'd convinced Alphinaud to join them... As Miskwaa spoke, her words easy and unconfrontational, the wolf was once more glad to be with her. Together they were strong. Shifting himself towards his niece, his head lowered, tail neutral and eyes not on the strangers face, Ziigwan regardless made his allegiance and intentions clear; however Miskwaa wanted to handle this, he would back her up.