Butterflies With Punctured Wings

Butterflies With Punctured Wings

The feeling that peace was in the fiber of her very own bones was something small and intrinsic. The quiet that resounded throughout the depth of the woods wasn't so unlike the one in her mind, and sometimes she didn't even need to drown out the sound of the rapids to hear it. When she was alone she could take in the rustling of the leaves overhead and the buzzing of winged insects as they darted past, sometimes in the distance, against the silence that was the absence of others. In her heart, the quiet existed as a comfort─not something only to be heard with one's ears─and she simply cherished it.

Today, the quiet wasn't so pronounced. All around her were the sounds of life and of summertime. The buzzing of tiny wings, the rustling of grasses swayed by an undercurrent breeze that cut through the forest, the swishing and crashing of the rapids behind her and far off. Even the canopies were alive with the songs of, well, something she didn't really know. Bugs? And overhead the birds danced through a blue sky. She was further from home than she felt she'd ever been, and it was...good. The borders were becoming increasingly familiar, and she knew she was safe to explore them when father was away and Maksim wasn't around, and when her siblings were doing other things, too. Here, away from the den and the places that were, to her, an every day sight, she found new wonders around every turn. Even the trees began to look different after a while─taller, perhaps, and less dense.

It was in the belly of a small valley that Quil's subtle exploration took an unexpected and grim turn. The sound was the first to catch her youthful attention, and her small, rounded ears pressed forward toward it. A squeaking, or squealing, or...both? Her body idle in throughtful consideration, the girl lifted her muzzle to smell with her nose what her eyes couldn't see. After some time of silence the sound echoed hollowly through the wood again, briefly, like a breath lost in the wind. On agile paws, she stalked forward, her eyes peeled for the sight of whatever was─

Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat, which was all of the sudden rather dry. Only a few lengths away, crumpled on the ground among the grass in a wide patch of small violet wildflowers, was a bird. Immediately obvious to the young girl was the look of fear in its beady, black eyes, and at the sight of her the creature struggled to move, to no alas. Its wing was broken, twisted and disfigured, and it was a terrible sight to see. She wanted to go to it, to give the fearful fallen flyer some comfort, the way mother did when she cried out not unlike the way the broken thing was crying now─soft, hopeless, saddened. The sight before her wasn't lively and beautiful like the forest and the creatures that lived there; it was ugly and awful and there was nothing she could do. For a time she watched, and each second that passed made her heart beat just a little weaker.

A soft whine lulled in chest as her golden eyes glistened, a single tear slipping from them and running warmly down her cheek.

.quil attaya.

for all the things that you're alive to feel just let the pain remind you hearts can heal

They were growing up so fast.

Trailing his eldest daughter far from home, each step the fledgling father took was a reminder of that fact. It seemed like only yesterday that he was checking in on Ava and the four little Attayas, in their makeshift den on the shore of the quaint cove. Every waking hour had been spent hunting to fill his mate's belly, trolling to mark the new borders and ensure their security, and watching over his brood and the queen as they slept at night. As the days went by, he found himself glued in a routine of patrol and solitude, and before he knew it the children were out of the den, out of sight, and now, out on their own. To a point, regret stung his heart, because he had missed those early, first months with his sons and daughters, but the conviction that his actions were for them all had kept him going. They always would.

It was happen chance that he'd found his daughter as she wandered. Quil had always been so quiet, watchful and with intelligent eyes; it wasn't so surprising that she was out here by herself, but what was surprising was that she'd now ventured past the pack's borders. He remembered what youthful curiosity felt like, but as a father he absolutely didn't like the fact that one of his own─hardly able to defend herself─was basically alone in a place where no one was around to protect her, outside the realm of all that was theirs, and all that was hers. Quietly, Kade stalked after Quil, leaving his errands and personal plans behind him as he followed his daughter into the wilderness.

What seemed like hours had passed, and the sun was high in the western sky. Nightfall was still a ways off, but they were miles from Darkwater territory. Though his inclination was to call out to her, to stop and her turn her around, he found himself lost in thoughtful observation and completely enthralled by his daughter─the routes she took, the decisions she made when navigating, the way she would stop to look around her and listen, and all the while silent as ice on the winter ground. In a way, keeping guard over her made him feel like a child again himself, and knowing that she was a part of him, alive and real and with a mind of her own, made him feel alive.

Between the crests of two hills, in a shaded slough in the earth where the sunlight filtered down in meager rays, the young girl eventually found the end of her adventure in the form of a crippled bird. Stoically, he watched from a distance as she took in the sight of life and death for herself, perhaps for the first time. Somewhere in him it felt wrong not to run to her and hide her eyes, the ones that were wet and sad and so innocent, but for a time he would leave her to own devices, ignoring the cracking of his own heart as he knew his daughters was breaking. Eventually, the lonely father met his woeful daughter beneath the setting sunlight and the thick canopy of the summer trees' swaying branches. Where he hoped to take her pain and bestow upon her a father's boundless love and ancient wisdom, only a single syllable escaped him, a whisper in the breeze.

"Quil..."

Butterflies With Punctured Wings

(This post was last modified: Aug 09, 2013, 07:34 PM by Kade.)

Butterflies With Punctured Wings

"Quil..."

Her father's voice echoed in her mind and through the narrow valley. She could hear him, but she couldn't face him. Not like this, with tears in her eyes and as her body trembled with fear and hopelessness. Her golden eyes remained on the broken bird as it squeaked and struggled and grew quiet before sqeaking and struggling and growing quiet again. If she tore her eyes away, would it die? Would it think she was giving up on it, or that she didn't care? Did it even care? What if the bird wasn't concerned with her or her tears or her worry at all. Perhaps, in the face or death, Quil was much smaller than she felt already, reflected in those panicked, beady black eyes. Biting her bottom lip worriedly, she eventually tore her eyes away and looked for her father.

There he was, bathed in her favorite shade of black and as handsome as only a father could be to a daughter. He was the king, noble and knowing, and she knew that he knew all about death, though she did not. In her glistening stare was a look of utter pain and confusion, and as she looked upon him she realized that he probably didn't care about what was happening. To her or the bird. Was he mad at her from straying far from home? Sniffling, she looked back to her friend the bird. She didn't want father to come closer. She didn't to hear his voice or his words. Right now, all the girl wanted was to be alone.

.quil attaya.

for all the things that you're alive to feel just let the pain remind you hearts can heal

At the sound of his voice, Quil didn't move or look up or acknowledge him; instead, she stared at what he knew was the center of her world at this moment. He followed her gaze to the bird and its mangled wing, trying to think of something appropriate to say and coming up with nothing. After a moment she finally broke her gaze away, and her eyes lifted to his own bathed in tears and emanating a sea of emotion. In them Kade could see her hurt and confusion, and it was plain enough to see that she wasn't going to welcome his words. He gulped down what felt like a rock stuck in his throat. Maybe she saw his indecision, the way her terrible and innocent stare cut him down to size in this moment, because she simply glanced him over, paying him what attention she either could or wanted to, and returned the rest to the near-dead bird.

He tried to quiet the long sigh he sucked in and let loose, tried to let some of his own worries slip away with it. He tried again to think of words to say to his grieving daughter─a lesson that she could learn from this─and once again found nothing. The squealing chirps that didn't belong in such a beautiful place hurt his ears, much like Quil's tears were hurting his heart, and his racing heart thrummed in his chest like the galloping hooves of wild horses. Lacking enough courage to say anything, for fear that it wouldn't be the right thing, Kade took a chance and moved closer to the dark-furred girl. At her side he sat upon his haunches, conscious to support her if only by being there with her.

Butterflies With Punctured Wings

She didn't know what her father was thinking. It was imaginable that perhaps he didn't like seeing her this way─she didn't like feeling this way, either─but by his quiet way as he slipped closer to her, she couldn't tell. With tears welled in her golden eyes, she didn't dare to glance at him as he settled at her side. In a way, she felt shame for her visible weakness before him, and on the other hand she felt her own compassion and sadness within. Still a young girl, Quil didn't know what this experience meant for her other than that it was hurting.

Her vision was blurry, but the sound of death creeping in to take the life of the beautiful and pitiful bird brought her focus back to the dreadful scene. It writhed and sputtered and seemed to choke, one wing beating with might and the other limp and twisted. Slowly, something in its black eyes began to fade. Her own eyes widened. A few moments later, the broken bird met its fate there in the grass, eventually becoming still and silent, and the sable girl's gaze darted back and forth in a languid panic to her father in search of an explanation of what was happening, or a miracle.

for all the things that you're alive to feel just let the pain remind you hearts can heal

What had began as a simple morning had turned into something much darker. At his daughter's side, Kade wanted to do anything to help her through this, but knew all too well that the lesson Quil would learn today was one that every child had to learn sometime. He couldn't remember his first real brush with death, and looking back he was glad for it. But he'd learned, too, that life was not forever and that any moment could be the last moment. His furrowed brows and the concern that glowed in his silver eyes faded into a stoical mask as the life slipped from the small animal whose existence he knew was monumental in his daughter's eyes. In that single moment, he became more than himself─a man of many years who had seen death and made death, and taken life and created it; he became the father he'd once not known how to be.

He met the girl's anxious eyes with a sage peace in his own. He watched as she watched. He felt as she felt. And when it was over and her head fell in grief, he became her strength. In silence, he reached for her, to comfort her, the tip of his nose and chin sliding between the small blades of her shoulder. His breath was quiet and warm, and his beating heart was slow and steady.

Butterflies With Punctured Wings