Hearthwood River I could never be that cruel, my dear

Inna didn’t dwell too much on who was good or bad in the pack it was something that she thought being so young it wasn’t time for her to worry about. She thought that it was her parent’s job to worry about that for her especially since they were the pack leaders. One day she knew that she would have to worry about it but she didn’t know how long that would be and until then she would continue to observe her parents and then when the day came she could put what she had learned from them into practice. For the moment her head was filled with so many places that she wanted Nightingale to see that she hoped they would be able to get to them all but she thought Lavender Ethos was an important place for Nightingale to know.

She nodded before looking up at Nightingale’s comment about her mother. “That’s one of the reason’s I thought she would let you join,” Inna explained and added, “I’m sure you will remember.” She was thankful to have Kisla for her mother and that was something that Inna wouldn’t ever forget. Even when she’d had every right to be angry about her leaving Hearthwood River Kisla had not yelled. Instead she sternly pointed out the dangers she could have encountered. It was because of that Inna felt at ease speaking with her mother about Nightingale.

Inna hummed in agreement, “In the summer it is very beautiful. It’s still pretty now but the lavender makes it so much more, you know?” she said glancing at her friend once more. Sometimes Inna liked to visit and lay amongst the lavender and then when she got up she would smell like it for some time after words. “Me too,” she added cheerfully about the scent of the purple flowers. The had passed then den a leaving only a short walk from there before they finally reached the area where the lavender once bloomed, “Here we are,” she announced as she stepped into the open before stopping to make sure that Nightingale was behind her.

~Table by Mimi

(This post was last modified: Dec 17, 2015, 03:26 PM by Inna.)

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The others words were warm and soothed her heart. Nightingale was glad for the lack of severity or concreteness. Like the other, so young, might know of the malady she suffered, that she could not say You will. You will never forget it. Nightingale closed her eyes for a brief moment, closed her eyes and wondered at everything she knew she had forgotten—

Her mothers voice. Her fathers face. The three young babes she had been looking after, who died due to the bear, who died due to her, too, inadvertently. Her brothers, her sisters. The way she felt for what she felt should have been her friends (the wolves at the Caldera). Only few, after the fact, stirred her heartstrings truly. In thinking of this, she felt a great pain and a heavy weight. Her walking slowed, her eyes were downcast. Beneath her paw, a weak branch snapped in two, and Nightingale knew. No thought was safe. No thought was sacred. Nothing was considered in this design. Not those who she had loved, and not those who loved her. It was cruel, very cruel. The Caldera had told her, had promised her, that she had loved none, and that none had loved her; that there was no need to worry about making someone heartsick, in her seeing their face, in her not knowing them as they would know her. What a horror that would be, she felt. For who could love her after that? Who would want to?

Ingrained in her, she knew that when seeking ones mate, it was a lifelong bond. For better, or for worse. She was simply glad she need not even think on any other, or herself, in that situation. She was a woman who kept her promises until the last, even if she could not remember them, but then... how would she have known she had made them? And who could stand to be asked that? To not be believed, after all they knew of her?

That was the pain of it. That she knew nothing. It was a relief to believe that she had no one who knew everything; the pain... even the idea of it... she could not fathom.

Nightingale did not know why this thought came to her. Perhaps to alleviate the weight of forgetting everything else, she could be relieved to know, well, at least not this—it could be worse, couldn't it? The eternal optimist; she hadn't the slightest idea. Dreams of a wolf she felt that she had known forever, but woke to tell herself, well, that is love, when you see them; like you have known them. More than love. A soul mate. Life dealt her a cruel deck of cards; she did not know they were not even in her hand.

Anything Inna had said was not heard. She walked numbly, her head buzzing with these thoughts. As Inna waited, Nightingale unknowingly walked some steps ahead only to realize that she was no longer ahead of her. Nightingale peered back and smiled sheepishly, before turning to look ahead. The lavender had dulled in its color, no doubt due to the dry air the winter transition created. The land was in a thin blanket of snow that was melting even now in the warmer than typical day. When one breathed in, there was still the scent of the stuff, and Nightingale approached and rubbed herself against the herb with little thought, the brittle parts of the plant shivering on their stem and falling, like snow, upon her furs. It soothed her mind, this smell. The songbird glanced back to Inna with a smile, though when she looked back to the wildflower, her mind was faraway and probing. This scent was familiar. She tried to dredge up why, how.

Inna had not realized that Nightingale had fallen so far behind in the short distance between the Ethos and the den. She knew that she had gotten lost in her own thoughts for a few moments after passing the den. Still she had thought that her friend had kept up so it was quite the surprise for her to turn and not find her there. She didn’t understand why the agouti female had fallen behind but she stood and waited for her all the same however as Nightingale came closer Inna noticed a change in her friends demeanor causing her to worry that she might have said something that had upset her. She hoped that she hadn’t especially after they had just been reunited after Inna had thought she wouldn’t see Nightingale for a long time so she didn’t want her friend to be upset with her already.

She then watched as nightingale came towards her before passing her and offered a confused smile when her friend smiled at her and then Nightingale was rubbing herself against what was left of the lavender no doubt to get some of what was left of the scent on to her pelt. Inna’s worry for her friend grew, it was the same worry that she’d had when she had first met the female and the one that had pushed her to offer a place in the pack. Now more than ever she felt that it was a good thing that Nightingale had come to Hearthwood River so that she would have the pack to protect her and perhaps help her in ways that Inna was sure that she couldn’t.

“Is everything Okay?” Inna finally asked as she approached her friend and pressed her muzzle into the fur at Nightingale’s shoulder in an effort to get her attention. ”I hope it’s nothing that I said?” for if it was she wanted to have a chance to rectify whatever she might have said to upset her friend. Finally Inna sat back on her haunches in the snow amongst the lavender plants to give her friend a moment to regain herself. She had thought that perhaps this place could help Nightingale though she wasn’t expecting it to affect her in such a way.

~Table by Mimi

(This post was last modified: Dec 17, 2015, 05:37 PM by Inna.)

Please see Kajika's OOC profile for OOC preferences, thank you.

 

idk... where... this came from....

The songbird stared on into the lavender. At the spaces in-between, where the light either played or was choked off to become shadow, and at the shape it created. She drifted, but where to had no effect on anything. As Inna's inky muzzle blended with her tawny furs, her mind was reeled back. Her companions voice started as a dim echo, but soon it was real again, and Nightingale was present. Her last words had the songbird whipping her head toward her friend and shaking her head in a firm manner, her eyes wide. No! Not you! She breathed, anxious to remove these fears from her friends countenance. Nightingale blinked, I was just... thinking. Something we said...

Her mouth opened, and then closed again; it seemed she had thought it better not to say anything for a moment, and her hazel eyes looked again to her paws. She feared the telling of what had happened to her. It truly made no difference, did it? But the Caldera had told her to not say a word of it; that if she did, others would take advantage of her. The songbird supposed what they said was true enough. It wasn't something she could tell everyone. There were beings out there that would pretend to know her, would pretend terrible things, perhaps.

Nightingale believed The Caldera. The way of it was this: they were the evil who they had warned her of, but then, she couldn't know it, and so they could hint at the idea. After all, the teller of it all cannot be a liar. It couldn't be their lie, or their truth, or their anything. Simply the way of it. They had been kind and fair and healed her body and worked on everything else but when it came to the reparation of her mind, there was no hurry. The patience was appreciated. Even now she did not mistrust them; they'd never given her a cause to. There was no shadow suspended over her head that caused her to doubt them. Only the dreams lured her away, and she hadn't the slightest idea that these dreams were more than that. It was a little less than a memory; a wolf she loved with all of her heart, with all of her soul, who tried to breathe life to memory. But the songbird knew him as nothing else but a fragment of her imagination. Dreams were so desperate to get away from you it would not matter if you saw the person in them before your very eyes. One would think, how could you forget such a vision as a woman with one verdant green eye, kind and gentle and giving, firm and fair? How could you forget the very image of purity, of innocence, the small babe that clung to your breast by morning? How could you forget the face  you held most dear, whose eyes blazed and warmed you like a fire even in Winter, whose touch resuscitated you, the person who surely you were made for?

It was because life was no fairy tale. And up until that point, her life had been; someone saw it fit to throw a wrench into her machine, to shut it down. To test the realness of it all. Was that love true? Real? What could that love stand? What could that love do?

She groped for the dreams but they ran through her, around her, away from her. It was like trying to grab flowing water.

The songbird feared to tell any of her lack of memory, now, for a different reason. She feared that it would inhibit them from treating her the same. That they would love her less for the knowledge that she could forget them. Even with the circumstance, it had happened to her. I... Her voice was thin, frail, and quiet; entirely not herself. Before I went to follow these dreams, I was with a pack, I think I have told you... The Caldera. Even before that there was an incident. A bear. It was protecting its young, I was told. I was leading it away from The Calderas children I had tended to after the passing of their mother. Foraging. They were foraging. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't remember. I don't remember anything. The bear... it hit my head. Gave me this, she offered the side of her face the ear had been torn; it was truly not a great gash, and a clean cut, but it was the only proof other than the horrific headache of the incident she had. The smell, too. She had reeked of the bear, and little else by the time she awoke. And took away everything. Remembering. I couldn't tell you my own mothers name. I never even thought to ask, this was a meek whisper. Strange the things you did think of, when you came to. I wondered: Who am I? Where am I? What is this pain? The story expelled from her lips and she was helpless in its telling, ears flat atop her head. She looked to who she told this story to and quieted. Felt horrible, sick even. So young a soul she should not burden with this. ...Inna, I am sorry, to tell you all this... It felt as though I was lying, in not.

The songbird breathed in, and out, and at last came to the point: I am afraid. Afraid for you to feel a thing for me. I have forgotten all at the Caldera. I had forgotten my own family. I am afraid because... I have been told by the pack who I am, but I am so lost. I keep instinct to me, and can function, but... I... She could hardly articulate it. Her eyes closed tightly. The Caldera did not ache for the loss of her mind even if it meant that she knew them no more, but she ached for them, so empathetic. Another part of the reason she had desired to keep to herself for a while longer was due to this, the attachment; she so easily felt for others, and liked them, and believed them good. But an aftereffect of the incident was this fear that she might forget again. It was a one in a million chance, but oh! It was there! And that was the shadow that hovered overhead. If she could only know that one {who she believed did not know her}, and they could learn and teach one another...

A dream. A dream she hoped, impossibly, would be reality.

Inna knows now, lol

Inna was worried that she had somehow offended her friend with something that she had. After attempt at getting her friends attention and to ensure that was not what had taken place she was rewarded with the assurance that it wasn’t anything that she had done to cause Nighingale’s change. However she was confused by what her friend did say, “What was it that we said?” She asked curiously since they had said a lot in the time that they had known each other.

Nightingale went quiet for a little while and Inna watched her intently waiting though patiently for her friend to either tell her more or tell her that she didn’t want to talk about it. Either way she would respect whatever way Nightingale wanted to handle this, she didn’t want to push her friend into doing or saying something that she wasn’t ready for. Even though she didn’t know exactly what it was that the Agouti female had on her mind it had to be something that troubled her greatly, at least that was the conclusion that she had come to after seeing Nightingale’s demeanor.

Finally her friend began to speak telling her a story about an incident with a mother bear and her cubs that had happened to her. Inna was a little stunned to say the least. She didn’t know what a bear was but she understood how dangerous they could be. Then the truth about Nightingales memory loss came to the surface and Inna couldn’t help but feel bad for her friend to not know who she was anymore and to not have the memories of her family and friends. Inna couldn’t imagine not remembering her family and her pack and especially not remembering her mother’s name. It saddened her greatly and made her even more determined to help her friend.

Inna shook her head, “No, don’t feel bad,” she stated firmly, “We are friends, right? Friends share things like this and now maybe I can do a better job at helping you since I know the story.” Now that she understood what was going on with her friend it could make things easier to help her. “I’m sure that was a lot to keep bottled up inside but you don’t have to do that with me,” she assure. Inna sighed as Nightingale explained her reasoning, “But you haven’t forgotten me. You could have forgotten me after we first met but now you’re here in Hearthwood river and you knew who I was when I found you. Maybe one day the rest of your memory will come back too.” Inna hoped that would be the case but if it wasn’t she hoped that her friend could find happiness anyway.

~Table by Mimi

(This post was last modified: Dec 17, 2015, 06:41 PM by Inna.)

Please see Kajika's OOC profile for OOC preferences, thank you.

 

What had happened had waited to be told and it came from her like a torrent of rainfall.

Nightingale said nothing to dissuade her friend from assisting her; the story meant little, in the scheme of things. It changed nothing here and now or ever in the lands of the Wildwood, she presumed. It had all happened, she thought, outside. The story meant nothing. It only kept fear, of bears and of her memory loss, close to heart. Nightingale worried that others might doubt her for her lack of memory. If she didn't know herself, truly, how could she even be? But the songbird plainly felt the same about life, about things, about existence. She was happy, a bit shy, but she still adored those who were good to her.

We are friends, she responded. All the friendships she would build now she thought as true. I'm rebuilding. I don't know that I'll ever remember. The songbird frowned, at that. When I try to think of something from the past, I can't... I... nothing happens. I only get a horrible headache, worse than that. It felt like someone was splitting her head in two when she exerted too much effort. Inna was optimistic, too. But the songbird had presented reality. She had put it out there for the other to know. Even despite that, the other spoke of here and now. 'Gale agreed, of course, but still fretted over it.

After a moment, she said, I just wanted you to know that, I... this is real, our friendship, and, I don't know much about myself, but I'm here, and I'll give all of me. I've been me, for this must be who she was, at the base of it, without pretense and without guise. Nightingale would not know she had always been wholly herself, never pretending anything; but that was not the point of her speech. Nightingale wanted Inna to know that the other knew her already, knew her plainly. The songbird had told her everything, from the only beginning she could recall.

The new that Nightingale had given her about her memory loss was somewhat of a shock to Inna. She’d had no idea and even more it was something that she had ever dealt with. She wasn’t even completely sure what it really meant for her friend besides what she had been told. She could only imagine how hard it must be to not remember anything about her past. Still Inna had become friends with Nightingale and though she was still young she did understand what it meant to be a friend. She would not abandon her now especially since she had made a promise to help her friend to understand her dreams and she fully intended to keep that promise. Inna felt that now that she knew about Nightingales memory loss and the fact that she was in Hearthwood river it would make it easier to help her even if she still wasn’t sure how just yet.

She smiled when Nightingale confirmed that they were friends before she went on to explain what happened when she tried to recall something from her past. Inna’s brow furrowed, “Perhaps Lachesis can help with your headaches,” she suggested. He was their healer so perhaps he might know of a herb or something that would help. “And rebuilding is good and maybe in the process of that you might remember something. I’m sure that it’s hard but I don’t think that its bad to still hold on to hope that you will get your memories back,” Inna said trying to sound encouraging. She did hope that Nightingale would get her memories back so that she might not have to wonder about what happened in her past any longer.

Inna smiled again at Nightingales next words, “I’m glad that you feel you can trust me with this information and I never doubted how real our friendship was. I’m here for you too no matter what.” Inna believed the words that Nightingale spoke even though she was sure that there was a lot more to learn about her friend she did feel that she could trust her. What she had learned about Nightingale was a lot to take in especially for one as young as she was but nothing would change they would still be friends and Inna would stand by her as friends always should.

~Table by Mimi

(This post was last modified: Dec 18, 2015, 02:31 PM by Inna.)

Please see Kajika's OOC profile for OOC preferences, thank you.

 

Lachesis. Kisla had told her the medics name and she was now reminded. A lightbulb might as well have appeared over her head; for perhaps he could also help her with her condition. It wasn't necessary to remember the past but she had every desire to. She owed those she had loved and those who loved her that; her parents, namely, who could be dead for all she knew, or her siblings, if she had any. They would not even know of this condition; they would have no idea at all. For the better, she imagined. It mirrored her sentiment on the former subject. They knew her, and her littermates if there were any as well as her parents had for all of her life. And they were, in her amnesiac mind, no better than strangers. They could greet her with love and warmth and happiness the instant they saw her, and she saw—in her minds eye—her confused expression, her wonderment, at who this could be.

It would be nice... to remember, she replied, her voice even now. I would like to meet him. Maybe he could help. I don't know if what happened is curable by anything... my old pack made no effort, they told her it was better to heal naturally; that to push anything was dangerous. Once she could understand that, but surely a gentle nudge was not so bad?

She sighed and looked at the dried lavender, a plume of her breath curling around her nostrils. I didn't want to tell so many people. I will tell your mother, too. But I would not tell others I do not know so well, or feel such a connection with. I have been told that revealing this information to just anyone could leave me open to be manipulated. That some might pretend to know me, and influence all I do. The idea was a frightful one. But Inna was too young, she believed, to be capable of such. It was just as well that she was the first in the Wildwoods she informed. The lack of judgment warmed her heart and renewed her faith that all might turn out alright. I'm here for you too, she breathed at last. If anything is heavy on you, I'm here to help share the load.

Inna couldn’t say that she knew Lachesis well but he had helped her father get well so she didn’t see why he wouldn’t be able to help Nightingale at least with the headaches that she got. She did understand that the injuries her father had and the older females condition but for now the healer was the only thing that Inna could think of that might be able to help her friend. She did hope that he might have some remedy that might be able to ease Nightingales mind or stop the pain when she tried to remember. It could be the pain was keeping her from trying to remember so therefore she didn’t remember.

Inna nodded, “I can’t imagine what that would be like to finally be able to remember.” There was so much that she didn’t understand about memory loss and she wished that she could offer more to Nightingale. “You should meet him. I don’t know if there is a cure but if there is I should think that he would know it. Maybe they were wrong maybe a little effort would help?” Inna hoped her old pack was wrong and that Lachesis could help her in some way whether it was to get her full memory back or to just end her headaches.

Inna could understand not wanting to tell a whole bunch of people, in fact she wasn’t sure that she would be as brave as Nightingale and tell anyone if she had the same condition. “Maybe you should only tell them when you are ready?” She suggested. Inna didn’t think that Nightingale should be forced into telling anyone anything that she wasn’t ready to tell them. She thought about people possibly manipulating her friend and she supposed that whoever told her that could have been telling her the truth. “I agree I think that you should be cautious of who you tell but I am sure that telling my mother and Lachesis would be okay.” She smiled and reached up to touch her nose to Nightingales cheek, “I’m glad to have you as a friend and I will remember that.”

~Table by Mimi

(This post was last modified: Dec 18, 2015, 06:29 PM by Inna.)

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At Inna's suggestion, Nightingale nodded. She certainly wanted to. When he has a moment... I had heard that he has a patient, a longstanding patient, at that. One who was surely more important to focus on than her at this point. His was a matter of survival whereas hers was simply a desire. The songbird could live with this affliction as it hurt no one, and while her heart ached to know of things anyone might know—family, where she was born, friendships forged—it was nowhere near prudent that this be done then and there. It could wait; there was no one waiting on her, searching for her, missing her except for the wolves she had set off from... But dispersing was a normal thing, and perhaps they could attribute it to that, there not being any blood to say otherwise. The Caldera knew she was alive, and that was where she had been for as long as the pack could remember (they had told her). You could be right... in time, I think we'll find out. She smiled at that small hope.

And again the lithe bird agreed with her young-yet-wise friend. That'd be best, she acknowledged with another nod. Nightingale wondered if she was somehow lying to others in not sharing this, but could not reason with herself that she was. After all, of the things she did know, she was forthcoming with. Her name was Nightingale. She came from The Caldera. To those she must tell, she told of her unremembered dream. To follow said dream felt eudemonic for her, and so she knew she must do it.

Her tail waved at the others touch, and the songbird returned the gesture fondly. Same, she responded fondly, smiling. So, this is Lavender Ethos. Is this your favorite place the Hearthlands hosts? The songbird could only imagine at present what the place must look like when the sun warmed more than just her bones and the air was not so dry. The songbird was eager to shift the topic, eager to turn to something more pleasant rather than the tragic feel of what they had been speaking of. It was off of her chest and in the air, and she was ready for it to dissipate.