Sex: FemaleThe telluric trees stood like sentinels this night. All was quiet as the songbird rest, muzzle draped over a foreleg. Although her eyes were closed she was awake and aware. Try as she might fall into sleep so that she might again see the face she longed to see—and only ever saw when she breathed deep and easy and was lost in dreams—she simply could not. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, the days activity having left her euphoric. The songbird imagined that she could be happy here. Already she felt that way. The songbird still dared not think that her dreams were for naught, but if they were...
Her eyes opened.
To deny them—even for a moment—would be to validate the supposing of The Caldera. She might as well turn tail now! Nightingale hoisted herself up to a sit and huffed at herself. She could not help but bristle at her inner dialogue: one good day was what she had, and that was it. Nightingale could agree to better herself and be the best she could be for the wolves she ran with now, but to think for a minute that the dreams she had left The Caldera at all for were not real...?
Loud honks overhead caused her to get out of her head, her thoughts. The beat of wings could be heard, and now pushing to a stand she moved to follow the sounds. The geese were loud, and perhaps she ought to stay on task and think about everything for a minute... but Nightingale knew that she could not escape her thoughts, no matter when she had them. One more minute without them, she urged herself. Months and months had gone by with them, after all. With nothing to show for them.
Her paws drummed against the earth as the wind tousled her furs, and as she broke through a small clearing she moved with the migratory avians. The songbirds hazel eyes lifted to them, and watched as one feather fell from a wing. The songbird kept pace with the loud birds, her mind empty except for their noise and one errant thought: If it is real, does this one dream of me, too? Search for me, as I search for him?
It came unbidden and brought her to a halt.
Lachesis didn’t sleep.
When—or if—he did, it was usually during the day, preferably just after dawn so he wouldn’t miss the sunrise. There were a few occasional nights where he was able to get some kind of sleep, but it was rare. Instead, he preferred to patrol the territory and search for plants, as per usual. Although Karpos had taken the healer’s position as leader during Maksim’s healing process, the ghost still felt immensely responsible for the well-being of the pack. He had been Mak’s right-pa, preferably just after dawn so he wouldn’t miss the sunrise. There were a few occasional nights where he was able to get some kind of sleep, but it was rare. Instead, he preferred to patrol the territory and search for plants, as per usual. Although Karpos had taken the healer’s position as leader during Maksim’s healing process, the ghost still felt immensely responsible for the well-being of the pack. While his nephew rested, he figured that he might as well check the borders for wanderers or rivals while sleep evaded him.
The stirring of another was what caught Lachesis’ attention, the noise disrupting the peacefulness that the silence of the night offered. A frown creased his lips as the sound, but he did not hesitant any further. Instead, he chased after the noise, his bright eyes hardened as he weaved expertly through the territory. He moved quietly at a reasonable pace—he wasn’t in a hurry to see what the sound belonged to, but he also did not want to give it ample time to get away.
Whatever the noise was, it was moving—following something. Perplexed, he increased his pace in order to catch up with what was ahead. The scent that accompanied the wolf smelt of Hearthwood, but it was not someone he had been formally introduced to yet. He had detected the female around camp, but paid little attention to it. Although XIX was Mak’s second and the pack’s healer, he still preferred to keep to himself—especially after the disappearance of both Anastasia and Bastet… again. A lump formed in his throat at the thought, but he quickly swallowed as he pushed forward, decreasing the distance between himself and the female ahead.
Without warning the girl ahead ceased her movements, causing the ghost to quickly (and clumsily) follow suit. He kept a respectable distance between them, his chartreuse gaze soft as he studied her warm features. Words remained pushed to the bottom of his throat as he quietly observed her and grew steadily unsure of how to announce himself.
![[Image: ds_by_a_yellow_bird-dc337jk.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/b328/f/2018/044/7/8/ds_by_a_yellow_bird-dc337jk.png)
stick with those who stick with you
Nightingale listened to her breathing for a very short while, thinking and wondering. She was between hoping and the opposite of that. That the other might share her dreams had only just came to her. It was wonderful and terrible both. What would she do, when she saw him? That she had not thought of. And if he looked for her? She searched for the word... but could not find it, not when she detected the sound of another breathing along with her; she heard it even above the racket the geese created. By now the sounds they made were fading into the sky they tore through.
Her wits took their time to return to her, but when they did she realized the wolf who stood before her was a pale man with lovely eyes. Her own eyes averted swiftly enough, certainly not seeking a challenge. Her tail waved meagerly behind her, and she moved to approach the other who seemed tentative and unsure. Nightingale sought to fill that void with all the certainty in the world. They were pack-mates now, after all, and for as long as that stood she would make sure that they felt pleased to be around one another. In drawing nearer she noted he smelled heavily of this place; he was likely one of the more long-standing members, a permanent fixture to this place. Her eyes drew back to him as she moved to bump companionably against him, lighter than she would someone she knew, her ears low and submissive.
Let him forget he had seen her lost in thought, let him not ask. It would be good to not dwell on the things she was not even sure of. Nightingale needed no other to grab her shoulders and give her a good shake than the ones she had run from. The songbird was determined to follow this path she was on, for however long it took to find the truth. So long as the dreams did not stop, she knew that she must. Nightingale whined lowly in greeting, ears flattening atop her skull.
Lachesis truly despised being the first to start a conversation. Like most healers, the ghost preferred to keep to himself and drown himself in his work. It was important to maintain a good relationship with his packmates, however, as he wanted them to be able to seek him out when they needed help. His position in the pack also helped strengthen the relationships he had formed with the other River wolves. As the packs second he was often the gateway between Maksim and the pack, which made him one of the most trusted wolves in their tightknit family. His loner tendencies were still strong but remained subdued—right now, this was where he belonged. As long as Maksim was the leader and Lachesis his second, he would have a home along the riverside.
Choking back a frown and forcing a neutral expression onto his maw, the green-eyed male observed the tawny figure before him. “You’re the newbie, right?” He asked even though he already knew the answer. It was an awful attempt at starting a conversation with the girl, but it was something—which, ultimately, was better than nothing. “Trouble sleeping?” Another question rolled off his tongue as his head lolled to one side, his brows narrowing slightly as his gaze remained unwavering. Something had drawn the girl out here… until she had realized that he was within her proximity, she had worn a dazed expression, as though she was lost deep inside her thoughts. While curious, he did not want to pry—it wasn’t his place. This was their first time getting properly acquainted, and the ghost didn’t want to hound her with a bunch of unnecessary questions.
stick with those who stick with you
The songbird knew nothing of the male before her, but if she had learned his name she would know that the man who had been trailing her was the packs healer. Nightingale hadn't thought as far ahead as starting a conversation, having only wanted to greet him wolf-to-wolf, to know him by scent and sight and lastly by sound. It was an interesting turn for the wordy woman, but she blamed it on the hour and her lack of sleep. It made speech seem like a chore. Of course even despite the adrenaline running through her she was aware that she needed to rest some. With furs such as hers, it was easy to rouse at any hour and be alright with it.
His question was met with a grin and a submissive yawn, the first acknowledgment she had heard.Plus one for the oldie,she quipped, brows waggling playfully as her tail waved. His query was met with her mirroring him, her own head tilting in the opposite direction.I guess so. Not usually. I dunno. Just thinking too much, I think,and she grinned at her words, bemused that she spoke the truth of it, and yet, continuing to ail herself with her prognosis. It couldn't be helped.I'm Nightingale. You?She looked forward to knowing who this was; Kisla had informed her of the pack and their roles and their goals, and so she would share her own with him, once she knew who this was.
There was something a little off about the tawny female standing before him, but the ghost did not want to dabble in something that was none of his business. Regardless of the pack tying them together, they were still strangers. Her personal life was none of his business unless it affected the well-being of the pack. If he was worried that she was a threat to the pack then he would meddle—until then, he would merely observe. Perhaps, eventually, he would pry because XIX liked being nosey. It was one of his best qualities.
“Thinking too much is never good,” he responded with a soft roll of his shoulders and a playful smirk resting on his dark lips. “Thinking less always works for me. Even better—not thinking at all,” he added with a quick wink before composing himself, his chartreuse gaze focused on the hazel-eyed girl as she introduced herself. “Lachesis, Nineteen, PlantMan. Whatever works for you.” The ghost still gave out both of his names as he did not have a preference for either one. He had been given both as a pup and would continue to respond to both until he died. They were both a piece of his identity; there was no reason to favour one any less. The only time he gave out one name—which was always his assigned name/number, Nineteen—was when he encountered someone he did not trust, or did not care to encounter again.
stick with those who stick with you
The songbird grinned as he spoke, amused by his words.
Maybe you could help me with that? I'm an amateur and can't seem to think of nothing for more than a millisecond. Then, the thinking and after that, the overthinking comes in.It would be nice, if she could be helped there. But she doubted it was something to be helped; it was something in her head she just couldn't turn off. It was only when he introduced himself that the songbird mentally gave herself pause. If anyone could help with that, surely it was him, the Medic? Could the medic work on the mind...? She supposed she would find out.PlantMan, I like it,the songbird responded.Like a superhero.She grinned at that, eyebrows waggling. And then, after a beat, she breathed,I've heard about you--you're the packs medic!Her tail waved behind her and she wondered if she should bring up her own issue, now, or see if he even had any free time with his present patient.And... on that subject... do you have any free time? In that medicinal capacity? I had heard you had another patient,She held her breath for a beat, and then showed her nature,I don't want to distract you or anything...Nightingale wasn't sure about the others condition; if he were critical, Nightingale surely would not want to bother Lachesis with more stress. Herissuewas survivable, after all. Better to ask the expert himself about it, though. Expert medic, not expert at amnesiac issues... and so came her overthinking.
And in her telling of her qualm, if he did have the time, the suspicions of Lachesis could be validated. The sound of the geese by now were fading into the edge of the night, but echoed in the open night sky against the treetops. Her hazel eyes held fast to his forehead, not looking him in the eye as she knew that to be a challenge; she only had interest tonight in making a new friend, and it was unimportant if her mind was healed this night or a month from now (as she did not think that any waited for the nerves to connect, did not think any sought her, or missed her, or knew her; that she was who she was was just as well; she would carry who she became now, with her, into whoever else she might have been, she supposed).
Without realizing it, the ghost mimicked the grin that appeared on the tawny female’s maw. He couldn’t deny that he used to be like the songbird—constantly questioning himself and his actions, and always thinking. Until one day he just stopped. Lachesis wasn’t sure what had caused him to give up his over-thinking ways, he was just glad it had happened. It might have been when he forced himself to get over the departure of his friends after worrying too much that it had been something he had done to cause them to leave. Whether it was his fault or not, there was no point on dwelling on it any longer—they were gone and he wasn’t really sure if wanted them to return. He had already mourned their loss; he didn’t want them to return only to leave once more and leave him in shambles once again.
Sweeping away his thoughts with a soft wag of his tail, the boy refocused his attention on the songbird before him. ”Anytime you don't want to think, come see me—doctor’s orders. I’l help you out.” All she needed was a distraction, which he happened to be exceptionally good at (sometimes).
It didn’t take long for the songbird to realize that he was the medic of the pack, to which he nodded softly in acknowledgement. It was by no means a glamorous role within the pack, but it worked for him and it was something he excelled at. XIX preferred being on his own, and being the pack’s healer meant that he was often without company unless he was dealing with a patient, or his apprentice. Her voice rang out once more, this time she was asking him for medical help… a least, that’s what he thought she was asking for. Confused, his lips tightened and his head cocked slightly to one side as he studied her. Nothing seemed wrong with her… he didn’t detect any sickness on her or an injury… maybe an internal injury? Most importantly—why hadn’t she sought him out sooner if something was wrong?!
His lips turned to form a soft frown as he remained silent for a moment; he couldn’t stop himself from analyzing her… nothing seemed wrong…
”I always have time for patients,” he started softly, dismissing the comment about his current patient. Luckily Maksim was doing much better now and making incredible progress—it wouldn’t be long before he took his rightful place at the throne once more. ”Is there something wrong?” He asked with concern weighing his words down as his expression grew more serious.
stick with those who stick with you