Red Fern Forest sempre viva, live forever

@Ice <33333

Red belonged to heat, and heat belonged to fire, and fire belonged to dragons. While exploring beyond the sanctuary of Dragonveil, testing how high she could climb on her own, Bennet had come across a spot which gave her a wonderful clear sight out to the east. Everywhere else, the world was a mixture of pale-grey greens and blues, the snow covering tree and rock and frozen lake alike. And yet, underneath that ever-present blanket of white to the east, were hints of brick red and orange... and on returning to that spot the following morning, deliberately and carefully timed, she was rewarded by a fiery, lit-up horizon as the sun rose over that red part of the world and her imagination ran wild.

She couldn't just not try and reach it. Though understanding that it was too distant, that she wasn't to wander so far from the Fold, away from the safety afforded by her parents, Bennet's confidence in herself was overpowering, her need greater than her doubts, let alone her fear - of which she had practically none. After all, if she was a dragon, and dragons thrived in the fire, and the east was burning, then what ill could possibly befall her from going there?

Reckless and opportunistic, she had kissed her mother good morning like normal and then, after being obliged to take the last few mouthfuls of the meal caught the previous day, set off with the intention of going further than ever before.

By midday, she was almost clear of the mountain, and could see the tall trees and the deep red haze of the ferns at their base, largely protected from the snowfall. Unwavering, on she walked, though she could feel the chill in her lower limbs from the day's uncommon frostiness, though she couldn't be certain she was properly memorising the way back. After all, if she got lost, she had faith that the All-Mother would guide her home. By mid-afternoon she was walking amongst those ferns in the thick of the red, lost in the rich splendour of the colour around her despite the season, wondering why they hadn't come here. Surely this was a blessed place too, how could it not be? Or was she being bewitched by external beauty, and misunderstanding why Dragonveil was so important? She would have to ask @Kjors, he would know.

The sudden movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention despite her focus, the ever-lurking hunger in her belly (despite the morsels for breakfast) an automatic override of her purpose. But any fleeting hope was as brief as the bird itself, which flapped up through the trees and was gone, leaving a little black wolf staring at the tree canopy, silent but for the soft rumble of a disappointed stomach.

I was going to say something here. I forgot what. Oh right I'll probably be vague about Bendy stuff for a bit until I know how that all pans out

you do not know who is your friend

and who is your enemy

So once again, things had changed—like they always did, tables overturned, bones re-set. It had been quiet, no explosions going off, no screams, just a particular kind of silence slowly devouring sound. Like death, he thought as he padded through the forest, taking refuge in walking, an ironic repetition of his past. The memory had blurred, but he knew that he had gone walking shortly after meeting Indru, fleeing into the safety of the unknown Wildwood, hunting for things he couldn't find.

Corinna had found him, then, and brought him back to Swift River, where he belonged. And now—he should be in the Bend, but he was out walking, shuffling among red ferns covered in white snow, drawn like a moth to the flame of Rissa's resting place. It was the only place where he knew he had lost something, the rest was just some abstract blur on the edges of his mind.

Loss was an old, familiar thing; he had been braced for the blow of Corinna's death, but it had still hit harder than he'd expected, driving the air from his lungs and the color from his world.

He didn't want to become a ghost.

But he felt like one, as he drifted through the whiteout forest, breath smoking out of pale jaws.

Once he had settled into Swift River, the inevitable chain of losses had begun, and day by day his heart had grown heavier, more painful. What should've been a joyous, bright future had been reduced to the unbearable weight of Corinna's grief, and the looming shadow of the silent, withdrawn Aiyana—until none of that litter was left with them. They had moved; they had lost Marsh in the process, and Ice winced as the old pain knifed through him. It had awoken again with the bad news, chewing up the distance in his heart between Corinna and Marsh, trying to unite the pains.

And then Cali had left.

And then Ice had left.

And then the world had ended, right? He snorted, trying to defy the path his mind was running down, but it didn't help; sometimes, he just seemed hellbent on his own destruction. (Paws shuffle through snow—) At times, he wanted to remember, all the passion, all the pain, the bittersweet regret and the white-hot shame, because it brought the memories closer, but that was all they were—memories. It wouldn't help him in any way to linger, to brood, when he still had the future ahead of him.

Still, grief was a process that took time. Ice knew that, but he didn't know if he knew how to grieve. Wasn't his animosity towards Indru proof of that? His bitterness at himself? The feeling of guilt? They were not emotions of healing, they were other things, darker things, but, as he stopped walking to stare in the direction of sudden movement, he realized he was beyond tired of dwelling on these things. Questions of morals, what if's, useless, pointless things...

A bird rose from its branch, flapping up through bare branches, revealing a pup in its wake. The black-coated child was in the awkward transitional phase between cub and yearling, still awkward in her dimensions, and her gaze was also trailing the bird. Ice drew in a deep breath through his nose, sampling the air, but he couldn't smell much aside from the two of them.

He gave a low woof to catch her attention, before his tail gave a sort of involuntary wag. He was probably twice her size and had sharp teeth, but they were hidden behind his dark lips, safely tucked away for now. "Are you out here all alone?" he asked her, the slight hint of a scolding present in his words. How others raised their pups was not his concern—but what happened to the pups was his concern, if he happened to know of it. No child should ever suffer from the stupidity of their parents.

No child should ever walk alone, least of all in this forest, for death haunts it. Rissa had been around her age when she had been taken.

He froze where he stood, the chill spreading all the way to his frantically beating heart.

until the ice breaks.

let the stars above shine in your soul

Am so happy to be posting with you again @-@

The desires of a mortal body kept her attention on the vanished bird for too long, but she was ignorant to the dangers of the forest, to the dangers of being such a young wolf so far from her guardians. But even if she had known, Bennet would not have been the sort of creature to be cowed by it.

Dragons had no need to fear, but little wolves did, she had to keep reminding herself, even dragons in little wolf bodies.

The woof snapped her out of her stupor, yellow eyes flashing back down to find the cause and landing on a large white wolf stood among the ferns, watching her, the gentle movement of his tail conveying his manner. She neither stepped forward or back, neither trusting or distrusting of his amiable appearance.

An ear twisted forward at the question, which she digested quietly for a moment, eyes still fixed on his form, unblinking. A more cunning wolf might have said 'yes, they're just nearby'. A more sarcastic one might have said 'well, I'm not now, am I?' Someone more anxious might have stuttered and retreated.

Bennet breathed evenly, tail giving a solitary twitch of acknowledgement, barely a hint of friendliness, but certainly no act of hostility. We are all Her messengers, willing or not. She offered only one word, to the point, calm, unashamed. "Yes."

you do not know who is your friend

and who is your enemy

The air turned to ice in his lungs.

It froze, it burned, a dread weight filling him up from within, expanding in the empty spaces in his chest. Are you out here all alone—

No child should ever suffer from the stupidity of their parents—

Where had they gone wrong? Where had it been allowed to happen? How could he judge the parents of this cub, when he had lost one himself? The breath passed rapidly through his jaws for a moment, silver eyes unseeing as his mind chased itself in tight circles; how much was he actually to blame for Rissa's death? And was this how it had happened? Are you out here all alone, dear? and Rissa, ever curious, ever bright, following the wolf who offered nothing but safety, wonders, things unseen. A safe adventure with a stranger.

A violent death.

And the little wolf in front of him did not seem perturbed in the slightest. She regarded him in a silence too deep for a child her age, cogs and gears turning behind yellow eyes, until her voice broke the spelled stillness and shattered the ice in him like glass. "Yes," she said and he felt his chest cave in on itself.

"You shouldn't be," he said before he knew it, ears plastered flat to his head and pale brows drawn together. His heart was hammering, wildly, painfully—suddenly and irrationally afraid, afraid that she might not make it home to worried parents, that she'd leave a sister behind to grieve, that someone paced their pack den somewhere, worried, so worried, for the safety of her little girl. "It's dangerous out here. Someone—" He fell silent for a moment. They had killed the pack who had ended Rissa's life. They had watched the sickness devour itself, foam-mouthed animals falling in the spring faster than they could spread their disease. The Lore was cleansed of that taint. He licked his lips.

"I lost a child once. Here, I mean," he went on instead, some of the urgency gone from his demeanor. He'd see her safe. He'd see her home safely. As long as he was here, she was safe, wasn't she? "Killed, by savage wolves. You shouldn't be here, alone." Ice's broad white head tilted to the side, jaws moving to process the panic. "Where are you from?"

until the ice breaks.

let the stars above shine in your soul

There is a moose carcass that has been scavenged by coyotes nearby. +15 Health

His immediate declaration was met with a tilted head, a nonverbal 'why not'? It wasn't uncommon for her to be wandering alone, what was different now? It took a few more moments before she wondered if he knew something she did not - and almost immediately, he confirmed it.

Dangerous? Her ears flicked back in instinctual response to such news, true or not, but the large white man seemed even more concerned than his words were implying, and Bennet wondered if she should be taking this as seriously as he implied. She shouldn't have thought it would be this easy to get to the land of fire. She should have known there would be tests and trials, obstacles to overcome. But up until now the red forest had been silent and still, and this strange wolf had come in and started to alarm her, and as such - rational or not - most of her weariness was being directed right at him. Everything had been okay until he appeared. Eyes narrowing, she said nothing, not sure how to combat his warnings, or if she even should.

But it didn't matter, because he explained anyway, and the explanation was plenty vivid.

She didn't doubt one word of it, and by the time it came for her response her demeanour had changed slightly, her tail drooping and even threatening to tuck itself away in her unease. "The foothills," she replied, wary, refusing to take her eyes off this man with the dark story. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she suddenly yearned for her mother or father to be nearby, but she knew they were not. But the thought of them reminded her, in turn, of how she was not alone at all, and her faith was able to rekindle her wavering confidence.

"I'm never alone," she clarified, "She wouldn't let that happen to me." And the proof of it stood before her, if this man was true in his warnings, earnest in his concern - for Bennet knew Her kindness as provided through good strangers, and chose to believe that this was just another of Her guardians sent to keep Her faithful child safe.

you do not know who is your friend

and who is your enemy

He had never really known how to get a point across with unnecessary rambling or some kind of drama queen flair—it just wasn't in him to put things neatly, in a concise, easy-to-grasp manner. What Ice said with fifty words, another could say in ten, and with his sudden flare of anxiety his tongue had just run away with him. He hadn't wanted to scare her—or, well, maybe he had, but not for the sake of the scare, but for her safety, to keep her closer to home or in company—so watching her tail droop was like a knife of contradiction striking his heart. No, he wanted to tell her, don't be scared, don't be sad, I didn't mean to frighten you, I'm just worried, but—for once, Ice knew that he didn't know what to say, and kept his mouth shut.

At least she told him where she was from, and his mind ran through the maths. The foothills weren't far off, not really, but the Serpent was a long range, rising proudly from north to south, so it all depended on what part of the foothills she hailed from... His shoulders gave a twitch, as if he wanted to herd her home this moment, get her back to her den and the safety of her keepers, but he remained motionless and silent, trying to think through the smog of panic.

But then she said something he absolutely did not understand, and Ice blinked to clear his head, and looked at her tiny, once more confident, almost defiant form. "You—what?" he began, reminded too much of things he'd rather let be forgotten, and it sent unease through him. It was another cold hand grabbing his heart and squeezing it tightly. "She, she who?" Her mother? But if her mother wasn't here—he sampled the air again, just be sure, and it smelled only of the ferns and the stillness and the two of them, and he certainly wasn't sent by someone's mother to safeguard her wayward children...

Perplexed, still worried, more bothered than he wanted to admit by the way she had said 'she', Ice waited for an answer, an explanation, something to still the worried seas rising in his soul and showing in the frown lining his face.

until the ice breaks.

let the stars above shine in your soul

@Ice

She'd seen it again and again. Over and over she was reminded that non-believers far outnumbered the believers, that their ignorance delved so deep it wasn't even that they had rejected the Mother - they hadn't even heard of Her. Was that a lack of faith, or a lack of knowledge? Could you lack faith in something you didn't know existed? The intellectual implications of all she had been told as gospel was a topic which the girl spent much of her time ruminating upon, in that tranquil space between being awake and being asleep.

Did she know enough to enlighten another? Did she possess the right kind of personable nature that her mother did, or the confident wisdom of her father?

Bennet hadn't come out here seeking spiritual discussion, but now she had to decide if she wanted to engage in it or not. Either way, the man before her was clearly unsettled. Perhaps it would put his mind at rest, even if he couldn't understand it. "Our Mother," she replied, with the same effortless calm that was more common for the dragon child, her flustered moment already passing. What would her mother say? What would her father say? "Who loves us and guides us to good." Was that enough? It didn't feel like enough. Why was it so hard to properly convey the magnitude of the truth in a way which didn't come out forced and stilted? It all made so much more sense in her head, but always came out too simple on her tongue.

you do not know who is your friend

and who is your enemy

"Our Mother," she said, and Ice had the irrational urge to snap at her. Our mother. Not my—our, and that.. that.. reverent, matter-of-fact way he recognized all too much from his own childhood. The sort of capital letter word tone, stating it was, indeed, Mother, and not just mother. Mom. No—it was something vaster, larger, spanning from horizon to horizon, touching hearts and souls and minds. But what did this she whisper of? Surely not the sacrifice of young boys painted in wintery tones. Such entities belonged only in distant pasts, not in the present, sane Relic Lore.

Or? His ears flattened themselves against his head, and he looked aside. The girl told him this Mother was practically harmless, guiding to good, but Ice found it hard to believe. Believing in entities outside of the pack, outside of the solid, unyielding borders of the physical world did not lead to good. Because, when had these things ever truly spoken? When had they descended with a voice all could hear, and proclaimed that they lacked food only because Ice looked like someone had leeched every ounce of warmth from his fur? Ice had never heard a voice in the harsh keening of the wind, in the distant, booming roar of ocean meeting ice, or in the howl of a blizzard. No words, no hidden meanings, no depth, no nothing—just the world roaring out its ferocity, wild and untamed, unchanneled. Nature was nature. Period. The end. Finito. There was no God, there was no bloody Mother. There were only lunatics and egoists, too afraid to suffer for the sake of another.

Ice hadn't realized it, but his lips were halfway peeled back, hackles raised, eyes distant and harsh. His heart had worked itself into a frenzy, pulse roaring in his ears, demanding bloodshed, for this folly to be laid low—for the blindfold to be pulled from the eyes of this young lady, and whoever had spread such poisoned lies, whispered them into her ears, silenced. Forever silenced.

"No," he finally said, icy, merciless. His entire body spoke of tightly controlled wrath, but only he felt the desperation beneath: please not let it be too late, frustration that more would suffer at the hands of such whimsical, fanciful idiocy. "No. Unless you're just speaking strange and speak of your own blood mother, there is no 'Mother'. There is no external force raising the sun and setting it, scaring away prey, bringing drought and blizzards, meting out justice and deciding about life and death. There is nothing out there to appease but yourself and the wolves around you; there's just the world you can see, touch, hear, smell, feel." He wanted to shout, to scream that the sky is empty, home to no one, the stars are just stars and pretty but that's all they are—

"Please," he whispered before he knew it. "There is nothing beyond the physical to believe in. Who has told you these things?"

until the ice breaks.

let the stars above shine in your soul

How was she supposed to interpret what happened? Where Bennet thought that she'd not elaborated enough, perhaps she had said just the necessary amount for this stranger to form his very unhappy opinion. The girl watched with growing alarm as his posture and expression slowly melted towards hostile, as though she had spoken of bloodshed and horror rather than love and goodness. Maybe she had been wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't an unknowing guardian.

His single word of dissent, so ruthless, full of passion, prompted one dark ear to perk forwards, curious to hear more. Intellectually she felt concerned, for who could show such hatred towards a being of light - unless they themselves were a being of darkness. Inside, though, she was calm; she knew about the non-believers, the faithless, the ignorant. She'd been warned that some would react with confusion - and others, maybe, with hostility. Bennet made a neat mental note to have another conversation with her mother about it.

He said it again, that factual no, and she blinked in response, still a picture of composure. While she kept her eyes on his face, the movement of his paws in her peripheral was marked as high-importance. At the first sign of danger, she would be gone.

The white man ranted then, spewing ignorance all over the forest floor, and she felt bad for him and his narrow-minded, angry, lonely ways. How sad it must be to live among the faithless, unaware of the love so freely offered. But as she processed what this wolf was saying, she realised that he wasn't unaware - he outright rejected it. As though he knew, but knew something more. Or maybe he didn't know enough.

Then he pleaded with her, and asked who had shown her the way, and she deliberated on how she would answer.

It was in her nature to respond to such a straightforward question, and it wasn't as though the answer was difficult. But as she looked at him, and wondered what her mother would say to this poor, aimless, angry wolf, Bennet doubted that anything could be said. She understood the idea of a non-believer - but someone who could never be shown the truth? She'd just thought that anyone could be enlightened with the right words, but now she questioned that. And Bennet had never been very good at the words part in the first place.

She had been wrong about him, the dragon decided. He wasn't a guardian, sent by Her to watch over Her wards. Either he was a lost and forlorn child, lashing out at the world, or he was something more insidious, more dangerous. Bennet was glad that she was here and not her mother, because her mother was full of good and righteousness - but she was only the deer, vulnerable and soft. Bennet was the dragon. She was not so easily overcome.

"By someone who knows better than you."