Secret Falls at the bottom you'll find all my friends

Ah. So Rowan was looking for a runaway daughter, was he? At least, that was what Aleksei presumed. He didn't know the full story and could only make assumptions. He wasn't about to pry for details, either. It wasn't really his place. Sure, their parents had been good friends, and Maksim certainly thought of the Attayas as family, but that didn't mean a magical bond struck up between their children the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“I'll keep an eye out,” he said. Not that he'd be able to easily track down the dark wolf if he found the missing yearling, or even find him again at all. There was every chance that Iyes had walked through Relic Lore, just another nameless place in her journey, and that Rowan would follow her path, leave his past behind. Aleksei couldn't judge anyone for running away from such things—he'd done it twice himself, after all. “If I see her, I'll let her know you're looking for her.” That seemed like the reasonable thing to do, because the agouti River wolf wasn't about to abandon his post and family to disappear for another month. No way.

Aleksei hoped that the conversation would end on that topic, that they'd go their separate ways and Rowan would be none the wiser about the passing of Maksim, but that was obviously wishful thinking. He asked about the Baranski's deceased patriarch, and Aleksei's mouth went dry for a second time. He struggled to find an immediate response—a vague reply, or a clipped remark—but all he could do was stumble over the truth on his tongue. His head dropped and his shoulders slouched. “He … I'm sorry. My father, he passed away last year.”

Let the roots & soil drink of me
Whispering leaves & pointing branches will tell them where I'm lying

Of all the possibilities that Rowan had considered, he really had not considered that. He felt a cold wash of guilt run down his skull, steeling his eyes to hide how the news utterly decimated him. All this time... he could have come to see Maksim, and he didn't, and now he would never get back the chance that he wasted because Maksim was dead. Why didn't he try harder? He'd hardly been two years of age the last time he saw the Baranski king, and he'd gotten permission from Rook to go find him and make things right, and what had he done instead? His dulled gold gaze fell to the floor, shocked into silence.

Immediately another wave of guilt, larger and colder than the last, shivered down his spine. Here he was selfishly lamenting his wasted time when the youth before him had lost his own father a year prior. The way the wolf's words had hesitated before they escaped from his throat was telling. And where Rowan had too lost his father, at least he had been too young to remember the grief. He hadn't actually had to see his father die. Aleksei was old enough to remember the pain - it resounded in the short words that he shared staring at the ground. The Attaya wolf went ahead and masked his devastation for the better of the Baranski before him.

Drawing his eyes back upon the stocky male he cleared his throat and murmured, "I'm very sorry for your loss, Aleksei." Certain that many a wolf had told Alek what a great dad he'd had, Rowan declined to add on any additional comments about the legacy he'd left behind. Surely this wolf already knew that, and it didn't exactly help to hear it repeated. Instead he could only say what he himself had lived to know, the words soft as they escaped his jaws. "It gets better with time, and that's all."

He cleared his throat again, searching for some way to back off the topic. "Are you still at Hearthwood River, then?" It'd still be useful to know where they were - in case maybe Iyes ended up there, or perhaps they needed some help. He was not done searching but the obligation to ask lingered on his tongue, unsure if it would be a path he followed.

adopt thea?

It had been months, and the knowledge of his father's passing still made Aleksei's stomach twist itself into anxious knots. He had wondered many times if he should be over it be now, if he should be moving on. He was a man, for goodness' sake—he should be able to keep better control of his feelings. He'd never seen his dad shed a single tear, never saw an ounce of anything beyond the joy of being with his family and the anger of knowing they were facing difficulty (even then, he kept the latter as far away from his children as he possibly could).

Aleksei's ears folded back, and he merely nodded at Rowan's words. Time, he said. It would get better with time. How much time? For how long would he feel this empty and guilty? The Attaya wouldn't have those answers—he could only give what he knew, and it seemed he knew that grief was not a quick, fleeting feeling. God, Aleksei was so sick of waiting! Waiting for things to fall into place, waiting for time to pass, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Even the word was taxing.

But the subject shifted—the topic of dead fathers too awkward, too upsetting—and Aleksei once again nodded. “Yeah. It's north from here. Once you pass the lake, you need only head a little further until you find the riverside. Follow that, you'll eventually find the borders.” A pause. He furrowed his brows, tried to think of the words. “My father is buried just beyond the boundary, though, in a clearing of lavender.” That was all he would say on the matter. Whether Rowan wanted to visit was up to him, and Aleksei simply offered the information as a sort of just in case.

Let the roots & soil drink of me
Whispering leaves & pointing branches will tell them where I'm lying

In the quiet between their words Rowan studied Aleksei's face, aware on a surface level of the tormented waves that ebbed and flowered and tossed and turned through the younger wolf's mind. Of course, the Baranski offered no words to solidify his assumptions and so the Attaya said nothing. He probably wouldn't know the correct thing to say, anyway. For three years of his life Rowan had felt lost, sunken into a miserable life living at the bottom of the rapids. Nothing he'd done and nothing anyone could do had pulled him from under the current. It was a choice he had to make himself, one that he had to make again and again. Now that he stood on metaphorical dry land he knew that the pain of forgetting had been worth it. But in his weakest moments, on the verge of giving up, nothing had felt worth it.

That was something Aleksei would have to learn through doing, and no one could do it but him.

Lifting his gaze, which had fallen to the ground in the silence of his thoughts, Rowan committed to memory the location of Hearthwood River, and the Baranski king's grave. In his heart he wanted to go there - he wanted to pay his respects and pay the River wolves back for what they had done for them in the past. But he knew even now that it wouldn't be so simple. He had to think of something to say first. Quietly he nodded, a wordless appreciation. Perhaps when the spring came, and he could find the dormant lavender, he'd seek the River wolves out. He wouldn't even have to bring flowers to the grave - it was covered in them regardless. But until then...

"I will visit sometime," he clarified, so that the wolf wouldn't feel like he was disclosing his father's resting place for no reason. Briefly, Rowan wondered if they were standing at his own father's resting place as well.  A shudder went down his spine and pooled in the paws of his pads. Maybe he'd been here long enough this time. "But I have to be on my way - can't pick up that girl's trail if I stay in one place." Rowan excused himself, a somber smile settling upon his ebony lips. "It was good to meet you, Aleksei. Thank you for letting me know what happened... you've answered a lot of questions. I appreciate it." He moved to turn away but paused, wondering if there was any way he could reciprocate before he set off.

adopt thea?

Sorry for taking so long! It's finally wrapped up though!

It was easy for Aleksei to get lost in the turbulent thoughts in his head. Like a bird in a hurricane, he was tossed around and battered by the gusts. Yet he couldn’t stop trying to fly straight, because giving up wasn’t ever an option, was it? Now and then, he’d find the eye of the storm, find some momentary peace with which to gather himself and breathe. He’d think maybe this time I’ll be okay, but it wouldn’t be long before the winds whipped him up in their flurry of dust and dirt and debris. It was a storm that chased him everywhere he went. Rain in his heart, thunder in his head.

He nodded as Rowan confirmed that he’d visit Maksim Baranski’s grave in the future—perhaps, once he’d found his daughter? There was no rush, not really. His father wasn’t going to be going anywhere soon (unlike Kjors, but the wolf had not be buried, simply covered). “I understand,” he said. “I’m glad I could give you some information in the end. I, uh. I hope you find her soon.” Inhaling deeply as Rowan turned away, he cast his gaze over the place his father used to live one last time, and where the Attaya family had been shattered.

He couldn’t help but feel the melancholy this place gave off, as awe inspiring as it was in its grand power. Sadness and death lingered here. Aleksei couldn’t blame Rowan for wanting to leave as soon as possible. That planted another thought in the Baranski’s head. How long would he want to stay in his father’s place of death? He shuddered, and turned away himself, setting back off for Kingsfall.

How long?

Let the roots & soil drink of me
Whispering leaves & pointing branches will tell them where I'm lying