Edge Stone Pool taken by sleep

@Lekalta <3

Things were beginning to feel somewhat normal. Despite his daughter going off on her own adventure (temporarily, she had said prior to her leaving, to assure him) Hearthwood was beginning to feel, and look, like it had before the deaths of two founding members. Two Baranski children had returned. Aleksei had known nothing of Maksim’s death upon his return, while Lekalta had left because of his unexpected passing. He understood her reason behind leaving, as these lands were a constant reminder of what had happened, but he was pleased to see she had found her way back to Kingsfall. With Baranski’s filling the ranks of the river pack once more, it was as though tragedy had never struck the pack.

He hugged the edge of the forest as he moved, detouring around the lake he frequented often, keeping his shoulder parallel to the lowlands. Most of his time was spent along the river’s edge, or in the tundra between the monadnock and the forest. It was seldom that the healer ventured south, for he tried to distance himself from the Rye wolves. They weren’t on bad terms with the new pack, but they weren’t on good terms either—and Lachesis trusted the alliance he had formed with Craw far more. It had taken too long for the Rye wolves to make their way over to Hearthwood after they had arrived in the lowlands, whereas Lachesis made sure that something was established with Whitestone as soon as he learned of their formation.

The slender leader ventured toward the stream that cut through the tundra, his apple-green eyes surveying his surroundings to ensure that he was still alone. The edge of the pond was frozen, along with several of the small cascades that had veered off from the main waterfall. Spring would be here soon and the lands of Relic Lore would warm up. Finally, he thought glumly to himself. It felt as though this winter was never-ending and, despite the Arctic blood that coursed through his veins, he longed for the summer sun on his back.

stick with those who stick with you

Lekalta needed to seek out her sister – she had already visited Kisla upon return, and had taken the time to rest. It wasn’t that she was not eager to see Inna – quite the opposite, in truth, but she feared any disappointment that might come from her ebony littermate. She had said her goodbyes prior to inititally leaving, but that probably hadn’t made it any easier on her sister, who had remained as one of the last Baranski children within the pack.

So Lekalta, in all of her youth, chose to avoid it for the moment, and instead found herself trailing the scent of Lachesis. She had missed him just as much as her family while away.. not because of her youthful crush on the male, but because he had always been a solid figure in her life. What was left of Hearthwood River was almost devastating – Maksim was gone, as well as her older siblings, spare Aleksei.. Naia’s death also burned deep in her chest. But Lachesis remained forever loyal, and as she finally came upon him, his stark handsome white form nearly blending in with the snow, she realied there was much to learn from him.

She padded after him, sneaking along the edge of the forest and to the water he sought. Her slender form was quiet in mannerism, but it was not that she tried to sneak up upon him, so much as she fumbled for a way to greet him. Settling on announcing herself through a gentle whine, the girl slowed her pace a respectful distance from her leader, her muzzle canting lightly to the side.

are you deranged like me? are you strange like me?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

Months had passed since the Baranski had announced that she was leaving. He understood why she needed to leave. Nothing he could say, or do, would have made her stay. He, too, would have disappeared if he had been given the chance. The ghost was focused on ensuring that the river pack remained afloat—he could not let everything Maksim had worked so hard for fall apart. This was all he had. Lachesis was getting too old to pack hop. He would fight for Hearthwood until he couldn’t fight anymore.

Not much had changed in her absence. The pack remained steady, neither growing or shrinking. The ghost hoped that her arrival would be a good omen for the pack, especially with his daughter’s lengthening absence. He frowned at this, his ears falling against the back of his crown. She would return. Just like Lekalta, she would return.

She had to.

His toes crunched in the snow as he lowered his hindquarters, his shoulders sagging slightly. The expression he wore was bleak, his brows drawn together as the corners of his lips fell. A whine, from behind, broke him away from his thoughts. The ghost glanced over his shoulder, his chartreuse gaze softening once he spotted the tawny girl. His lips twitched, the frown quickly dissipating. With a flick of his tail he invited her forward, his tongue heavy between his teeth as he waited for her to join him. 

stick with those who stick with you

He looked to her – a storm rested upon his face and in that moment, despite her own a=naivety and youthful ignorance, Lekalta clearly saw the stress of the pack’s leadership that had settled itself so firmly upon his shoulders. His frown slowly disappeared though, his features softening as his eyes fell upon her, and her chest fluttered in that moment – did he remember the day they had spent together before she had left? Because it was all she had thought about after she had taken leave from the River – it haunted her.. the ‘what if’s’ of the scenario. Would he have greeted her more warmly, had she not left?

She took his welcome as an invitation to close the distance between the two, and loping toward him, the girl remained respectful in her stance – her time away had, at the very least, allowed her the insight that her boisterous nature could not overshadow the hierarchy. Lifting her muzzle up to preen gently at his chin with a nibble of her teeth, the girl pulled back to cant her muzzle, her eyebrows lifting mischievously then. Bold and open as ever, she studied him, a coy smirk playing upon her lips. “Miss me?”

are you deranged like me? are you strange like me?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

She was a beacon of hope in Hearthwood. That the twins would return and that the pack would replenish their numbers as spring spread across the Lore. He was happy to see her but the weight on his shoulders was too much for him to greet her as warmly as he would have liked. The Stark wished that she had stayed, that things could be different, but he knew things happened for a reason. They just rarely worked out the way that the ghost wanted them to.

The corners of his mouth twitched as she approached, slowly at first, before her pace quickened. He leaned into her touch, his teeth grazing along the soft fur at the base of her ear. He did not follow her as she pulled away, although his peridots did not waver from her tawny frame. The question had taken him by surprise, but he was foolish to think that her time away had tamed her. He snorted in response, his chartreuse stones rolling inside his head as he glanced away, his gaze (temporarily) focused on the stream at his feet. “Hardly,” he hummed in response, his tail curling tight around his hindquarters as his toes curled into the snow. While he had grown close to the blue-eyed sparrow in Lekalta’s absence and had busied himself with his duties as Alpha, the ghost had missed the Baranski during her absence. But he was not about to admit it aloud. Not yet. 

stick with those who stick with you

He seemed amused by her question – and as he responded in kind, her own expression lit up with teasing bemusement, feigning shock at his words before shaking her head playfully. “Liar,” she poked at him, her own wolfish eyebrows lifting in jest as she studied him. She had yet to realize the ways in which Lachesis had changed – and the ways in which perhaps she had too, in her time gone. Her wild spirit remained, but there was a part of Lekalta that still ached for her father, and in turn, had brought her home finally.. the realization that family came above all else, and one day she would want one of her own… but only when the time was right.

She just knew that as she studied the bright green of those eyes, she knew she would not mind at all if it happened to be Lachesis with who she grew her own family with.

“I missed you,” she decided to state, albeit boldly. Her confidence had grown more – and as she spoke these words, it was then her muzzle would tip up seeking to brush her nose in the soft fur of his nape should he allow it.

are you deranged like me? are you strange like me?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

It was not just his children that Lachesis had missed as the winter months rolled into the lands of Lore. His thoughts often returned to the tawny Baranski. Had she found somewhere to take refuge from the relentless winter? Had she found the answers she was looking for after leaving Hearthwood? She must have—otherwise XIX wasn’t sure she would have returned so soon. The ghost knew that Maksim’s death had effected all his children differently. Lekalta, like her mother and him, had watched the deterioration of the former river king. When she had announced she was taking her leave Lachesis had been disappointed, but not surprised.

Her confession made his features soften, a small smile creeping onto his dark lips as she pressed her nose to his nape. The ghost leaned into her touch further, his own cheek resting against her shoulder. Part of him was glad that he had lingered in her thoughts during her absence, for she had made herself a home in the back of his. However, part of him had also wished she had found someone else, so that he did not feel as though he was being torn in two different directions.

He would be the liar Lekalta accused him of being if he had denied that he missed her, too. So he did what any honest, honourable man would do: he told the truth. “I missed you, too,” he responded before pulling away from her shoulder, his chartreuse gaze seeking out her own. “Where did you go?” He asked in a soft tone, his words holding a hint of youthful curiosity. 

stick with those who stick with you