Thicket of Secrets foolish antics

Torah was gone. He didn’t know where Malien had ended up after that snowstorm, either. He was completely alone again. Although, maybe, possibly.. that was for the best, given the conflicting nature of Arty’s thoughts and feelings surrounding each of them. He’d come out here to get away from duties, obligations, and attachments - not to forge even more binding contracts with anyone.

He’d been so close to doing just that, but he hadn’t. Now, he was grateful.

So Artyom had continued north for a while, doing his best to put all of those thoughts out of his mind and focus on himself. The weather was warming, snow was slowly starting to melt. Ice, streams, and rivers were thawing, including the one that he'd been wandering alongside for a time, now.

Chunks of formerly frozen slush and sheets of ice were carried downstream, drifting past him on occasion. At times, he would pause to watch. A part of Arty was tempted to try and ride one, just to see if he could. For the fun of it.

His brow furrowed in thought.

-@Malien when you've got time!

How can you so thoroughly lose a wolf in a place like this?

He's been looking for months, roaming the corners of the Lore where they had previously met. It's a circle, an ever-expanding spiral as Malien ranges further and further in desperate attempts to not face what, with each passing day, seems more and more likely.

That Artyom is gone- either from the Lore, or from his life. Is he being avoided? But why?

Sometimes, Malien finds tracks that smell like him, but so old he loses them, or perhaps follow them in the wrong direction. He's lost some weight, constantly ranging around and neither eating nor sleeping enough.

He went further south. Further west. Further east. Further north. He asked strangers, politely, if they'd seen him. He howled across the vast and snow-covered forests and plains - not a desperate or commanding call, just a song, a beacon, hey, I'm here, if you're looking.

The fear keeps nagging - the fear that he has been cast aside, left behind. And Malien, who is normally not very afraid of things, struggles to not be consumed by it. He thinks he should be angry at the prospect, or shun Artyom first to protect himself, but he .. can't. The fear is a pit of vipers in his gut and he can't turn it around. He just.. wants to know.

He's not intentionally going towards the snow-melt river, just heading in that direction and figuring he'd hit it, turn around, and follow it. And he's sort of lost in thought - constantly filtering and cataloguing what he's smelling, but not expecting to see what he wants, so at first he doesn't really react when he sees a wolf on the other shore.

But then... That rich tan and brown coat, the outline of the body, and Malien freezes. "Arty?" he whispers, confused and shocked all at once, for a moment struggling and unsure. No- it is him, it has to be, the certainty of that first moment overpowering his fear of being wrong. "Arty!" he barks, suddenly full of unbridled joy, tail up and wagging, a brightness and warmth to rival the sun sparking in his heart and eyes.

It was an admittedly stupid idea to even consider. There was the possibility of being soaked in frigid water. Being swept away, maybe - even though the current didn’t look that strong. But what else did he have to do? Just keep walking, being lost in his thoughts? Wasting away another day on absolutely nothing?

He blinked, and his mind was made up. Patiently he waited, studying each platform of drifting slush and ice that was carried by, until finally, one came in close to the river bank upon which he stood.

Arty was already moving by the time he heard something, that sounded an awful lot like his name. But he was too late to stop himself, and one flying leap later, he was crouched atop a platform of ice, floating down a river.

The ice under paw was slushy and wet, and rocked and sunk a little with his added weight - but it held - for now.

Instead of elation at having achieved his desired goal however, there was only mostly confusion. He knew he’d heard something. Or, someone. Tentatively, Artyom looked back, and after a few seconds of scanning the bank opposite of which he’d been standing on, he saw someone.

Mally.

His heart fluttered. He wasn’t sure if it was in a good or a bad way, though. Where once he’d have been elated to see the other, after Torah? He didn’t know. Now wasn’t exactly the time to be thinking about such things, though.

(This post was last modified: Apr 18, 2023, 04:11 PM by Artyom.)

*heaps profuse apologies on you*

But what should've unfolded as some blessed reunion - rays of sunlight and warmth and happiness - is .. uh .. instead it's just really confusing. Malien isn't entirely sure what he's seeing for a moment, because it just hasn't crossed his mind someone might do that. (Well, at some point, he's probably considered it himself, but the idea of Arty jumping away on an ice floe the moment Mally finds him again? The bitter, scared thing in him says it's on purpose, to get away from him, and that he should just let Arty be carried to his doom, while the more rational part of him insists the timing is too off to be deliberate.)

The river moves on relentlessly, and dumbstruck, the silver wolf sees the head of the reddish one turn. Or was it just wishful thinking?

Move, idiot!

There's really no way he'll ever parse what just happened fast enough to still see where Arty ends up. He'll just have to put that away for later. Malien leaps into action, wheeling on the spot and tearing off down the riverbank, hopelessly outpaced by the river yet running like a silver streak along with the frigid, foaming water. "Arty!" he barks again.

What should’ve been fun instead seemed to turn into something more akin to a nightmare. For Malien, possibly even more so.  He didn’t have much time to look before the steady current of the river was carrying him off, but it looked like the other was pursuing. A tiny whine parted his jaws, though likely not audible to anyone else. He had to get off of this.

”I know!” He called back as another vocalization reached his ears, figuring some kind of acknowledgment was appropriate.

The ice platform upon which he stood shifted underweight, requiring him to remain almost still and crouched to avoid falling in. Another jump was out of the question. Either shoreline was too far away, he’d never be able to make it without -

Suddenly, the ice split. The platform was gone, and Artyom found himself submerged. Cold and wet surrounded him, and filled his ears and nose. Stung his eyes. Once the shock had worn off though, he kicked.

Trying to swim up, to light, air, to life.

"I know!"

It doesn't make much sense, but Mally's not looking for sense. Just hearing his voice is enough, the fact that he's not yelling at him to piss off--

His heart is pounding, his pulse roaring in his ears; hot air rushes out of his open maw in smoky bursts as he chases the river. (He's too busy running to admit it, but he is afraid. The emotion is wrapped around his body and soul, and never before has he felt so helpless, so impotent.)

And then.. then...

Then the river swallows Artyom.

One moment he's there, precariously balanced upon his little island. And the next, he's gone, just a few scattered pieces of slush and ice telling Malien he'd ever been there at all.

It is unfair that time doesn't slow, or stop. He wants, needs it to, so that he can somehow figure a way out of this- a way to prevent it, a way to solve it, a way to pull Arty from beneath the cold waves.

But it doesn't slow, or stop. Malien feels cold and hollow and confused, half-convinced this is all some fever dream as darkness rolls in along the edges of his vision.

"ARTY!"

It's less a bark, more a shriek. Malien's been in waters like these and he survived only through chance- he was lucky once, he doesn't count on being lucky again.

So he does the only thing he can. He fixes his eyes on the remnants of ice floating along where Arty had been, and somehow finds even more speed, leaving a trail of blood where the hard, icy edges have cut into his pads. The cold air burns in his lungs, but he blocks it out. Blocks everything out. The only thing that matters is catching up to the icy wreckage so that he can dive in and get Arty out.

The cold and wet felt like it was weighing him down, slowing him down. Freezing his joints and limbs, to the point where each kick felt like it was making no difference at all. For a few moments Arty panicked, drew a breath only to inhale water, wondering, am I going to die here, like this?

Until he somehow broke the surface. Instinct and adrenaline powered him to keep moving against the shock, cold, and the river current - which was faster below the water’s surface than it had initially appeared.

Then, finally, his limbs touched something. He found land under his paws, and was able to push himself far enough forward so that when everything just gave out, at least his upper half was mostly out of the water.

Coughs and shivers shooks his frame. He didn’t think he’d ever been so cold. Breathing was hard, but he was alive. Something he’d never been so grateful for.

”Mmm.. Mal..?” he tried to call, between coughs. Uncertain as to whether he was now on the same side of the river as the other, or not. He is, but doesn't know it.

And then he's there-

Breaking the surface like light emerging, muzzle and forehead and ears and even as he collapses on the riverbank Malien feels .. a lot of things ...

The biggest one is relief. Arty's out. Arty will be alright. He'll soon be there to help him, get him to safety, get him warm and dry.

Then there's two dark, small voices. One calls him a coward, for being relieved he won't have to dive into this dark, icy waters again, even though he would've done it without hesitating. The other mocks him, finds the rift in his armor and cracks it wide open: you're not good enough. He wasn't strong enough, fast enough.. Arty didn't need him. Arty got out without him, because he was too slow.

(Has anyone ever needed you? Wanted you?)

Then nothing of that matters, because he crashes into the shallows next to Artyom. Cold water splashes everywhere, an icy shock traveling up his paws. He doesn't even pause to say hi, just grabs the sodden wolf by the scruff and starts to bodily haul him away- fueled by desperation and adrenaline, fear. Away, away from the water, away from the ice, to where there at least is snow to insulate them. "Oh, Arty," he breathes as he lets go, barely aware of it, too focused on curling up around the tawny wolf and beginning to lick him dry.

Sorry again for the wait :x if you mind any of Mal's actions in this post just let me know and I'll edit!

He looked, or tried to look, but his frozen limbs didn’t seem to want to cooperate at the moment. The cold still surrounded him, and without Mally there to help pull him away from the river entirely, he wondered if he’d have survived.

For the other was on him in what felt like an instant. Where there would’ve been pain from being dragged there was still only an icy numbness. Artyom tried to help push and pull himself along, and did maybe a little, but it felt like Malien had done most of the work when he was placed in the snow.

In what felt like it was becoming an all too common occurrence, the other was curled around him. But he didn’t care, he didn’t want anything other than warmth and companionship. Arty leaned in as close as he could get to his companion.

”M-missed you,” he breathed out, softly, but laden with emotion. Just as he’d never been so glad to be alive, Arty didn’t think he’d ever been so glad to see someone else.

--all good ^^

He feels like there are no words left in his mouth, because what could he possibly say? That he, too, has missed him? Of course he has, that's a given. That he's worried about him, since the blizzard separated them? That, too, is a given.

And perhaps more common reactions - like berating him for whatever he was doing - doesn't even cross Malien's mind.

The fact that Arty helped, somewhat, to drag himself out barely registers, just the tiniest pinprick of relief that he didn't die in the seconds between collapsing on the bank and Malien arriving. And somewhere, down there in the sodden fur against his teeth and gums, there is warmth.

He drives the icy water from the fur as best as he can when rather abruptly he becomes all too aware of how hard his heart is pounding. It's like a rabbit's, fleet and panicky, but he halfheartedly blames it on his prolonged sprint. And, true, his flanks are still heaving a little as his body is working on recovering, but... He presses closer to the sodden wolf, admitting somewhere in the back of his mind that his heart will probably keep pounding.

(And it kinda does.)

After a little while he pulls his head back to peer down at the wet wolf, before daring to press his nose against the base of an ear in what could be brushed off as resuming the drying, but obviously is a small kiss. "I looked for you," he says, gently- it's a statement, not an accusation. It's easier to talk about that anyway, because Malien isn't really ready to face how scared he was when he saw Arty disappear into the water. "I hoped you were alright."