Thicket of Secrets keeping you close

There was a lot that had happened in Ninevas life lately, and most of it she had chosen to deal with on her own, privately and internally. That her father had not returned even after @Korrin had left a wide, gaping hole in her heart that she had not shared with anyone, even Tomen. Following that, the death of Nina and continued absence of Rose also weighed on her mind. This was the way of life though, wasn't it?

She felt guilty, not searching for her own father the way she had Kenelm, but she had learned her lesson and would not make the same mistake again. Her father was intelligent, strong in a way no one else she'd ever known could compare to; he did not need her to rescue him. As for holding out faith that his absence was for good reason, trusting him still, that was hard too. She tried not to think about it instead.

Still, none of this kept her from visiting her remaining family and favored friend in the thickets. Her visits had not changed in their frequency, and she showed with a smile each time. After having spent the morning with Korrin, she'd headed off to her next mark: @Duckweed. His mother had been kind enough to point her in the right direction, and the young woman caught up to him just as he was crossing out of the pack's territory.

"Duckweed, wait up!" she called out, picking up the pace to jog to his side. Anymore, she was mammoth compared to him, but where she once couldn't shake the feeling that he was a kid, she'd grown familiar enough to regard him as the adult he was.

"Bella said you're goin' fishing. Mind if I tag along?"

Gonna have to set this before this thread, maybe by a day.

Having managed to escape the territory undetected by those who might have accosted him (namely @Flair), Duck felt calm and prepared for an afternoon of fishing. He would have left earlier, but had overheard Korrin talking to his sister, and the idea that she was back again had scuppered all his immediate plans. Terrified of being caught eavesdropping, Duck had scampered off, deeper into the territory, and collected himself. He had long been forced to make peace with the fact that Nineva was intent on imposing her company upon him, and worse, that he liked that she did so. His damned mouth normally relaxed and let him speak more like a sane wolf the more comfortable he got around someone, but he was as tongue-tied around her as any regular stranger. But... not because she was a stranger. It made him uncomfortable to think about.

Thus, when he heard his name called out in that cheery, familiar voice, he flinched and slowed obligingly, an unpleasant heat flushing up his spine. Not today. He'd been so ready to - and now, she - like always...

"H-h-h-h-hey," he replied, eyes nervously meeting her own as he mustered a twitch of his tail in greeting. "Y-y-yuh, shhh... sh-sure. I wuh-wuh..." He swallowed, and looked back at his feet as they paced through the snow, unable to keep from looking at her own next to his and the embarrassing size difference. His voice fell in volume further, for he was far more ashamed of his own anxiety. "I w-was g-g-guh, w-w-wuh-was g-gonna g-go, g-go b-bbbbback."

They'd talked about it only recently - as much as he ever managed to talk about anything. Ever since the assault, he'd avoided the stream where he used to fish all the time, for the memory had been too much, the trauma too great. And he was a big fat coward. But he'd mentioned that he was thinking of braving it, of trying to put the past behind him, because hey, he was healed now, and there had been no sign of the wolf since. Duck had lived in fear of his own shadow for so long that he thought he really ought not to add somebody else's to it.

While he had hoped to go alone, face his demons under his own willpower, it looked like Nineva was here to protect him once again. How revoltingly poetic.

so totally forgot nin has like major scars from fighting z that i'm sure duck would have noticed. she would have told ash & nina, but probably wouldn't volunteer anything to anyone else in SW unless asked. so up to you if bella or duck have heard the story or not. <3

That old guilt of maybe he doesn't want me around flared up when he answered her, meekly and with a stutter that seemed to grow worse each time she talked to him. Whatever the hell the problem was, she couldn't help but feel bad for him. How frustrating it would be to not even be able to control her own tongue, to not be able to communicate efficiently. She stood patiently, allowing none of this to pass over her features as he tripped his way through every word. She wasn't doing harm, and he never told her to leave him alone, so she was confident that this was simply Duckweed as he was. It was no reason to not be as friendly to him as she was to others.

Her face brightened as he made it clear that he wasn't just going out fishing, he was going to that particular stream.

"Awesome," she encouraged with a toothy smile. "It was a really good spot."

She trotted forward, expecting that they would be on their way.

"Y'know, I seriously have no idea how you catch those things."

Fish were slippery and skittish as all get out; she'd never even attempted the art, certain that the trial and error wouldn't be worth it when she was far better suited to chase after a vole or hare. They were tasty though. It would be nice to learn.

If she hasn't told him herself then I'm gonna say that they don't know, and that he just assumes she got them valiantly defending some other soul in need or something because she's so insufferable selfless like that <3

He knew that would please her. Glancing back up in time to catch her grin, his returned smile so threadbare in comparison, he made sure to match her eager pace. Whether or not she knew exactly where this stream was (he had been violently yanked out of the habit of calling it his stream) he wasn't sure, but wanted to be the one to lead the way nevertheless. Bold and brave Nineva couldn't steal all his glory... and this was a path he had trod a vast number of times, alone, without trepidation. Recognising it despite the layer of snow and cold, for he hadn't come back since the winter had fallen upon the thicket, turning his paws back onto this old route felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Despite initially wanting to do it alone, he was glad for her company. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have her here, just for this first time, just to break the spell of fear that was associated with his once-beloved little trickle of water.

The declaration that it was a 'good spot' was skimmed over, at first (because of course it was), but then he realised the oddity of it when she revealed her inability at fishing. So she really had no idea if it was a good spot, she was just being patronising. Sorry - being nice. That was a kinder way of putting it. Of all the many talents in the world, to be able to extract cold, slimy creatures from bodies of water was the only one he could claim, and while he presented a modest and self-conscious view to others, he knew he was good at it. Very good. Who knows why, out of everything, that might be his calling, but did it matter? It let him contribute and be useful to Secret Woodlands, to @Aideen and @Miccah, and he was just happy that he'd been left with one skill rather than none at all.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd offered, and it wasn't like she was a stranger. Nineva might have been yet another semi-unwanted protective female figure in his life, but she was patient and non-judgemental, and he had no idea why she came so often to see him when all he did was sputter and fall over himself in front of her, but women were strange. Maybe this way he could give her something in return for her inexplicable kindness.

"I c-c-can, c-can shhh... sh-show, show you if y-y-you l-l-l-luhh, l-like."

lolol okay by me. feel free skip them ahead to the river/first part of the lesson if youd like.

He sped ahead of her, and she had no problem with that, falling into an easy pace behind him. How he was going to manage amongst all the snow and ice further perplexed her. This she had to see.

His stuttering voice hit the chilled air once more, and her ears turned to attention while her eyes continued to wander ahead. When the word 'show' was finally out she had a pretty good idea of where he was getting, and her tail jumped up to wag a few times. Waiting for him to finish only proved her assumption right, and the excited response came quickly.

"That would be awesome!" Nineva loved to learn even useless things, so being taught to fish was just perfect. Her steps picked up with pep, the ridiculously large young lady all but plowing through the drifts.

What was originally going to be a casual check on whether or not his old stream was still the best fishing spot around was now ladened with terrible purpose. As they walked, her enthusiasm for his suggestion overt, he flinched slightly, hoping she didn't see it, flip-flopping once again and now regretting saying anything at all. Now there were expectations, and the possibility for disappointment - and to be totally blunt, the likelihood for disappointment, because it was him. Anything could go wrong; it could be frozen over, there could be no fish to find, his three perfectly-shaped stones could be missing, he could get flustered and his limbs could all forget what they were supposed to do because she messed him up just by being nearby... And he hated being watched while fishing, besides. Suddenly there was a reputation to uphold and somebody to impress.

Duck didn't do impressing.

But to turn around and reject her company now would just make disappointment inevitable, rather than merely the very high probability it was right now. So he bit his tongue and pressed on, leading her through the thicket to the stream where so much of the Woodlands' cache had been stocked from. The familiarity of it comforted him despite everything, as though the good memories here were stronger than the singularly terrible one. That did a little to sooth his nerves. Besides, Nineva was with him, and it was thanks to her that he was still alive at all... so he did another 180 and was glad for her company all over again.

Merciful act of fate number one: the stream wasn't a solid block of ice. Hearing the subtle but instantly recognisable sound of moving water, Duck's spirits lifted from their typically gloomy depths, glad for that one lucky break. Merciful act two: his rocks were all still exactly where he had left them... in the water, for the last time he'd been here, he'd been interrupted mid-session, and had been given no opportunity to remove the bottleneck. And nobody had moved it or touched it since, so there it had stayed, frozen in time. The sight of it made him hesitate, such a blunt reminder of what had happened. He took a deep, steadying breath. It was in the past. He was okay now. Everything was okay now. This was exactly why he had come - to overcome this particular demon.

He edged towards it, nosing at the three stones, at how the water flowed through the centre of them just so, perfect for cornering the small fish which raced through it. And that's where fate stopped taking pity on him; the stream flowed cold, clear and utterly empty. Tonguing at the back of his smallteeth in slowly rising anxiety, desperate not to disappoint her, Duck glanced back at his unwanted but nevertheless invited company and managed a weak smile. "N-n-not m-mmmm, m-muh-many out, out, out t-to-to-day." Damn his tongue and damn it for every single fish he'd ever caught. Damn it for every fish in every river in the whole world.. Time to pack it in, to say nevermind, to go home. But the thought of disappointing his heroine was suffocating. "B-but... f-f-f-fish, f-fishing needs... needs puh-puh-patience..."

His useless mouth opened and closed and opened again, but he was tired of his traitorous tongue and so decided to just act. If he were alone, what would he do? Easy. He'd checked on his tool, now it was time to see if there was anything to be caught in it. Snapping his mouth shut, he turned back towards the flow and made to follow it upstream, looking out for any signs of life. It was so very cold, but this was the time of day when it might be warmest, after hours of sun overhead.

But he couldn't just pretend she wasn't here. Duck took a deep breath and tried to pretend that she wasn't Nineva, but just Enia, who was far easier to talk normally around. "C-c-can you ssss, sssee anything?"

Ah, so the water was swift enough not to be completely frozen. It was the first thing she noticed as they approached the bank, before her eyes lifted and she took the scenerey in entirely. A contented sigh fled her lips as she appreciated the beauty of the stream. She'd always liked it here, from the first time she'd been told could find her etiolate friend here. Her gaze caught only briefly on the sharp incline, much further down and barely visible along the white horizon, where the horror had taken place.

Don't think about it, she reminded herself. If Duckweed could return here, who had suffered so much, then she was capable of pressing the memory out of her conscious mind.

So she watched him instead, eyes flickering consistently between Duckweed and whatever he was focusing on in the moment. The arrangement of stones was curious, their position and his attention to them making it evident that they were intentional. She did not mind his silence, trusting that he would speak when ready. When he looked back up at her, his smile didnt seem too genuine, but that was how he always came across to Nineva, or so it felt. She smiled back at him.

"I've got patience," she chirped, a fact that certainly Ash and Narime had never expected their eldest daughter would grow into. He then asked her to take a look, and she did so diligently. Her field of vision was less than his, but three eyes were still better than two. Unable to see anything standing still, she took a few strides upstream until something caught her eye.

"There," she pointed out, her voice low out of habit as her hunting instincts attempted to kick in and be useful, even though they barely applied for this prey.

Hunting 3/6 (for role)

Her reassurance was actually quite effective, for one of Nineva's many virtuous qualities was her integrity. Trusting her on her word - even if he was still scared that he wouldn't be able to reward her patience with anything - Duck tried to focus on the water, on looking for any signs of life. Though too meek to watch her to be sure, he could see her doing the same in her peripheries, the much larger wolf peering at the same cold trickle of water as the small runt. As he slowly meandered upstream, he could hear her doing the same, but his distraction meant that she was the first to spot something.

Brows raising in surprise, tail twitching out behind him in a feeble and brief gesture of excitement, he hopped back to where she stood watching the stream, Duck himself perched on the opposite side.

For a moment he saw nothing, and wondered if she was lying or just didn't know the difference between a fish and silt, but then he saw the movement with his own eyes. "M-m-minnows," he said, tail moving with a little more enthusiasm, for not long after the first he had already seen another, moving slowly with the current near the bottom of the stream bed. They were small fish, even shorter than his snout, only worthwhile as a snack or in large quantities... but that was exactly why he'd developed the technique he had.

Watching the minnow swim, he padded downstream with it, keeping an eye on it and the upcoming bottleneck. It was all coming back so quickly, feeling so familiar and comfortable, and he barely had to think about it; the moment he could see that the minnow was going to take the route which took it between his two long stones, it was doomed. With well-practiced timing his muzzle hovered just behind his formation and then the fish swam through it and in one snap and splash later, he was tossing it onto the far bank next to Nineva, where it twitched and flailed and flopped, trying in vain to reach the stream again.

And he looked at her, and perhaps for the first time ever smiled, smiled genuinely, before his tail wilted in sudden embarrassment and he returned his gaze to the water, which was far, far safer.

Duckweed moved to confirm, giving her a name for the creatures once he too saw them. Minnows. That was one she hadn't heard yet. No other instructions came, at least not verbally. Knowing Duckweed, she figured most of this would be done through showing rather than telling. So as he followed the stream and its contents, so did she, eyes flickering consistently between prey and tutor.

When they approached that peculiar rock formation, her ears perked up and her paws stopped moving as she focused completely on watching intently. As Duckweed's master plan unfolded, the simple ingenuity of it became clear, appealing to the girl greatly. It was enough to make her grin, but the expression was widened as she witnessed that proud look on her friend's face, unlike anything she'd seen cross his features before.

Her paw stomped down to hold onto the morsel he had tossed to her before exclaiming, "oh, that's awesome!"

A hell of a lot better than what she thought fishing would entail.

"Okay okay, my turn," she insisted, eager to try this trick out. Her muzzle panned as she tried to spy the second minnow they had seen, and a few steps were taken upstream after their catch had stilled. There it was, her eyes locked on to it. Had it hung back because it had seen what had become of its friend? Could it even see that far? They certainly were more sluggish than she was used to seeing fish, was it due to the cold? The more the questions piled up, the more she realized she really didnt know anything about aquatic life. Oh well. It was never too late to learn, and she had a damn good teacher at her disposal.

She followed the minnow as it meandered downstream, closer and closer to Duckweed's trap. Except... her eyes lit with mild horror as she realized it was primed to go past the stones and not through them.

"Hey... wait... no!"

How in the heck would she be able to change its mind? On impulse she punched a paw through the water, hoping the startle the fish into dodging left and going through the bottleneck. It startled but dodged around her with renewed vigor, and she tried with her other forepaw but succeeded in nothing more than splashing the ice cold water up. It was too late, the fish had taken off and disappeared downstream. Her ears leaned back as she looked crestfallen. Nineva wasnt used to failing.

(This post was last modified: Jan 11, 2017, 03:21 PM by Nineva.)

And despite himself, it looked like he managed to impress her after all. Too shy to meet her gaze in case she sure his pleasure burn too bright behind his eyes, the runt chose to look at her paw as it came down onto the minnow. Her declaration rang in his ears and flashed all the way down his spine like electricity.

He'd done something she thought was awesome.

Tail unable to help twitching in small, erratic moments of joy, he watched as she trained her gaze on the stream, clearly searching for a target of her own. He felt the need to hop over to the other side and finish off the fish for her, because he never normally let them just suffocate (both because it seemed like unnecessary suffering and made them far more likely to wander off the pile as they died), but when she moved away it was clear that it was already dead, or near-dead. That settled, he moved to mirror her movements on the opposite bank, saying nothing as she spotted a likely minnow and then began to follow it downstream.

But where luck had been on his side to grant him an impressive first demonstration, it was not on hers. The moment he saw that the minnow was going to follow the flow which took it to the right of the trap rather than through it, he instinctively dismissed it, and, had he been alone, would have gone on to try and find another. But Nineva did not have that experience or knowledge, and instead tried to convince it.

Duckweed smiled again as he watched her try to convince it to go where she wanted it to go, her frustration and brute-force attempts all-too familiar. He'd learned long ago that fish didn't move like things on dry land moved, and he was so used to the former that his terrestrial hunting had actually suffered for it. All his timings and instincts were honed to snatch up little slips of slippery wet bodies out of their environment, not four-legged furry prey, big or small. While she might've been a poor fisher, Duck bet that she was just fine at hunting everything else, so while this isolated situation stroked his fisherman's ego, he tempered it significantly.

Besides, he was Duckweed; he was hardly about to mock her, despite her obvious surprise at her predictable failure.

"It's ok-k-k-kay," he said softly, wanting to ease her disappointment. "D-d-doesn't w-ww, w-work evvv'ryt-time." Unlike with rabbits, which could run in any direction they liked, all Duck had to do was sit here and the food would come swimming merrily past him eventually.

"P-p-puh, p-p-p-patience, right? There'll, th-there'll, b-b-be, b-be mmmore."