The tawny woman had thought she could handle seeing him with another, surrounded by his own family finally. She had hoped she could be happy for him, but deep deep down she simply couldn’t. From the moment she had stepped across that invisible line with her children in tow she knew she could not stay. Surely he could tell by her dark demeanour, the way she had held her children so tight and stayed so close to the edge of his kingdom. He surely could not have been surprised to see them gone by the time the sun rose.
She had travelled with her children, across the open plains, around the craggy cliffs until finally they found themselves once again beneath the boughs of a thick forest, thicker than any you would find in the Lore. The branches overhead were entangled so tightly they blocked out the sun, the moon, and the stars, their only path a winding creek that cut through the dark and into the unknown. While her children grew nearer in the dark forest their mother, although limping, stood taller, knowing at last that she was going home.
Just as she had anticipated, she was greeted as though she had never left. One of her uncles escorted her home, making small talk as he took her to see her grandmother. She was not surprised to see the imposing black wolf sprawled out on her favourite boulder, although her eyes were now clouded grey with blindness and more silver marked her muzzle than had at their last encounter. Naira spent much of her recovery time recounting her tales to the dark woman, occasionally joined by her own mother when she wasn’t busy keeping the pack in order. They were intent not only to heal her physical wound but to bring some light back into her golden stare.
She was allowed to grieve.
While she had hoped and even prayed that Mapplethorpe might find her, them, she had felt no sense of impending dread when he had not showed up at their rendezvous. If he could have made he would be there and while her heart was shattered, it had been something she had forced herself to shut out for the sake of their children.
But it wasn’t just Mapplethorpe she needed to grieve for, it was her brother Kanosak, and the terrible damage she had done. It was for Lily and Adonis, Datura and Belladonna. Even Rhysis required a few tears to be shed and the more she allowed herself to process her grief, the less often nightmares had come to plague her. As her mind healed her body followed suit until she felt as a six year old wolf should, not weary to her bones, not broken and bitter and falling apart.
She was able to smile again.
For almost a year she had sheltered with her family, raised her children (amongst their many cousins, aunts and uncles), celebrated in the way of the faith she was raised to embrace and she was at peace. There was no need to assert her dominance or question others motives, no need to worry about where their next meal might come from or fear of what mother nature might throw at them next. She was convinced she would never leave again, but it wasn’t to be.
On their first hunt, her children had helped to pull down a caribou. The pack had moved out onto the open tundra for the sake of the young ones, and while the rest of their family ate their fill, those that waited basked in the snow under the northern lights. One of her uncles started telling stories, much as Mapplethorpe might have but his voice didn’t have the same quality to it. Words seemed forced instead of rolling off his tongue like silk, but still she smiled, wondering if perhaps he would have been as happy here as she was.
It was then that the stars began to fall from the sky, much as they had on the night of her first litters birth. Some said it was an omen, but Naira merely raised a brow, that was until the godess took her mother. It wasn’t the first time she had seen such an episode but it was fearful none the less. The white wolf soaked with blood, her eyes glassed over, speaking in a voice that wasn’t her own. She had walked straight over to Naira and delivered words of warning.
Fate had been cheated twice, she said, to allow it to happen a third time would mean her demise.
Her grandmothers blind stare had fallen on her with pinpoint precision and for a moment she thought she saw the fiery tone behind the clouded grey burn. “You know what you must do.” It was as much an order as it was advice. Her children were old enough, they would have the protection of their family as long as it was needed. She had a task that could not be ignored.
It tore her heart to leave her children, but her soft spoken son and brazen daughter promised they would come and find her when the time was right. She had embraced them both on her final night at home, sleeping under their weight as she had when they were barely able to touch the underside of her belly. It was hard to tell the difference between night and day under this thick canopy but somehow her body knew when it was time to leave.
She said her goodbyes with a smile on her face. It wouldn’t be such a terrible journey she was sure. After all, she shouldn’t have to stay gone long.
Now here she stood, with red earth from the eastern hills under her paws, the weather turning and a fire burning under her pelt. It was good to stand in the sun again, even better to see the stars. A reckless smile marked her face as she continued her journey down in to the woods below. She was back, and she could almost feel the earth tremble beneath her paws as the wind whipped through her thick pelt.
This time, things were going to go her way.