09-05-2024, 09:00 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-05-2024, 09:06 PM by Tenzin.
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She let Sierra speak without interruption. At her hesitation over the word mate, Tenzin glanced sideways at the damaged door. Strong emotions, Never had explained it as, and she presumed now that it meant Tristan was torn between two females. “Why blaming self?” she asked as she set her plate aside. Tenzin liked to keep a clean den, but she would tidy up later. Brenna soon occupied the space on her lap, nudging her snout under Tenzin’s hands so that she obliged. The affection was without thinking, her attention still on Sierra. “Not stupid to trust kin. Connection strong for us. Of course trusting mate. Not Sierra’s fault.”
Whether it was a betrayal or a miscommunication worsened by the sudden distance, Tenzin did not know. She had no consolation or advice to offer what was essentially a very human matter, just the empathy of her listening ear. Though her lips pursed a frown for how self-effacing Sierra’s reaction was, like she believed she was not good enough to return to – not just as a mate, but as the heart of Tristan’s pack. Why did she value herself so little? Tenzin buried her face in Brenna’s fur and scratched behind her ears as she considered how broken it seemed.
Never clearly sought to comfort Sierra, and it was a solace, as pack always was in times of need, but it did not change the hurt – or the quiet acceptance of being left behind. Tenzin couldn’t change that either, but she didn’t like the scent of it any better.
“In dream,” she said eventually, “have met Thornpaw. Old wolf with much memories, and one who found Tristan alone in land where no wolves live. Always different, say Thornpaw. Not just wolf in here.” Around the wriggly bundle of Brenna, she patted her own chest, and glanced at Sierra to see if she had any understanding of what she meant – if Tristan had already shared this with her. “Not meaning human like all kin. Blood of something else.”
When he first sought her aid in the dream, drawn by the tales of Star Dancer, Thornpaw had shared a recent memory; one of how tremors had cracked through the dream – things Tenzin did not quite understand, no matter how the old wolf explained it to her, beyond that it had spread like a warning through all the packs. An ancient threat, or an old fear, she couldn’t be sure. But when Thornpaw raced to the danger, all he found was Wildefyre and the figure they called the Forgotten One. He had stalked and gnashed since, worried enough to have chased the trail to one who the wolves understood fought against the darknesses of the world. Not because he wished to turn on his brother. But because he feared for him.
“Has other name there. Sun Snatcher. Not wolfname, but is Wildefyre same. Is why came – or some of why came. Tristan is kin the same, but different too. Lost maybe, still learning, and hurting out in process. Not excuse. But reason maybe.” She was intense in her explanation, but wished she found the English easier. Perhaps he did not see pack the same way, was what she meant. That, or he was just a typical roving male and had not thought at all, but it seemed an unkind thing to say. “Not worthless, Sierra.”
Whether it was a betrayal or a miscommunication worsened by the sudden distance, Tenzin did not know. She had no consolation or advice to offer what was essentially a very human matter, just the empathy of her listening ear. Though her lips pursed a frown for how self-effacing Sierra’s reaction was, like she believed she was not good enough to return to – not just as a mate, but as the heart of Tristan’s pack. Why did she value herself so little? Tenzin buried her face in Brenna’s fur and scratched behind her ears as she considered how broken it seemed.
Never clearly sought to comfort Sierra, and it was a solace, as pack always was in times of need, but it did not change the hurt – or the quiet acceptance of being left behind. Tenzin couldn’t change that either, but she didn’t like the scent of it any better.
“In dream,” she said eventually, “have met Thornpaw. Old wolf with much memories, and one who found Tristan alone in land where no wolves live. Always different, say Thornpaw. Not just wolf in here.” Around the wriggly bundle of Brenna, she patted her own chest, and glanced at Sierra to see if she had any understanding of what she meant – if Tristan had already shared this with her. “Not meaning human like all kin. Blood of something else.”
When he first sought her aid in the dream, drawn by the tales of Star Dancer, Thornpaw had shared a recent memory; one of how tremors had cracked through the dream – things Tenzin did not quite understand, no matter how the old wolf explained it to her, beyond that it had spread like a warning through all the packs. An ancient threat, or an old fear, she couldn’t be sure. But when Thornpaw raced to the danger, all he found was Wildefyre and the figure they called the Forgotten One. He had stalked and gnashed since, worried enough to have chased the trail to one who the wolves understood fought against the darknesses of the world. Not because he wished to turn on his brother. But because he feared for him.
“Has other name there. Sun Snatcher. Not wolfname, but is Wildefyre same. Is why came – or some of why came. Tristan is kin the same, but different too. Lost maybe, still learning, and hurting out in process. Not excuse. But reason maybe.” She was intense in her explanation, but wished she found the English easier. Perhaps he did not see pack the same way, was what she meant. That, or he was just a typical roving male and had not thought at all, but it seemed an unkind thing to say. “Not worthless, Sierra.”
|Tenzin|
If they stand behind you, protect them; if they stand beside you, respect them; if they stand against you, destroy them.