It was almost a week after the wedding and tourney fight. He'd admitted to Mortis what he had done. His Uncle was one of the wolves in his life who was reasonable and kind, as much as he struggled to talk about it. Now he was returning to the Hallows. The little wooden owl Mortis had helped his carve was in a literally bag over his shoulders. He was tempted to call and leave it for her to find, but he knew Mortis would ask him how it went. He wouldn't be admitting to cowardice, so he stopped st thr Hallows borders and took a deep breath.

He could do this. Time had distanced the hurt and worry that had been installed in him, and he didn't want to lose the wise old woman's friendship. And, he hadn't known until Mort had told him - she was family. So after a moment he took his courage and howled out to her, and waited at thr border to see if she would respond.

The sun blazes over head as Fern practices out in the training area, her sword clutched firmly in her mouth. It has been a week since the wedding and the tournament fights and her mind turns to young Basilisk once more. Her sword thwacks onto the armored dummy as she remembers the anger and disappointment in the boy’s eyes when he tried to shame her for winning against him. The sadness that she felt around the whole situation has faded along with any anger she might have been harboring toward the tall Fatalis. She lunges toward the dummy, threading her sword through the small opening in the chest and striking into the straw underneath.

A howl reaches her dark tipped ears and Fern pauses at the summoning call directed at her. Basilisk has come to see her? Swiftly she moves to gather her scabbard that she had set aside, buckling it across her back before sliding the sword home. Puff bounces up to her and Fern helps her stoat friend to climb onto her back before the pair take off to the plains. She doesn’t stall, instead moving quickly to where Bas is waiting. When his tall form comes into view, the gray girl slows until she comes to a stop a few steps away from him. She hesitates, uncertain if she wants to rush forward and hug him or give him a stern lecture.

Fern settles on greeting the boy who has traveled such a far way to see her and says, “Hello Basilisk. You have traveled a long way, why not come rest your paws in the castle?” She offers him a guarded smile before tilting her head back to howl and let Artorias and Briar know that Basilisk is here to visit. Once down she lowers her head and motions for Basilisk to follow her. Leading the way to the castle, Fern says, “I worried I wouldn’t see again, Bas. You were pretty mad at me that day.” Puff, the little female stoat, looks at the huge wolf with awe as they walk and says, “You’re so tall!” which has the gray girl trying to stifle a laughter.


"Fern Lark" | "Puff"