Around, Broken In Two

Fern lays on the furs that are piled in the middle of her and Rudy’s room. The doors to the balcony have been flung wide open and, to help stave off the chill in the night air, a happy, crackling fire has been started in the fireplace. Stars twinkle in their heavenly home, sparkling at the gray girl resting upon the furs, their beauty going unnoticed by her. She is lost in her thoughts, mulling over the hunt she had led and how badly she had messed it up. Head lays on pale paws as she stares blankly out the open doors. What if things had gone differently? What if she had gotten someone killed because of her lack of preparation? Blinking slowly, she turns her ocean-hued gaze to the sword that lays propped up close by. Why had she chosen that day to leave her sword here? Had she been too cocky?

The soft snores of her stoat friend pull her eyes over to the basket where Puff is curled up in the furs. She could have gotten Puff killed. And Bowen. Fern had seen the fear and anxiety her decisions had caused her and that, above all else, made the gray girl feel horrible. A log in the fireplace pops and sends a small spark up the chimney. As comfortable as the gray girl is, Fern has the sudden need to talk to Bowen. These hours are when Rudyard is the busiest and Fern is usually getting get ready to sleep. The days have been long and tiring and she can feel their toll in the heaviness of her body… but the need to talk to Bowen takes precedence.

She stands, rolling her tense shoulders and shaking out her coat before silently moving to the door. Slipping out into the hallway, Fern quietly makes her way two doors down to the room that caramel and cream wolf occupies. Hesitating a moment, Fern steels her nerves and lifts a paw to rap her knuckles gently against the wooden door. Softly, so as not to disturb any sleeping wolves, Fern calls out, “Bowen? Can I talk to you?” She waits for permission to enter or orders to leave.


"Fern Lark"