Ferns and Flowers

Walk | Talk | Think

It did not occur to her why it was Jakart smiled and laughed and looked rather embarrassed when all she asked was for the location of his den. If she had been any more perceptive she might have picked up on the suggestion his reaction made, but it took him spelling it out for her to realize that the den he offered her was in truth his own. Callisto blinked, puzzled. Why had he offered his den and not an empty one? Just vaguely she wondered of the lack of use he had given his lodgings lately, though as she recalled he had been waiting for her back at her own chosen densite when she had returned from her northern trip. Had he really been away from his home for that whole time with the anticipation of being there when she returned?

All of her thoughts were silenced as he moved, not away as if to offer her privacy in which to sleep, but toward the den and within its shadowed interior. With an uncomprehendingly blank stare, she stepped forward to peer inside and watched as the grey wolf settled himself down onto the earthen floor of the structure, looking for the world like he intended to stay there until he had gotten his rest. We're sharing the den? The thought immediately put her off. The last wolf she had shared a den with had unwound every effort she had made at trying to reestablish a comfortable, stable life, all with three little words. A cold dread spread within her stomach as she suddenly feared a repeat of those same events. There had been enough signs, right? Bad idea. All of it, a bad idea.

Callisto was torn, stuck between wanting the quiet, secure place to spend the night and the potential to have her day ruined further by a wolf who could very well have been intending to follow in her mentor's footsteps. No matter how sleepy she was, though, there was no warring with the dread, the sense of entrapment, that came from the thought of entering into the den being offered to her. "No," she muttered, shaking her head and then repeating herself again but louder, "No." She could not - would not - place herself in a situation like the last time. Callisto retreated a step, and then another, and turned with a shake of her head to see the cat staring at her, wordlessly but ever observant. Avoiding her gaze, the healer began to step away from the den, intending to find her own arrangements for the night elsewhere.