Somehow, it seemed wrong to say that her own father had passed on, too. She wasn't trying to one-up the guy. And she hardly felt as if she could -- the story he told was simply horrifying to hear. Imagine waking up pregnant one day, and not knowing by who or how it came to be... She couldn't help but bristle. Mala wasn't sure if she wanted kids, but she certainly wouldn't have wanted to have them that way.

Instead she asked, "Do you often think about him?" She knew who her father was, at least, even if she'd never met or spoken to him.

Cairo's mother had done the best she could. There didn't seem to be bitterness in his voice as he spoke of her, or his absent sire.

As Cairo went off to check the strips, she closed her eyes. Sleep didn't quite take its hold on her, however, as memories silently replayed in her head. It was easy -- well, relatively -- to think of her aunt. It was harder to bear the visions of the rest of her family, and those often arrived unbidden. But the early, early scenes of her life were more bearable. She'd always considered her puphood to be relatively uncomplicated. But thinking of her mother, she was beginning to realize that that might not be true, either.

Eventually, though, she dozed off, stirring occasionally when her companion moved around the campsite.

The moon had wandered its way across the sky when her eyes opened again, a little more awake this time. Her jaws stretched, tongue lolling feely as she let out a yawn.

"Speech"

He pondered her question, then answered honestly, “I do. I often wonder if there’s a man out there who looks like me, or my sisters, or my brothers. If he knows he had children out there. Or if he meant to come back and see if the female he helped and … um.. well, to see if she was alright and had made home alive.” It hadn’t been rape. Not that he knew of. His mother had been out of it with the conk on the head, and had thought it was the spirit of her late mate, Lanse. He wished he could ask her about it, now that he was older. The details had been sketchy, after all, them being pups. He’d dragged more details out of Aurielle, who had been a little hesitant to give up those private details of his mother’s life. But he’d wanted to know. It was only what Gwen had shared with Rielle when she’d told her she was pregnant. It would have to do for now. He’d settled down and dozed, himself, an ear shifting toward Lia as she stirred and yawned. One eye opened and focused on her with half a smile on his face. It was well dark now, and the fire cast a comforting glow on the trees. Night insects chirped and whirred, and occasionally a bat or night hawk swooped and fluttered through the light, feeding on the insects drawn to it. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

There wasn't much she could say to that, and she simply gave a sympathetic twitch of her ears as she kept her head on her paws. She thought that she might be angry, if she were in Cairo's paws. Angry, disappointed, frustrated about the whereabouts of his father, that missing part of his history, of his family. And maybe he was to some degree, but if he was, the man hid it well.

When she awoke later, she caught Cairo's single eye. She mimicked him by closing one of her own and waggled her brows at him. After a few minutes she huffed, and drew herself up to stand with a small shake that rippled along her back and ended in a flick of her tail. "I'll be back soon," she murmured. "Soonish. Taking a walk." Mal crossed their little campsite and went deeper into the willows, heading north.

The warmth of the fire slowly dissipated as she moved off, and the chill returned, hailing the coming season. The moonlight shifted over her pelt, coming through in bits and pieces as she moved in the shadows beneath the trees. Her ears flicked at the night sounds, the whisper of wind brushing through the tendrils. Her paws took her back to the willow with a bubbling stream that trickled alongside it, the one whose upturned roots she'd bedded down between, when she first came to these woods. Tentatively, she sniffed at it, before circling and settling into the nook. She'd had trouble sleeping then, too. Even in the fog her mind had been in, after... somehow, everything found its way to her slumbering hours. She'd wake up exhausted and twitchy, and drag herself onwards.

When Sirius found her, took her in, the fog cleared. Mal had latched onto him, feeling the first semblance of security she'd had in ages. That first night, paws muddied and caked in dirt from digging out her den, she'd slept well, happy and undisturbed. After a few weeks, her dreams became restless again. She thought that she'd made herself anxious, throwing herself into her lessons. That was probably the reason, right? But after today, she wasn't so sure.

The Valhallan was incredibly sharp. It made their interactions unexpected: fun in one heartbeat, and frustrating in the next, when he'd pinned down some part of her she hadn't even given. Particularly that part about running. Mal narrowed her eyes and turned over on her back, glaring up at the canopy. That comment had seemed very directed at her, hadn't it? And she was flat out uncomfortable. It was like he was holding a mirror up to her worst parts, and she didn't want to look. The days were easier, with their distractions, and at least she was unconscious when she slept. But these moments, awake and alone with her thoughts, were maddening. She just wanted to stop feeling so bad.

Mal exhaled slowly, picking out the moon behind the treetops.

"Speech"

He watched, nodding as she rose and spoke of taking a walk. He wouldn’t follow. He had a sense that she wanted to be alone for a minute, and he had the drying meat to watch. The scavengers hadn’t come out of the woodwork, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t at some point. He could only hope the ‘yotes and other smaller scavengers would wait until they’d departed the kill-site. He did keep an ear out for her, ready to charge in if she suddenly needed help for any reason. But all was well, so he pulled himself to his paws, stretching, and made the rounds around the fire again, feeding the flames, turning the racks, nibbling some strips himself to test the flavor—pretty damn good… He found himself humming, then singing quietly, almost mumblingly to himself. It was a Nomad song he’d often overheard Paladin singing, a sort of lullaby about perseverance, happy days, long travels and setting up camp for another night. He wasn’t so good at the Old Tongue as Aurielle and Paladin and their family, but he gave it a good go, mumbling the tune when he hit words he couldn’t remember or pronounce well. He had a smooth, deep voice, and thankfully, he could carry a tune instead of cat-wailing off on a tooth-itchingly bad key. Once the racks were adjusted he turned to the hide, plucking a shoulder blade from the carcass to use as he’d seen Domari doing and bent to begin fleshing the hide. He kept up the lazy tune, trailing from the initial song to a ballad he just hummed, not knowing the words to it. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

How so very hard it was, to think of what had gone before. Only the barest flashes crossed her mind, and she felt sick to her stomach at the images. She couldn't forget them, no, but she'd so well hidden them in the recesses of her mind. When she conjured them up again, they were almost like new. Mal tasted a copper tang in the back of her throat, but she couldn't be sure if it was real.

Damn. If only there were a few lavender flowers around. It was the only plant she knew thus far that could soothe this uneasiness she felt, and she didn't carry any with her, either. With a sigh, she turned over onto her belly and pushed herself to her paws. Padding over to the stream, she dunked her head in, grateful for the icy shock of water. She held it there until she couldn't stand it any longer, and tugged free, gasping for air and dripping wet and cold. She pawed at her face, and sloughed the excess water away. Her face would probably be a bit damp, still, by the time she returned to the campsite.

The living woods, the hum of insects, the bubbling streams and the occasional call, weren't the only sounds that filled the air. Mal was only a couple of feet away from the campsite when her ears swiveled forward, straining to hear the man's faint tune. She pressed forward curiously, stepping into the light of the fire, and spied Cairo fleshing the hide as he hummed. She walked over to her original spot, and bedded down.

They never sang that often in the Armada, but they did in her old pack. Great choruses that filled the air just before a hunt, or after. Soft lullabies when Pia put her and her siblings to bed. Her ears twitched, eyes trained on him as he hummed, her features softening as she listened.

It was soothing to hear.


"Speech"

He was well aware of the distant sounds, one ear swiveling as he listened. When she returned he glanced up, smiling with a soft tap of his tail as he scraped, then as the hide began scooting under the scraper, he hummed with a slight thoughtfulness among the tune as he rose to his paws and then on to his back feet and paraded around, eyes shifting for the sturdier willow limbs, plucking several down and beginning the process of poking holes with his bear clawed bracer and pegging the hide. He occasionally flicked a glance at her from the corner of his eye, noting that she’d doused her head at some point, and had settled down where she’d been dozing previously. There was a slow softening of her features as time went by, so he kept up the low crooning of different songs, sometimes with the words and sometimes without. He eventually got the hid stretched out, the sharpened willow stakes keeping the hide pinned in place as he bent back to scraping in an easy rhythm to the tune he was vocalizing in a low voice. It was one he'd heard Aurielle singing a lot lately. No words, but a melody he found bolstering. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

She watched wordlessly as Cairo moved around the campsite, plucking the thin branches from the trees and beginning to peg the hide. She watched absently, the whole of her focused solely on the smooth, deep tone that poured out from the larger man. He had a voice that was pleasant against her ears, that was easy to listen to, and though she wasn't tired, she briefly closed her eyes as he went about his work, moving from tune to tune. The occasional wag of her tail was the only sign of her wakefulness. Some of the words were strange to her, some of the melodies harder to follow, but it was a comforting thing to hear the man sing.

She raised her eyes again as he began to vocalize a wordless, wandering melody that dipped low and high, and then higher still. The bridge was a touch somber, emphasized by the lone ringing of his voice in the air, the crackling fire, the hum of the woods around them. It soon came back 'round to that pleasing melody, and Malalia closed her eyes again.

"I like listening to you," she murmured simply, quietly, drowsily. And she did; his voice was round and full and lovely. It had quelled the storm of emotions within her, for the time being. "Where did you learn to sing?"


"Speech"

He was glad to see that his gentle song was settling whatever was eating at her. It passed the time in mutual contentment as he worked the hide until the flesh and membrane and fat was all gone when she spoke up. “I’m glad.” His voice was quiet, relaxed, and he chuckled softly adding, “Aurielle and her cousin Paladin like to sing. It’s a tie to their Nomad family. The Nomads are a multi-chapter … hm. What word to use… There’s one main group in the land Aurielle’s great grandmother came from, where Erani’s direct cousins lead. Then there are many chapters and smaller bands that satellite around the world. They’re elite healers, some of the best in the world, and also masters of defensive battle, primarily the defense of others.” He stretched and tossed the shoulder blade aside, moving to turn the racks again before settling down nearby the girl, close but with a few feet between, half curled, tail flipped over his toes. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

A fond little laugh escaped her at the story he told. It seemed like every anecdote she asked of the male stemmed from some rich history, some deeper lore, with hours upon hours of stories woven in between. Then again, his ancestors had been kings and queens, hadn't they? It seemed only fitting, then, that this not-quite-a-prince would carry such a history with him, even adjacently. The Nomads were interesting to learn about. She'd heard story upon story of ingenious hunters and great warriors, both in myth and in the world at large, but scarce came the tale of master healers, at least to the degree that Cairo seemed to emphasize.

"Healer-defenders, huh? The Nomads sound pretty amazing," she yawned. She curled in a little tighter. "I'd love to learn from someone like that..." A subtle furrowing of her brows. Would she even have the time to do such a thing, if it were even possible? If she were going to become Reaper, or even a simple warrior, the girl would be shouldering a whole new set of responsibilities. She doubted she'd have time for anything else.

Her ears twitched as he settled closer to her, and she cracked one eye open, smiling lightly. She was quietly grateful for the company.


"Speech"

He smiled, chin settling on his paws and tail as he nodded. “They’re incredibly knowledgeable. They travel with their yurts and huts on travois, and all their supplies.” His head tipped to grin at her adding in response to her words, “You certainly could learn from them. They offer their knowledge freely. That is their self-appointed purpose in life. Some might choose to settle with a pack if they find something that calls to them there, whether it’s love or ready ears for learning. But usually they wander far and wide to spread their healing knowledge.” His eyes shifted to the fire, a smile on his features as he drew in a contented sigh and let it out. It was a peaceful night, enjoyable and never silent, but in a pleasing way. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

She snorted faintly at the strange word, "yurt," but otherwise listened silently. Her ears perked as he added the bit about the Nomads taking it upon themselves to teach freely, and plenty of them taking on a wandering role. That was certainly interesting... and certainly a little more attainable than trying to take lessons half-way across the continent, or the world.

They settled into a comfortable silence, and after a couple of heartbeats, Malalia felt herself getting to that place between sleep in the waking world. She was nodding off, feeling slumber pull at her eyelids... and that simply wouldn't do! She wanted to stay awake, at least for a little while longer. She reached over to gently poke Cairo's forepaw with her own. "Would you... teach me a song?" Had she been a little more awake, she might've been a little embarrassed at her brazen desire to stay up with her new friend, to draw out the night a little longer. But as it was, she didn't care. She was too sleepy, the fire was too warm, the Valhallan's voice too soothing, for her not to ask again.


"Speech"

He was on the edge of considering a nap between rack turning shifts when her paw touched his and he opened his eyes, ears perked. He smiled, though, nodding in thought as he dug through what he knew, preferably one in the common tongue. “Here’s an old ballad in common tongue that should be easy to learn… it’s not fast. It might be a bit sad, though. They do like those sad ones.” He cleared his throat softly, finding the tune with a few hums of different notes before actually beginning the song. It was one that had helped him heal and move forward in his own hurts. Generally, it was best for a female voice, and one time when he’d gone with Aurielle for a chat with the local Western Boreas chapter of Nomads, they’d had a night of singing with this one that actually used instruments, which had been fascinating to watch. Wolves and primates coming together to play musical instruments. The wind and night songs would have to do here. He ran through it slowly, letting her hear thelyrics as he went, then again at the normal pace unless she wanted a few more run-throughs of the lyric version. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

She exhaled through her nose, brows furrowing humorously at the comment about sad songs. But those were the best ones, weren't they? Bittersweet ballads with lyrics that pulled at your heart strings, tunes that rode swelling and ebbing waves of emotion.

Malalia raised her head a little to listen as Cairo began the song. And... it was a bit sad. The words were wistful, drawing up images of times long gone. The melody was somber, too, an ambling thing that stepped gently from word to word, embellished here and there with little trills, and phrases that soared a little higher than the main melody.

She blinked as she listened to his slow run through, and when he began the tune again, she joined along, simply humming the melody for the first verse. When it came around to "Will we treasure all the secrets...", she joined in with the words. Her own voice, while a little tentative at the unfamiliar song, was mellow and even. Save for a bit of a stumble on the high parts, the tune came relatively easy, and she closed her eyes as she caught the hang of it.


"Speech"

She was a quick learner, and as she eventually joined in, he let his voice meld with hers, matching as wolves were meant to do for eons. He took her through a last run through, watching with a half-smile until the end, letting the silence after slowly regain the gentle night songs of the insects and frogs. “Well done, Lia. You learn quickly. You’ve a lovely voice.” That genuine, warm nature of his shone through in his words and easy smile, tail tapping the ground as he let his forepaws cross. “I think you’d enjoy a Nomad’s music night.” Perhaps the Nomads would hold one for Aurielle’s next festival. He hoped so. It gave a lovely sort of backdrop to the bustling crowds of her last one, though he’d spent most of the festival at home, keeping watch. Valhalla had been smaller at the time, and was still small now, but he felt that the next one, the pack would be large enough that everyone would get to go in turn, especially if it was another multi-day festival. “Have you sung before now?” Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

It was nice, that feeling of singing with someone just to sing. Not as an idle thing, secondary to whatever task happened to be at hand. Mal sometimes hummed to herself absentmindedly, inserted a melody into her greetings or exclamations. It had been a while since she sang like this, however.

Hearing the praise, her tail thumped, ears gently planing. Thankfully, he wasn’t just saying that, and she was pleased. “Good to hear I’m not pitchy,” she grinned, and then chuckled slightly, because there was a song she knew that was just about that. Being out of tune.

He asked if she’d sung before. Her eyes opened slightly, an ear lifting at the question, but the night before them was not what slid behind her eyes. Malalia raised her head, jaws parting in a long yawn. “I have.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, gazed at the fire awhile before turning to Cai with a slight, complicated smile. “We… sang fairly often in my old pack — well, before I was born,” she amended, “But not so much, afterwards, so I was told. It was traditional to sing before a big hunt, raise everyone’s spirits and all that. Sometimes after, too. I heard a couple of rallies, though I only ever participated in one, when I was old enough to go hunting.”

Her eyes shone there at the memory of being joined with everyone in a great, undulating chorus, feeling the voices of her packmates pressing around her.

“My aunt and my dam sang to us, too,” she added, quieter. Mostly love songs and lullabies and the occasional plains tune. It wasn’t often; both of the women were busy. But it was enough to imprint a handful of favorites into her head.


"Speech"

He listened with interest as she told a little of the songs, nodding thoughtfully. He could understand the rallying, even if Valhalla hadn’t really done it themselves. It was generally a howl to call the hunters together, or the war circle together for some fighting training, since they hadn’t yet gone to raid, and had a whole winter to prepare before they did. Was Lirim preparing? It was another tidbit of her life and he tucked it away with the rest of the small pieces she’d offered. It was clear that the memories were bittersweet. He had several of those, himself, though probably fewer than she had. “Valhalla has a few customs that other packs might see as odd. Spontaneous play time, for instance.” He laughed softly as he remembered Aurielle telling him about the time Justice had snuck up on her and tugged her long haired tail. “And story time, though she’s given up on that one since the last few times no one else came. Ah well.” He shrugged and rested his chin on one paw smiling into the fire, ears flicking at the occasional night insect buzzing around his head on its way past. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

She angled her head, smiling lightly at Cairo's description of 'spontaneous play time.' "Odd? Maybe... but still, that sounds fun as heck," she grinned. "You're lucky I'm half-asleep," she yawned, turning over to lie on her side, keeping half-lidded eyes on her companion. "Otherwise I'd tackle you right friggin' now." She could, if she wanted, but darkness was fast on her heels.

Her ears flicked when he talked of storytelling, and she snorted faintly. Perhaps it was a bit odd; playtime and storytime did seem a little... childish, on the face of it. But then, Malalia didn't care. There was value in play, and lessons to be learned from stories. If nothing else, it would serve a bonding experience. "Shame," she breathed simply, eyes sliding to close. And no, she wasn't sleeping yet. She wasn't. "They don't know what they're missing," she murmured.

Mal would keep her ears open as long as she could, but she was heading straight for dreamland, in the quiet that engulfed their camp site.


"Speech"

He grinned, chuckling softly at her words, “It’s encouraged, since it’s a fun way to practice tracking, practice chasing, sparring, agility, and the like. One of our older warriors yanked Aurielle’s tail once, and it turned into a game of tag, according to her. I wasn’t there to witness it, but I wish I was.” The last he said with a laugh. He mirrored the girl, sprawling like a cat in front of the hearth on his side, as he continued, “And the story time is… basically all kinds of story. Pups are encouraged to tell stories about the leaf monsters they vanquished, or the lessons they attended, adults might tell a funny story about a moose couple, or it might be folk tales from their own culture from before they joined Valhalla, history lessons about the lands, their family, or like my own story about my namesake and such. I’d love to see it come back as a regular thing in the pack.” He smirked at her and her not sleepiness. It reminded him of being a pup, between his constant battles with colds, finally able to roughhouse right back, and his mother trying to get all five of them to settle down for the night so she could sleep or take a shift on sentry duty. So, he innocently began to nudge gently, falling into a low, crooning hum with no word, simply soothing and smoothing the trail into sleep. He dozed lightly himself, though managed to keep the drowy hum going, ears occasionally swiveling at various outlying noises. He wasn’t in his alcove at home, so there was some instinctive alertness that wasn’t shaken even by sleep. If something came, he’d be on his paws and fighting before you could say “boo”. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Swiveling her ears towards the sound of his voice, she listened thoughtfully. It was a slightly different kind of storytime than she had initially pictured, any and every pack member welcome to tell their tales from myth to real life to somewhere in between. She understood, a little more, why few attended. A pup chasing a leaf monster was... not the most thrilling thing in the world, she had to admit. Still, that was only her preference. The would-be tradition still sounded lovely to her.

"You should help bring it back," she offered. "Maybe offer some treats. Tell a few tales of your own." A single green eye opened to fixate on her companion. "Don't tell me no one wants to hear about Mister Lion Killer over there," she chuffed.

What she had said was growing ever quiet, words mumbled as she toed the line between awareness and unconsciousness. She would say no more, falling silent to listen to Cairo's low hum, drowning in the sound. With the man's soothing voice and the gravity of her own exhaustion, the world faded away. Her breathing gradually slowed, and finally settled as she drifted into sleep.


"Speech"

He smirked slightly at her comment, a chuckle filtering through his nose. It didn’t take much to tip the yearling into sleep. Hopefully the dreams would be pleasant. His own were a riot of many scenes, from chasing a moose calf and abruptly being confronted by its angry mother – that tugged a little yip through the humming – to an early memory of being small and still wholly dependent on his mother. Words hadn’t meant much, but her low voice had meant everything and more. A distant coyote bark intruded into the lazy dream-paths and his eyes opened, ears perking as he lifted his head slightly, listening to judge the distance of the yippersnapper. It was a long way off, likely harassing some other creature, and he relaxed again with one of those deep, full body sighs, ears flicking to listen to the night noises and Lia’s slow, easy breathing from a foot or two away. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think