Paws carry Meadow through the grove of willows that border their land. She steps around roots and small streams formed from the springs water. A gentle breeze rustles the long branches of the trees and tickles her fur. She has no really goal today, just to explore and see all the wonders of this place. Eyes search each tree and memorize every stream that she passes. She wants to learn them and remember the feelings that each one brings up in her.

Wonder. That is the feeling that is prominent in her right now. She has been here before, walked these woods and passed over the waters. Yet… she had not looked at them. Well, she had looked but not understood. She had not appreciated the way the breeze moves the curtain of leaves, making seem like they are dancing to some unknown tune. Or the way, the water twists around the roots, feeding them life and moving on.

Legs stop in front of a grand willow. It is huge and something speaks to her of its age. ‘I am old’ it seems to whisper to Meadow as it waves it long arms at her. Wonder once more settles over her as she watches the way the old willow's branches dance in the breeze. Closing her eyes, Meadow swears she can hear the song that they dance to. Legs start to move to the rhythm, sweeping her around the roots and streams, moving more than just her body.

It is a soulful experience, dancing with the trees and when the song ends, a sadness settles over her. It does not last long as happiness quickly appears. Sides heave from the dance and, opening her eyes once more, she bows to the willow. She tells it, “Thank you for the dance.” and offers a brilliant smile to the tree.


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Mortis wandered through the Weeping Woods. He had spent much of his young life here. Playing tag with Malalia through the trees, or complicated games of hide and seek. He had climbed the branches of tall willows and mimicked the songs of birds. It was as much his home as the actual territories of Armada. He moved quietly through the trees, wings held loosely by his side, as he considered how long it had been since he had last dragged Malalia through here. His friend had gotten lost in her Reaper responsibilities lately, and it felt a while since they had stayed up together by the firepit and told campfire stories. Lost in his reminiscing, he almost did not notice the stranger with Armada scents, jumping a little in surprise when she said something. He blinked across at the tiny wolf, a smile on his lips. “Pardon?” he asked. "Mortis"

It is Meadow’s turn to jump when a voice speaks up. It is just one word and when she looks at the young wolf, she sees a smile on his lips. The young wolf has the scent of Armada on him and that, coupled with the fact that he looks like a perfect blend of Zee and Sirius, has Meadow relaxing. A smile of her own mirrors the young wolf’s and she says, “Oh hello! Sorry I was just talking to the tree.” as she gestures a paw to the willow she danced with. Eyes sparkle as she says, “They are very good listeners.” and a laugh floats out onto the air.

Turning so she can face him a little better, she bows her head respectful and says, “My name is Meadow. I hope I did not startle you. I was just having a dance… with the willow.” The smile takes on a thoughtful quality as she looks at the tree. After a small pause she adds, “You know, I don’t normally make a habit of dancing with trees. It just…” with a shrug of her shoulders, she looks at the young wolf and finishes, “called to me.” Her smile grows as Meadow says, “Oh well. How often do I get to say, ‘I danced with a tree’ and mean it?” Her laughter fills the air.



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She spoke of listening to the trees, and he raised his head up, watching the branches wave gently in the soft wind. He smiled, and closed his eyes, listening to the rustle of the leaves. He opened his eyes to find her bowing, and started in surprise at the gesture. He wasn’t used to people introducing themselves to a pup with a bow. “Hi Meadow - I’ve heard of you, your Grammys sister, right?” he questioned, using his favorite endearment for his grandmother, Resin. “That makes you my… Great Auntie?” he clarified. “I don’t know about dancing with the trees, but I love to try and climb them” he admitted, showing her his retractable cat-like claws. “Shh, don’t tell anyone” he whispered, eyes dancing. “But I like to climb them and chat with the birds” he waved his own wings and grinned. He was practically half-bird himself. "Mortis"

A smile explodes across her face at hearing Resin being called Grammy. Meadow loves her sister with all her heart and, to know that she has been accepted as grandmother figure to him and his siblings, warms her heart greatly. A sweet, gentle laugh escapes as he calls her Great Auntie. She nods to confirm his questions. She says, “That I am. And I have heard of you! The winged wondered of the Armada! Faster than the fastest wolf, able to out run others without even trying. One might think that you are hiding some extra speed somewhere…” with a glance at his wings and a wink, she gives a small giggle.

Eyes sparkle and dance with laughter and joy. When he talks about climbing trees and shows Meadow his retractable claws, she nods and agrees, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Watching the winged youth, she laughs as he speaks of climbing the trees and talking to birds. When he waves his wings and grins, Meadow laughs with happiness. With a huge smile she leans toward him and says, “What if we make a deal? I will talk to the trees and you talk with the birds. But, we don’t tell anyone else that we can. Then we will know all the secrets of this forest and we can rule it together.”

Winking again, a bright smile on her lips Meadow finds herself filled with so much joy that she thinks she might burst.


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Mortis laughed softly, wondering what she had heard about it. It was strange to think that he was known well enough now that stories might be circulating about him. Or perhaps it was simply expected within family. “I’m going to shorten it to ‘Auntie’” he warned her with a grin. He spread out his wings further, giving them another short shake as she glanced at them and winked. The appendages didn’t seem to help with running. At least, he didn’t think so, but perhaps they did more then he realised. He snorted softly at her conspiratorial idea, and tippytoed closer to her. Standing right across from her, he realised how much he had to bend to reach her ear. She was… half his height! She was a tiny wee thing with a big heart. He loved her already. “Alright Auntie Dow, you tell the trees to make a really tight circle, and block off our forest from the world. The birds will be our subjects” he suggested, laughing softly at the thought of the world they mentally created. If only such wonders were so easy to bring to life. "Mortis"

The warning about calling her Auntie has Meadow grinning so wide that she fears she might strain a muscle. Move over Iolaire, there is competition in town for the heart of the Auntie. Really, there is no competition, she loves them both with all her heart but it makes her feel all warm and fuzzy to think it. She had heard his name somewhere before and, after a moment, remembers it as Mortis. Watching as he spreads his wings further, shaking them before giving her a wink. Meadow chuckles at his display. The wings are so unique and he should proud of them.

He is so tall, just like his father, and when Mortis tippytoes closer to stand across from her, she comes to appreciate just how tall he is. Poor guy has to bend down to speak in her ear. Then she hears him say it, Auntie Dow. That is it. That is the moment Meadow becomes wrapped around his paw. She is helpless to stop the affection growing for Mortis, not that she wants to anyway. But, as it is in every case, when Meadow begins caring of another, she throws all her heart into it.

Eyes dance with mischief and she nods heartily to his statement. His soft laugh has her smile growing and with a giggle she looks at the willow. Clearing her throat, she stamps a paw on the ground. “Alright trees, listen up now. I want you all to form a tight circle. No one in or out.” She says it in a serious tone but the way her words are laden with unspoken laughter, suggest other things. Waiting a moment, in which nothing happens with the trees, she raises an eyebrow and says, “Well? Get a move on… please.”

When they fail to follow her command, she turns to Mortis and says, “Well Mort, I think they are taking a break. Trees are notorious for being very lazy. Just so know.” Laughter finally breaks the dam and flows out. After a moment, she looks at the tall wolf and says, “Well, maybe you will have more luck with the birds.” Winking at him, she finds her tail wagging slowly but happily. What a great day this is turning into.


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He was becoming accustomed to soaring high above the heads of others. And he didn't even need wings to achieve it. About half way through his youth, he had started to shoot up, and felt he was only just slowing. Not that his appetite slowed much. The boy could tuck away a large amount of grub in a short time.

Standing across from Meadow however, was something else entirely. She had the height of a child, and a hearts light as through she had never known wrong. It made his own ache, to think of her innocence. To think how he has lost his just a few months into life. He would protrct and shield this little one, if he could.

He laughed softly as the trees ignored her. It hardly came as a surprise to either of them. However, now Mort was up. He brushed past his Auntie, bending in half to kiss his little Aunties cheek before bounding towards her willow.

He scrambled up one of the lower branches, and stretched out across it like a cat. His feline claws digging into bark, and his wings spreading out either sid of him. Offeri g him balance. Resting just so, he raised his head, and began a soft mimicry of bird song, contortions his throat to make the music of birds.

A smile plays across her lips as she watches Mortis, the big youth makes her feel like a child again. While there have been wolves in her life that have told the happy lady that she needs to grow up, Meadow never really could. For some reason, she has always seen the good in everything, the silver lining to every cloud. Maybe Resin shielded her from all the sadness that would have taken away her innocence or, perhaps, it is just something wrong within her. Either way, the small wolf has been a child in adult clothing all her life.

Now that she has found Mort, she doesn’t feel so alone. While she has her good friend Hanako and Spirit that she cares about, there is a part of Meadow that has always wanted a young pup of her own. In Mortis, she sees, not only a Nephew and friend but another, young wolf that she can show the wonders of this world. Her heart sings with joy at having another family member and, when he leans down to kiss her cheek, Meadow giggles and calls after him, “Please be careful!”

Watching as he climbs onto a low branch, she starts to laugh softly as he begins to make the songs of birds. The laughter stops and ears perk up as he gets answers! Is it her imagination or are they talking to the Mort? Songs ring through the trees and she looks around with wide, fascinated eyes. She calls out, “Mort! They think you are one of them!” and a huge, brilliant smile appears. Birds have always been a fascination of Meadow’s and to hear them calling to Mort as if is one of their own has her heart leaping with joy.

Looking up at Mortis, perched on the branch with his wings extended, Meadow marvels as a Great Horned owl suddenly appears and silently glides toward the winged wolf. It lands in front of him, on the same branch that he rests on and looks up at him. Great owl eyes blink slowly, as if assessing him before letting out a hoot. Meadow watches the whole exchange with wide eyes and open mouth. She has never seen an owl.. ever! Calling out to Mortis, she says, “Looks like you speak bird too well! You made a new friend!” and continues to watch the pair with wide, sparkling eyes. This is all so amazing!



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Ah! look at that, fitting into the roll of Auntie like she had been there all his life. Calling out for him to be careful as he climbed up the branch like he was born to it. He stuck his tongue out at her, but hunkered down to show he really was being careful. He didn’t want the wolves he loved in his life to worry. When he settled into his singing, his eyes closed, he did not expect it to work. Like trees, birds had a mind of their own, and weren’t in the habit of following the bidding of wolves. When the forest filled with singing, his voice wobbled a little in unspoken laughter, and still he continued on. He remembered how, when Mal had taught him how to do this, the blackbirds had sung with them. He startled a little when weight slightly rustled his brunch, and his eyes opened to find the owl before him. He dipped his head gently in respect to the creature, startled that it had come so close. Not for a moment did he think ‘lunch’ instead, he saw intelligence behind its eyes. Just like he dad Bast, the leopard that had been their nursemaid growing up. “Oh brilliant owl” he whispered. “My friend thinks you are wonderful, won't you say hello to her? She has the spirit of the gentlest wolf in the land, and I think she would do well with a friend like you” he whispered softly to the owl. Not knowing if his words would be heard, or understood, but feeling that they were right regardless. "Mortis"

The stuck out tongue when he climbs the tree is not lost on Meadow and she crinkles her face in a, ‘don’t argue with me’ look that holds nothing but unvoiced mirth in it. Still, she gives him a small shake of her head and a smile as he hunkers down to show her he is being careful.

After the owl arrives, she watches with astonishment from afar. Head tilts slightly as it appears like Mortis talks to the bird. She cannot hear what he says but after a moment, the owl turns its head to look at her. Gazing into its deep orange eyes filled with such intelligence, Meadow finds the wind rush out of her lungs in a breathless, “Wow.” After a moment, the owl turns its head back to Mort and dips its body in acknowledgement of his words.

Wings spread as it flies off the branch to glide down to Meadow and land in front of her. The small wolf’s eyes grow even wider as it closes it wings and looks up at her. Glancing up at Mortis she says, “He… he came down to me.” before almost stumbling backward as the owl dips its head in agreement. Looking at the creature very intently she asks the bright-eyed owl, “Do you… understand me?” and squeals in delight as it once more nods its understanding.

So happy, is Meadow, that she almost dances in place as she tells Mortis, “He understands me Mort! I have never met an owl like him before!! Well, to be honest, I have never met an owl before. Do you think I can keep him? Either way, he needs a name. What should we call him Mortis?” Glancing from the owl to Mort and back, she ponders names as the owl looks calmly at her. Eyes blink slowly as he awaits to have a name bestowed upon him.



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He felt like the bird acknowledged him, that the head tilt was no random event. A thrill shot through the boy. He had spoken to the forest, and the forest had answered. This owl was a wise woodland creature, and it had cared enough to take a moment to acknowledge them. In that moment, briefly, Mortis felt powerful. The boy remained still as the owl stretched his wings, though his own couldn’t help but twitch in envy. If only he too, could open his wings and fly. When the bird landed, Mort scrambled to climb down the tree. Going down was always more awkward then up, his body wasn’t made to contort like a cats, even if he had the claws, and wings to balance him. When he was close to the trunk, he spread his wings, and jumped. His own descent a sad mimicry to the owls, and he landed heavily. He was on his paws again an instant later, a grin on his maw, as he trotted closer to girl and bird. Not close enough to intrude. With mischief in his eyes, Mort wagged his tail and looked at his Auntie. “I think he likes you” he told the older woman, before hunkering down closer to the bird's height. Nobody had ever asked him to name something before… it required a great deal of thought now. He scrunched up his nose, and considered it for a time. This bird was a creature of the stars. He had learned a little of stars now, from Asla, and from wanderers. “Rigel…?” He suggested hesitantly. "Mortis"

She is enthralled with the owl that Meadow misses the way Mort descends the tree. All she knows is, one minute, he is up on the branch and next, Mort is on the ground with smile on his face. His tail wags and she finds her own tail wagging slowly as she looks from the owl to Mortis. When he comments about the bird liking her and then proceeds to make himself smaller, a small chuckle escapes Meadow. She says, “Something tells me, you had a paw in that.” With a wink and a twinkle of laughter in her eyes, she looks back to the owl.

When Mortis proposes the name Rigel, she asks the owl, “Well what do you think? Is Rigel your name?” It opens it wings wide and, for a brief moment, Meadow’s heart drop as she prepares for the owl to fly off. However, it does not leave, instead lowing its body in a sort of bow. A burst of laughter fills the air and Meadow returns the bow, dipping her head down and extending a paw forward. After she returns to her full height, she looks at Mortis and says happily, “Rigel it is!”

Mimicking Mort, Meadow lays down on her belly. Placing her head on the ground, Rigel walks up to her and starts to groom the fur on her head. It tickles and she giggles at the sensation. Looking at the big wolf she says, “You picked the perfect name Mort! It sounds like it is very powerful. Is there a story behind it?” As Rigel continues to pick at the fur on her head, Meadow watches the winged wolf with great curiosity.



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When she accused him, he just grinned and held his peace. He already knew in his heart of hearts that Meadow was a good wolf. She deserved wholesomeness and magic in her life. Let her guess, or wonder, and besides. Mort had only suggested it, it was the bird's decision to go and see the wolf he had spoken of. “I promised you a subject, it seems I found you a friend instead” he teased softly. He didn’t expect the name to stick, but both owl and Auntie seemed to take to it. Mort joined in with the bowing, and looked thoughtfully at the owl, at ‘Rigel’ companions were a strange thing. Wolves ate creatures of the woods. But every now and then, one seemed to come along that held almost magic. Something different. And aligned themselves with a wolf partner. Rigel it seemed, would be one of those creatures. “Asla found a tube that lets her see the stars. Close-up like. One of them I've been told is ‘Rigel’. It is large, and blue, and brilliant.” he explained softly. "Mortis"

Mortis teases her that he had promised a subject and Meadow’s eyes sparkle. Her heart feels fit to burst from all the happiness. “Well, every great leader is friends with their subjects.” she tells him with wink and a chuckle. The small wolf knows she was not born to be a ruler, sovereign or any kind of leader and the idea of having ‘subjects’ is such a foreign concept to her. However, when she looks at Mort, she sees the potential to be a great leader and a gentle ruler. Something in her knows that he will do great things in his life. Her eyes full of love for her Great Nephew she has just found, Meadow smiles warmly at him

As she lays there, with Rigel preening her fur, Meadow listens to Mort explain the name Rigel comes from a star. Her head lifts off the ground to crane back and look up at the sky. While it is day time right now, she imagines the night sky, full of stars, winking down at her. She does not know their names but it is a comforting thought to know that they do have them. It makes them more tangible almost as if… she could reach up and pluck them down from the heavens to talk to them. A wistful sigh falls out and Meadow, careful of Rigel, rolls onto her back to look up at the sky. Clouds lazily drift along and she finds herself starting to daydream.

“Mort. Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live up there?” she asks as a paw points to the firmament. She continues, “You could be part of the stars at night and float along with the clouds during the day. You know… sometimes… I dream that I can fly. When I dream, I fly up there and touch the moon and talk to the stars. Oh, the stories they tell! I have heard that there is a wolf on the moon and sometimes… I talk to it.” Something in her feels silly for admitting she talks to the moon but Meadow knows that this is a safe place to talk of such foolish thing. For a brief moment, she stretches her paw out toward the sun and tries to touch it.

When it is apparent to her that she is not actually touching the sun another melancholy sigh escapes and she says, “Oh well, my paws will never leave the ground. I am not cool like you and have retractable claws or beautiful wings.” From her position, on her back, she tilts her head to look at Mortis and shoots him an upside-down smile. She feels safe telling Mortis her secrets. Something whispers to Meadow that he will not judge her as harshly as other wolves might. Being a dreamer can be dangerous in a world where you are expected to keep your paws on the earth. But Meadow? Well, she flies away any chance she can get.

Rigel hoots at her and Meadow realizes her paw is still outstretched toward the sun. Looking back at the sky she flops the offending leg back down and asks, “Mort. What do you dream about?”



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He startled at her words. He was one of the heirs to the Ashen Armada, his brother Azure being the second. Mort had always thought his over-familiarity and silliness with the members of the Armada was against him. He loved the wolves that lived here, he loved to make them smile, even if in doing so brought out his goofy side. So simple, her words, so simple, and yet they took his breath away. Could it be a benefit, and not a hindrance, to call each and every one of them his friend? “I fear it would be very lonely to live up there. Everything I love is here.” he placed a paw on the firm earth before him in emphasis. “I used to dream I could fly” but the reality had almost killed him. It had broken his friendship with Azure. “Mother forbade me against ever trying again. I, and my wings, are too heavy” he explained. What did he dream about now? He wasn’t sure he remembered his dreams. We went to bed late, and woke up early. Trying to keep pace with his dad’s schedule. His old man almost never seemed to sleep. He let out a soft sigh, looking over at Meadow sheepishly. “I dream of Azure apologising to me, for saying he wants nothing more than to be my friend. That we would get to work together again, like we used to as very young children.” a silly dream. "Mortis"

She watches Mort, from her upside-down position, and smiles at his wise words. “It would be lonely. Maybe, this is the best place for us. Maybe… by staying... we can make the world into a better place.” she says softly, offering him a smile. A pang of sympathy resounds through her as he speaks of dreaming to fly. Eyes fill with great empathy as Meadow listens to why he cannot soar among the clouds. It would hurt so much if she had wings but could not fly. To be so close to touching the heavens and then to fall short… it makes Meadow’s heart ache for Mortis.

Looking back up to the sky, still laying on her back, she says, “There is a reason for everything Mort. I know that it must hurt not to be able to fly but there is a reason you have wings. It might be so you can shield your friends better or to offer a safe place to hide one’s head when they cry. Whatever it is, you have them for a very special reason.” Tilting her head back to look at him she adds, “And I am glad you have them.” A bright smile rests on her lips.

When he talks about Azure apologizing and being his friend her heart once more hurts for him. Rolling back onto her stomach, Meadow stands and moves close to Mortis, aiming to lay by his side, if he will allow her. She is a very tactile wolf and being able to hug or pat or touch those who hurt is a gift that gives freely. “That is a great dream Mort.” she says as she moves to lean into his side. Her small frame offer what comfort it can.

Her voice is gentle as she says, “Have you thought about letting Azure know you forgive him? Azure may never apologize Mortis but you can forgive whatever he did. That is the most powerful gift you can give yourself. Things happen and change is as constant as the wind. It may never go back to the way it was but maybe it can be better. Maybe, you can start something new and better with Azure.” Her smile is soft as she adds, “You know, a sign of great leader is compassion.” Looking up at Mort with a giant smile she finishes, “And you Mortis, have that skill down. Maybe it is time you shared that compassion with Azure.” She hopes that, in some way, her words help heal his wounded heart.



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Meadows upside smile was every bit as brilliant as when she sat upright. She was going to get grass and dirt down her pack, but somehow Mortis didn't think she cared. He was always coming home muddy, dusty and sandy. It exasperated his mother to no end.

"I do like to use them like little pieces of shade, and make a world just for me and another" he agreed. They were perfect for drawing a wolf into a hug, or creating a little pocket of shade.

When he mentioned Azure, Meadow rolled closer. He smiled at her, and drew one if his wings over her. Pulling it tightly over her, like a living blanket that just wanted to hug.
"Thanks Auntie. Your a very wise wolf" he admitted snuggling his head into the side of her neck. She wa said tiny that his wing enveloped her, and his big head stuck out of where he buried it. He laughed softly and pulled ber in closer. If she was so tiny, it was because she was meant to be cuddled.

Smiling at his words about his wings, Meadow pictures Mortis curling up with another and blocking out the world with his wings. It makes her wonder if she will ever meet a special wolf to share her life with. For a moment she feels a yawning sense of longing to be loved threatens to engulf her. All she has to do is look at Mort and the sadness and longing melts away. While she might not have one wolf to share her life with, she still has many who love her. Each and every one is special to her and she would not trade them for the world.

When she moves to rest next to him, Mortis smiles and places a wing over her. Eyes widen in wonder as she feels the feathers against her coat. Giggles of pure delight escape and she feels like a puppy who has just seen their first butterfly. When he pulls it tight over her, the giggles turn into a laugh of joy as she snuggles into his side under his wing. The laughter dies down and when he calls her a wise wolf, the giggles threaten to start again. Her? Wise? A giggle escapes as she says, “Me? Wise? Oh no, I am not wise my favorite Nephew. I just have a knack for talking.”

The smile she offers is lopsided and goofy but filled with joy. When he snuggles his head against her, Meadow almost gets lost under the big wolf. The wing completely hides her form from the world and his head sticks out from her where he tries to bury it. When he laughs and pulls her in closer, Meadow laughs happily. She feels so accepted, so loved by Mortis that she cannot help but feel like the happiest wolf in the world. As her laugh slows and fades, she closes her eyes and leans into his embrace. Softly, slowly, she starts to hum a song from her youth, a song that her mother use to sing. A song that holds many memories and much love in it. And now, she shares it with Mort.



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He laughed suddenly at her words. "I'm telling the others you said that" he teased. He judged her gently, looking at her over the fur of her neck. "You put enough words together in the right order. I think you wise." He said softly, nestling head against her coat again. She was a wonderful Auntie. A confident with whom he could share his worries. She smelled like earth and flowers and feathers. She smelled like home just as mother as his mother and father did. She might have missed the first few seasons of his life, but he knew now she was here to stay.

She began to sing, and he closed his eyes, listening, to the soft sound of it. He felt accelted, and loved. No expectations, no wondering if he would be a worthy leader from the wolf next to him. No frowns over the way he acts. Just acceptance, and love. His eyes stayed closed, nestled on the soft grassy floor. He knew they were being watched over. The keen eyes of a wise old owl ensured their safety. Not that anyone could get to his little Meadow, hidden benearh his wing.