The invaders were driven away, and for the first time in her life Aryn could feel she had a real hand in it. Nobody could say she had not given her all in the raid, even sacrificed her own flesh to see Habari successful. It felt like real, tangible growth - a far cry from throwing up on Tyrian so many seasons ago - so why didn't she feel good about it? Aryn sighed, laying buried in the long grasses of the nook and gazing into the waters of the Rio Grande, lost in her thoughts and staring deep into her scarred reflection.

In the defense of her home she had forced at least one pirate to surrender and had sapped the strength of another. It should make her feel successful, but it was impossible to be proud of such a minor victory when she had utterly failed where it really counted. Veigar had taken a wound so deep that she was sure it would scar, and not even Aryn's desperate intervention had protected him. Then in the fury of witnessing his injury she had attempted to mirror it on one of the invaders. That too, failed, and had earned her a gruesome wound of her own, an ugly, long gash across her brow and between her eyes. Aryn knew it was a scar some wolves might be proud to wear, but every painful tug of the skin upon her forehead only served to remind her of how hideous she now was. How would she ever find a mate, looking the way she did? At least she could somewhat hide the scar upon her chest, she had successfully hid it from Eli on more than one occasion.

Eli. Aryn buried her muzzle in her paws, heat flooding to her cheeks at just the thought of the Aerie alpha. Their last meeting had not gone well, and while Eli seemed apologetic for the way it turned out they had not quite been able to gather back the level of friendship they'd once had. Aryn knew it was not fair to be angry at him for not reciprocating her childish crush, but the knowledge that she was being unreasonable did nothing to quell the burning shame at his words or her reaction. Now with the scar upon her face, whatever hopes she still had at winning him over had spluttered into nothingness. Perhaps accepting it would be the push she needed to face him once more.

The train of thought was enough to break the dam of emotions within her, a pained whimper escaping her muzzle as she freed it from her paws and threw it down angrily upon the grass. She was a terrible mother, a terrible fighter, a terrible packmate, and now, a terrible candidate for anything even resembling love or romance. If only the river would rise and swallow her up right here where she lay.

The last few days had been trying, to say the very least. Veigar had slowly been recovering from the wound the red-furred wolf had inflicted upon him, the scar now plainly visible on his shoulder for all to see. Now that the general soreness and wounds he'd endured had faded he felt more like himself, though his ego still felt quite bruised. He was only becoming more and more aware of just how little he could see now, which sounded silly but his vision had declined so steadily that he'd learned to adapt. The blurry shapes and hazy hues that filled his vision were normal to him now and he'd learned how to use his other senses to his advantage, though he feared he wouldn't be able to hide it for very much longer. Especially not when, coupled with the adrenaline of the raid, he felt like he'd barely been able to see anything at all.

He truthfully had no idea how Aryn had fared, not really. Though she was one of the wolves he was closest to, even he knew he'd grown distant from here lately, ever since the long night and even more so since she'd been punished for leaving Habari. The distance that had grown there was obvious but not something he could address. There was far too much to unpack there and to say Veigar was emotionally stunted was an understatement; everything that had affected him emotionally was shoved deep down, left to simmer for now until the inevitable happened.

Restlessly he trailed after Aryn's scent, not entirely surprised to find her lying in the grasses near the river. He made no effort to hide his approach, paws trampling the tall grasses as he moved to lie alongside her. At first he was quiet as he slid down onto his stomach, content to simply exist alongside one of the wolves that had (mostly) always been by his side since childhood, but the silence was short-lived. "Are you feeling better after the raid?" He tilted his head to look at her. Even though her features were blurred, the scar on her face invisible to him, she was still familiar enough, not only thanks to her scent - her purple eyes were a stark contrast to the black and white fur that enveloped the rest of her, but everything else was growing harder to focus on with each month that passed.

The stomping of pawpads alerted her to the presence of another and Aryn's head shifted along the grass to eye the approaching wolf uneasily. Her first instinct told her it was Recluse, here to see her maimed a third time for her failings to protect the one dearest to her. Veigar's appearance was relieving to say the least, but there mingled with the comfort was shame - always shame. The yearling lay down beside her and Aryn's head lifted to mirror his positioning.

Her soft pink gaze lingered only a moment upon the angry scar upon his shoulder, then she found herself staring back into the reflection upon the water in self loathing. "I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be asking how you are." She gave back with a smile, forcing enough contentment into her words that she hoped they would come across as casual and familial. Her and Veigar had drifted apart as soon as the Long Night had fallen, and past that their bond had only fractured further and further. Unwilling to risk even more damage to the relationship, the Valentine woman would feign merriment for as long as she could get away with it. "Does it still hurt?" Nosing her muzzle forward, she gestured toward the healing wound.

One of the absolute worst parts of his fading vision was that he could not longer see the subtleties of facial expressions. Aryn could've been smiling or scowling at him, for all he knew; but the way her voice sounded made it obvious her brow was likely furrowed in concern and she was most likely looking at him with compassion, not far off from how she used to look at him. There was an odd tone to her voice that he couldn't quite place, though it wasn't like Veigar had ever been the best at reading others. If anything it was something he'd always struggled with.

"That's a non answer," he told her gently. He'd never been a particular warm wolf even in his youth and now that he was approaching his second birthday he hadn't gotten any less hostile - though his mother figures were a stark exception to that rule. Though his words were warm enough though the luminescent markings across his body flared all at once, strong enough to be seen in daylight, though the glow was short-lived.

Her question earned a low sigh. "It's fine. Mostly healed now, I think." His main concern was that he was in fighting shape again as soon as possible; who knew how long it might be until another group showed up and threatened them? Perhaps next time the stakes would be real, and his loss would be even more stinging than it was now. What hurt even worse than his loss though was that Aryn had stepped in to protect him. The loyalty was appreciated, though he wasn't sure he could ever really convey that, but the fact that he'd needed a defender at all was embarrassing.

It was hard to not be paranoid. Had she noticed the way his eyesight had been deteriorating at an agonizing slow rate? The speed at which it had occurred had helped him acclimate to things, to avoid anyone finding out, but if anyone would notice it would be her. Maybe she'd found out and she wanted to protect him. He feared how the wolves of Habari would treat him if - no, once they found out. He wasn't foolish enough to think he could hide it forever. "You don't need to jump into a fight for me like that, you know. I can handle it." Aryn was not a fighter, not deep down in her heart, and he knew that. No matter how much training or practice she managed he simply couldn't see her as one, and the thought of her getting hurt because he couldn't hold his own didn't settle well with him at all.

Veigar was gentle with his prodding, but drew attention to her lack of a real answer regardless. She gave him a wordless and reassuring smile - ignorant to the fact that he could not distinguish it - and shook her head. Surely he had noticed the grisly wound she had taken across her face or the way she had been staring into the water like she wished it would rise up and wash her away; Aryn did not feel like she was lying to him by suffering in silence, not when her pain was so clear to read on her face.

She accepted the subject change easily, shifting her weight off of her stomach and chest to rest upon her hip so she could position her body more toward him, showing her attention and how seriously she took his assurance (before rejecting it.) "Yes I do." The words were firm and unyielding. "I know I'm not of your blood and I know Recluse and I don't always get along-" Her voice weakened at the mention of Recluse, cowed at the mere thought of the albino alphess who was every bit as a parent to Veigar as she was "-but you're my family, my son. I will always want to protect you."

Aryn sighed, tearing her gaze away and finding with her eyes the white glove of her paw instead. This conversation was leading to something she had wanted to approach for quite some time now but had never found the bravery to bring up. Having hurt Veigar enough already with her own shortcomings, Aryn was not willing to put it aside any longer. "Earlier this season... I met someone. A wolf who offers a different type of life than Recluse ever could. Someone I am proud to call a friend." The anxiety swelled deep in her chest and the longer she spoke, the closer to pain the sensation became. "You saw her in the rapids, where she challenged Kotori for his right to take Abaven's land. Corbie is as much of an alpha as Recluse is, but without relying on cruelty to get her way." Without thinking Aryn's paw lifted to touch upon her scarred chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heart and the way the stress seemed to threaten to reopen the long-healed wound. "I want to go with her, to live her life. And I want you to come with me, Veigar."

The scar on his shoulder, though tender still, was hardly anything worth noting. It was frustrating though as a reminder of the fact he'd lost. He wasn't naive enough to think he could win every fight he found himself in but knowing Aryn had felt like she'd had to intervene still didn't settle well with him. Even though she insisted that he was her son and that she would always want to protect him. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. He had no doubt both Recluse and Deathbelle would feel the same way about him, as much as he wished things were different. You're not a fighter, he wanted to say, but he knew better than that - even if he felt like she wasn't he knew the words would be needlessly cruel. She'd proven herself as perfectly capable and he knew that as well as anyone. Instead, he simply clenched his jaw and grit his teeth, surprised about the contents of her words when she spoke again.

He knew Recluse and Aryn were very different wolves. He wasn't so blind as to know Aryn didn't necessarily feel she belonged here, but he'd always been able to push those thoughts aside. Until now. She wanted to leave and wanted Veigar to go with her. "Recluse is my family though," he explained carefully. Aryn was arguably the closest thing he'd ever had to a mother but Recluse was more than just Habari's alpha. "And Deathbelle is here too. I don't know, Aryn." There was less sign of his usual temper even though it threatened to flare as something like panic flooded his chest. He knew these lands like the back of his paw; he could survive here, even thrive, but somewhere new? He wasn't so sure. "I don't know if I can leave," he admitted, his voice quivering slightly as his luminescent markings began to glow, dull but noticeable even in the daylight.