---

Harvest opened his eyes to...snow, glittering off a field's wide expanse in the midday sunshine.

Odd, because he had last been amongst the fall-gilded forest of his birthplace, and this was not that. He wracked his mind for possibilities, arriving at some misfortune and magick afoot as his conclusion. He remembered...falling, although he didn't recall landing in this place so much as simply being here. Strange, indeed, but he knew better than to jump to hasty conclusions.

A foul, guttural gobble-grumble sounded behind him.

Harvest's mouth contorted into a sour scowl, ears pinning as against his skull as possible around the crown of oak he was adorned with. Of course this strange magic would not permit him to be free of that cursed creature. He tilted his head over his shoulder, levelling a glare at the softly cocoa-colored turkey hen in all her plain and homely glory.

Harvest was not one to let the world's entropy and disaster dissuade him from his goals. The Haven would heal under his leadership, amidst his careful weaving of tales and lies and whatever else he must do. The King's recent death was a crisis, but an opportunity too. Harvey lifted his chin, striding forward through the tall, dry and dead snow-dusted grasses smoothly.

A familiar scent tickled his nose, and his ears pricked eagerly. Already, familiar faces returned to him. This weird spell was not so malicious after all! Daryn? It still sounded strange on his tongue to call them that, instead of a more formal 'Zaal'. But, well, they wouldn't be a Zaal forever...and they were promised to be wed, now. Some level of familiarity was expected or Harvey would seem cold bordering on cruelty, and that might cause enough offense to the proud and powerful Zaal family to dissolve the marriage. Harvey did not have the capacity to fathom what had possessed his mother to make the match so suddenly, with little consultation, and not even during the proper festival! But it was done now. To back out would be unspeakably offensive.

And he wasn't the type to upset his mother so, anyway. She'd never had anything but the best in mind for the Amulet family, after all. Just like Harvest himself.

He gave a spirited flick of his tail, expecting to lay mismatched eyes on the slender Winter wolf soon.

Wasn’t this quite the pickle?

Daryn had closed their eyes mere minutes ago, it felt, but when they opened them again it was not to the golden boughs of autumn’s forest. It was to a gentle white blanket coating everything around them. Something familiar from a childhood spent among the snow and icy attitudes of Winter, but something they didn’t quite enjoy. Their lip twitched upwards in thought, giving their face a distinct “angry thought” appearance.

This was not the court of their birth. This wasn’t anything they were even familiar with at all, besides maybe being a part of Winter they had never seen before. The fae’s first thought was a rather snarky oh goody! I bet this was Aelric getting me back for last time, in the same vein of a disgruntled camper waking up on their mattress in the lake. But the longer they looked around, the more they realized they were rather achingly alone. Their brother didn’t spring from the trees to laugh at them, none of Winter’s soldiers prowled about. So this wasn’t just a prank with putting them somewhere unfamiliar.

This was something new. Daryn raised a leg to wipe at their eyes, groaning. They were only stopped by the dig of tiny claws into their skin. Leaning their head down, they caught sight of Acanthis, claws tucked into their fur and squeaking at them rather irritatedly. The bat returned to its nap against their chest fur as Daryn sighed into the open air. Their breath clouded from their nostrils, a blast of white against white. Perhaps if they closed their eyes, this wouldn’t be actually happening.

They were in the process of doing such when a voice rose to meet their ears. Ah, their betrothed was involved too. Daryn’s face soured for a brief moment, before they put on the placid mask of a dutiful spouse.

Harvest Their drawl, however, was all disaffected nonchalance, as if they couldn’t even be bothered to have a singular emotion about this whole thing. They stretched their limbs towards the horizon, before they tucked them beneath their undercarriage and lifted upwards. There was Harvest Amulet himself, standing autumnal against the white winter. Daryn’s brow arched towards the sky.

I do hope you are alright. We appear to have been transported somewhere. It wasn’t quite an accusation, but a probe. Did you have something to do with this?

---

They emerged from the grasses, rising like a spindly-limbed spider from the gold field.

They sounded about as bothered by the spell's bizarre effects as if Harvest were rambling about the weather. Must be nice, he thought.

No other scents of familiarity or voices he knew formed, and Harvest glanced around to a field of...nothing. No kin nearby except his fiance. What...luck. The wolf Harvest was intended to have a strong bond with, who he hardly knew at all.

So it seems. I do hope this is reversible...I wonder if it has to do with the murder. They muttered the latter part of the sentence mostly to himself, pondering the cause of this crisis, before recalling Daryn's own connection to the King. Ah...apologies. I don't mean to bring up a sensitive subject.

They would bring that scummy slimeball of the King's to justice, enact vengeance, if for no other reason than that was the right thing to do for a partner, he supposed. He couldn't be sure. Relationships with the high families of the Courts were always so strange. Of course, Harvey had had more casual relationships - trysts to pass the time and experiment with their interests. There was no shortage of wolves who wanted to lure the Monarch into their paws, in the hopes of manipulating them.

It was always the Monarch doing the manipulating, though. Everyone saw their young age and pretty face and assumed they were hasty or prone to the pitfalls of emotion.

As if.

Harvey flexed their toes into the grass, pursing their lips slightly as they pensively considered their next move. I don't scent any other Haven wolves nearby. We will need to search for them and look for more information about this place. They paused, but only briefly. The gears behind their mismatched eyes were clearly churning. I would prefer to avoid other packs, but we should check them anyway for Haveners who took refuge in their ranks if others were transported here by the spell, and they could be sources of information we couldn't find elsewhere.

For a fraction of a second, their face split to allow a modicum of irritation to touch it. Daryn tempered the want to stomp their feet like a child, to spit and hiss and start throwing snow at Harvest’s face. React, damn you! the rising urge to whine aloud, stifled in infancy. They blinked placidly, ears held lazily akimbo. This diplomatic dance was all too familiar to them after spending so much time in Autumn, and even before then, they’d gotten their fair share of polite back and forth with-.

No offense taken. Honestly, Daryn had barely known their father. Sure, they knew him, but like with the rest of their family, he had mostly turned a blind eye to them. Perhaps a younger Daryn would be more inclined to rage against the topic, would be more inclined to grieve the man rather than his power. His reach could have given Daryn so much, then he had gotten himself murdered by some outsider he subjugated. Either way, the grief they held was not for him. For their mother, maybe. If they had to put it anywhere.

They put a pout on their face, aggressively sighing out a breath to the point it moved their entire body.

Oh, but what if I wanted to lay in the snow a bit longer? The act immediately shuffled off their shoulders, strike made.

It is the middle of the winter in this place. Those with more…delicate sensibilities would have run for the south. It was not, in fact, the middle of winter, but Daryn had a skewed outlook on seasons anyway. They cast their gaze sideways at their betrothed as they strolled by.

We would have the most luck looking for Summer and Spring in warm places, no? Not that they spent much time with any of them. Time was a delicate resource, one they’d never had enough of.

---

Daryn took no offense, and Harvey put the matter out of his mind. Daryn's interpersonal issues weren't for the Amulet to judge. The Amulet family themselves were....close-knit in a way, but mostly in the sense that they put the family's interests first. Any who stepped too far out of being in line with the Amulet's desired effects upon the Haven would experience the consequences of their mistakes.

Harvest didn't know what the Zaal family thought about the concept of blood ties, and set the issue aside to be curious about later.

A few snowflakes drifted down, landing on Harvest's silky fur before they shook lightly to dispel the gathering snow. Daryn was sighing, explosively, and Harvest glanced at them in mild alarm and confusion.

What if I want to lay in the snow longer?

It was just a ploy to be contrary to Harvey, not a genuine plea, of that he was sure. Still, the Monarch arched a brow, before giving a loose huff of his own. Well, there's no rush to go anywhere when we're lost. If it was mischief the Winter wolf wanted...Harvest dipped his lanky form into a playbow, plumy tail swishing. Shall we build a snow-wolf? Or do you just want to catch a cold laying around? His response was double-edged; coyly inviting Daryn into a serious request for something pointlessly fun and silly while making a jab at their initial request.

Daryn, for their part, just pranced on by Harvest. Even Harv's companion grumbled under her breath and plodded after them. Harvest stuck his nose into the snow and flicked his chin up, tossing a spray of glittering snowflakes into the midday sun's light before rising fully and trotting after the piebald Zaal. Spring would certainly gravitate to warm places; their talents lay with greenery. Summer is more adaptable, but more likely to find places of plenty to stay. Summer and Winter would be hard to find - Summer's hunters were trained to make the best of any situation, and Winter was close-knit. Neither were likely to want to share resources or space with other packs, and so would likely temporarily settle somewhere difficult for Harvest to find just by wandering around.

He lifted his chin. Autumn, of course, is the most likely to be in another pack. The word-smiths of the pack, the diplomats and spies, they would assimilate seamlessly and wait for signs of other Haveners to gather with.

Harvest responded in two stepping kind, frustrating and unnerving. Daryn smoothed their face with a twitch, glancing over the curve of one white shoulder with a raised brow.

Have you ever created a snow imprint, Autumn Lord? Perhaps you should try. The cold is worth it, I assure. Their voice was carefully kept, the plume of their tail kept fluffy by the vine still wrapped around its base. They could hear the light tink of a noise as the chains of their earring swung together when their head turned back around. The spray of snow from Harvest’s nose caught the very edge of their tail, and they flicked it upwards when they bounced forward, gait showy.

Well, surely we can’t check all over the place. If Spring seeks warmth and greenery, we should go south. It is likely to be warmer there, and we can prod around packs on our way for Autumn. Would Winter answer if Daryn called? Or would they have to track their brother down for access tothe court they were born to? Their power existed in a tenuous foothold beside the wolf they were currently antagonizing. Not that they would stop anytime soon, mind.

Once we find somewhere to settle, perhaps I could send Acanthis out. The bat was perhaps Daryn’s greatest tool, with memory of the faces they’d sent him after. They turned just enough to give a mock bow.

If that would please you, of course. Perhaps an olive branch from anyone else, but from Daryn, intentions always seemed to muddle. Was it a grasp for power, a mockery, a jest? They weren’t even sure they knew every time. Either way, they weren’t about to make a giant fuss about prodding the boundaries of packs and this odd relationship both.

---

Try, Daryn said, as if flopping into the snow was so difficult Harvey might fail. His tail-tip flicked slightly, brushing against the snow beneath their paws. I was a child once, He retorted coolly, stripping his tone of any emotion.

Daryn was prancing ahead like a stallion showing off for his mares. Harv was tempted to peer over his shoulder to see if there was another audience member here, but no - it was just Harvey. And Wick, the turkey. He'd always assumed Daryn's almost theatrical charm was a facade worn in public for the sake of others. Now, Harvest wondered if was just who Daryn was.

They were going to fit in well with Autumn, he supposed, and that thought was the first real positive he'd experienced in this new world.

We'll have to look - or send out scouts to look - until we find every Havener the spell took to this world. We must also find an appropriate location to establish ourselves in lest the spell be irreversible. Especially now, with...everything... A hint of stress took root in Harvest's voice, a small indicator of the sheer volume of pressure they were under. It's imperative we strengthen the Haven and bring stability to our peoples.

Their betrothal, however questionable Harvest found it, would help provide that stability.

I agree, though. We shall go south and look for Spring and Autumn on the way.

Daryn went on to offer the help of their familiar, and Harvest arched a brow. He'd assumed the bat was not so well-trained. He shot a snide glare at the bird following him, unperturbed as usual.

If it would please you, of course.

Harvest's mouth quirked into a mild frown. They slid their autumnal gaze over to meet Daryn's, half-lidded eyes giving little indication of very many thoughts behind his eyes. I wouldn't want anything to happen to your little companion, dear. Harvest murmured, edging dangerously close to sultry with a sinister undertone.

Some boundaries were not to be pressed upon too hard - he hoped that was made clear, quickly. Daryn would receive some leniency from the Monarch by virtue of their assigned bond; but Harvest was a wolf practically bred to inherit the role they now held, and that power was not something the Amulet family had given up easily in many generations. Power, now, was a bargaining chip Daryn would have a hard time prying from their paws. Not now, with everything collapsing around them. It didn't even briefly occur to Harvest that Daryn might be an ally to lean on the with challenges he faced now - just another pawn on Harv's chessboard, and a wildcard of one to boot.

What a mess. What they wouldn't give to drown their sorrows in an Autumn Bacchanal right now, but even the idea of organizing one didn't bring Harvest anything but more problems and stress.

For only a brief moment, they felt true triumph. The vicious urge to poke and prod until emotion showed itself was satisfied with a purr, and they felt the stinging claws of elation scrub down their chest. Because they’d won. They’d gotten a reaction out of the cool, confident monarch, even if it wasn’t much of one to go off of. Their mouth twitched, and they wanted to whoop like a juvenile. This entire dance was juvenile, but taking back the control they desperately needed required some elementary school tactics.

The feeling washed out moments later, replaced by a chilling emptiness. Daryn was at the mercy of the monarch, no matter their impeccable bloodline and courtly graces. Pushing buttons would get them nowhere but a shallow grave with, no doubt, one of the many disturbed by their father. A revenge brought upon them by a man who they didn’t even really know, dragging them down into the hells with him. Victory tasted like sour grapes, and they wilted like a daisy. It’s not fun if he doesn’t step in kind. they justified it to themselves.

Daryn took a metaphorical step back from that line in the stand, hands raised, indifference on their face as they swung their head to scope their surroundings.

As you say. Thank you for the concern, darling. A reminder that even as Daryn stepped back, they were not defanged. They adjusted their steps, calming them to a ground eating trot rather than the showy prance. Remember what could happen to you, something in them hissed, that chill of reminder never leaving them, never even allowing them to assume it was just the winter cold.

South, then. Perhaps we will find somewhere quickly. The quicker they found somewhere, the quicker everyone assembled beside them, the quicker they were going to be wed, Daryn knew. But, well, there was little to be said about that. They’d already fought and screamed and cried to the indomitable face of their mother, and it had gotten them nowhere beyond a side glance and a we will not speak of this in public, Daryn. The dark furred head of the Zaal turned to face the south, breath huffing from their nostrils in a stream of white.

---

Daryn ceded the pseudo-arguement, but didn't surrender; lithely stepping around such a result in their conversation with the grace of a dancer as they turned away from Harvest.

Their back was turned, so they couldn't spot the amused grin that flitted across the Monarch's face. Of all the wolves to be magicked into this world with, Daryn was a strange choice, but gods, at least they were entertaining. Harvey could have died if their companion was dull.

South, then. Harvest agreed smoothly, picking up their own pace to keep up with their fiancé's prancing through the snow.