Birdsong filled the woodland, and Nate, without truly realizing he was doing it, whistled back to them a song of his own. A mod-podge melody, it meandered through his subconscious as he trailed the edge of a clearwater creek.

His time might be better spent hunting... but this morning, he preoccupied himself looking for shiny stones. Colorful or unusually shaped ones, or things that glittered. He'd once had quite a collection in his life before. Becoming a wolf didn't mean surrendering all his old hobbies, surely.

If he was intending to stay here, among the flowered woodlands and butterfly swarms, he felt now it might be possible to amass little treasures again.

The diversion gave him time to think, too, about what it would mean if the others stayed here, with him. Or if they didn't. Having realized he didn't want to run away, anymore, he now had to contend with the possibility of losing companions to things beyond his control.

No easy answers, anymore, if there ever were any. Nate paused with a mouthful of rocks at a shallow crossing, and watched morning smoke float over the ripples.

Cecil appeared like a vision through the watersmoke, and Nate's ears pricked hopefully before he remembered he'd done harm, and tilted to their sides instead. They were distant, these days, and more than Nate would have wanted. Just as he'd found the courage to stay, Cecil drew back. And Nate's navel-gazing regarding the acceptance of loss or its potential, he had to admit, bled most red from the space between them now.

He was surprised the water at his feet hadn't been stained by it.

Still, forced his tail into a friendly wag. He wished he could pretend not to know why it was happening. Just like he'd pretended pink smoke had been the only reason for what happened in the ruins. And pretended he could hide the worst parts of himself from companions who could, literally, smell your damn fear.

But the powers that were had denied him death twice in the effort to teach him something — maybe that it was time to stop pretending.

GHm— Nate started through a mouthful of rocks.

Well, that was perfectly incomprehensible.

He looked down, not eager to drop them all back into the water. Grimaced (which looked foolish, with a mouth full of rocks). Then backed up onto the grassy bank and Pthewy!, spat them out. Tongue pulled over tugged lips and white teeth as he contended with the aftertaste of stone and spring melt.

Nate gestured vaguely to his find, though Cecil certainly could not see them from behind the grass and down the way. Rocks. He said proudly, as if that explained it.

It felt a bit like pretending, still. Going through the motions. But Nate supposed several things could be true at once and it wasn't lying to decide which feelings, or impulses, to act on. So he let his tail keep wagging. Told himself this time he was the greenbroke horse, spooked by some shadow a thing and just needed coaxing through it to see himself to the other side.

Cecil might leave. But so far, Cecil had stayed. And now, Cecil was here.

Asking about rocks which... Nate didn't think he had any particularly good explanation for. I used to uh, keep 'em? In a little pouch, with some old coins from Pa and beads my Eduda gave me. And marbles. I figured... might be nice to have some shiny rocks, again.

Folk were building lodges. Digging dens. Nate supposed at some point maybe he ought to do the same, and it would be nice to have things to decorate with.

BEST way to celebrate 100 posts Congrats Cecil!!

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Nate's scar burned as if the stare upon it were fresh branding, and swallowed. But didn't look away — whether out of wariness or will. Yeah, ha, kids. He chuckled, shrugging. If it was childish, he supposed felt no shame about it. Didn't stop bein' pretty just 'cause I grew up, so...

Cecil fidgeted, and Nate's words drifted off in favor of a harder look. Lips softened into a curious frown beneath shaded gaze. Waiting, and patient for it. Or trying to be. Because a racing heart and the lack of mindfulness to breathe made it hard to feel settled at all.

When they finally spoke, even the birds up treeside seemed to quiet. Just the pair of them and the babbling brook to contend with something they'd both known about for a while but now had to face.

Well, Nate supposed he could still choose not to. But he was trying to be done leaving good things to wilt for fear of failing.

He looked down at his stones. Then back to Cecil, and maybe a little of the hurt shone through, Wouldn't blame you if you did. But even so, and still, regardless, You decided? Or still turning things around...?

Not yet. Cecil was weighing it out. Which meant Nate's answer could make all the difference in the world. He swallowed.

It was easy to recognize he didn't want them to leave. And maybe easy to say that, too. But to persuade for it...?

Yeah, guess I can't really blame you for thinking that way. Sitting on his haunches, Nate glanced to either side of the grass at his feet before finding the courage to face Cecil again head on. That spirit gave us three doors... Three choices. And I went to save the fella in chains.

Months now Cecil kept looking at Nate like he might jump into the abyss at any moment. Mostly that'd made him sad, sometimes it'd made him angry. He told himself his life didn't mean so much compared to the others, and that he didn't want to die but he wasn't afraid to if it meant helping them.

Didn't want to understand why the others couldn't just accept, sometimes to win the war you had to lose a few soldiers. Didn't want to admit the only soldier he was ever willing to lose was himself.

The journey back had given him some time to ponder since then. Didn't think what he planned to say next would be much inspiration to Cecil... but it was the truth. It was the reason he slept poor and the first step on a long trail that brought them here. You couldn't tell about the end without knowing the beginning.

Too many times I haven't been able to do any real good for anyone. Lips tugged with self-effacing chagrin, I was in the army. Translator and scout... for the 1st and 2nd Cavalry, mostly. The ones they sent to conquer.

Joined soon as I was old enough. Thought maybe I could make a difference. A scoff. Did that make it better, that he'd had good intentions? Would Cecil still call them kin, knowing? Learned a thing or two about how some men practice hate like it's a kind of profession.

Smile twisted into something sad and thorny. Learned how scared folks are, too. Realized being scared was the reason for most of the shit men do to each other. Ears clipped sideways, Wolves, too, I guess.

There was more. He hadn't answered the question yet. But maybe after hearing the start, Cecil would decide they didn't want to stay for the end. Nate's throat closed in on itself and he wrestled for his tongue back long enough it might inspire interruption.