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For Alder, in which I finally roleplay with myself.

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At last.

There he was.

Alone.

Vulnerable.

With the most benign smile and a gently-wagging tail, Valeska headed down the slope to catch her wayward son at the edge of the lake and who was presently enjoying a nice, solitary drink. Although the funeral had plunged much of the pack into a somber mood for the majority of the afternoon, enough time had finally passed where everyone was just now starting to perk up and mingle with each other again.

The only one left who she had yet to mingle with was Alder.

Мой сын! (My son!) she shouted from behind, causing him to jump. How long it has been! Oh, it is good to see you!

Hurrying over, the little wolf stood on her hind paws and tried her best to embrace him, but she was stunned to find how much he'd grown. Her forelimbs barely wrapped around his neck now, so thick with muscle and fur he had become; but then again, when he'd left the boy had still been an adolescent. A year was a long time for a wolf.

How have you fared? Has Northfall treated you well?

Perhaps not the most appropriate question given Ragnar's disappearance.

She tried a more cheerful topic.

How long have you been with the little golden woman?

Valeska's face stretched into a broader smile, somehow frighteningly uncanny and almost macabre in its appearance. She leaned in close.

Go on. Tell me all about her.

He could feel her coming toward him. One did not need eyes to sense the unrelenting and indomitable presence of Mother Valeska.

Where Amaranth was all prickles and spines and cold, bitter winds, his silver parent was the equivalent of sunshine and butterflies and frankly being mobbed by a legion of soft, fluffy bunnies that piled over you like a crushing blanket of nosy inquisitiveness.

Alder shriveled.

Мама, пожалуйста, (Mama, please) he said, exasperation coloring his tone, but it was too late. Already she had begun to smother him, feathered paws moving in a frenzy as she clung to him with wanton abandon, holding her wayward son so tightly he actually found it difficult to breathe. He tried to croak out a protest.

She steamrolled.

And then she probed. Gods-damn his mother and her incessant prying into the lives of everyone around he-

WITH? Alder sputtered, pulling away from her in startled shock. N-no! I mean, not like that!

Fuck fuck fuck.

She's - he swallowed noisily, chafing inwardly against the correction, Her name is Solvi. She's my friend.

The enormous wolf, suddenly reduced to a sulking child, stared down at his large paws - how greatly they dwarfed Valeska's now, he thought with some surprise - and frowned.

Northfall's been fine.

His voice was a petulant squeak.

How's... how's stuff here?

Friend.

What a cute word. He was so shy. So innocent.

Valeska, a pale smudge of white fluff beneath the looming shadow of her own progeny, chuckled.

Is she, now? she said casually, waving a paw to cover her face as another broad grin threatened to overtake her expression.

Oh, children. Such foolishness. She was far older - wiser - learned. She knew the signs. There was a word for it in the common tongue, but it was lost to her as she observed his steady descent into raw panic.

Alder had always been the most sensitive of their original litter, barring Dimitri and the darkness that seemed to follow in his footsteps. A victim of circumstance and coincidence, he had inherited the cursed red coat of his grandfather - and borne the weight of those sins regardless of his own actions. Amaranth had never accepted him as one of her own, and the boy had been forced to grow up in his own way, far from the scornful gaze of his golden mother and away from a reputation he could not control.

But now he had returned - if only temporarily - and he had a girl with him.

Valeska lifted a paw and patted at his shoulder.

Ты стал сильным, (You have grown strong) she said appreciatively in her native tongue. All of their pups had learned Russian to varying degrees; it was part of their heritage. Well, it is as you have seen. Quiet, apart from the sorrow that is Viscaria's end, and the загадочный ублюдок (mysterious fucker) that attacked your mother.

She scooted closer.

Tell me about Solvi.

She smiled.

Have you danced*?

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*It has long been a misunderstanding to Valeska that the word 'dance' in English is equivalent to the word for 'sex' in Russian. No one has ever bothered to correct her.