for Ishmira , Morwenna tag for reference · takes place during this thread
SKILL herbalist 1/5

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just a ways away from the river, from the rest of the caravan, ghelan stumbles and wanders. he wallows in his own thoughts. in the turmoil, he'd kept away from the territory before saatsine had to make the great march, farther and farther, into lands beyond home. any other family he may have left, they have long since been abandoned, never to be seen again.

he thinks of star eater as he sifts through dirt. he'd been far too harsh against her. now, a part of him searched for her guidance when father provided none.

but his wallowing is disturbed by the shifting of the dirt beneath him. huh? ghelan gawked at the mound, watching it wriggling and shake. he paws at dirt pile, red eyes wide with bewilderment and insatiable curiosity as to what on earth was causing such a ruckus.

a paw prods her side, and then the light filters in through her eyelids and she rises sharply to her feet, all tangled limbs and matted fur. blue eyes dart wildly until they land on the boy in front of her, and she curls her lip— not a threat, not entirely. fear. he is sun eater's boy, in body and in strength and perhaps in spirit, too.

"stay away." but she cannot hide the waver in her voice, the falter in her step. without blackfell to guide her she is lost. and alone with this boy? she is as good as dead.

she takes care to guard her hind, leaving him no access to the wound at her neck. it has healed into a gnarled scar now, and only tufts of wiry fur remain. her posture remains rigid, a blade mere seconds from striking, but ghelan does not lunge for her. he only stares, confused.

"stay back." she warns again, less certain this time. perhaps sun eater has died and taken the dreaded war with him. perhaps it is all over. wishful thinking. his face holds no grief for the loss of a father, only a wartorn sadness she cannot begin to place.

"ghelan," she speaks his name, and there is no warmth.

"i will not return to saatsine." a promise. a plea. do not make me go.

his bewilderment was only heightened when out popped a girl — not a mole or a prairie dog disturbed by ghelan's prodding. and a familiar girl too. he stumbled backwards onto himself as the pale girl bares her fangs first thing as she's uncovered.

the sadness that weighed down his features was not of mourning his father as the girl had hoped — but a long sadness, one that has haunted him since he was born.
she meets him with fearful eyes. he's never come face-to-face with anyone who was afraid of him.

and yet he's seen the look on her face before. the same look his mother had whenever she spoke of father.

ghelan stammered before speaking, realizing he'd been quiet for far too long. uh- i'm not here to return you to saatsine. he averts his gaze, unable to meet hers for any second longer. he couldn't remember her name like she had his, perhaps having seared it into her mind so she could avoid him. but he recognized her face. she was one of the few that went missing before saatsine retreated. but there was something new to her — and it wasn't how she'd grown. from the glimpses he'd caught of her, he could see a flash of flesh, twisted in a way only a beast could've done. ..what happened?

she does not answer right away. her breath comes in steady clouds, nostrils flaring as she studies him— and not in the way she used to, when she was a girl. she watches him like a soldier gauging distance before the lunge.

"you ask me this now?" she whispers, voice low and flat. "after all this time? after him?"

the silence stretches thin, taut. wind stirs the dry grasses at their feet, brittle and dry. far off, a lone crow cries. ishmira shifts her weight, old pain rippling through her spine. it shows in the smallest twitch of her lip, quickly buried by a snarl. she will not show weakness. not here. not in front of him.

[b]"he hunted me like it was easy." she went on, eyes locked upon his, unblinking. "not because i posed a threat to him. not because i fought back. just because i was in the way of what he wanted." the words hang in the air, barbed.

"i was a child," she hisses. "and he did not care." she lets it sink in. lets him feel the weight of it.

"you carry his scent, ghelan. it's soaked into your skin. like he's everywhere." a pause, then. not hesitation, but restraint. then, "if you're not here to return me to saatsine, then what are you here for? penance?" her mouth twists into a frown. "curiosity?"

she steps closer, each movement sure— as if she hadn't been half dead mere days before. he is taller than her now, broader too. she looks up at him with eyes of ice and does not falter.

"you want to know what happened?" her voice is a rasp now, closer to breath than speech. "i survived him."

her initial anger with him, at first, furrows his brows. i'm just a child like you. i was always away from camp, how was i supposed to know what happened to you? he staggers to a full stand, though he minds her distance and steps back a little.
but her fury tramples him, he leans away from the girl as just her story smacks him across the face. she didn't need to bare her fangs to have ghelan sit slack-jawed and wide-eyed. he doesn't dare disturb her, even afraid that a gasp for air would set her ablaze. his attention never tore away from her.
and the worst part was that it was easy. it was easy to imagine father's rage turned onto an innocent girl, younger and smaller than the girl that faces him now, chasing after who-knows-what. maybe it was the damned march. the same march that birthed him, the same march that tore him away from his mother, and the same march that had broken many. there was no glory in father's march, only a trail of blood.

its only as her fire dies out that ghelan stirs on her words, looking to the side out of shame. the grass beneath them becomes uncomfortable, itchy even, and their solitude becomes ever-more apparent as he stares off to the fields that stretched on for many miles. he watched the sun begin to rise, squinting with the light that shone almost as bright and hot as the young girl before him.
i'm sorry. is what he musters first, beginning to hide within himself. a silence sits, uneasy. he could feel her barbed gaze pricking him still. i didn't know.

what could he have done to prevent this? could he have?
and what can he do now?

ghelan settles back down, unable to meet her eyes again. he could hear the bugle of elk far away from here, and only elk. the caribou have long since left them.

ishmira watches him shrink beneath her silence, cowering like a child scolded. even as the heat in her blood cools, it leaves a tremble in her bones, the fading aftershock of some internal battle.

you didn't know. she repeats, low and flat— almost to herself. her eyes, icy and unblinking, fix upon him. he is not an enemy, not quite, but he is not forgiven either.

you didn't. because you were lucky. because you were gone, and i was there. her voice never raises, but there is a sharpness to it that cuts more cleanly than a scream ever could. and while you were off chasing clouds and butterflies, i bled upon the dirt he called home.

she turns away, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed toward the horizon like she might ignite it with look alone.

i see him in you. she admits quietly now, bitterly. in the way you walk. the way you stand. in your silence, sometimes.

there is no venom anymore. only the ache of memory, the burdon of too many ghosts for one so young.

but you're not him, she says after a long pause, wind brushing her fur like an unwelcome hand. she grimaces against it, curls her lip. her throat bobs as she swallows something more difficult than rage— compassion. understanding. she kneads the earth with her paws.

but i can't forget. i won't. so if you're really sorry...stay that way. carry it with you. she looks up at him again, and though her gaze is still hard, there is no longet malice beneath it. only the slow thaw of something broken.

and don't ever pretend it didn't happen.

you think i'm lucky. his brows furrow, but there's no anger. just a solemn, bitter frown as he mutters. theres a pain in his hind leg, and his neck felt naked without mother's amulet. when had he ever been lucky?
but ishmira didn't know that. nor should she. there was nothing to tell her that mattered. luck had abandoned him before he was born, there was no other story to tell.

so ghelan doesn't refute anything she says. the lanzadoii son instead sits as she finishes stripping him of any might, leaving the boy stirring in her words and drinking them down like bitter medicine. guilt sits uncomfortably now in the pit of his stomach. and all ghelan can do is let it linger. let it simmer, and boil.
he can't do anything for her now, but to listen to her. to understand her pain, if only a little. he can't change the past, he can't inherit the blood of a different man to call father, and there was no hope for changing kusaxasaa. but ghelan can strive to do better.

and yet something else mixes with that guilt. rather, the guilt had joined an old, bitter rage.

i'm sorry. he repeats, unable to find any other words for her. he's a bad man.. i wish he wasn't. i thought he'd changed, you know.. after his eye was taken. he mumbles, a stark contrast to the building pressure of anger that ballooned. it was desperate to burst out, but not towards her. ghelan was saving it.

you could leave. she says, and grimaces at the desperation in her voice. she sounds like a child, begging a boy she hardly knows to run her off with her. but there is some naive part of her yet— some childish dream that ghelan is not his father, and if he leaves now, he can be saved. he can start anew.

you are a man now, ghelan. if you left now, he would have no say. you could start a new life elsewhere, away from his influence. you could be free of him.

she turns to go, and the wind blows cold against the bare skin of her neck. a sideward glance back at him, hoping he will follow. if he trails her, it will be temporary at best. she knows her father well, and blackfell will not tolerate a young man trailing his daughter, regardless of any polite intention. he certainly won't take kindly to sun eater's progeny at her side.

but that is a bridge she will cross when the time comes. for now they are at an impasse, and although she cannot forgive the crimes of his father, ghelan is innocent. she will not push him away.

SKILL herbalist 2/5

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her suggestion only greatens the tension in his head. yes, he could leave. he was no longer needed as the oldest son. he wouldn't be the heir, he probably never was to be the heir. he was never going to be lanzadoii enough for his father. what would he lose? a bunch of fools too cowardly to follow the caribou with a different leader? he was one of those fools. ghelan truly did believe his father had changed, if only becoming less violent. he couldn't judge those that stayed, perhaps they believed too that kusaxasaa was a good man. but today, that changes for the young boy.
i can't. he shook his head briefly. not until i speak with him.

but he also refuses to let the girl travel by herself. not because she wasn't capable, but in his heart he could not leave her by herself either. hunt is better with two than one. i'll go with you, i just. ghelan sighed. i just need a bit of time. ghelan began to stand, his body shaken but there's a resolve in him now. it won't take long.
he began to pile the herbs he'd found, quickly scrounging up whatever he could. ghelan knows he'll need it for later. stay here. he mutters to her, a vigor in him that he once believed had died.

cw: minor gore. continuing off of this thread.

got permission to double post!

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sundown came with no sign of the boy. it was only until night when his battered form came stumbling over the plains, humiliated into silence. he'd taken a reprieve in the shallows of the review to soothe his aches. but the hurt in akiak's heart was too deep. he did not — he couldn't — look ishmira in the eye. he hid himself from the girl as much as possible. but he'd promised her his return, he wouldn't break it.

the boy, sobbing like a child, took to digging a hole. just a small one. over the hills, he could hear howling and it made him shudder. unceremoniously he drops his eye into its shallow grave. no vultures, no cub, no one but the land could have it. with one, trembling swipe it's buried. ghelan stands vigil, back still turned to the girl to hide his shame.