Backdated to 2/14

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His head was above water.

It was for now. He could breathe through slim nostrils, could hold his head up as he had been trained to when traversing choppier waves. He could see that wolf, standing on the shoreline. Could see the recognizable island behind him. The place he had left behind, and was now crawling back to.

(What’s wrong with me?)

Doubting himself was not something he was very familiar with. That made these thoughts difficult to entertain when he was doing what he did best. Swimming. A cetacean-hunting wolf had no time to fret about himself when he was in the most danger he could’ve been in. But there was no prey here. It was just himself and his eyes, locked on that figure standing there, ahead of him.

(What am I doing?)

He thought back to a week prior. When he first set out to swim down from the Arctic after the... Falling out, with his Father. His Chieftain. It wasn’t right, what he’d done. But the sunk cost that followed jumping into the water and peeling off just didn’t let him argue that he should go back. He was familiar with the island. Maybe he could stay there.

Head slipping. He kicked his exhausted legs some, slowing his approach but maintaining forward momentum. He resurfaced, taking in a deep breath.

Rancor was never afraid of the water. Ijii like himself, his father, his sisters, they were born for it. He was born for it. Where was this sick feeling in his gut coming from, then? Sea-sickness? Swaying about, dragging and lurching himself forward? Little rest? The stinging in his eyes from salt and lack of sleep? Head slipping. He kicked up to push himself above the surface again.

The penguin-colored wolf did not know if Mojave would accept him. If—if he might turn him away, how he had. If there was any care still residing in his bones for such a terrible wolf. He wasn’t sure what he might do if he swam all this way just to face rejection. He might turn back toward the ocean and swim away again.

Eyelids faltered some, neck twisting to push his nose up and break apart the black(Black?) waves he was now falling beneath. Shit. DAMMIT!

With quick wit, he breathed in what he could and ducked down into the sea around him, noticing that the colors had changed. He thought.. Tropical waters were blue? These were all too familiar. Was he insane? Sleep deprived? Passing out?

Jetting forward with forceful kicks, he found his control was better beneath the ferocious swaying of wave and ripple. Driven forward by the will to complete his task again, the dark wolf neared his destination.

Gracefully, almost showing off, Rancor rose onto the snowy(Huh?), sweet-smelling beach and let the water drip off of his smooth fur. Lavender eyes fell upon the taller male ahead of him, then flickered to their surroundings. What the fuck?

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MOJAVE

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A nice nap often cleared Mojave's mind of any fog; a little rest went a long way for him, restoring his energy and reigniting his motivation to take on the day. Those months of tracking that beast had made him value every minute he could get to relax and break away from the constant stresses present in his life.

As far as Mojave knew, the nap he'd just recently awoken from shouldn't have been any different- yet, instead of seeing the world through a new, clearer lens, Mojave felt more confused than he'd ever been.

Perhaps it had been the drastic changes in his life; he'd rejected what he'd seen as his life's purpose not too long ago. Ever since then he'd wander down to the beach, occasionally looking out at the water. He no longer came here to stalk what remained of the infected, yet he always felt as though he was searching for something when his eyes trailed over the sand and the sea. (In truth, he knew exactly what he was searching for, but it was far easier to deny it than to come to terms with it. After all, he had no clue if he'd see that strange swimmer ever again... but he didn't stop hoping)

Today, however, this was not the beach he knew. His eyes had opened to a very different sight than the one he remembered oh-so-well, and his body shivered in the cold. His saving grace was the extra layers of fur that'd grown in during his time on the island, which was certainly a place far colder than his home.
Truly, this was not that island; snow draped itself over every surface, the air nipped at his bones, and a strange smell mixed with the salty air- one that his nose couldn't quite recognize. He glanced back, looking at the land around him; not a single rock stood where he remembered, not a single feature was the same. Was he losing his mind? Could this be a dream of some sort? Mojave felt more disoriented than ever before, saved from panicking only by the steady pace of his shaky breaths. He'd come here to mope, not to freeze!
A sound caught his attention now, head flicking towards it. Something emerging from the water, and as his eyes fell upon this something, Mojave found the first (and only) thing familiar to him; Rancor. A surge of energy rushed through him, just for a moment. Could it really be? No, this must be some sort of dream. Though come to think of it, he'd felt something strange when getting up from his nap, when he'd been walking towards the beach- he hadn't been looking where he was going, in all honesty, tracing the path by memory until he felt the air grow chilly.

Mojave padded a few steps forward, stopping a short distance away from Rancor. Is that... are you...? A shiver cut off his wondering. Where WERE they? He'd have to ask Rancor if he knew what was going on- oh, if he weren't so damn cold, he'd be bounding over!
Instead, Mojave stood there, voice faltering off. His eyes broke away from the smaller male's, looking around. I didn't think it would snow so much while I was asleep... he murmured to himself, not yet willing to accept he was no longer standing on that beach he'd known for years.

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MOJAVE

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Bristling in an instant and shaking himself dry, Rancor leaned forward on trembling, tired legs and stretched. Lowering to his knees and then splaying out on his belly, he confirmed that this was real snow. But he thought he’d left home? Licking his nose with a dull-colored tongue, he took the opportunity to pant while he was still warmed in his core.

Mojave was an afterthought at this very moment, and while he did intend to address it, there was something in the distance that he could not peel his eyes away from. Widened, curious, his ears perked to listen to the wolf’s words. Looking over and furrowing his brow, sore legs were placed beneath him to stand. Proudly! Haven’t an idea, He woofed, gesturing with his nose to the pink glow ahead. Blizzardclan territory? Mojave was the scout who lived here, he’d know. There were a lack of towering ice spires and he could not scent any freshly-downed prey on the wind. He knew the wolves of Ferinine were avid over-hunters, and this was strange to him.

Breathing in the pleasant, calming fragrance drifting from upwind, the Ijii allowed himself to relax some. He had not seen this man in.. ages? Still, if somewolf had to step up, it would be him. He didn’t know why the tan wolf might be confused, but.. Well, he wouldn't trust a friend he hadn't seen in over a year to have his safety in mind.

He felt a pinching in his shoulders and winced, allowing his head to droop. The snow in the air landed on his pelt and lingered, which he was rather used to. However, on account of being soaked to the bone after his multiple-week swim, he figured he’d take his chances with a possible source of warmth. Is that a fire? These idiots finally learned to make use of themselves? Rancor leaned forward before speeding up into a trot, inviting his companion to follow after. He figured a desert wolf might enjoy a fire, too.

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MOJAVE

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Mojave angled his head away as Rancor shook himself off. Well, maybe I just slept through the snowfall... feels colder than I remember, though. Perhaps it was best to ignore the oddities for now... maybe he was waking up still. His second question caught him off guard- though he'd expected Rancor to forget Ferinine a bit, he hadn't anticipated him forgetting that much of the island's layout. Blizzardclan...? They're not... Mojave followed his gaze now, padding to the side slightly to get a look at what Rancor was pointing to. He fell silent, staring curiously at the glow of the fire. Why was it pink? He'd never seen a pink fire before... at least, he was assuming it was fire. The last time he'd seen light that color was in the boxes, but he couldn't imagine it being anything other than a flame... not if this were Ferinine.

Or, perhaps, he thought with annoyance, a large cat of some sort. Mojave scoffed quietly to himself, but the memories of his momentary antagonist quickly faded as he drew in his next breath, eyes focusing on the glow again. There was something alluring about its scent... He couldn't deny that he, too, was curious as to what it was.

Must be. He flicked his tail, staring at it fully. Can't imagine it'd be much else, as weird as the wolves here might be... Mojave trailed off again. He simply couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't Ferinine. The land didn't look right, now that he was facing inland. Nothing was quite as he remembered it... had he hit his head earlier? Mojave shook said head, trying to shake these feelings away. He should be over the moon that Rancor had returned, not distracted by a little snowfall. Even if it was awfully cold...
It'd be nice to stay warm while we catch up. I sure hope it's a fire of some kind... Mojave admitted, pacing after Rancor now. Speaking of which, his shivery voice picked up a tone of excitement suddenly, ears perking up. You're back! I mean- wow! You came back! It's great to see you, I.. thought about our last meeting a lot. Actually, I've been thinking a lot lately, you have NO idea how glad I am you're here. Mojave had been meaning to talk to Rancor ever since their last talk- even if he wasn't certain there would be another talk between them. Mojave had finally made up his mind- he hoped that rancor would notice his harness was missing, as he'd gnawed his way through it a while back, giving up on his old style of life. Mojave was turning over a new leaf! He'd taken Rancor's advice.

Brrr. This had really better be a fire... whoever had made it, Mojave hoped they would not mind their presence. Assuming, that is, that someone had made it in the first place.

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MOJAVE

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Though he HAD returned in search of him, he could not be assed to listen at this very moment. In the arctic, if you were cold and wet, you were as good as dead. And now that he was out of the water, the clock was ticking. Mojave’s fur was longer than his, but he did not have the comfort of the density of Rancor’s own. And so, the journey to the fire was filled with silence on his end.

Ears pulled back as the taller wolf began to talk them off loudly, wibble-wobbling his head from one side to the other to shake that voice far and out. Yeah, yeah. Let’s get to the fire first, okay? A pointed glance to the side and he shivered violently as the air around them warmed. Snow turned to slush against his body, heated by the mysterious light ahead.

His face was tingly. Looking around with discomfort, he tried to spot if there was sky-spittle falling on him from somewhere he did not see. But no, unfortunately. This must have been from the drying salt on his snout.

Upon finally reaching their destination atop the icy cliff, Rancor looked behind himself with narrowed eyes. Did I.. Did you see me jump out of the water? I feel like we’re awfully high up for a beach. It wasn’t possible, right? But he could not see the water at the end of the horizon from where he stood. There was no part of Blizzardclan territory that was this elevated. Pulling back his lips into a grimace, he swallowed air to pop his ears.

Laying down by the crackling rosy flames, the man turned back to Mojave at last with drooping shoulders. Letting his hind legs kick back, he was conscious to lay in a manner that flattened his stomach. Sighing at the now inevitable task of conversation, he looked up. So- what was it? That you were saying?

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MOJAVE

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A twinge of disappointment crested the hills of Mojave's mind as their walk turned into one of silence. Honestly, this was what he should have expected- hell, the two of them actively talking in the first place was a new thing, in a positive manner at least. Still, this could not stop a quiet sigh from escaping his muzzle, giving a nod. Yeah, no, you're right. Priorities, heh... His ears relaxed, eyes trailing off to look once more at their surroundings. Frankly, there were plenty of things that should've been higher priority in his mind at the moment. Maybe, he thought, he was just too sentimental.

Mojave laid down not too far from Rancor, resting on his side as well. The warmth of the fire was much more than welcome, its heat quieting the tremors in Mojave's body. He hardly lifted his head much to look down the cliff, only arching his brows. I took a nap earlier, woke up to all this snow. Didn't think anything of it at first but, the longer I'm awake the weirder I think it is that the usual heat of the Ferinine beach isn't present. I wasn't going to say anything about it, but the terrain looks different, too... I'm certain you came out of the water and I'm certain I slept near the beach. What a mystery... at least it put him back on track mentally.
Until, of course, Rancor finally gave in and re-initiated their chat. Mojave perked up a little, feeling more excited than usual to be listened to. Perhaps it was just the amount of time he'd spent away from the shorter wolf. Yeah, that's probably what it was.

Oh, right! Mojave perked up once more, delighted. A lot has changed since you were last around, liiiikee... Mojave paused, looking at Rancor expectantly. Surely Rancor would notice the lack of a harness on him, right? Right?
Either way, he pressed onward with the conversation only a few seconds later. I actually started trying to integrate myself with one of the packs, started a new chapter in my life. Things have been great...! I haven't seen my coworker much, he keeps disappearing around the same time that infected does... but honestly, the silence has helped me compose myself. Although. It does mean there hasn't been a lot ACTIVELY going on for me. I moreso wanted to talk about something else with you, but it's... a twinge of warmth fell over his face, and Mojave averted his gaze. Well, we can talk about it later. What's been up with you? Collect any more trinkets or whatnot? I thought you said you had a few trophies last time we spoke. How's life been back in sea-wolf-swimmer-land?

Catching his breath after speaking, Mojave began to catch on to something else, turning his head towards the fire and sniffing. A look of intrigue fell over him, and he leaned in slightly, nose twitching for a few more moments. Say, have you been smelling that sweet smell? Like roses and nectar? I think it's coming from the fire itself... Mojave's posture relaxed further, muscles easing up, his worries beginning to melt. Though he was listening for Rancor's response still, he had grown even more curious about this oddly pink set of flames...

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MOJAVE

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It was… It was awkward to be face-to-face with him again. Not that he was very close, at least ten feet away, but the tension remained. It was Rancor who had cut himself off back then. Threw a fit and swam away, never to be seen again. There’s nowolf here, Clearing his throat, he looked around at the empty, lonely locale. Not one arguing pair of wolves? Nobody walking around yelling about their loneliness? The polar bear wasn’t even around, either. No demons, no gods. Am I dreaming? This part, he muttered to himself.

All of his body felt weird. Sort of.. Itchy, but not quite. He knew very well that drying water on his fur, and even SALT did not produce a feeling like this. Something here was very wrong, but the snow beyond the fire was picking up and there was no shelter for miles. Not that he could see, anyway. Eyes rolled in the horizon's general direction, head slowly turning to stare.

Something about Amorak, something about the packs. It seemed Mojave was still adamant about the existence of the zombie despite Rancor never having seen it himself. No signs, no smells. White chin pressed down on the dusty pink ice beneath him, finding it very hard to listen, or to pay much attention. His shoulders hurt! Stung, even! You and I both know if I start talking about myself, you won’t get a word in edgewise. Say what you were going to, or you’ll forget. If he hadn’t forgotten after two and a half years, he doubted he would now. He just didn’t want to talk about what he’d been up to. Not with his head being so foggy.

Foggy? Why would it have been foggy? He now glanced at the fire again, drawing in a deep breath to test the theory. I guess it smells.. Sort of weird. I don’t smell the usual kindling and ash. Crazy idea, but was the fire making everything weird? Was it some kind of magical Cinderclan relic from the war? Eyes oddly dilated for the amount of light he was looking at, he was forced to gaze elsewhere.

His sights fell upon the man ahead, illuminated in flowery pink.

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MOJAVE

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Eerie, right? Mojave responded, eyes darting to the side. By now I thought someone would've at the very least walked past us, or that there'd be somebody else here checking this fire out. It's weirdly quiet, While the alone time was (secretly) appreciated, it was incredibly unusual... On Ferinine, there was always something going on, some noise to distract you or some wolves that you could see nearby. The packs were highly active, with only two of the four camps being known for their more quiet natures; even then, there was still always one or two hounds lingering around.

For supposed Blizzardclan territory, or anywhere else supposedly on Ferinine, this was a jarring occurrence.

Mojave took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he finally felt warm. (Soft, even. Was it normal to feel this relaxed? The theory that he'd hit his head somewhere was gaining more traction in his mind) I'm glad it's not just me that feels like something's off. Do you think there's something going on between the packs? Although he was the one who spent most of his time on the island, he still felt compelled to ask Rancor, as if the traveler would have any idea.
Oh, uhm, right... The warmth rose to Mojave's face again, but this time, his anxiety was far less potent. He instinctively drew in another breath, and the effect of the flames eroded his hesitance even further. I... when we last talked, I felt a strong connection between us. It was almost something... um, special to me, I guess. I never thought that way of any of the other wolves I met, and none of my coworkers ever gave me that feeling. Mojave's eyes met Rancor's as Rancor's gaze fell upon him. He waited a moment, internally cringing at the way his heart fluttered. Was he really falling for this guy...?

If it hadn't been for the aphrodisiac working its way through his system, Mojave would have backpedaled right then and there, tried to get out of admission. But the way Rancor looked in the light of the fire, and the now-hot feeling inside Mojave's body, it all pushed the words right out of him. I think I have feelings for you.

Oh. That was more direct than he'd intended. I mean..! What you said, last time. It really impacted me, I gave up on my old life, you started showing up in my head, and I admit it, I came to the beach many times hoping you'd be back It was all spilling out now, his reservations thrown to the wind.

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MOJAVE

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Mojave’s blank staring made him feel self conscious. A sharp inhale and he tucked his belly and legs closer, clearing his throat as slush fell upon his water-proofed coat. The ice beneath him was foggy, glossy. He was now watching the licks of flame against snow and permafrost, unable to maintain eye contact with the wolf across from him. Rancor could feel his mind slowly growing weak and weary, surely soiled by his exhausted state. I don’t know, Bored and drifting off, he started to close his eyes. Maybe… Cinderclan finally blew up their volcano, and now the whole island is covered in ash. Sarcasm.

Ceta, his shoulders hurt. He was hardly listening when– Wait, now he was. What was Mojave saying? His nose wrinkled in concern, and then lips curled in immediate disgust. Teeth glowed more red than much else, his face adopting a mortified look. I- Stammer. How was he meant to respond to that? Forearms bunched and he pushed himself off of the ground, tail lifting angrily. WHAT?

Ears pulled back, cheeks pushed up against his eyes and his brows furrowed, lips straightened. Well. Fuck. (What am I supposed to say?!?) Starting to step back, a whine escaped his maw and his knees buckled. (Ceta’s blessing I die right here right now.) Shoulders starting to tense, he realized with a dull pain in the back of his head that he would not be going anywhere. Great. He was stuck with the homosexual in front of the gay pink fire and he couldn’t leave. Mojave probably planned this all out.

Was probably gonna, like, kiss him too. Or something. Black and white face contorted in concern, and then consideration. That didn’t sound that bad.

WHAT. EW? You are a disgusting freak of nature– He was cut off by his attempt to stand and growl, which sent him back to the icy ground. Fumbling, he flipped over to face his back to Mojave. Take me out of your head RIGHT now. That wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. Because now HE was tormented by the very thought! Oh, how horrible! Honestly! It’s wolves like YOU who are the reason everything in Ferinine is the way it is. Marching around and defying the law of nature. How would a family even have two dads? Puppies were only supposed to have one parent.

A prolonged, hostile silence followed his ill-mannered outburst, the crackling of fire, ice and water filling the air. Rancor laid there bitterly, face flush with warmth and peculiar awkward itching. Now, He barked, ears perked and face still angled out toward the bright snowy distance. Because I’ve done that for you–THE LISTENING–I need YOU to do something for ME. And because you’re lucky that I am VERY NICE, it’s not leaving and never returning. He was very kind to not chase this man off right here right now himself, really.

More silence, and he finally spoke. Need you to rub my shoulder.

Silence again.

Not in a gay way. I was going to say that before you said that but I didn’t. Swimming for so long has absolutely ruined my arms and I think there’s something wrong there. What a god-damn save.

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MOJAVE

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Mojave recoiled in shock, not expecting to be met with such aggressive pushback. Oh-Uhm-I mean- The calm he'd been feeling was momentarily disturbed by a pang in the heart, having had his confession responded to with nothing less than hate for every sentiment within it. A look of hurt nearly made its way on his face, but Mojave clenched his jaw, trying to force a poker face. He shouldn't have said any of that, really, it was his fault for letting his words out so loosely (speaking of which, he was having trouble rationalizing anything in a proper manner- someone must've put something in this flame, because ever since he got a proper whiff of its smoke, things had felt weird in his mind and body...) His eyes broke off of Rancor, falling down to the floor in shame. A few times, he opened his mouth to respond, but he had nothing to say.

He may have stayed that way until he finally found the will to muster some sort of apology, or even some sort of angry response of his own, if it weren't for what Rancor said next; the smaller male's words completely threw him off again. I'm sorry? he blurted out. Did Rancor think he'd just-? After what he just said?

His clarification threw Mojave off again. He hadn't thought it was meant in a gay way until Rancor said that. A little spark of hope flittered up from within, but was quickly stamped out. There was no way Rancor felt even remotely similar to him. He'd made that much clear.

... but if it meant Mojave wouldn't lose him again... and with the fire doing most of the thinking for him... U-Uhm, yeah, sure. Okay. I'm- I didn't mean any of it, really, I think there's something in the fire that's messing with my head. Sorry. He didn't even sound like he believed his own lies, only mumbling them out to try and convince himself. To no avail, obviously.
Mojave stood up, finding that his legs were a little more wobbly than he'd remembered. Surely he wasn't also tired... they hadn't walked that much to get here, had they?
Still uncertain, the tan wolf stepped back into the mix of slush and snow to get over to Rancor, settling down behind him. He did his best to keep their contact to a minimum- not wanting to trigger another hateful reaction- but in order to reach his shoulders, Mojave'd need to lean against him a little bit. Lifting a paw and wondering why in the world he was doing a favor for this guy, Mojave did his best to massage Rancor, pressing into the fur of the other with noticeable effort.

I, um. You can just forget about. Everything. I just said. Stars, he felt stupid. Stupid and dejected and upset. And very, very confused, and maybe just a little bit helplessly hopeful that he could fix things.

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MOJAVE

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