Nate's come back to Lapis Nestle!
Roughly present dated but with some wiggle room lol Set after the BWP finale and once Nate finished up trying to help mend/triage the wounded!

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The land had transformed. Nate scarcely recognized it, and if not for the gigantic tree towering over the tunnel he'd been told could take him practically anywhere, he might not have believed he was back in the nestled shelter where many had taken respite from the bitter wrath of foreign powers.

Would they still be here, in this familiar place where so much was not the same? Love had brought back the sun. Trees woke from slumber into vibrant fresh green stretching off into the horizon. Blossoms of a hundred hues sprawled beneath them mixed with sugargrass. Butterflies swarmed the skies above, brilliant metallic blue like magical beings themselves.

Nate smiled soft, and crossed the long stone path to shore, shoulder aching with new scars from a wound that should have killed him.

No. Had killed him. Twice dead, and changed in ways still further which he could distinctly feel but not explain.

Ko-Ga had still recognized him. The crow sat upon his shoulder now, appearing in almost every way the same as he always had (minus a few feathers.) You might think him unchanged, but for the wisps of smokelike blue that trailed off his feathers now and then. He'd become something unmortal. Perhaps all of them had.

But Nate realized that if Mythris flung him to far reaches in the influx of magic, she may well have done the same to the others. He might return to empty shelters and old scents on the wind. He wanted a reunion, but realized that in spite of which had come to pass, this might be more than it was fair to hope for.

He realized too that disappearing for ten days, and returning with a glowing bird, a glowing feather, and death-defiant ripple in his fur from a wound that could not have truly healed in so short a time without the meddling of spirits, might mark him outcast regardless. He didn't know what the Seal Hunters, or the Sharadoii, or the Aedui, or even the Diné, thought about such things. He only knew men had been willing to kill for far less obvious miracles.

Finally wide paws splashed onto rocky shoreline. A redbird flitted through the trees on the woodland's edge, singing.

He took in a deep breath. Swallowed. Then lifted his head and howled.

Vaelora was slower than usual, thanks to the gnarly-looking wounds she had acquired in the aftermath of the End of the World. A lattice of lacerations coated the once pristine look of white along her right hind leg. She’d spy them every now and again, sending a wayward glance toward her backside, to see the assortment of cuts that now were in the Ugly Stage of healing. They tightened along the restitching of skin, and each time she moved, it felt as if the newly grown skin were ripping all over again.

It bothered her, but not as much as one would think.

If anything, it was her inability to race forward, run, and be fast that troubled her most. But perhaps, she didn’t need to run with Nate around. An idle thought, and one she didn’t quite give too much time to think on.

Instead, she followed behind him. Through the weird tunnel that made her hair stand on end, and through the forests and trees, she barely recognized. The world had transformed into a valley of green, with a shining sun and stars to match. Vastly different from the doom and gloom she had grown accustomed to.

Another thing that had obviously changed was that now, if she focused her eyes long enough, she swore she could spot a blue mist following behind her. At first, she had tried to bite it. A terrible idea, considering the restriction in her mobility—each time she had, she would inevitably rip open her healing wound all over again.

It’s probably why it was taking that much longer to heal.

She didn’t understand it—what had happened to her, or what was now following behind her. And a part of her worried about how it would affect her hunger once the voices started up again…

But she had digressed from the thought the moment she had seen Nate’s bird also wear the wispy blues.

Then she had thought of eating him ( Ko-Ga).

Vaelora trailed behind Nate as they entered the familiar field of purple blue flowers; this time, their little valley was more beautiful than Vaelora had given it credit. But as he howled, she remained quiet. She had watched his group from afar, but really had only ever interacted with Nate.

Nate was safe.

The others?

She often gave them a wide berth.

Vaelora settled into a seat a few feet away from Nate, as a crimson stare of hers narrowed quietly into the early morning dawn. Another had come out, eyes cast across Nate’s newly formed scars (which were also ugly like Vaelora’s, but Nate was not), and asked what had happened.

He saved the world. She croaked from behind Nate, perhaps the very first sentence she had ever spoken to the others Nate called friends.

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—

(by MonetaryUnicorn)

Saela’s body felt like it had barely recovered since they had all woken up in that field. In truth, she had barely understood what had been wrong with her, and even now, the reality remained partly blurry. There had been something about internally bleeding, a source of damage that was buried so deeply inside her that trying to locate what was wrong was like trying to find a needle within a haystack.

Ultimately, a healer had—she presumed—and had done the best they could through a series of foul-tasting herbs to staunch whatever bleeding continued to rupture. However, though she was out of the woods, Saela felt far from normal.

Her body remained sore as the day she had woken up in that field, and blue-green contusions still remained dotted along her belly, her legs, and places where her fur could not reasonably hide the sight of pink, damaged skin.

Even her mind, though intact, was jumbled. Her memories were like fractured glass if she tried to recall the leading events, and her heart rate had yet to fully settle. She felt like a flightless bird whose wings had been ripped—keyed on edge and restless, even if her body desired to rest, she could not.

However, the last thing Saela wanted was to be left behind.

Especially after that whole ordeal.

And so she had followed Nate back to the only home she was beginning to know. But this time, she had remained quiet nearly the entire length of their travel back. No quips, no sharp words, not even a joke masked as a compliment.

Instead, she had been too focused on the way her body felt—what aspects of her still hurt, what parts of her felt weak, and watching carefully for signs or symptoms that she might collapse or faint during their trek home. She would have hated for that to happen and for Nate to have to pick her back up and save her all over again.

She refused to make such things a reality.

And so she had gritted her teeth, focused on her body, and moved forward like a ghost behind Nate’s trail.

When they had ultimately reached Lapis Nestle, Saela had finally let out a breath of relief—her body sinking to the ground in quiet exhaustion as she settled on her stomach amid the growing wildflowers. This felt good, she noted to herself, and though she would never voice it, Saela was happy to be back home.

She rolled a quiet, nearly glowing stare toward the rest of those who gathered—a freaky woman whom Saela refused to interact with on the off-chance the woman would lick her lips like she had a few times on their journey back home, Nate, who called for the rest of his friends, and a coy-wolf she vaguely recognized from the few meetings she had spied from the outskirts post that one frozen night.

Saela was certain she knew their name, certain that Nate had spoken of them, but whom they were eluded her for now.

Instead, she watched the rest of them converse, content to finally give her body a moment's rest as the cool touch of the flowers alleviated the soreness tugging at her belly.

Nate's breath froze in his chest as Cecil appeared. Outwardly whole, but Nate knew how flesh could lie. The quickness of his smile was late, this time. Following only on the heels of uncertain ear flicks and a parted gape that inspired no true gasp.

They saw the wound. Of course they did. Nate suspected that was all anyone was going to see, for a while. Maybe forever. Marked. Like a Beast, or a Messiah, but the former sounded less sacrilegious. There was probably something to unpack in all that.

For the moment, he was more concerned about Cecil. And the broken promise that stretched the space between them. Perhaps without the consequence Cecil had feared when they pried it off Nate's lips... but certainly the burden of its possibility.

I didn't. Nate's words dogged the heels of Vaelora's claim. (What did Cecil think of the wayward souls Nate carried home in tow?) All I did was pick another fight I couldn't win. He laughed, but it was mirthless with anxiety beneath the racing scrutiny of Cecil's heart. Not on my own, anyway.

Honesty wouldn't save Nate from prior deception, but he chose it anyway. Even surrounded by a flock of onlookers. He offered confession to someone who, unlike all the black-robed shepherds sat in shadow past partition, seemed to know what kind of soul they were listening to.

He swallowed into a frown, and put judgement in Cecil's hands: It was... it was like before. He wanted to look away. But he was afraid to.  Except I realized I — I ought to come home this time. Home? Was this home? Guess somebody heard me.

Did they understand?

I thought it was better to be gone. That if I left you for the right reasons, only the scenery had to change. And I was wrong.

Nate was wounded now, changed by the effort of changing, and might always bear the mark of it. But somehow felt more whole. Or at least, like a man moving toward wholeness.

Are the others alright? Are you alright?

---

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(by MonetaryUnicorn)

In truth, she did nothing. Nothing to quell the discomfort that seemed to radiate between both Nate and his friend, the tension heavy in the air. She did nothing to silence her own discomfort as the pain tugged mercilessly around her lower abdomen, her whole body exhausted from the entire ordeal itself. And even if she had had her full energy back, she likely wouldn’t have done anything either.

The crazy bat of a woman—the one who had continued to lick her lips throughout their entire journey back home, staring at all of them like pieces of meat—spoke up as if to defend Nate. Saela glanced at her. To which he eagerly avoided all association. And she moved to stare at Nate.

Saela gave no indication that her attention was also fixed on the stranger who had followed them home—a healer, she had come to learn—but a stranger, nonetheless. From somewhere in her peripheral vision, she watched him as he had settled down beside a grove of trees.

And then, she returned a lazy blink towards Nate, ears pressed forward to listen.

Saela knew better than to get in between a man and his words—and while Nate could call himself different, Saela knew better than to trust his charming smile and silver words.

So, instead, she lay there in the grass as her mind churned with a dizziness elicited by her own fatigue. Ears twitching every so often to listen to the string of words Nate and his friend uttered.

Hearing Nate's howl, a sudden lightness filled Samo's chest. The chief had returned!

Samo trotted forward, lagging a little behind. The swelling and pain on his face had ebbed away in the past while. He had fought as a Gaul, as a man, and not as a slave; he had succeeded and returned. He had worried for their chief when he did not reappear; but he lived!

Chief! Samo howled back. As he neared, he came to join the other wolves in the clearing. Most faces, he did not know well; only Cecil he truly knew. But with his new scars, he suddenly felt that he should not need to be afraid. He walked with greater confidence, meeting the others' eyes with a smile, tail wagging slowly and head held high. His expression grew muted, however, when he saw that somehow, Nate looked older. Cecil seemed to notice this, too. He came to stand near Cecil, glancing between them and the others.

You look wiser, Samo said to Nate. The feather tucked behind his ear now shone with a strange light, and Samo thought of the strange power of those doors. Had something of himself been changed, too? And was Nate well?

The thought filled him with worry, briefly, but he set it aside for now.

Elk Charm, yes, he agreed with a smile. Her knowledge of herbs was extensive. I can help a little.