---

Backdated thread for Sølvi prior to her disappearance

Set very shortly after Cypress' death

---

He spent the night alone.

A part of him desperately craved Solvi’s company, longing to hear the soft chime of her laughter and gentle words coaxing him back into some semblance of normal again, but the hour had grown late, far too late, and he couldn’t bring himself to rouse her.

The moon had long reached the apex of its journey in the sky and had already begun to fade from view, and Alder sat at the outskirts of the Vale as he watched the first light of dawn color the horizon.
How beautiful the world could be, he thought; so then why - why -

Solvi always rose early. She was a creature of the sun, and anyway, he wanted her to be the first to know - before anyone else discovered the body. Alder heaved himself up on numb legs, legs that seemed so disconnected from the rest of him, and noted distantly the constant stream of blood that leaked from the deep gashes Cypress had branded across his right forelimb.

More wounds lay scattered haphazardly across the canvas of his large form; a bite here, some scratches there, bits of missing fur. He probably looked like shit, he thought.

Alder tried to wash the dried blood away from his maw in a nearby stream, but he could tell it was no use - the water was too cold, the crimson had seeped too deep. It would be days before the taste of Cypress was out of his mouth for good.

Bleeding, he limped into the Vale and toward the den-site where he knew Solvi would be just waking from her dreams, and he hoped they had been beautiful. There was a part of Alder that regretted the little Solskin having to see him this way, beat to hell and covered in fresh injuries, but there was nothing else for it. He didn’t have time to see a healer; he had gone straight from Cypress’ corpse at the base of Northfall to the Vale.

... Solvi, he called hoarsely, softly, not wishing to rouse the others or draw unnecessary attention. Are you awake?

Delayed exhaustion finally caught up to him, and Alder felt his lower half partially collapse into the melting snow as blood pooled below his leg.

Empty.

The space inside his chest - it felt so empty.

Just how much had Cypress taken from him, even in death?

Even disheveled and freshly woken from a deep slumber, she was beautiful. If anything, the little crust of drool at the corner of her lip made her even more endearing - that such a perfect creature could still be as mortal as he in dreams.

He felt a wave of guilt; Alder knew his wound could have at least lasted until after sunrise. It was only his own selfish neediness to see her that roused Solvi at this unspeakable hour, the world still dark around them as even the sky struggled to wake overhead.

The pain in his foreleg seemed so distant now. Just being near her was enough - the sylph's warmth extended well beyond her gentle tone and kindly expression, exuding from her very being like a much-needed salve.

He's dead.

How foreign his own voice sounded, uttering those words.

She asked how long he’d been walking - he couldn't come up with an answer. Time held no meaning since the light had died at last in his grandfather's eyes, eyes so full of hate. Full of spite. Taunting, even to the bitter end; his blood had tasted like ash in Alder's mouth.

It's not - it’s not bad, Solvi, he said, resisting the urge to pull away from her worried gaze. The guilt returned anew, and he became acutely aware of how much he hated needing things, needing others, but he couldn’t deny that in this moment he needed her more desperately than he had anything else in the world. Cypress got a good one in, I guess. Locked his jaws and wouldn't let go. Stubborn bastard.

The sky continued to lighten.

I've always wanted to believe in the gods, Alder said suddenly, his gaze fixated on the pale horizon as all the while a steady trickle of crimson wept from the open wound on his leg. I want to believe a higher power exists, and that there is a divine punishment in the end.

His jaw clenched.

If only for him.

Every fiber of his being rejected aid. To be on the receiving end of help was to admit weakness, admitting needing someone; Alder had always preferred to be as independent as he could, for if he required nothing from no one, he could never be let down. Never be beholden.

The world was a simpler place when it was only him, and his problems only belonged to him.

Yet how beautifully Solvi's eyes shone in the gentle dawn, and then the first rays of sunlight threaded their way through the clouds and touched upon her face like a golden crown. Anyone else he would have turned down entirely - for how deeply he despised himself! - but because it was she who requested it, he could deny her nothing.

Alder swallowed his pride, picking himself up and following the direction she set. He limped toward the clearing with as much dignity as he could muster, but it was clear he favored the wounded limb and his gait was awkward and unsteady.

With a final grunt, he proffered the injured leg as he averted his eyes in embarrassment.

That sounds a lot like the Five's version of bleak eternity for assholes, he said, risking a glance back. A pensive expression overtook him briefly, and he paused. I wonder if all beliefs are somehow connected to - something bigger, something from the beginning of time that makes them all make sense. An origin point of sorts.

Perhaps it was a silly thought, but rambling helped distract him from the moment. He felt almost shy beneath her medical ministrations, simultaneously wishing to make himself smaller, somehow take up less space, to be less of a burden; all his life he'd felt like an inconvenience, like too much and not enough at the same time.

But he could not hide from Solvi.

I -

Alder’s breath hitched, and the words did not come out.

... Thank you, he finished lamely.

That was not what he had wanted to say at all.

His stride, limping and strained as it was, had remained careful. He knew she would have caught him if he stumbled, and Alder also knew he would probably crush her beneath his significant weight if she tried. It wouldn't have done either of them any good to cripple the one healer he knew of within twenty miles.

The glittering stone about his neck bobbed rhythmically with his strained, anxious breaths as Solvi scurried off to her cache. Alder thought it a miracle Cypress hadn't noticed it and torn the thing away from him out of spite.

Although it appeared mostly fine for now, the wound on his leg had grown hotter and angrier in the span of their walk. It was difficult for him to admit, but Alder had a feeling it might have grown infected and potentially dangerous without treatment - for gods only knew what filth laid in the microbiome of his grandfather’s putrid maw. He waited shyly, head down and eyes cast carefully upon the ground in front of him for her return.

She returned quickly.

He was surprised, albeit intrigued by the herbalist’s lesson she provided as she worked. Alder supposed it was a way of familiarizing him with what she was about to do, and he appreciated the effort. It was unlikely he would remember it in the long-term but he still tried hard to look like he was absorbing the information.

It was just so hard to pay attention to her words while she was flitting busily about like a little fey-creature, quick and delicate and so beautiful he could hardly look away.

Uh-huh, he said distractedly, completely oblivious to her own nervousness. Alder liked the way her brow furrowed when she focused. Her eyes scrunched ever so slightly, ears twisting back as she set about her work, the woman’s practiced skill evident in every movement.

Her lips briefly made contact with his limb as she applied the poultice, and the sensation almost sent him into orbit.

A sharp hiss escaped through clenched teeth as he stiffened. Only Alder himself knew whether it was from pain or the shock of her touch; he would never say.

She broke the silence again, responding to his idle chatter regarding the gods and higher power as she sorted through her herbs for the next item on her list. While Alder did not personally ascribe to a particular faith - as yet - he did not necessarily deny the existence of some greater presence that watched over them all, whether it was with a guiding paw or general ambivalence.

His mouth twisted up into a half-smile. Hearing Solvi curse was about as improbable as watching a fish take flight - so far out of the realm of normal, but absolutely delightful nonetheless.
Her characteristic softness made the word 'asshole' sound almost like a compliment.

Alder hardly noticed the burning sensation in his leg. There was as equal a chance it was due to her skill as a healer as it was to his completely diverted attention toward her as a whole - whatever the case, the stinging herbs did not bother him.

Bjarki’s sudden presence gave him a quick jolt. He'd forgotten about her companion up to this point, a quiet shadow following her ministrations; it was a little unnerving watching him work his dexterous little hands so swiftly.

And then it was finished.

Alder lifted the injured limb carefully, then leaned forward to press his weight against it. Already the herbs had begun their work, and the heat he'd felt emanating from the wound earlier seemed cooler, now, likely dampened by the tightly-compacted herb compound.

No, he said gruffly. With his good limb he raised it to put his wrist up against her chin from underneath, gently turning her head to look him in the eye. The sensation of her softness sent electricity up his spine. How fragile she looked, how delicate - like she might shatter into a thousand pieces if he did not hold his breath.

He was definitely holding his breath.

Alder exhaled.

Solvi, despite her appearance, was also one of the strongest wolves he’d ever met.

Thank you.

He forced himself to breathe.

Thank you.

His eyes looked particularly wet. He blinked, and they were clear again.

Thank you. You are… you have done so much for me. Listen, Solvi, I can't stay tonight - but I'll be back. Okay? he did not explain why, but it could be reasonably assumed Alder didn't wish to encroach on the generosity of Dawnbreak's leaders. Anyway, with his leg properly treated, he could make the journey back to Northfall well enough.

When we meet again, I'll - I'll have something to give you. Promise.

He did not know it now, but when he would return to make good on his word, she would not be there.

Or anywhere else.