Ksura dangled from a branch, eyes closed, limbs hanging, the only sign of life the gentle sway of his body and occasional twitch from a foot. He gripped the branch in his mouth- it was the perfect branch, really, and would make a perfect stick. It was about as thick as his own forelimb, and only had a few offshoots.

His hold didn’t falter even when he stirred, and opened his eyes. He could see only up- the trunk of the lodgepole pine reached toward heavens painted gold in the advent of morning. Before he had the time to question why it was he’d seemingly just awakened, clinging to a branch, he registered what he was doing and what needed to be done.

It was time to sever the stick from its prison.

He began to thrash about wildly, at times swinging his hips in a circular motion so that his teeth could saw into the wood. When his paws touched the trunk, he braced them and began to tug, each yank accented by a high pitched bark. When he went back to alligator-rolling he switched to a furious, ullulating growl that sounded almost like he was chewing the branch out, while chewing it off.

He felt the wood crackle, tasted the resin in his mouth and snorted when pine nettles fell onto his nose from
Above, re-igniting his feverish task. He felt the wood begin to splinter and felt himself drop at least a couple inches. First one crack, then another. He braced his paws and began to bounce, wrenching the branch to and fro until with a reluctant creak, down came the bough, Ksura and all.

the scent lanced through the early mist like a memory, sharp and undeniable. morwenna halted mid-step, breath drawn deep, crown lifted high as the wind fed her the truth she had not dared to hope for.
ksura.
without another thought she broke into a run, all the cold calculation of a scout thrown to the wayside. the grass tore beneath her claws, the stones blurred past — none of it mattered. she ran for the tether that had not broken, even when the saatsine fell apart around them, even when blood stained the rivers and hope became a rare and bitter thing.
cresting a low ridge, she found him — thrashing like a creature possessed against a battered pine, his teeth sunk into a stubborn branch, limbs tangled, every movement a battle of sheer, mad determination. it was so perfectly him that morwenna, proud and broken creature that she was, felt a painful heat bloom behind her eyes.
she did not call out. she let him fall, branch and all, crashing to the earth in a chaos of dust and pine needles.
then she was there — not with ceremony, not as a queen descending upon a subject, but as one survivor finding another. she crossed the ground between them in a heartbeat, breath raw in her throat, and pressed her muzzle fiercely to his shoulder, grounding herself in the solid reality of him.
still fighting the world, i see, she murmured, her voice low, rich, and threaded through with a rare, hard-won fondness. her tail flicked once behind her, sharp with emotion she did not often allow herself to show.

The first realization that he’d come into a new phase of his life came when he hit not a bed of pine nettles, but a blanket of snow. He did not release the branch- it was held between jaws that began to chatter once he began to process his surroundings.

This place smelled different than Winsook- the air was thinner at this altitude, the snow had melted from Nova Peak already this year. He couldn’t have travelled, not sleep-walking, to another peak entirely, could he?

He turned his head at the sound of another wolf approaching at a gallop- Morwenna! His tail wagged and he held the stick aloft proudly (and half because he was programmed not to share a stick once he had created one) and uttered a happy growl as she crowded in close to him.

He remained slightly wall-eyed, protective of his stick, but was genuinely relieved to find that his earlier realizations could be declared false. He was on Nova Mountain, because Morwenna was here. Maybe some snow fell overnight.

::Ahh hahhhh,:: He agreed, hoisting the stick up once more. Then, he remembered- his neck was wounded, Dark Fang had ripped a strip from his jaw to his shoulder, he really shouldn’t risk something stupid like this or his artery could burst open and-

-a glance to his shoulder made him drop the stick. He tilted his head, thrust his shoulder forward, spun in a circle three times trying to see the wound.

It was gone.

”But,” He sputtered. ”Didn’t…How’d the hell,” He said, and he looked to Morwenna, tilting his jaw so she could check where the scabby tissue had been. ”It couldn’t have healed that fast, but I don’t see it, can you…?” He asked. Maybe he had healed quickly, maybe the wound had just shrunk to a line he could no longer see…But he couldn’t feel it, either.

SKILL Healer 1/5

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his antics with the stick earned no scolding, only a small huff through her nose— fond and exasperated, as she watched him spin circles around himself like a pup chasing his tail. but it was the next thing— the tilt of his head, the confusion, the mention of the wound— that sobered her.
her gaze dropped to the shoulder he offered.
her breath stilled.
the flesh was whole. untouched. no scab, no stitch of dark fang's teeth. just fur, unbroken and clean. morwenna's expression did not change, but something flickered beneath it— wariness, wonder, a pulse of knowing that twisted deep in her belly.
she leaned in and brushed her nose softly over the spot, then pulled back, eyes steady. it is gone, she murmured, voice quiet. no scar. no sign.
a pause, and then, the mountain keeps its own magic.
she didn't trust it. not entirely. but she trusted him, and that was enough for now.

Gone? He craned his neck almost comically to try and see, giving himself a triple chin in the process, but could see no evidence that the skin had ever been torn. He snorted and straightened, lifting his gaze to meander up the lofty slope of the mountain almost suspiciously. He'd never believed in magic before, but the possibility of it now seemed a little bit too real. After all, no wound could heal so quickly, and leave no trace- but when he searched quickly for the bullet wound in his side, he found no scar there, either. He frowned in contemplation, and looked toward the mountain's peak again, unnerved. It was definitely higher than he remembered.

He pondered, for a moment, and then his brows lifted. "You think it can make me taller, too?" He asked. "Honestly, look at it-" He said, jabbing a paw toward the slope that led up, up, up into the grey havens above. "Lookit how much taller that looks. If the mountain has enough magic to make itself that obscenely tall, it can do the same for me- just a hair, or, like, two," He keened. He dropped the accusatory paw, and looked back to Morwenna, a light smile dissipating his mock seriousness and turning it into sincerity. "Looks like the magic mountain has been nice to you, at least," He said.

morwenna's breath left her in something like a laugh— soft, close-lipped, and rare. the sound of it hung in the mountain air like mist, quickly swallowed by the cold, but there all the same.
she looked at ksura, really looked at him. alive. whole. ridiculous as ever, fretting over his height now like the mountain owed him a little more stretch to his legs. she let her eyes trace the stillness of him — not wounded, not bleeding, just... here. and for the first time since setting foot in these high places, something inside her eased.
two hairs taller might be dangerous, she murmured, voice warm. then you’d never stop looking down on us.
her eyes followed the slope where he'd pointed, to that sharp place where the clouds broke open around the peak. yes, it did seem taller now. but maybe it was just that they had changed beneath it.
she stepped closer and pressed her shoulder gently to his, her silver eyes softer now, the harshness dulled. it’s kinder with you here, she said, plain and quiet.

Her softening was slight, but tangible- even to Ksura who often missed cues and nuances. He did not underestimate the value of her little laugh, or the curve of her lips- while he felt she had plenty of good humour, she was wise to share it only with those who truly earned it. He tipped his head down, in a rare moment of sincerity. "I'd always bow my head to you, though," He promised her. A wolf would truly have to have their head in the clouds to not recognize and acknowledge her majesty.

He sat a little straighter as she came to his side, still a little bit flummoxed by the attention she gave him from time to time but ready t accept the touch of her shoulder. He felt something he couldn't quite place, that was a little twang in his heartstrings- but it was by far outweighed by a feeling of relief, and comfort. Her trust always made him feel as if he was home- and home had never been one place for very long. "Ah, you know me, Mr. Nice Guy," He joked, and gave her a light nudge.

A greyjay flew overhead, perching in a spruce not too far away, and joined soon thereafter by another. "So...Is this...Home, now?" He asked.

yes, morwenna murmured, her eyes tracing the flight of the birds before returning to him. it is.
the word settled like snow on stone—quiet, resolute. she had not spoken it before, not aloud. not until now, with ksura beside her. and now that she had, it felt real.
her shoulder lingered against his a breath longer, the warmth between them a shared defiance against the wind. the peak watches all things, she added, voice low. there is power in that. and peace. her silver eyes flicked to him—glinting. but it only becomes a kingdom with those who choose to stay.
and for ksura, her little grey thing with a heart that wandered—she would not ask. she would only welcome.

Truth be told, the peak worried him a little bit, especially when she drew his attention to it. Watchful? Kind of creepy. He was still trying to tell himself she'd only been joking about this whole 'magic mountain' idea but clearly...She revered the place. And after all they had been through, if Morwenna felt it was peaceful...Then he could probably trust her judgement.

"Well," He said, with a light sigh. He stood. "All the best, then, give my regards to the kids," And with a nod, he grabbed his stick and dipped.

He trotted away- reaching about ten meters before he dropped the stick to the snow and whirled, dashing back toward her so he could dive into the snow at her feet, sending up a spray of light flakes that rose with his laughter. "I'm just messin' with ya," He said, raising a foot to twiddle the fur of her chest with his toes. "I'll stay, if you want me to," He grinned.