Rover resists the idea that she & Seven are getting old (a worry spurred on by Seven’s retirement) and she and Seven fight a little, as Rover’s old recklessness and pride rear their head again (nothing too serious though)
Tanager, who has always been closer with her mother Grackle than her other packmates, is kind of lost after Grackle’s death, and struggles to figure out who she is on her own
Rime becomes closer friends with Tanager over the course of the year, and through Tanager’s struggles starts to realize that maybe she’s just following her parents’ wishes for her rather than doing what she wants-- eventually leading her to reject the leadership position.
Kit starts to get rebellious, feeling smothered by his mom’s affection, and leads the other subadults into some mostly harmless Angsty Teen trouble
Radun begins to regret bringing Verand to the pack- threatened by illness as it is- and feels lonely and uncertain watching Verand fit in where she doesn’t; maybe gets a bit overprotective.
Verand, in response, starts hanging out with Kit more, and the two bond over being Teens Smothered By Their Loving Families, Mom, God! Her and Radun squabble a little, but just in a “teenager and her young guardian” way, nothing too serious (though this does make Radun, already uncertain, feel even more lonely and unsure of herself).
Uno, the only new puppy born this year, is a bit lonely, and follows the next youngest wolf- Kit- around wherever he goes. Kit comes to view Uno as a younger brother, both fond of and annoyed by him.
Dace and Eight prepare to part ways after their journey, and old feelings threaten to resurface. [all art assets wolvden’s]
Dace spits out the bundle and stretches her jaw, trying to work out a cramp. "Pah," she says, "see if I carry some bear's smelly old hides again."
Eight laughs. "I'd say you're probably-- pretty safe, on that front."
They both pause, for a moment-- the day's coming on fair, warm and fragrant with the early spring. Winter had finally begun to recede on their journey back from the prairie, and The Crooked Wood is rich with the smells of warming earth and new growth.
The Sanctuary Pack's camp is very close, now; Eight can make the rest of the way on her own, and even at a walk she’ll arrive well before nightfall. Dace pauses, looking around at the forests of her youth- of her whole life- spread out all around.
Eight pads up to stand beside her, silent for a moment. And then: "What’re you gonna do now?"
Dace has been asking herself the same thing. "Travel around, I guess. Maybe find another pack to join up with."
"There aren't-- I mean, I didn't think there were any packs around here? Other than us."
"No," Dace agrees. "Not around here."
Another pause. An ovenbird drops down to rest in one of the still-bare trees above, singing out tea-cher, tea-cher in his high, loud voice.
The birds have started to migrate north again, Dace thinks, uselessly.
Eight says, a little tentative, "you'll be travelling a long time then-- a long way?"
Dace nods. Can't quite find her voice- doesn't trust it, maybe- now that they've come right to it. The moment of parting. She clears her throat, after a long moment. Looks up.
"Well," she says, and her voice does come out a little rough. But not too bad, considering.
"Well." Eight looks at her. Away again. Neither of them move.
Dace says, reluctantly, "it's been-- well, fun's not really the right word."
Eight laughs; a startled sound. "No," she agrees. "I mean-- no, but, I know what you mean." Dace sighs a little, and Eight nudges her, chiding. "No one else I'd have wanted along on a-- life or death, um, foraging expedition."
Dace laughs now, too, and nudges Eight back, their shoulders pressed together. "Hey. Feeling's mutual."
The ovenbird drops from his branch, flutters a moment, and wings away again, apparently dissatisfied with his perch. Dace watches after him.
"Well," she says, again.
"Stay the night!" Eight blurts, and almost looks surprised she's said it. She pauses for a second, wide-eyed, and then ploughs on. "Just the night-if you're going to be travelling far, I mean- you can rest in camp first."
And it’s tempting- almost painfully tempting, but--
"I can't." Dace pictures it; facing everyone again. Perch's disapproval, Grayling's hurt, Rime's confusion, Finch’s concern, and everyone asking where she's been and why she'd gone, and having to explain- and having to say goodbye again- she hangs her head. "I'm sorry, Eight. I can't."
Better to have it over with, quick. Like yanking out a thorn.
"We've been walking so long," Eight tries. "In my-- um, medical opinion, you need to- should, I mean- let your paws heal."
It's a very Eight kind of excuse, and Dace can't help looking up at her, fond. "Your medical opinion, huh?"
Eight looks a little embarrassed, but nods. "Mhm."
"Well. I'll be sure to rest up, then."
Eight looks up, a look of hope on her face so obvious it's almost painful to look at.
"Out there," Dace clarifies. "Before I go too much farther."
It's easier now. She's got momentum behind her, she's decided, and Eight was always easy to win arguments against. And now, she gives in- or seems to to Dace, anyway- her head ducking low in acknowledgement.
Dace lifts a forepaw to tap Eight's chin, gently, and Eight looks up at the reminder. Nods.
"Hey," Dace says. "I'll be alright. And I know you will be-- didn't need my help out there at all, really."
Lots she doesn't say, too: You're a very impressive young wolf. You're the smartest animal I've ever met. I'll miss you. I’ll miss you.
"That's not true! I wouldn't have ever found him!" Eight says, automatic, and then adds, lower, "but-- I don’t know. Never mind. Just-- travel safe, okay?"
"Of course. Eight--" Eight looks up at her, expectant, eyes over-bright, and Dace clears her throat. "Uh. You too. Travel safe."
"Oh. Sure. Thank you."
They stand facing each other for just a second more, and then finally Dace works up the will to move, her paws heavy as stone. She makes an effort to stand up straight, to hold her tail loosely. Better for both of them, if she seems easy in leaving.
The ground is hard beneath her feet, still frozen, and her pawpads are raw from their long journey. Every step hurts, just a little. She will find a place to rest, just like Eight said. She’ll have to. But not yet.
She takes another tender step. And then--
“I love you, please!” Eight says, all in a rush, and Dace turns, slowly, and stares at her, mind going completely blank. She knows how a deer feels, now, caught in the beams of an oncoming car. She barely remembers to breathe.
Eight swallows. Says, lower, “I don’t know-- how, Dace, I’m sorry, I don’t, if you’re just my best friend- and you are!- or--you know, or else, or what. But I can’t lose you. I don’t want to-- not having just found you again. I’m sorry.” She looks away, ears pulling back. Adds, almost too quietly to hear: “say something, please.”
Dace shakes herself. “Eight,” she says, hoarsely, and can't find the next words.
“I know,” Eight says. “It's not-- fair. Of me, I mean, I’m sorry.”
“No,” Dace says, “no, Eight. You’re-- my best friend, too.”
Not quite what she wants to say, and it’s painfully obvious even to her own ears, coming out stilted and awkward. But the truth, at least.
Eight ducks her head, wretched. “It’s not enough,” she says, not really a question.
“No.”
A long pause; the wood is very quiet around them. Dace looks away, unable to stand it. Up through the trees, the sky is fighting to turn blue, bits and pieces showing through the thick gray clouds.
“Eight,” she says, eventually. “I can’t just stay for you.”
“I know.”
“I can’t just hang around for one wolf. Even if it’s-- you.”
“I know!” Eight says, wretchedly. “But--!”
It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Dace thinks of Finch, after Saturn had left him, hanging around camp moping, directionless, and almost laughs. Whatever else she is, she’s not going to turn into her father.
She says, more gently, “But I don’t want to lose you, either. I’ll miss you.”
And Eight looks at her, miserable. Dace reaches forward, tentatively, ducking her head, and after a moment Eight closes the rest of the distance, and they stand with their foreheads pressed together. Dace can feel Eight shivering, where they touch, and smell the sweet herbs on her fur.
She says, softly, into the space between them, “Just tonight.”
Eight goes very still. “Dace?”
“I’ll stay just tonight. And then I have to go.”
Eight pulls back-- but only so she can press herself more fully against Dace, tucked close to her chest.
Dace rests her head across Eight’s shoulders and closes her eyes, and tries not to think of anything beyond the two of them, together, under the thin spring sun.
