The eye of the earth.

Much misfortune had fallen upon the shoulders of @Célnes Déorwine, and following the latest assault on her it was young Maral who went to her side.

Held firm between her jaws, a plump wood pigeon. The shadow was without practice in the treatment of wounds and broken bones, but she was fast becoming an efficient huntress. She could feed and she could lend a listening ear, which was perhaps where her skills were strongest.

She paused at the entrance of the Queen's hollow and lowered her catch between her forepaws, knowing better than to waltz right in and intrude. “Mother?” Maral called softly into the den, velvet ears pricked to listen for permission to enter.


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She found herself in all too familiar den, of the royal young were born in. It was a comfort, and small to give a solitude she needed. It was unfortunate the rest would have to sleep without her ; but they were all well growing, and nearly the size of a full grown wolf. She wondered if perhaps some left as they didn't need her anymore, growing further and further away.. But she couldn't help and worry, especially when all three didn't say anything at all. If they wanted to explore the world, the Queen — the Mother, wouldn't hold them back.

At the very least under the guise of spreading word of Elkshire.

Not all left though. Those who usually were silent stayed within the forest. That specifically brought a surprise on why Aldritch disappeared, for such a pessimistic little boy, and quiet to his displeasure (as far as she is aware), had also disappeared. She would hope he is safe, for the world out there was especially harsh to those with a more harsh and honest tongue like his own. Out of all the three, Calhoun was most likely the safest.. 

But she still had the others, including her small Nightwalker. Though cursed with white, she held a beauty that was unlike the rest of her siblings. A dull chocolate, charcoal like that brought a more dreadful beauty, a mystery to herself as she always stood by with an unusual silence. Celnes still remembers her.. Moments, of fear. The time she wet herself, and the time she disappeared when there was thunderstorms.

It was perhaps a moment that the Queen realized, she truly did love her children — even if they were born to be tools for her own vanity.

"Maral," pumpkin eyes peered out with an warmth, a true warmth as she beckoned her daughter to come closer.

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For the moment that she awaited a response, Maral held her breath. It was then that she considered how the Queen might bare her fangs to her tainted daughter's arrival, might take offence to any one of her children for the mistakes of those who'd dispersed. The shadow felt herself tense, anxious suddenly at the thought of displeasing her mother, and the feeling lingered even when Célnes permitted her entry.

She lingered, only for a second longer, before dipping her muzzle and gathering the pigeon between careful teeth once more. Maral slunk into the burrow with her tail lowered appropriately and ears splayed backward, dark eyes downcast. There was something oddly uncomfortable about being back in the royal den, this place where she'd been whelped. It hadn't been so long ago that she and her siblings had outgrown it, but the rounding of her dam's flanks made her feel oddly unnerved.

Maral offered the bird to Célnes, then made a careful step backward. She lifted her mahogany gaze to at last seek the Queen's face, both fearful and curious of her condition following the assault on her that'd forced her return to their forest. “Is there...” she paused, awkward - it was not in Maral's nature to be soft, “anything that I can do for you?”


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Celnes didn't know she was pregnant. Perhaps she did know, but kept on rejecting it under the guise of weight, despite the rumb upon her hips and the growing belly that contrasted her more skeletal form. She was eating less, in the thought her over-binging and over-eating was the cause of so. Often bloated, feeling weak and tired that breaks were constant.. But she never addressed the issue. For it simply felt impossible, when she laid with no man.

"Would you like to lay with me?" though the den could no longer fit all nine characters within anymore, it was still plentiful enough where a few could lay within. She had desired, to sit and chat with the daughter that always sat away within an unknown silence.. Almost like the perfect daughter-in-law, she did what she was told, and avoided getting in the way.

Celnes somewhat knew, but was also blinded about the neglect she partaken in with her own kin. By far she never abused them, and yet the emotional tolls already took hold of the youngest ones. She thought she had given them enough love, but her favoritism wasn't well-hidden.

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Maral was still, quiet, and obviously uncomfortable in her mother's presence - as though she expected to be a verbal punchbag for the disappearance of her siblings. She supposed she would bear it, if it meant gaining the Queen's favour, for she'd always yearned for some small sense of approval from her mother.

Célnes loved her, of that the shadow wanted to be sure. Mothers were supposed to love their children, right? There'd never been much, if anything, in the way of affection between them, but she'd never yearned for that. Their upbringing had not been all sunshine and roses. Maral was too immature and inexperienced to know that there was more to life than mere survival.

It surprised her when the Queen asked that she stay close for a while, and her dark eyes widened to blink into her mother's face. Maral saw the extreme changes in her then: how thin she looked, how she seemed to have aged quickly in recent weeks. She swallowed, painfully aware of how her mother had withered, and knowing she could do nothing to help her.

She glanced off to the side with an anxious sweep of her tongue over a lip, not wishing to insult the Queen by staring fir too long.

“Okay,” she said simply, perhaps a little meekly, for Maral had never been a child to disobey. She lowered herself carefully and waited, ever patient, for the Queen to break their silence once more if she so wished.


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minor pp

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She could note the silence her daughter always had — but not the meekness. She was well in toiling her emotions away, but not as well when she was younger. Celnes could see the anxiety and worry she sometimes have and perhaps.. Was her own fault for not paying attention further in the past few months. Maral was quite different from the rest of the litter, even if her browns were more a signature to the donor upon the northern reach.. A true black sheep.

But one that she still loved. Her tongue glided upon her fur in a familial of motherly grooming, "You all have grown so much," she said with an honesty. They were all quite close to their true size, and coming forth to nearly a year old soon. Only a few months, the Queen thought — that'd they finally graduate from their more baby roots. At the very least can do more outside with their age, and even if so desire, extend to excursions for the sake of Elkshire.

"That even some of you could simply walk away," her voice was a bit with a saddened tone — thinking of the three who did. She would hope they were not kidnapped, and walked away. But even that thought would heart, if left without any word.

"If you were to leave, at least say a goodbye,"

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Maral lay quietly with the Queen, allowing the rare affection from her despite the discomfort it brought. She felt no desire to return it despite the pity she felt for her dam - she simply accepted the gesture, not wishing to insult Célnes by withdrawing.

A dark ear twitched toward the sound of her voice, and mahogany eyes lifted to seek her mother's face. Her glance was brief, uncertain, before she furrowed her brow and tucked her muzzle. There was a guilt in her for the sorrow that the Queen carried. For Maral, it felt as though she was expected to be responsible for her siblings in their mother's absence.

She exhaled shakily.

“I won't leave,” the shadow vowed, frustrated that her brothers and sister had burdened Elkshire by their disappearance. It was a promise Maral intended to keep, even if sometimes she didn't particularly want to, “I won't. ”


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"Thank you." In a way Celnes was pushing it upon them ; and unknowingly manipulation as she would so express her desire to not leave. Especially, as the reason she gave birth to them was to forge strong members within Elkshire. Those who would be loyal to her and the group itself — but that did not fair well if they all left, without at least a word. To use as chess pieces as she so saw was the original purpose, arrange marriages, handing off for alliances, all within the maker.. But it also was said, she did love them, and wanted their happiness. A mother didn't want to see her young leave and grow too fast, and especially for Celnes, as she couldn't gain that firm control.

But she never expected the holiest of the bunch, to be those ones.

She hung her head on her daughter ; one that grew so large. She was still small though, but close to that perfected size an adult would take. Her daughter, though sinned with white.. Was growing to a fine lady, that Celnes wouldn't let go. Saddened in her form, but a possessiveness within her inner thoughts.

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She felt the pressure, and chose to bear the weight of it anyway. The idea of being confined to Elkshire for the rest of her days was daunting, but Maral had long ago accepted that she was of lesser value than her more beloved siblings. As such, the shadow felt undeserving of the same selfless desire for her own happiness - that which Edith and her brothers had likely sought.

With whites as bright as her own, good things were unlikely to come her way.

She maintained the silence, and allowed the Queen to rest against her frame. Maral did not reach to make attempt at comforting or soothing her dam - she simply lay there, obedient and patient.


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Celnes did not realize the extend of her favoritism. The attention she gave to the more 'safe' children, while letting the rest fester. There was times she tried to enjoy them more, but remembered a few times of difficulty ; by their silence, but their unwillingness and she.. Didn't push it. Some moments she had simply did not care — there was so many of them some were safer then the others, and especially beloved as raised to praise the crown. But all that venture and vanity to train them to her little Deorwine workers was within a vain — for those she believed in the most, were leaving. All except Warwick, so far.

She didn't even notice Maral who didn't reciprocate, she was wallowing within her own pity. One that the Queen created herself — the Queen who was a hypocrite, through and through, a user, a manipulator. One who never saw herself within the wrong, for life was within her own paws. Only when it usually wasn't, and where a despair settled in as she hung on her little Nightwalker, a shaking of her body..

A weakness, as her eyes stained lightly, but she muffled her own sobbing.

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In all her life, short as that may be, Maral had never bore witness to any sort of vulnerability from her mother.

Célnes had always carried herself with an air of pride, and maintained a collected demeanour. She was string and firm, expectant of her brood and attires unfair toward them. It was clear to all how she favoured some above others, and Maral had accepted at a tender age that she was not among those most beloved.

She was not a bad mother, the shadow thought, but she was not about to win "parent of the year". Maral wanted to believe that despite the difficulties she'd experienced throughout her childhood, the Queen loved her children.

It was unnatural to see her mother falter. Maral froze in her place, uncertain of how to deal with the emotion that Célnes tried to stifle; these were tears wept only for her wayward Edith and Calhoun, surely. All she could do was lay there and let her lean against her, be the silent and unwavering support that'd come to be expected of her.


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