A Drizzle of Home

25 | A Drizzle of Hesitation

"Do you promise to be loyal, to raise your pups to do the same?"

Dusk nodded, and she trained her ears forward. She faced the alpha with an upturned muzzle, eyes focused on the stone where Mist stood.

"Do you promise that this pack will be your family," she said softly, "that you'll treat every wolf here as your own flesh and blood?"

"Yes." Dusk's answer was quiet and calm. Confident and sure. So much more than I'd ever been.

Mist dipped her head, and with a smile on her lips, she stood taller. "And as your family, we promise to do the same. Welcome to the pack,"––she paused for a breath––"Dusk, Buck, Badger, Vixen and Toad. You are now five of us."

Dusk stood, her tail sweeping in excitement. "Thank you." She nudged all of her pups, who had grown silent as the quiet, compassionate words were spoken. Even so young, they could tell when something was important, and they glanced at Mist with curious head tilts. The prodding of their mother incited a couple playful growls, and they proceeded to distract themselves by jumping on each other.

Our leader beamed with a smile as bright as the moon, and she gestured with her nose for Dusk to rejoin my side in the crescent-shape of wolves, before she leaped down from the stone. Taking her place across from us, she lifted her muzzle to the sky with a soulful wail.

It was similar to her last song, the one she sang when I was the wolf being let into her heart. Empathy swelled in her tone, for a mother as lonesome as she. One who'd lost her other half, had to live on with only a twinkle of her mate in the eyes of her pups. Luna brought her the comfort she needed, to live on through the pain.

I couldn't help but be drawn back to what Cloud had told me. Mist's former litter, their memory was above us in the sky. I wanted to know what happened, wishing that Mist would open up her hidden wounds––let us heal them like she healed ours. Then again, some only scarred and never truly disappeared. At least they wouldn't bleed.

Cloud's voice broke through my thoughts, singing upward to the stars. Her compassion shone through the same as her mother, the one that mattered. It warmly welcomed the newest members of our family with open paws, and it panged in my heart remembering the emptiness in the last of her howls. It wasn't quite as gaping, as if the hole was starting to fill.

Each tiny woof in her howl was like a story, one she told to the skies, to a certain wolf among the stars. Here, she felt connected to the wolf she'd lost. She could speak freely to her brother, from her heart, through any barrier created by the frailty of life. He would never answer back, but maybe it was enough for Cloud just to be heard.

What I heard was hesitation. A wavering tremble of fear in her tone. Without warning, it would grow with a growl of frustration, yearning for answers she was afraid she'd never find.

It was hard to focus on just what those questions were as the littermates' howls rose in quick succession. Spruce's gruff voice intertwined with his sister's sweet tone, forming a dissonant harmony. The opposites grated together for a rough moment, one seeking refuge in the solemnity of solitude, while the other yearned to cover up its emotions by caring for others over itself. Their song found its resolution in a bond that weaved them even closer into one, where they could speak the honest truth to each other.

There was no apprehension, no fear of not belonging, as I turned my muzzle toward the dark expanse. My lips parted, and the guttural cry emerged. It soared through the air, meeting the others with a welcomed place among the melody. It was hard to focus on your own voice among the moonsong, but my howl poured from the very deepest part of my chest.

Finally, one more tone joined the cacophony. It was low and deep, echoing an emotion I'd felt many times before. It was a cry to the skies, telling the story of a wolf who'd lost so much. But her voiced fluttered with a much higher pitch, this one appreciative, thanking the stars for her new home.

A few shrill yips cut through, and it prompted amusement on my own tongue. Four young voices, barking and yowling, did their best to hold a small and racous howl within their small throats.

Soon, Mist's voice began to fade, and one by one, we let our voices fall. A wave of serenity washed over the clearing, and I scanned the circle of wolves. All the stress and pain of today was gone. All that was left was hope for tomorrow.

My eyes stopped as they landed on Cloud's. Our gazes met, and something swirled in my stomach. She smiled, drawing her eyes away like it never happened.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked away from her, fur glowing in the moonlight, irises glinting like the stars. Mist nodded to us all, dismissing the group for the night.

Exhausted, I headed toward the dens. Sure, it was one of the easier days––less busy, less filled with danger. There was still so much to think about. Memories riddled every waking hour, every sleeping one too. I was tired of my consciousness being flooded with unwanted glimpses of a world I just wished to forget. But the friendly faces buried in my subconscious tugged on my heart with a certain warmth. Not everything about my past seemed to be bad, and maybe some of it deserved to be missed.

"Hey, Drizz?" Quick, thudding pawsteps caught up to me. "We're going to the lookout," Cloud said, stopping at my side. Her brows furrowed in confusion as to why I'd just up and left the group.

"Taking the pups to see it?" A ways behind me, the pups trotted around their mother excitedly. "I'm kind of tired," I told her, burying the urge to simply agree. "Maybe later."

She narrowed her eyes for a second, but hummed in understanding. "Okay," she said, and without another word she'd run back to the others.

There was more to it than that, but they weren't things I could tell her. Not yet. I hobbled into my den, ready to curl up and let my mind rest. That burning, swirling feeling in my chest made it harder and harder to speak to Cloud, ever since she told me off for being pathetic.

More importantly, she told me I belonged. And I believed her.

I just needed some time alone. Reaching a spot in the middle, I curled up with my tail over my muzzle. My eyes grew heavy and I let them fall.