Winds of Change

How I drifted farther away from the coast

Retreating hadn’t been their plan but if they wouldn’t be killed on the battlefield then they would likely be killed in a cell for their past treason to the King in a far more humiliating way.

There was a rare bloodlust that glistened in sky blues, wanting to have torn those soldiers to threads after everything they had done to the Seafarer family, and it appeared that joy that they usually showed brightly was dimmed to nearly nonexistence. Breathing in, their lips parted just a little before letting out a deep shaky sigh that flared their nostrils, feeling every ache and pain from a beating undeserved from those two monsters. This was their territory; they should be able to live here without fear of an army trying to beat it down to the ground and scatter the remains of what they already left behind once years ago. For being bringers of peace, or so they claimed, they certainly didn’t do it in a way that made them look like the hero but rather the reaper. Children and adults alike were harmed by the hands of the protectors, and it turned their stomach to even think about, let alone witness.

They were already aware they had won this round, seeing prisoners being corralled away into the brush toward Inverness where the camp they had never touched remained standing. Their reality was crashing the more they thought about their change of view from not even a season ago, having never seen soldiers as demons and only the king. How things had changed so greatly after Nora had returned and told her story. How vile everything was. It made them want to cry and perhaps they were already from the pain that made them limp and stagger, but they couldn’t tell what was sweat, blood or tears soaking their cheeks.

They had to make sure the others were okay. Their siblings. Brann. They swallowed at the thought of losing any of them from this fight.

Blood was the only smell that filled their nose, unable to decipher much past it as they trudged further into the forest until there was a break in the trees blanketed in fog. It was far different than where they had fought but it seemed like a more even playground for both sides. No trunks or roots to trip anyone. It wasn’t long till they saw figures, many unconscious as they maneuvered past them, watching for breathing but uncertain what they could even do. They were no healer, so useless in the ability to help if someone needed it. Shaking themselves, they nearly fell over but managed to regain structure. With a few more steps in, they would see one of the ones they were looking for and their heart swelled. A smile bloomed, stained in red as they looked at him, but that smile would quickly fall at his condition. They didn’t know how to help, and it broke that smile abruptly as their ears fell back.

Slowly, the moved toward him, body submissive and hesitant in every action the closer they got to the man of earthen hues ruined with roses along his neck. “Branny…please don’t die. Please be okay,” they whimpered without thinking at all beforehand, allowing their fears to pass their lips.

code & art by claerie

Brann MacCròin.

The battle was won, the fighting over. How many had he felled? How many of the bodies of his brethren had he crawled over to drag himself away from the final fights? Brann’s body ached, and his neck was soaked in blood. It was his own, he knew because he could feel his own pulse within the gnarled wound, torn time and time again by combatants hellbent on his life. He didn’t quite know how he’d managed to stagger to the clearing, to collapse in the aftermath of it all, while those that were stronger escorted their prisoners off, and tended to the wounded, dead, and dying.

Was he dying?

Brann didn’t know, in all honesty.

He felt weak.

Breathing hurt.

His mind flashed to his family, to those that he considered family. Were they okay? He’d lost track of them when the fighting had started. A shiver ran through him — had he crawled over anyone he knew? The thought was too much to bear, in all honesty for the Chieftain. ‘Gods, I don’t know if I have another of these in me,’ his voice sounded haggard in his own mind.

“Branny… please don’t die. Please be okay,” A voice made his ears twitch slightly. He tried to turn his head to look at the familiar face, the face of the wolf he loved with his whole heart. He couldn’t however, the pain in the side of his neck too much. The movement tore away the scabs that were trying to form, making a new wave of blood seep out, roll down the torn flesh. He groaned softly, a shudder rolling through his body.

“I’ll be okay. I think,” Brann said. “Don’t worry, Mo chridhe.”

Slowly, the man shifted his forepaws beneath himself. He gritted his teeth so hard he heard them creak in his skull, as he pushed himself into a sitting position. It took every ounce of strength he had left just to move his beaten body. Muscles trembled from the effort, as he slowly turned himself, trying his best to not move his head too much. Despite his efforts, blood still ran down the front curve of his shoulder, down his foreleg, still dripped from the side of his neck and pattered onto the ground. The air smelled heavily of iron.

Brann leaned forward a little brushing his nose against Cory’s cheek, trying his best to not show how heavy he was breathing from such a simple motion.

“I’m glad you’re alive. So very glad,” he said softly. “Have you seen anyone else? Do you know if they’re… If they’re okay?” Brann asked, settling slowly back on his haunches, his hindlegs splayed in a way that looked almost uncomfortable. His head wouldn’t lift any higher than its place, hovering just a little bit below the ceiling of his shoulders. ‘There’s probably permanent damage done,’ he thought to himself. He realized he would probably never be able to carry his head high again.


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table code © ashon

How I drifted farther away from the coast

A dark mask would crease as they looked at him, so used to his head turning toward them as he spoke that when it didn’t, it simply made them all the more nervous as she took a couple more hesitant steps forward. Their tongue would flick over their nose nervously, knowing touch could make wounds worse and it was the only thing holding them back from wrapping him up into a blanket made of their arms and chest. Dark stocking twitched in place, doing a small dance to release some pent up anxiety and to further keep themselves from doing anything that might only hurt him more. It was times like this that they wished they could be as tired as everyone else so that the energy that fueled their limbs didn’t make them look impatient or unnerve others in their restlessness. Holding still had never been their forte.

Relief followed by agitation bubbled in their stomach from his attempts to comfort their worries, not buying it as a small flicker of anger reflected in their eyes toward the back of his head. “That’s hogswattle! How can Cory not worry when you are more blood than wolf?” they huffed out, not even trying to force positive vibes into this conversation. It pained them to watch him move, each action looking more miserable than the last and it caused quite the lump in their throat as he faced them now. There was a dullness in their eyes as the blood gushed down mirroring a wound of their own that gripped the shoulder. They were far too focused on him to care about their own misgivings. The crippling pain mixed with numbness was something they could ignore easily enough. Emotionally they had felt worse than their shoulder being bitten down into the bone and nerves, likely to leave them with everlasting damage they’d deal with later.

They just didn’t realize in the moment how bad it was as bone stuck out past the skin where that woman had bitten them on the shoulder, one they were pretty sure was a colonel in the previous war. Maybe not that high of rank but they knew her to have held a name for herself back when they were a soldier for the other side.

That ire would calm some when he leaned into them, tilting their head into the small nuzzle from his coal nose. A smile would curve their lips, warmth taking over their expression and chasing away some of that worry. Not all of it, still feeling their heart squeezing in their chest like a vice grip.

Ears would flick a few times as they shut off the distance, starting to not view him as glass since he wasn’t collapsing. Gently they would help him stay upright, draping their neck under his chin to rest his head while going to clean some of his wounds to hopefully cease some of the bleeding especially upon his frosted neck. It was then they would notice the weakness in their arm, having to shift most of the weight for both of them onto the opposing one so as not to tumble over from lack of balance. “Nora came out fine, I was fighting with her. I don’t know about Caspie and Black but it looked like a lot of our own came out okay. On my way here many were escorting Imperials toward the Fortress though I don’t know if any held importance to you. Also made sure my nieces were safe, no one touched them,” they replied, their tail swaying, happy their sister would get to stay with her just recovered puppies they had stolen back from Leoric.

They would return to grooming his neck and shoulder if he let them, wishing they had medical knowledge beyond extremely novice first aid.

code & art by claerie

Brann MacCròin.

Brann, admittedly, was questioning his part in this war — his life would, at least in his mind, be changed after this, while the fight still went on. While he was not an official member of the Jacobian army, his support of Jacob’s plight was nothing that he had been particularly quiet about. Brann’s ears flicked back for a small moment as he thought — was… it worth it? Did the sacrifice of his own abled body mean anything in the long run?

“That’s hogswattle! How can Cory not worry when you are more blood than wolf?” Cory said. Brann was quiet for a small moment before he sighed. His fur felt matted and slick, even in places that didn’t feel as if they were bleeding. Not all the blood was his own, he knew… Which, was a more disturbing thought than he had initially realized.

“I suppose you’re right,” Brann said with a small sigh. As he came to face Cory, he looked them over, his ears pinning back again. “You are hurt too, Mo Chridhe. Badly, by the looks of that shoulder.” He commented, attempting to nod towards the wound without thinking. He winced, a somewhat strangled sound coming from him as pain blossomed out from the wound on his neck, reaching down through the nerves in his shoulders, and up along his jaw. It was enough to take his breath away for a moment.

“Nora came out fine, I was fighting with her. I don’t know about Caspie and Black but it looked like a lot of our own came out okay. On my way here many were escorting Imperials towards the Fortress though I don’t know if any held importance to you. Also made sure my nieces were safe, no one touched them,” Cory explained. Brann breathed a small sigh of relief. He winced slightly at the licking, however, but didn’t voice how much it hurt, more comforted by the action than focused on the pain that was slowly becoming numb.

“That is good,” Brann half breathed the words out. “It sounds like we won this one. I’m glad that… not too many seemed to have fallen in a way they cannot recover from. I… must hope that my own siblings are okay — we had agreed that we would all return to the border of the forest, once it was done. I shall know tomorrow if they and my cousins are alright.” Brann explained.


[ fade exit? ]


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table code © ashon