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Mewlin’s head pushed against the hard stones and dirt that lined the walls of the den. Water welled in her eyes and fell in big wet globular shapes onto the floor.
A voice, laden with sorrow spoke, “Mewlin…”

The young wolf rubbed her forehead on the wall, her mouth quivering as she spoke, “What do we do now?” She opened her eyes, shifting her head to see the raven standing on the dried leaves and grass. “What should I do?” She asked the bird with a broken voice that made her shoulders jump as it cracked with a heavy sob.

The raven stared at her, at a loss for words, yet he felt compelled not to remain silent, “I-I don’t know.”

The truth. It hurt so much worse than any lie.

Mewlin looked outside of the den. A growl rising in her throat as she peered through the small hole, she could barely see anything other than the sky and the trees. She wanted to scream at them. She wanted to beg them for help, gather a troop to go hunt her red uncle down.

He waged war against her. If she saw him again well… she’d kill him. And she wanted to raise an army to tear him apart.

Were the aryn wolves to be trusted to help at all? Would they even want to help her if it was Paimon that they needed to save?

She knew they all struggled with Paimon. They had questioned her about her safety and her life with him. She wondered if they had something to do with it. Did they plan this all?

The rational part of her, knew they didn’t. They were her friends. Some of them helped raise her. They were family.

Still, her heart ached. She could not go to them for help.

If she told them… Would her uncles kill Pa? Had they gotten away?

She couldn’t think straight.

The raven watched as her face contorted bitterly, and her ears twist with thought. He croaked a pitying sound and stepped forward. Suddenly, he remembered something he had seen from above.

The way that Paimon wrapped around Mewlin and had gotten so close to her ear, and the way she looked back at him when he passed her by.

“Mewlin.” The bird spoke softly. The wolf responded by looking at him. “What did he tell you?”

The young wolf’s breath hitched and she looked back to the open sky. She blinked tears out of her eyes and shuffled her feet before swallowing. “He said… That I have a mother… and she’s in Chandor.”

The bird’s beak dropped open.

“Where is that? Is it far?” Maugre asked moving forward with fervor

“I-I don’t know. It’s where Sunrise came from. I- I don’t know.” Mewlin answered, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
It had been a question looming over her, her whole life.
She was content with Paimon. She was happy to be with him and be with Aryn. So many of the Aryn wolves were part of her family, hell. All of it was.
But that question nagged at her.
Who was her mom? Why wasn’t she with her?

“I- I can’t help but ask myself. Has she been in Chandor this whole time? Am I really actually related to Pa? I- I never even thought about it before. I never cared but does it mean that he stole me from her? Or or.. Or did she give me away? Why is she there… and I’m here? And what does it all mean?” All of the things Mewlin had seen and heard, assumed, and guessed were all spinning around her in a tornado of second guesses and what-ifs. She didn’t know what to be true anymore.

She couldn’t help but to see wolves like Lawson and Hani and imagine what life should have looked like. Her life was so different from theirs and many in Aryn. Questions boiled inside.

But they would always go unanswered.
Not even Paimon, the smartest wolf she had known, could answer her questions.

So she made up her own story that her mom had some terrible accident or was a terrible crime that made nobody want to talk about her.
Stories were terrible things. They made reality seem so much more damning when the things from fairytales came to life.

Mewlin’s hackles rose along her spine. “I can’t stay here. I won’t.” Mewlin decided.

~ Inbetween Interaction Here ~

The ground underneath of Mewlin’s feet turned slick as the grass shifted, disconnecting from the muddy layer beneath it. Scattered snow melts shocked her feet with every quickened step she made down the slopes towards the land below her. Maugre cast his gaze behind them, back through the pass. If felt so strange to leave Aryn after building so much in the time he'd spent there with Paimon and Mewlin.

The monumental Charyn pass behind her began to slip away into the distance, the rocks that peppered the ground soon began to lighten and become scarce as she made her way further and closer.

A large black raven flew along her side, ever watchful over her. Somehow he felt responsible for her. She was his friend of course. But after everything. There was no longer a force so large and imposing looking after her, he felt compelled to hold her dear.

He watched her pace pick up, and he floated into the sky, higher and higher he climbed so that he could see everything around them. The earth was brown and white with melting snow and the subtle pinks and greens of budding trees. He breathed in the warming air. Filling him with a sense of hope and wonder.

This could be okay. This could be what needs to happen.

The pain of loss seeps deep within Maugre as he thinks to himself. If Mewlin is safe. Should he go and try to find his friend? His brother?

But he knew, that if he went looking, he would find a broken body.
If Maugre didn’t go looking, he could pretend that he was still alive.

He knew better.

A short literature of Mewlin's decision to go to Chandor, which takes place pretty soon after she'd returned from the mountains. + The journey out of Aryn which, takes place at the end of spring.
It's not done yet but there is something for the middle part!!

Description

Mewlin’s head pushed against the hard stones and dirt that lined the walls of the den. Water welled in her eyes and fell in big wet globular shapes onto the floor.
A voice, laden with sorrow spoke, “Mewlin…”

The young wolf rubbed her forehead on the wall, her mouth quivering as she spoke, “What do we do now?” She opened her eyes, shifting her head to see the raven standing on the dried leaves and grass. “What should I do?” She asked the bird with a broken voice that made her shoulders jump as it cracked with a heavy sob.

The raven stared at her, at a loss for words, yet he felt compelled not to remain silent, “I-I don’t know.”

The truth. It hurt so much worse than any lie.

Mewlin looked outside of the den. A growl rising in her throat as she peered through the small hole, she could barely see anything other than the sky and the trees. She wanted to scream at them. She wanted to beg them for help, gather a troop to go hunt her red uncle down.

He waged war against her. If she saw him again well… she’d kill him. And she wanted to raise an army to tear him apart.

Were the aryn wolves to be trusted to help at all? Would they even want to help her if it was Paimon that they needed to save?

She knew they all struggled with Paimon. They had questioned her about her safety and her life with him. She wondered if they had something to do with it. Did they plan this all?

The rational part of her, knew they didn’t. They were her friends. Some of them helped raise her. They were family.

Still, her heart ached. She could not go to them for help.

If she told them… Would her uncles kill Pa? Had they gotten away?

She couldn’t think straight.

The raven watched as her face contorted bitterly, and her ears twist with thought. He croaked a pitying sound and stepped forward. Suddenly, he remembered something he had seen from above.

The way that Paimon wrapped around Mewlin and had gotten so close to her ear, and the way she looked back at him when he passed her by.

“Mewlin.” The bird spoke softly. The wolf responded by looking at him. “What did he tell you?”

The young wolf’s breath hitched and she looked back to the open sky. She blinked tears out of her eyes and shuffled her feet before swallowing. “He said… That I have a mother… and she’s in Chandor.”

The bird’s beak dropped open.

“Where is that? Is it far?” Maugre asked moving forward with fervor

“I-I don’t know. It’s where Sunrise came from. I- I don’t know.” Mewlin answered, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
It had been a question looming over her, her whole life.
She was content with Paimon. She was happy to be with him and be with Aryn. So many of the Aryn wolves were part of her family, hell. All of it was.
But that question nagged at her.
Who was her mom? Why wasn’t she with her?

“I- I can’t help but ask myself. Has she been in Chandor this whole time? Am I really actually related to Pa? I- I never even thought about it before. I never cared but does it mean that he stole me from her? Or or.. Or did she give me away? Why is she there… and I’m here? And what does it all mean?” All of the things Mewlin had seen and heard, assumed, and guessed were all spinning around her in a tornado of second guesses and what-ifs. She didn’t know what to be true anymore.

She couldn’t help but to see wolves like Lawson and Hani and imagine what life should have looked like. Her life was so different from theirs and many in Aryn. Questions boiled inside.

But they would always go unanswered.
Not even Paimon, the smartest wolf she had known, could answer her questions.

So she made up her own story that her mom had some terrible accident or was a terrible crime that made nobody want to talk about her.
Stories were terrible things. They made reality seem so much more damning when the things from fairytales came to life.

Mewlin’s hackles rose along her spine. “I can’t stay here. I won’t.” Mewlin decided.

~ Inbetween Interaction Here ~

The ground underneath of Mewlin’s feet turned slick as the grass shifted, disconnecting from the muddy layer beneath it. Scattered snow melts shocked her feet with every quickened step she made down the slopes towards the land below her. Maugre cast his gaze behind them, back through the pass. If felt so strange to leave Aryn after building so much in the time he'd spent there with Paimon and Mewlin.

The monumental Charyn pass behind her began to slip away into the distance, the rocks that peppered the ground soon began to lighten and become scarce as she made her way further and closer.

A large black raven flew along her side, ever watchful over her. Somehow he felt responsible for her. She was his friend of course. But after everything. There was no longer a force so large and imposing looking after her, he felt compelled to hold her dear.

He watched her pace pick up, and he floated into the sky, higher and higher he climbed so that he could see everything around them. The earth was brown and white with melting snow and the subtle pinks and greens of budding trees. He breathed in the warming air. Filling him with a sense of hope and wonder.

This could be okay. This could be what needs to happen.

The pain of loss seeps deep within Maugre as he thinks to himself. If Mewlin is safe. Should he go and try to find his friend? His brother?

But he knew, that if he went looking, he would find a broken body.
If Maugre didn’t go looking, he could pretend that he was still alive.

He knew better.

A short literature of Mewlin's decision to go to Chandor, which takes place pretty soon after she'd returned from the mountains. + The journey out of Aryn which, takes place at the end of spring.
It's not done yet but there is something for the middle part!!