i am the blood of the mountain

Night pulls its darkened blanket across the mountain earlier and earlier each evening, it seems. My young dragons have not yet returned to the den, as they still did on a nightly basis. It warmed my heart, that they still wished to den with me when they were nearing two years of age. I knew it would not last forever, that eventually they would find their own place upon the mountain. But for now I say nothing, content to know that they will return perhaps later in the night, for the brightness of the full moon seems to call them out late. The days grow shorter and it gives the same indication that it has every year of my life - soon, the cold days of winter will arrive. I did not mind the change of weather, the density of my fur growing so thick that the only thing that could be bothered by the cold winds was my nose. But there is something about the oncoming season that feels different to me. Something in my gut tells me this winter will be unlike from those in my past; or maybe it is more of a wanting hope than an instinctual knowledge.

Standing near the back of the den, I nosed at some of the bedding, shifting it so that when my children return there will be no fussing over who gets the softest spot. It was not as if they ever woke up where they'd fallen asleep the night before anyways. Charcoal ears flick backwards at the sound of approaching paw steps, though from within the den I could not be certain who they belonged to. I thought perhaps Kalseru had come back sooner than her brothers, and I turned to move towards the entrance of the den to greet her. But I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of another, and I felt my heart quicken as it so often did when he was around.

I can't say when it happened. Whether it was that first day, when we stood chest to chest soaking up each other's warmth as the rain saturated our pelts. Or maybe when a fire had lit within me at the sight of him, battered and bleeding upon my borders in the aftermath of a reunion gone wrong with his sister. Perhaps it was the day my children had been born, when he had been there to encourage me through the struggle of labor and to watch over my exhausted form and the four perfect bundles of fur that suckled at my abdomen. The night when he had confessed all of his sins to me held strongly in contention, for knowing all that I did I only wished to bring him closer to me and offer him comfort. And the events that followed that night - from the affirmation of my trust in him when I bestowed the title of Bloodrider upon him, to the simple mornings, afternoons, and nights spent in his company. I think, looking back at it all now, that I first recognized it for what it was the day that I brought him to the peak. I told him everything, things I had not even revealed to my children at that point. Patiently he had listened to the tale of my family's history, my own history, until I had come to a point in the tale that he could not sit idly by and listen to. The more I told him about Leonidas and our shared history, the more Jericho bristled and a thunderous snarl had loosed from his lips. And it was not his anger over the wrongs that Leonidas and I had committed that clued me in, it was the fact that I wanted him to know it. All of it, uncensored, no matter what he thought of me once all was revealed.

At some point along the way, down this journey Jericho and I had unconsciously chosen to take together, I'd fallen in love with him. And as I looked up at him now, standing in the shadow of the entrance to the den we had shared on occasion, I knew in my heart of hearts that this was a different kind of love than I had ever felt before.

What I'd had with Leonidas paled in comparison to this. I had loved Leo, and I think in some ways he had loved me too. But our relationship had been toxic, for we hurt each other in ways far more damaging than tooth or claw could ever deliver. Some part of me had thought that my love could change him, could help him to overcome the fire that he waged war with in his mind. His passion had been all consuming, and it had destroyed what we had. I forgave him far too many times, but I would never regret the choices I made with him. I would never give up what I had now to heal the internal wounds our relationship had inflicted on me.

It was true that the Jericho that stood before me now was not the same wolf I had met upon the banks of the river all that time ago. But the changes in him had been subtle, and in ways that made him his best self. As I looked into his burning bright orange eyes I couldn't help but remember the nervous look they had held that first day. And when he spoke my name with such fondness, sending an all too pleasant chill down my spine, a small smile pulled at my lips as I recalled the way he had once stuttered whenever we spoke. "Jericho," I answered, mahogany eyes locked upon those of orange, curious what had brought him here so late in the evening. He was, as always, welcome here. But as an alpha my mind always went first to the thoughts of my pack, and despite the tone of his voice and the very air of his presence, I had to wonder if it was pack related. It was one of the main reasons I had not confided in him the fondness I felt for him. I was a Queen, his Queen, and despite our close friendship I could not be the one to bridge that gap. For if he did not reciprocate my feelings then what was to say he would remain? Could I keep him as my Bloodrider if some uncomfortable rift rose between us? No, it was best if I simply kept these things to myself, at least for the moment, to preserve peace within the pack while the rest of Moladion was thrown into turmoil. "What is it?" I took another step closer to him, but something told me to stop, to leave the space between us as I looked into his ruggedly handsome face and waited for something that my heart could not have hoped to anticipate.

daenerys