promise me you will haunt me, even when the dread wolf comes

His headaches had returned. There was no Kaida here to remind him of the plants that could aid him, and the brief lessons in healing he knew he had remained locked away in blurry memories despite the way it felt familiar to know at least something.

Ragnar, felled by a chronic headache.

Laughable, if he didn't know better, but fuck, he did, and they were no laughing matter.

The Viking remained hidden amongst shadows and grass, beneath the shielding canopies as he rest his chin upon his paws, head thudding and thumping. His skull felt as if it might explode, and he had been in and out of sleeping as he willed his head to soothe. It was a day where his past came knocking at the doors, but unable to get through, and Ragnar would have felt frustrated if he could do anything other than lay there.

Kaida would have had him fixed in no time, and kept him company and distracted whilst her concoction worked. And yet — he was alone, grumpy in the shade as he peered half-lidded through his only working eye.

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She was chipper than usual, petals pristine and not a piece of fur in disarray despite the dreams she'd been enduring. Pressed tightly against her temple was the memory of a muzzle, lips dripping with ichor and pelt smelling of something visceral. It clung to her like fleas, nipping at flesh in search of something to sustain them, something for them to survive. Anything.

Something smelling of mint and a vague floral scent flowed from the plants tightly gripped in her maw, tangling in her pelt as she swept across soft hues of green. Oblivious, uncaring, fearless, she was a petal in the wind. A leaf flying from one tree to another, a bird's symphony retreating as it broke free from the restraints of its nest.

At her side, a fawn bleated, clinging to her hip as the woman collected various herbs and plants. “The world is a cruel place.” She hummed softly. “But—beauty grows where loss once had been.” Her paw shifted over a sprout rising from the earth, green eyes shifting to the lost animal. “We will find your home.” Even if it meant her being that home. A smile and Kaida was rising again, tail whisping across the brush around them before they set off again.

The fawn was exuberant at her side, sniffing flowers and shying away from the occasional rabbit, but Kaida was focused elsewhere. Soft laughs would leave her at every stumble and clatter of knocking limbs. She'd forgotten how clumsy children were, how carefree and fearless they started out. A low sigh fell from her lips, her attention moving back to the plants that surrounded them instead.

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Despite the way he wanted everything to silence, the trees were alive. The bushes, too, and the creatures that called them home. As the wind breezed on by, it ruffled the leaves in the canopies and light filtered through in sudden, awkward patterns, and Ragnar puffed his cheeks up as he lifted his paws from beneath his chin and delicately let it rest on the ground before he covered his face with thick pads.

It was, perhaps, with a childish want that Ragnar thought he smelt lavender. Mixed with the scent of fresh rain, 'cause there was no goddamn rain or lavender, and he supposed he was feeling particularly sorry for himself, so it might make sense he might pretend that his friend was here. His Healer.

He sighed from beneath his paws, wondering if it would plague him for the rest of the day and night, and if he could never unlock those taunting memories. Though his head pounded, and his stomach clenched with sickness, he jolted. Laughter.

Familiar laughter, but so much more light and free than he had heard before. Was he imagining the sound of her too now? He feared if he moved, his stomach might act as if he were rocking on a boat on petulant waves, and so the Viking, pathetic as he was, remained on his belly with his paws across his eyes, frowning all the while.

"Fjäril?" He rumbled, trying to not be too loud for fear of his throbbing head, but daring to hope all the while.

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