Crown,

She was growing. At the point it was now very noticeable the Queen was carrying, and she no longer held a small pudge. She found it difficult at times to move, like simply turning to lick her side was not a chore, and an unbearable reach. Célnes generally was always a slim wolf, she took pride on her body and clean structure, and it somewhat hurt her pride now that she became.. What she was.

It was hard factor to accept for a noble Deorwine. She wondered if this was why her mother fell into such an oblivion of sorrow, and betrayal. Beloved by her father once - or so she would hope, but casted aside upon the very first litter, and even the second. Ignored and then falling into the arms of another.. Though Célnes has no one like that, just herself.

Her walking slowed down often, taking many short breaks, but always on the move. There was some kind of hope that perhaps with time, the Queen would slim down, but that was all but a dream, until her due date. The curiosity came for how many she would have.. And how much she would swell. A large litter would be ideal for the sake of the kingdom, but at the moment, ideally, she would enjoy one.

A sigh escaped from Célnes, as her body sunk down into a soft patch of grass.

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 There had been times in Meissa's past that she had seen pregnancy, watched sides grow and heave and then lessen as pups were born. Never had she experienced it and while she loved the idea of children, the thought of having her own was almost a joke. With her bulk, she doubted any man would consider romancing her.

 Yet, it seemed... romance was not always a requirement.

 For from what Meissa could tell, the pregnancy was little more than some form of diplomatic agreement. At least, she had yet to see the queen leave to meet with the father. There were no calls into the night to him, no longing glances towards the north, from what she could see. This was not a litter of love, but of purpose.

 The woman was roaming now when she spotted her queen, resting in the grasses. She was undoubtedly tired, for while Meissa hadn't hands-on experience, she remembered her mother's complaints when she was carrying her little siblings... Her mother. The thought of the woman sent the soldier in a mental tail slide and she shook it off, trying not to think of that blurry white form as it stayed, as she was carried to the deserts. Who had carried her... her father? Her uncle? It was unclear.

 She found herself approaching the queen. “Hail, your Majesty,” she called softly, slowing to stand among the grasses. “Are you feeling alright?”

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The truth as it was, she had dreamed of a lover, and a father in the picture.. But at the same time Célnes desired power, and structure above her measly desires of a rose-colored romantic night. Though so many were called to Elkshire, there was a few individuals she could trust, so very few.. It felt necessary, to sacrifice the firstborn to be without a true family and love, but she would treat them appropriately as a mother. It felt almost scary how her emotions were changing, the desire to protect and chase away any other - shutting down the border was the best at the moment.

"Hello Meissa," one of those same wolves she had grown to trust was an oddity of a woman. She held but red and white tones with particular features, no one could not notice the one with a forked tail and tongue. Célnes sometimes wondered how does it feel to taste with such a peculiar way. She didn't ask though.

"It has been.. Difficult, I didn't realize how hard it would be to simply walk or to eat." The Queen laughed, her tail tipping to the grass beside her and paw wavering to the area, inviting the warrior to join her in the sunbathing.

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---

There was something glorious about watching them, together. A wonderous emotion that if he wasn't careful at containing it, would give away his position due to the soft rhythm of his tail. It was beauty and the beast, though really, both were beautiful, and even if his eyes favoured one over the other he'd never say. They spoke with kindness in their words, stories he'd heard with mouths not open. Those that got through, though, were of children and mothers.

Flynn, well, he didn't have a mother. Of course, there'd been some sort of fornication involved in his making, but other than a few dark moments drenched in warmth and gentle heartbeats, he didn't know her. He'd never seen her face, never got the pleasure of resting upon her bosom. All he remembered was a quick jerk as he slid into existence and all at once had a voice inside him whisper it was a mistake.

That he, Flynnigan Deorwine, the unplanned, unwanted, mostly forgotten blueblood, was (not had been) a mistake. There was nothing he could do to escape that reality, as it was tattered on his shoulders for everyone but him to see. It had always confused him as a child as to why everyone treated him so differently. Tiny eyes could only see so far, and the great gods above had placed a blemish along his spine out of reach. Untouchable. Even from teeth and claws. 

With the only comfort being his deadbeat father, he watched as the rest of his siblings got taken off to do important tasks while he sat, patiently for them to come back home. Of course, like every sad story, they never did. Though Flynn was okay with that, it meant he'd get more time with his da. Who also, in some way, loved his ugly child.

Just not enough to stay.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” The Prince walked out, a smile upon his young face and a glaze over his eyes, “And lady Meissa, lovely as ever.” and he sat quietly, a bit away in the background of life as he'd always done. “I was simply checking on you, Cel, but I see Meissa is here, so I'll be on my way.” Not that he wanted to be, hell, he didn't even want to leave, but that didn't stop him from picking himself up as quickly as he'd sat down.

—

---

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 In the end, Meissa supposed whatever had happened, it meant that there would be more faces about. Finally, a reason for her job. She suspected that on top of regular Bearbuck patrolling, she would get the chance to have babysitting duty in mere weeks or months, depending on how exactly her Queen handled having pups. Some new mothers were very protective of them and would let no wolf, not even guards, near. Others were quick to return to duties and leave their pups with others to get a break from it all.

 Meissa wondered where Celnes would fall in that spectrum.

 The queen greeted her by name and the soldier couldn't help but allow her tails to wag gently, especially as the spot beside the queen was offered. The grass did look soft, after all. She smiled in response to the laughter, giving a little nod as she approached and settled into the grass. “I've heard it can be quite a challenge! Have you noticed any particular cravings - I believe that's common too.” The best thing that could happen would be if Celnes really wanted rabbit or bird or something. It would be quite irritating for the queen if the cravings happened to be for the one illegal set of animals in the wood - Meissa wondered what she would do if that was what happened.

 Cravings, from what she had been told, could be intense.

 Another voice - just as familiar as the queen's - caught her ear. The soldier turned to look at the handsome man as he arrived, offering him a smile and a wag of her tails. Despite the disgust or distrust some of the pack or their bloodline might feel towards the scout over his coat or otherwise, she quite enjoyed being in his presence. There was something oddly charming about him. “Ho Flynn, lovely to see you.” He sat a bit far away and just as quickly rose to go.

 Without quite meaning to, she also began to shift upwards with a “No! -” She caught herself and gave an apologetic cough, looking to the queen and settling back down. “I mean, whatever Your Majesty desires.” What she wanted to say was Don't go, let him stay, but she held her tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed.

 She had very few friends so far in Elkshire and Flynn was one of them.

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"I have! Particular for rabbit." She couldn't deny the mouth watering salvation that was a leg of them. Though she couldn't stand boar at the moment, at least there was always a few birds and rabbit within the cache to munch so. Not able to hunt herself, it was a thankful timing that many kept it rather clean and sanitary to appropriately grab what she craved for the current time. The Queen couldn't help chuckle to admitting it, finding it rather strange alongside of the hormones that was brought.

"Flynn, you are welcome to join us," she knew he wanted to. Though polite in words and the way he spoke - true to a Deer Prince, the cousin was quite childish when spotted in truth. Though it wasn't a bad behavior as others would be, perhaps she suspected the dearest father of him, her suspected uncle, being the one to cause of this. The shame to bear someone of a white mark.. It gave a wonder how she would react if her own children claimed to be ; Célnes wouldn't be able to deal with one if they were to come out fully white. The very thought brought a horror, and an omen to what would come.

She could already foresee herself dropping them off at the Nightwalkers - but at the same time with the thought, a tinge of sorrow was hit. For a moment she felt surprised on it, but quickly brushed that thought away.

"It is nice to relax with company every once in a while."

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---

And with that, the Prince pranced his merry little bum back over, dropping to roll in the cool grasses like the giant child he was. A few sneezes in protest would signal that maybe his allergies were getting the best of him, but it didn't stop him from running up to Meissa with his butt wagging in the air and his arms placed firmly on the ground. It was an invitation to play, something he often did when he was overly excited, and in this case, he'd given himself the zoomies and soon began darting off in circles around the pair.

He'd leap and bound, flinging his darkened audits to the skies above in a display of dominance. The Prince, in all ways but verbally, was showing off for his Queen... But mostly Meissa. He'd kick bits of grass up with every rough turn he'd perform, blowing heavily through his nose as the elk had taught him. In some ways wolf, in other ways deer. Stomping his feet, kicking his legs, soaring over the Bearback herself, and landing upon nimble paws a few meters over.

Even if it didn't work to display his talents, at least he was having fun.

—

---

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 Meissa grinned, tails wagging gently. Rabbits could be tough to get if you weren't careful, especially with bulk like hers, but they were very easy to kill. Other critters, like boar or the round of illegal preythings, were much more dangerous. The most a rabbit might do is bite or scratch, even a pup could almost do the deed.

 She breathed a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she had been holding when Celnes called Flynn over and the young man pranced over to join them.

 The soldier shifted to chew casually on some faintly itchy skin on her shoulder, humming her agreement to Celnes's statement on company. Her eyes were fixed on Flynn, though, as the man ran up to her and play-bowed. Her eyes lit up in excitement, an urge to leap up and join him sparking within her. For the time being, though, she was content to watch as he promenaded before them, showing his prowess. While she had the upper hand in plain bulk and sheer power most likely, Flynn had the upper paw when it came to speed and agility, leaping with ease over her. “Go, Flynn!” she cheered with a laugh, tail beating against the ground.

 This was nice, she so rarely got the chance to really relax and she was sure both Celnes and Flynn were often busy doing their own jobs, be they whatever they were.

 “He is quite like a deer,” she mused aloud to her queen, chuckling in an almost-giggle way at the man's antics. Was it obvious, the way her eyes gleamed as she watched him move? Would the queen notice?

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He acts as he always was; a Jester. Though proven to be more useful then so at times, it was hard to see him away from the 'baby buck' that he was, and acted like. She watched him with a pleasant smile even if truly didn't mean it - it seemed he was enjoying himself, and she did not wish to stop the amusement. It gave some sort of ploy that hardships were not around, nor' the upcoming due date of her birth. Almost like she was a child again, innocent before murder, and before the newer embrace of death. To be younger, to be less busy.

Though beside her, someone seemed to greatly enjoy it. Célnes did not notice their unusual time together, being far more focused on carrying the litter ahead. Though it did raise some questions when not only her complete focus was on the man, but cheered him in an in enthusiasm. An eye glued upon her cousin, "You should join him," the Queen motioned with her paw toward the dancing man. Some part wondered if those eyes meant otherwise, a slight inkling of there was something to this oddity of 'courting.' A flock of birds, a male strutting to impress the female.

She truly felt like it was that at the moment.

"All deers are in pairs."

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---

Her cheering only amplified his enjoyment, a trill of whimpers escaping his fine lips. They hadn't gotten to savour many days like this, especially not in the company of the Queen. Though for the time being he hadn't thought of her, only allowing his minty optics to trail over to the Bearback to see if she was witnessing his little performance.

“D-Did ya see me? I can jump over the river by the border too!” His tassel tore at the wind, paws tapping upon the ground excitedly as yet again, Meissa seemed to be the only ample source of encouragement in his life. He knew his ways were borderline childish, but having no parents to teach you when the right time to grow up was... Difficult, to say the least. It was as if he was stuck permanently as an adolescent, while it was clear his body was filling out both in muscle and the unique coat he sported.

“I can do it again, if you'd like! W-Watch, I can even—” It was then his boyish nature traveled downward and to the left, for a second he looked at Cel with the same joy he smiled at Meissa with, but soon it fizzled out. “My deepest sorry, I... I actually have scouting to attend to, I scented an unusual fragrance coming from the west yesterday and lost it due to rain.” He'd straighten himself up, nodding his farewell and respects.

He didn't even bother to look Meissa's way as he trotted off.

(exit)

---

—

---

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 Flynn continued and she grinned, imagining him quite like a puppy, all legs and wagging tail and leaps and bounds. Then, her ear tickled with the voice of the queen, a suggestion that she join him. She had half a mind to, was even shifting slightly to rise, when Flynn's eyes matched the queen's and his face

 Fell

 A cold chill spread across Meissa from within her stomach, watching the interaction between the two. The way he closed up and fled on some duty. “Flynn-!” His name left her lips, startled, but he was already gone. He hadn't looked at her. She frowned, settling back down and shaking her head. Something had happened, something she didn't quite realize yet somehow understood.

 Her eyes returned to the queen.

 “Well... I don't think I'm much of a deer, anyways,” she admitted with a sigh, and then a laugh. “More of a boar or a moose, maybe.” Something big, lumbering. Not as agile and beautiful as he. How could she pair with him? Yet, there had been a joy arisen from her presence perhaps that somehow looking at the queen had stifled. She wanted to ask about it but held her tongue. Perhaps another day she would catch a moment of the man's time and would talk to him.

 But perhaps she understood without saying, the chill of longing for attention, affection... and not finding it.

 “I guess we'll have to make our own entertainment,” she said, trying to keep the mournful note out of her voice. She offered a smile towards Celnes. Change the topic. “Do you have any names planned for your pups or will you decide them after they're born?”

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She was unaware of how Flynn felt about her - she treated most with the same temper, even within their homeland. A fake smile and mindless chatter before an 'excuse' to leave, and as a direct royal bloodline, she thought of herself relatively known. Her gaze followed the man as he left, he had looked at her ; before seemingly an embarrassment settled in and fled the system. Was it her gaze that chased him off? The Queen thought her person was of perfection.. 

"I wonder what scared him off," she so wondered with a hum, a pumpkin eye retreating her gaze back to Meissa, in the slight thought if she knew something. Perhaps akin to a friendship the two guards held, as now they spent ambient time together. Was Remus in that mixture? Célnes wondered..

"Ah, I had some thoughts, but yet in stone.. I'm unsure how many i'm carrying." She of course thought of some names, but she didn't know how many were litter consisted of, nor' their gender. It would be a shame how she desired specific names but none suited, nor' the gender. At the moment a few flew by, but she wouldn't think too keenly on them.. Not yet, not until they were due.

"Are you interested in kids?" She asked in thought, wondering who else would soon be carrying a litter. The Queen wasn't too strict on who would be allowed to breed, for she always desired bigger in numbers and within the Kingdom of Elkshire. Yet, she would like to know, be informed of such decision. Displeasure would emerge if someone simply did without proper communication.

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 The soldier hummed wordlessly, an 'I don't know' type sound paired with a shrug as Celnes turned to him. While she and Flynn had been getting closer, she hadn't a clue as to why he was acting as he had. Well, perhaps a clue, but nothing near solidified enough to actually speak aloud to the woman in question. Meissa assumed discomfort resulting from being judged, seen as lesser. He had made hints of his youth, hadn't he?

 Thankfully, Celnes turned her concerns from Flynn to the naming of children. She smiled as the queen spoke of not knowing the number. “I believe, if I might say, you carry quite a number. The Guard will likely be well in demand once the children are old enough to roam and scatter about, as children are bound to do.” She wagged her tail gently, thinking of her times in her past where she had watched children play.

 Always other wolves' children.

 So the question came as a hint of a surprise, tied into the dread she had felt in the incorrect assumption that she was one of the few females in the pack, before she'd started to meet more of the other ladies. Knowing there were other women here, women who fit the mould, meant that she was less likely to be chosen to bear the next generation against her desire. She had worried that Celnes might command her to bear offspring with Remus, his coat clearly rejoiced among the pack.

 Still, the question dragged back memories of the worries and she gave a soft laugh. “One day, maybe. I've never taken a mate and the prospect of,” she gave a little smile towards Celnes's belly, “Everything involved is a bit scary, truthfully.” Plus... she didn't want to make the same mistakes her mother had. Abandonment... it hurt. “I do love children, though... so some day, but I have no current plans.” Despite Flynn catching her eye, she still felt icy dread at the possibility, the expectation, that a relationship would likely contain.

 It frightened her, in truth.

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"I'm getting quite large, aren't I?" She laughed at the mere' truth at the matter, 'am i getting fat?' There was also a nod in agreement with a slight humming to the thought, as currently there was three to the royal guard.. She couldn't assign more, there wasn't enough wolves she truly trusted with the task at hand. The Royal Guards were a specific rank of the upmost trust that came from the Queen, to the protection of herself, and to the future kids. If she held so many, would three be enough? At least there was some sanctuary of granting permission to @Remus, their future tutor, and she imagined he would be a good man to discipline them. A fear installed, instead of the boogeyman that was their father.

"As more come to the claim, more to evaluate." Quite a few that laid around, and none that yet to be able to move appropriately. At times like these does she miss her brother, a second brain to the leadership, but now, all must be alone..

"If you ever think about so - you have my blessing. Though, i'd like to be informed of such decision." She definitely wasn't one to force such happenings. An arrangement in marriage was something she remembered some of her culture had done, and surprisingly, she didn't. Though Célnes did partake in dating, and held once with a man long ago. Nothing went beyond besides the company of each other, before she decided to break it off. The man was too devoted to the High Elk to her liking - she wondered how he was doing, especially with their homeland in shambles..

The thought came to be though, proposing a matching if anyone desired. Yet, they were ample in numbers, and beloved in warm hues. The Queen didn't think too much on the thought. She also held, somewhat a soft spot to the daydream of love.. Even she, wished for such a romance, yet, would never come.

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 Meissa smiled but said nothing, not wanting to offend since it was true that Celnes was massive lately. Her tail thumped gently in agreement, though she listened curiously as the queen continued. “A blessing and a curse,” she mused, “There's some agreeable simplicity in smaller numbers, despite the lack of security.” Of course, that was only if the wolves who were part of that simplicity were actually doing their job, getting ranks, and the like.

 If they were sitting about, doing nothing, then they were nothing.

 At the blessing, Meissa dipped her head. “Thank you, I will be sure to.” She wasn't quite sure of the specifics anyways. Sure, she had gone through heats before, but she had always been alone in those times. They were times of discomfort, longing for closeness more than normal, but without the true presence of other wolves, her body didn't know what to do with itself. So, the woman hadn't put two and two together just yet and she'd never had a mother figure at an age where giving the talk was necessary. There were parts she knew, parts she didn't. “What are Elkshire's laws and customs on this sort of thing?” What should she expect, if she learned her interest in the dancing man was mutual?

 She lapped at her paws passively, thinking. “I have no plans nor an agreeable partner but... when would be the best time to inform you?” Before taking a mate? Before falling pregnant? After? Unsure of the specifics, she would not clarify without prompting.

 Celnes wasn't exactly a mother figure to her, after all. Perhaps a friend, given time, if she could get over her prejudices - hm - Perhaps a just friendly enough pack mate and leader. The bigotry of the queen was something that Meissa figured would always be a roadblock between them growing truly close. For how could she trust a woman who send children from their mothers simply for having a coat too white?

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A nod of agreement, there was always a love to the high numbers, but the wariness if a pack could truly provide. She remembered her homeland never had that issue, large in numbers, they ruled land that took months of complete travel, and as the only ruling pack, there was no true meaning to fighting for prey. Hundreds of wolves, all by the name Déorwine - though the land now, was but a ashes and embers, for the flames had taken hold of such a large place, and many, fell to the demise. It's still surprising when some continue to flock near, always around, a fortunate thought to have some be found; Corliss, Cynefrid, Thistle, Flynn.. The Queen would hope more family were to be found.

Such a bliss that they did not have here.

"We did not have specific breeding customs besides marriage vows. For Deorwine's, to express one's love is to give them a pelt that is closest to their colors. An engagement, for a ceremony of flowers and antlers, where the proposer wears the adjourned set, and the accepter is bathed in the beauty of colors." She remembered the weddings, the glorious days of howling and proud ship from the King and Queen blessing their marriage and their fruitful, holy children that soon would come. But upon leaving such land, she understood packs did not have such freedom to simply let breed, and rather choose and select, who may be blessed.

"I suppose in thought, of if the season ever came."  Though Meissa's colors may not be the best in case of Déorwine love; Célnes trusted her, as well as valued as a royal guard. She could look passed the minor imperfections, for the value the other has brought. But of course, she would always an appropriate mate would bring out the more beloved browns and reds that she held.

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 She listened as the queen spoke of the past, of the way the Deorwines. She wondered what the differentiation was, between Elkshire and the Deorwine. For she was Elkshire, but not Deorwine - was it only those of the family who were destined for marriage? No, that couldn't be, not with Celnes speaking of weddings and marriages.

 A pelt...

 Could there ever be a pelt so similar to her own to make it even possible for her to obtain such a gift? “What kind of pelt?” she asked with a curious blink, “I would assume deer because of the pack's reverence for the species, but also not, due to the Law of No Hunt?” She had spoke it as if it were the name of the ban, for it was a simple enough name. She considered the other beasts... none she had met had coats like her own. Perhaps most members of the pack would have a simpler time, coats of brown were often found within the wild herds after all.

 “If a deer pelt of pure white were to be used, painted in such a way - would it be a blessing or an insult in the eyes of a Deorwine?” A true question, for she knew of her interest's place as a cousin but not of the extent of his devotion. If he were to even be interested in her, it could not be complete devotion to the ways, as surely he could see no beauty in the white upon her back. Though, somehow Celnes trusted her despite it... plus, the man had his own, smaller, saddle of white. “Or does the coat need to be naturally reminiscent of the recipient?” Likely impossible in her case.

 She gave a languid scratch of her ear with a hind paw as another thought came to mind, of philosophy and religion, “What are the Deorwine thoughts of the natural state of the white tailed variant of deer? Those with white tails and bellies yet are not piebald.” Picking holes in a religion that made no sense.

 The conversation moved on. In thought or if the season came...

 The season.

 Every time her season had passed, she had been isolated, so that no pregnancy could occur. It had not been intentional, she knew, but had she become pregnant at any point in time, it likely would have been an issue in whatever state she had been in. Though, perhaps not. She... could not recall the laws of her desert home, their restrictions or openness when it came to the subject. She gave a little hum of thought along with a nod.

 Ah, that was right. For her entire adult life until their separation at the jaws of the pirates, she had been in love with a woman. There had been no pups to be had, even if that woman had loved her back.

 “I will be sure to let you know if my desire for pups ever becomes more than a distant fancy,” a smile crossed her lips.

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"That is true, such a rule is now here.. Perhaps hunting outside of our forests, away from the herd that we know." She nodded at such thought, though the pelage marriage was a custom, it was now harder, now that a new rule had been set in. Originally only the non-antlered could be hunted down, saw as a 'sign' of those given by the High Elk himself! Though now the Queen fears, a safety for Vivian for one, a talking deer doe amongst the elk.. Then the thought would be, what if there was more? 

"Most would find it.. Offensive, would you want a coat of blood and muck?" A slight chuckle at the mere' smell of so - surely they smelled @Vengeance if it was a gift. Someone who never bathed, and the blood that curled in the fur of the dead. A fake paint, not a real red but just a joke of sorts, "white in itself is telling someone they are not holy, not divine." Célnes would not desire one, and scorn any gifts that were brought toward. In general, a Déorwine did not mind any other prey in white, even some found them pretty. Though wolves and elk, a whole new game was to be played.

"The closest it is to your own pelt, the more they show how much they love you. The effort to thoroughly search for one so close, a sign that they truly desire." With Meissa, if such a gift came, it surely would be harder. Fines in browns, red, creams and white! An unusual assortment of a woman, though strange as she may be, she held much promise. Such a pelt would be nearly impossible to find, and would pray to the man who would attempt to find such one.

"Though white is not.. Promising, the belief is they can be taught before they will sin." Ah, what a foreshadow for the future that holds within her stomach. So words she may spew to appease some, an allegiance she saw in the Deorwine custom ; yet when it truly came, only disgust and shame would come.

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 Hunting outside of the forests here? Meissa pondered on that. Besides being caught in the act, how could one know if a deer was caught within Elkshire lands or outside? Perhaps when one was closer to the herds, they might smell differently, just as packs smelled differently? To Meissa, a deer smelled like a deer and elk smelled like elk and that was that. Nevertheless, she listened on.

 She gave a chuckle, though her stomach soured. If paint were such an offense, what of her? Was she to be left unloved, undesired? For she had never seen a deer of her coat or even close before. She could suspect finding a coat for Flynn would be far easier. Would he even accept one? She forced her eyes not to drift to where he had disappeared. Instead, she pulled a nearby stick towards her and began to gnaw at it thoughtfully.

 “Is it either partner who may offer such a love-coat, or only the male of a relation - what of those that there is no male, or only male?” She wondered suddenly if Elkshire only allowed pairings that would produce offspring, or perhaps forced surrogacy in the case of those that could not produce.

 Meissa gave a grateful nod at what Celnes said last. If that were the case, then there should be no fear for children born within the pack, even if they were cloaked in white they could be redeemed. Still, something sat sour in this idea that somehow white fur meant sin.

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There was truth to though, it was hard to distinguish the difference, but those of the divine ungulates that grew close, now held more of a wolf smell of sorts. Most of the elk herd stay within Elkshire domain, rarely slipping of the range or the woodlands. If they saw her, they did not run in fear, but she noticed those outside that do not recognize her, shall either be aggressive, or also flee at the sound. It was a mystery if they acted similar to others however, but just maybe with the rest of the wolves, for as far as she knew, none had hunted elk.

"Either or, though males are the one's the tend to give the most." Most males would not be caught dead being the one coated in flowers and the pelt clung to their fur. Preferring the more royal offense, where they are adjourned with sacred elk antlers. A crown to give, while their beauty is covered in a drape of wonder, a show of their love. Célnes wondered if there would be a day, someone would grant her this pelt. She could not imagine herself easily hunting for another, and confessing so ; especially now with children on the way.

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 Meissa wondered if the fearless nature of the deer and elk here would be their downfall if any of the herd ever found the need to migrate elsewhere. Would they come across other packs and be devoured? Would they try to communicate, as some deer here were able to?

 She considered the answer for a moment, wondering about the blind healer. She supposed if he were to find a mate, his partner would need to be the one to find a coat for him. Celnes didn't appear to have any instant disdain for the idea of same-partner mates so she figured that he would be safe to find a lover here and be wed as any other. “That makes sense, thank you, Your Majesty.”

 The soldier began to rise, shaking off bits of debris from her coat. “It was lovely chatting, but I believe I need to get back to patrolling the borders. Remus has the three of us,” she indicated after where Flynn had gone, “Training almost every morning - I don't want him to think I'm slacking in my afternoon duties.” She offered a smile and a bow.

 “Unless there's anything else, my queen?” she would pause, allowing the queen to say whatever she might need to. “I can fetch you a rabbit or two the next time I spot some!”

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Once upon a time, even Célnes did not follow the 'true' Déorwine way. She held a spiteful twist of them, spun from a jealousy of love that the High Elk received from everyone around her, but she did not get. Ridiculous, so she claimed, to think that colors were but a ploy into 'control.' She too, would use that same momentum to wrap other members around her paws. Scorn from some, more beloved by the so-called 'heathens.' To allow them within her kingdom was a sin, many would claim. Though to achieve a power in name, it did not matter. The thought was she truly detest them, or not, was always in key.

Though dying by an White Elk, changed her thought. A grudge against so, a change to how to view the religion as so.. See it as a prophecy. Like a warning to what would come if not careful, and even then she did not heed it too lightly, allowing the mixture to join - albeit her disgust over those of pure white. They always held some sin, and yet to be proven otherwise. She found solace that Meissa was not amongst the kind, she was a pleasant woman, hard-working in life itself, and surely too, her children would be blessed. A smile of pride, "Enjoy your time."

She bid Farwell, not realizing it foreshadowed the future.

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