[PRP] The Path Home (Ashborn x Will)

[anemosagkelos]

She hated to admit it. The children were constant reminders. They reminded her of everyone, from herself to her siblings, from Lightning Strike, to Heritage, to Keepsake. There were an ocean of regret and want that warred constantly within and she'd awoken that morning with tears threatening to spill down her furry cheeks. At that, she'd quickly pawned the children off on the twins (regardless of if they were accepting of it or not) and walked off at the steadiest pace she could manage. Only once she was out of sight had she run.

Running, she scoffed lightly now that she was worn to the bone. It had always ended up being her modus operandi. She had always run from the hard things in her life and it had molded her into a blazing inferno of anger. She could not run any further, not now and not from the truth. She missed her family; she missed the child who had grieved so hard for an unknown father. That had been her once, though she had never let her mother or siblings know. Of them all, Ashborn herself had wanted Heritage the most to return but when he had . . . He'd ruined everything she'd built within herself and thus the anger had caught and set her alight.

Ashborn sighed, as much as she loved her children—they were her world, the precious puppies—it was hard to love them when they reminded her of what she wanted to forget. She did not want to miss her family (but she did). She did not want to long for her mother (but she did). She did not want to know her father (but she did . . .)

She didn't need her family. She had made her own. So why did she still want the family she had had?

[Scaramouche Fandango]

If she had less important things on her mind, she might have noticed the signs on the trees. Kin lived here and worked here, and there were arrows. Kin-sign, followed by a field. Whether she’d smelled her way here or not, she’d come across a place of respite and good cheer, a place where love had been worked into the very earth. A place thick with the green of living and the strength of family.

The flox who thought the piece of ground was hers noticed the interloper first, and she ran off complaining to what she thought of as her primary servant. The buck wasn’t old by any means, but he wasn’t a young fellow anymore. He had tended this land for as long as he could remember, and he worked it not for himself but for his family. Together, their gardens grew, and they had enough food and shelter and support and love for all of them.

Will’s garden was a happy place any time of year- even in winter, when there was less to do. But now, I Will Work Harder and several of his descendants were fighting a losing battle against yellow squashes that threatened to overtake the whole of the main field. It was a slow, lazy sort of battle, the kind that mostly involved eating and tricking the neighbors into taking cuttings, so when the alarm was sounded by an outraged little varmint, Will was more than happy to follow her to the source of her distress.

The source of the distress, the evident invasion, was a doe. Nobody he knew… which meant he could probably convince her to take a squash plant home with her. “Hello, stranger!” he said cheerfully. “You’re a ways from home, aren’t you? I know most of the faces ‘round these parts, and I’m pretty good at remembering them. You must be hungry after your travels. My family and I have been blessed with more summer squash than we can handle. Come back to our garden patch with me and sit a spell, and have a bite to eat!” His eyes twinkled merrily at the prospect. They loved having guests, all of them.

This was a genuine thing, not a creepy thing. The big buck was truly benevolent and friendly, and his plain, honest-speaking manner was writ large all over his face.

@anemosagkelos

[anemosagkelos]

The offended flox went unnoticed but she did catch the scent of an approaching kin. It meant that she did not yelp in surprise when the cheerful greeting seemingly came from nowhere. She startled, slightly, stopping in her tracks and turning her head to take in her surroundings and the buck that she had not seen. A slight flinch ran down her spine at the mention of home; she'd been trying so hard not to think of that word in regards to family who she had been trying to forget existed. All she wanted was to recognize her children as her family, as her home, and now . . .

"I'm not, no," she sighed because there was simply no way around it. She was not from here and this, stranger, was not family either. It seemed, however, that today, all of it was inevitable. Home was not here and neither was family, which meant there was no reason to turn down such a kind offer. There was no where else to go that would rend her memories until she believed only what she wanted to. Not here and not now; truthfully, not ever.

"That's very kind, thank you," she nodded, taking a step forward, "I'd like that." Or she supposed she would. At least company might pull her far enough out of her own thoughts that she could stop dwelling for half a second.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

A short walk later and she was greeted by the sight of the garden. It was barely a garden, really- gardens were usually small things, and this was an enormous plot of land. It had been carefully cleared and bordered with logs, and small ditches segmented the field. These were full of water. Enormous marigolds grew just outside of the border, to keep rabbits away, and the field itself was neatly furrowed. Large stones marked subdivisions, and a row of fruit trees did double duty as a windbreak and a food source.

But perhaps the most interesting thing was the sheer number of kin. Generations of brown-spotted kin, laughing, eating, talking, relaxing, and working together. Some of them noticed the visitor; some of them didn’t. Those that did gave a friendly head-bob of acknowledgment. There had to be at least thirty kin here.

“Here, this way, over by the squash pile.”

The squash pile was a mountain of yellow vegetables, many still on twisting, tangling vines. A Kimeti doe was carefuly removing the squash, while a young Kiokote helped coil the discarded vine. They were laughing and joking as they worked. Will gestured to the pile. “Here, take as many as you like! And then take more! We were… overly blessed this year.” The two does working nearby watched as Will showed his guest their bounty. “Ah, and I should introduce my family. Well, at least the two here. This is my daughter, Thanks, and my granddaughter, Faithful and Strong.” He was a proud patriarch, and he couldn’t have been happier to have a third generation working alongside him.

[anemosagkelos]

Ashborn was impressed beyond measure at the sight of the garden patch—a misnomer if ever there was one—as it spilled out far past what her imagination had supplied. The idea of a garden plot had sounded small but none the less impressive considering she'd never tried her hoof at gardening. She, of course, partook in fruits and vegetables but she had always primarily been a meat eater. This, however, made her wonder at all the effort it took and all the logic required to make such a stunning plot of land work as a garden. Was there even a word for this type of enterprise, she wondered, because gardening seemed insufficient but there was no other word she could think of to call it.

She would have asked about it but she was trying not to lag behind. She didn't want to lose the buck but the more she took in the garden and the gardeners . . . They were clearly all related. The browns, the patterns, even as the kin changed seemed to denote some relationship to the buck that was leading her to the squash pile. A thought that was confirmed when the pile was reached and the buck began to introduce her to his family. She couldn't have hidden the sharpness of the heart twinging within her chest if she had wanted to (which she did and had intended to).

"They're all, you all," her words mingled and broke. She sighed, "It's nice to meet you, all. I am Ashborn." And then she burst into tears.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Will’s proud demeanor quickly turned to concern. “Oh! Oh no, what’s wrong? Are you ok? What can we do to help?” The nearby family members froze, watching and waiting for instructions. Crying visitors were an unusual prospect here to say the least.

Will didn’t really know what to do. His normal tactics were inappropriate here. He didn’t know Ashborn well at all– she was a complete stranger– and he wasn’t going to throw her into an embrace or nuzzle her or distract her with a funny joke. She wasn’t a grandchild with a scraped knee, she was a deeply troubled adult. It was distressing to see someone in such distress and not know what to do for them. “Is there anything you need? Or want? What can we get you?”

[anemosagkelos]

It took awhile for the tears to subside into sniffles. The ability to speak took longer to return for the hard stone of sorrow that had lodged into her throat rendered her silent. It was an awkward period of time until finally, she was able to squeak.

"I'm sorry," she apologized in stumbles and stutters. "I miss my family." And it was hard to admit it out loud though it came out so easily. She hung her head low before looking up again and taking in this family of generations. "I don't understand why they didn't want me . . ."

[Scaramouche Fandango]

This was a scenario Will had absolutely no idea how to grasp. Family… rejecting you? Family not wanting you? He had forty-three children, eight grandchildren, and numerous half-nieces and nephews and kin of various odd relation– not to mention the does he’d been with, and their other children and partners, all of whom were welcome here and treated as family- and he embraced every single one of them. As did his descendants. They all got on civilly, some warmer than others, but at the end of the day, when they gathered to eat and tell stories together, they knew they were home. He blinked, thinking hard about what to say. “That’s… awful,” he said softly. “That must be the hardest thing in the world, and I can’t imagine the heartache you must be going through.” He wondered if their number was making things worse. “When… when was the last time you saw them?”

@anemosagkelos

[anemosagkelos]

Ashborn nodded, almost enthusiastic in her agreement and relief that, finally, someone understood that this was a terrible thing. For all their sympathies, the twins did not quite understand her dilemma but they had only each other and not a legion of siblings as she had.

How long had it been? She tried to count but time was slippery and twisting. She remembered saying goodbye to her mother and then time turned convoluted and ever she who had experienced the heartache and pain had to turn away from the exact amount of time she had been alone. It was too long but not long enough, in some ways. She didn't want a homecoming that turned into a blood bath . . .

"Too long," she settled on at length, and then tentatively, "but I feel betrayed and I don't know how to forgive them for not loving me," she sighed. For loving him more. "Are all of your family here?" she turned the question on him instead. She needed a moment so that she did not burst into tears once more.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

“No, not everyone’s here. They all know they’re welcome, but many wander in and out. They always know they have a home to return to, and that they’ll be safe and loved here.” Will shook his head, heart aching for the doe and her broken heart. “That’s something a family should give, is love. Unconditional, all-embracing. It’s a tragedy when a family can’t do that. No matter what you’ve done- even, no, especially if it’s nothing at all, everyone deserves a family to go back to. It might not be one of blood. Found families are just as valid. But if it’s not built with love, how is it different from just a tribe or herd? At least, that’s what I think makes it different. What we’ve built here, we couldn’t have done if we weren’t a family.” He sat quietly for a moment, munching a squash and thinking. What could he do to help this doe? Food couldn’t mend a broken heart.

“Perhaps- I don’t know you well, but if there’s one thing I do know, it’s love. Love can be a transformative thing. Perhaps if you return to them, to give them one more chance- to approach them with the love you know you deserve- perhaps they’ll see how wrong they’ve been? You don’t have to make up your mind about that right away. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. If it’s too hard to go back to them, or if you think it would truly hurt too much, you can stay here forever if that’s what you need.” Maybe being surrounded by love would be good for her.

[anemosagkelos]

It couldn't help seeming strange that some kin would choose not to stay but then she was currently a wanderer herself. It was not exactly by choice but she supposed if she had not been born to her mother she might have been a chosen wanderer by nature instead of someone who longed for home. But she had been born to her mother, with the sadness that radiated like a tiny freezing sun, and she could not shake that that was where she belonged. Which is why the betrayal of Heritage being chosen, stung so much more than it should have. That was her place, by Keepsake's side. Her mother's protector.

"I wish I could explain it but I don't understand it myself," she sighed. She knew that the family had chosen Heritage but why they had done so? She couldn't grasp why he would be so important when he had abandoned them. Or maybe . . . She bit at her lips, the more Will talked.

"You," she started, then paused, "If I was," she sighed. She didn't know how to put into words what was swirling around her head. "Mother was always sad. We always tried to make her happy but it was never enough. And then our sire returned and she was happy. He abandoned us but no one seems to care that he caused us pain or hurt Mother. Only that he came back." She inhaled deeply, "You think he, that I should forgive him?"

[Scaramouche Fandango]

“Well… not neccessarily forgive. But be open to the idea of it. I think if you return, if you confront what you left, perhaps they’ve felt their loss as keenly as you’ve felt yours. There’s a difference between leaving a physical space and leaving a family. Leaving home can sometimes just mean you’re going somewhere else. It doesn’t have to mean that you’re gone for good. But I think that if you see them again, it might help you- either with building up what you had with them, or confirming that there’s nothing left to build. You might be surprised. I hope you’re surprised. I hope so much that the foundations are there, and they’ve realized what they’ve done to you. But if it’s not… you might get your questions answered. Perhaps by returning, your sire’s come to atone. Perhaps by returning, he’s trying to make up for lost time. And perhaps- perhaps you can forgive him, but that doesn’t mean you ever have to embrace him. He might be your sire, but he wasn’t your father.”

It made him wince a bit. He’d seen every single one of his children grow from sac or egg to adult. Each of them was so wonderful and special, and it had been a true blessing to raise them. He gave thanks every day that the does had let him into their lives and that they’d let him help provide and and care for his family. But maybe… maybe this unknown buck really was trying to make up for lost time. Maybe.

“He hurt your mother, and he hurt you, and you don’t have to forget that. But I think, maybe, it might help you heal if you return. Just to see. You deserve a family. Even if you have to make it yourself, you deserve one. But maybe there’s something to salvage in what you left behind.”

[anemosagkelos]

Every fiber of her being warred with the idea and, in any other circumstance, that would have told that it was wrong. In this case, much as she loathed to admit it, loathed to accept it, she knew the buck was right. She had to go home and find out if there was anything left to fix, if it even was home anymore. She had left and it might have changed; she might not be welcome at all. And yet, she knew on some level, she would. If only to say proper good-byes to those she loved; if only to make peace with the trauma that had befallen her so swiftly.

"I have to go home," she voiced with a nod, staring at the buck with trepidation and respect. "I'll return to let you know what happened. If there really is nothing left for me there, I could use a place like this to heal . . ." she trailed off unable to find the words that she needed.

"Thank you, for everything," she eventually voiced. It was so lackluster and yet so inevitably perfect because she had to go. She had to go now.