The initial rush into the new lands was over, but the thrill of it had yet to leave the Murkwood Court. Even the most stoic Elf couldn't help but admire the sheer beauty of the secret land here, as bountiful and thriving and full of secrets as the pack had once been. It felt like every day led to a new discovery, whether it was from a curious pup or an investigating scout: a new tunnel in the mountain, a new space for a den in this tree, a new colorful plant to savor. All of the new scents and sights and sounds were enough for Sundew, but then came the thanking. The praise and adoration for bringing them home again.
She didn't know if she had been more uncomfortable when there had been complaints and suspicion as they traveled, or when those many eyes, some shining with tears, looked to her with utter gratitude. In a way, she had traded from spotlight for another, and she felt guilty for feeling exhausted under such attentions. It hadn't been Sundew that had led them, she thought, not really. It had been her lost sisters reaching out from beyond one last time. And here she was taking the credit...
There would be a massive celebration once pack structure had been fully laid out, that much was easy to assume. But for now, the evenings bubbled with lighter conversations than they had for weeks. Some still mourned, and Sundew could not begrudge them that. She would try to visit with everyone once dens had been all sorted out. Naturally, however, the Elder and Terran homes had been claimed already, which made it easier to find Roachspeak once she had found an appropriate conversation starter.
(Sundew could never simply approach, no. There needed to be a catalyst.)
Carefully, slowly, she padded towards his den. A butterfly was resting on her nose, and she didn't want to disturb it. "Elder Roachspeak?" she half-spoke, half whispered. "I know it may be late, but I'd like to share something with you."
Nympheia
