His head was in a fog, and even the crisp and clean air felt thick. Like it hung around his shoulders and weighed down his chest from inside his lungs. Fern let that heavy breath out of his lungs with a heavy puff and squinted into where sunlight poked holes in to canopy above. For the most part, Fern was happy with the niche that he had made himself within his fellow elders. He was chipper. Positive. He helped bear the weight that the elders carried and presented the pack with a smile.
Still, sometimes it was nice to be alone. Nice to not feel like he had to put on a face. He could just listen to the sounds of the world around him and just… just think.
The feast. He remembered how Bramble had looked. How she had acted at first. She seemed worried. She often seemed worried, these days. He didn't blame her, of course. With everything that had happened, they were all worried. But then they had spoken and she seemed better. Something about that had made him feel warmer than the sun on a clear summer day. Not just how they interacted for the rest of the evening, but the reassurance that he had been able to do something to make her feel better.
Then he had remembered everything else. Remembered the trolls, and everything they had taken from them. And then, the times before that. Of Bramble and Moss together. The perfect couple they had made. They both were shining ideals. Everything that the other had deserved. Fern had earnestly believed that, ever since they were young.
Despite the fact that Fern had loved her for as long as he could remember.
But Fern had been haughty and reckless in his youth. He was a carefree wild child whereas Moss was composed. A gentleman. An honorable soldier.
Fern admired them both, so how could it been remotely fair of him to do anything to compromise their happiness together? So he had swallowed his feelings and found solace in the contentment of two wolves he cared about the most.
The relationship he and Bramble had towards each other had always been one of friendly antagonism. Even when they both became elders, they seemed to be on opposite sides of many squabbles. Was some of it just Fern's conflicted feelings seeping out? Certainly not impossible. And it would be a lie for Fern to say that the spark in her eyes when they argued didn't make his chest tight and his heart flutter. Sure, they argued, but to him it was a show of admiration if anything.
And then after the Trolls, after the pack had lost everything they had kept at it. Fern had seen how his being a thorn in her side brought that old spark out. Did Bramble had an animosity towards him because of their squabbles? Maybe, but if that was the cost of bringing the old her out again…
The wolf sighed and wrinkled his nose, turning his head over his shoulder and looking back towards where the elder dens were. Remembrance turned into yearning turned next into guilt.
Was it fair what he was doing? It couldn't have been, could it? The festivities of the feast, the high spirits, the suggestive nudge of fermented drink. It was all a catalyst, yes, but a reasonable excuse? Questionable at best.
The specifics were blurry, but he certainly remembered the next morning. Of waking, the spot where she had slept beside him. The den still smelled of her. His own fur still smelled of her. Even now as he thought back, his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.
Fern shook his head and clenched his teeth. No, it wasn't fair of him was it? It wasn't fair to keep bringing her back into their painful past just because he couldn't handle his own feelings. But still, he couldn't run away from the truth forever: Fern loved her. So what was he supposed to do now?
(WC: 674)
