Finally she had fallen asleep, though it had taken some time. They had been relaxing, the sun splashing warm light across the room and their own bodies as it made its way across the sky outside. Or at least his mother had been relaxing; Pripyat had simply played the part, waiting, his tiny heart beating in anticipation, for the right moment. Even after her eyes had closed he waited, watching patiently. The sun played in her fur, the same grey tones as his own coat, and her breathing became even. Only then did he take a few cautious steps away. The Whilom did not wake, she did not even stir, and on silent paws he moved towards freedom, his excitement and pleasure increasing as he bounded outside to liberty.

Outside he exploded into activity, all the pent up excitement expelling from him then. Pripyat ran. He jumped. He tumbled. And once far away enough from the lighthouse he broke into a boy’s song, one made up of snarls and growls as he bared tiny teeth at nothing and pounced and stalked thin air. When bugs flew past he followed snapping at the insects, and once he succeeded in clamping down upon one. The ill-fated dragon fly that crushed between his teeth tasted foul. Pripyat spat it out in the sand triumphantly, deciding he much preferred the meals his mother brought home but proud at his kill never-the-less. One day he’d bring home the meals to her, and the thought made him stand taller, giving a stern look to the chewed remains of the bug as if to dare it to move ever again.

No matter where he roamed, he didn’t roam far, even if to him it felt as if he had. The lighthouse ceaselessly towered above him, always within sight, and that meant he was always within sight as well. So it was no surprise when he was found out, and Mother appeared before him, her voice soft and gentle. Pripyat knew that he wasn’t exactly suppose to sneak off while she slept and so he grinned up sheepishly at her, but there was no anger in her face. There never had been, Mother was always soft and warm and welcoming. "Okay." He settled back on his haunches at her feet, his intelligent, alert eyes searching her face for clues as to what she needed to say so desperately she had interrupted bug hunting. "I’s listening."

Ears too large for his head yet perked up at his mother’s words. Pripyat hadn’t been expecting anything too serious and Mother’s suggestion caught him by surprise. Leave the lighthouse? But why? And to where? Yet ever patient he said nothing, knowing that Mother wasn’t the type to demand anything of him without an explanation. There had never been any unfairness in her dealings with him, and if anything she was perhaps too lenient. Pripyat couldn’t remember the last time he had a good scolding, even if he deserved it, but the respect went both ways. If Geneva thought it best for them to move on than maybe she saw something that he didn’t, he had complete faith in the woman who had been his whole life for two months.

The next words from her mouth were less concerning than the first, but more confusing. She wanted them to live with his father? Did other children live with their father? And if Geneva had lived with Jefferson before he was born, why didn’t they now? Was it because of him? His mind flashed back to the first meeting he had with Jefferson, the man had seemed angry at first. Maybe it had been his fault, but if it was Jefferson had forgiven him and treated him very kindly the last time they had talked. It was this memory that he remembered better than the first, and so it was this memory that he went off of as he tried to explain his feelings verbally.

"My fawter is tough." Just what Pripyat had meant wasn’t clear, not even to him. Indeed the boy viewed the grizzled man as strong and somewhat aloof, but that was not it. He was tough because he was tough to explain. Pripyat could think of no direct objections he had toward the leader of Phoenix Valley, and slowly the list of attributes Jefferson Soul had was growing in the boy’s mind, but he wasn’t sure if that was enough of a reason to relocate their lives. Mother wanted this, he could tell that much, otherwise she wouldn’t be asking at all. Did she think they’d be happier there than at the lighthouse? It was the only home Pripyat had known, and he was attached to it despite his growing thirst for exploration. At the end of the day there was only one place he slept at. "Fawter come live with us?" The question was optimistic as he glanced at Raven Beacon, but wavered, as if he knew that there would be a logical reason that this was not an option. Still, it never hurt to try.

Just as he thought, Geneva had very logical reasons as to why it was preferable that they went to Jefferson rather than Jefferson came to them. Pripyat couldn’t argue them either, Phoenix Valley was run by Jefferson, Pripyat had known that. Pripyat didn’t know that Geneva had been a leader too, that she had worked alongside his father in such a manner. Jefferson’s duties as leader never quite concerned Pripyat before, for so rarely he saw his father that he had never seen the Patriarch at work. Yet Geneva was right, Phoenix Valley would need him, and perhaps more than mother and son did. They two had gone a couple of months without him, they could go more months without him, but they wanted him. At least Mother did, and in a way that meant Pripyat did too. And maybe Mother wanted Phoenix Valley too.

Brilliantly blue eyes wandered back to Raven Beacon, to his home. Geneva words cradled him, telling him they could stay if he requested it, until he felt like leaving. It was such a comfort, knowing his mother wouldn’t push him out of his safety zone. And he knew that she meant her words, that if he turned back and said “stay”, she would. Yet perhaps mother knew son better than son knew mother, because it was just such an offer that made up his mind. He didn’t want to stay back, didn’t want to be safe. If Mother wanted to move on, he would go, of course. And they didn’t even have to come back. He wasn’t going to stay behind because he wasn’t ready. Pripyat was ready for anything!

"I’s ready." Pripyat puffed out his chest, standing up and lifting his head boldly to Geneva. "Let’s go!" He exhaled sharply, as if right then they would pack up and leave. No, he didn’t want to go back into the lighthouse, he was ready if she was. With a wag of his tail and a bright smile, he waited, hoping that she didn’t dawdle too long and give him a chance to lose the courage.

Seeming to sense his excitement they started nearly at once, the small boy keeping next to and slightly behind his mother. It was only fitting that she lead, for she knew the way and Pripyat had no idea where they were going, only that soon they’d be with Jefferson. And the others. Although curious, he asked no questions, too absorbed in the sights they passed, one after another. Pripyat doubted he could remember them all but felt that he ought, having his first tour of Phoenix Valley beyond the lighthouse. As the came nearer the boy began to tire, but he said nothing, unwilling to let his mother know that such a long walk caused him to feel any sort of fatigue. One day he’d be able to run the whole length of the land, from the shore to the borders and never wear out, and Pripyat imagined that day was not too far off. Still, he was grateful when Geneva’s voice broke his thoughts, and abruptly he looked up, settling his sights on the looming ranch house and barn.

Pripyat paused then, sucking in air as if it were his very first breath. And it was, in a sense, a first breath. Gazing at his mother he wondered if she felt the same as he, felt that they were leaving behind a life without any opportunity to return to it. Once the pack knew that were there, they couldn’t return to the lighthouse, and Pripyat had no desire to. Yet he did wish to slow down and enter into their new life gingerly, before Jefferson and the others were there to use their time that had previously only been devoted to one another. Lowering his small body back on his haunches, he regarded the ranch, trying to picture himself in it. He couldn’t quite, but he wouldn’t have to image it. Soon enough he’d be living it.

"Fawter lives there?" There were two buildings, and surely Jefferson only inhabited one of them? Did the other pack mates live with him? Mother had said Xeris and her family lived nearby, but how close was nearby? And how many others lived in Phoenix Valley? Did they know about him, the son of Geneva and Jefferson? Pripyat had all these questions, but there were too many to ask at once, and perhaps none of them were as important as the one he asked next. "Will he know wew’re here?" At the lighthouse meeting with his father had been easy, but there was suddenly hesitance. Jefferson was still very much a mystery to the boy, and although his mother was returning to a previous home, Pripyat was entering unknown territory and his place there was uncertain, at least to himself if not to his parents.

Mother confirmed that Jefferson did indeed dwell inside the walls of the ranch house. Pripyat regarded the building with some concern. Would it be like the inside of the lighthouse? It had been so comfortable and familiar there. Pripyat knew every nook and cranny of the lighthouse, had spent his first weeks walking exploring everything inside before he had been permitted to explore inside. Now there was a whole new building to acquaint himself with, and it wasn’t even his and Mother’s. It belonged to Jefferson, and perhaps to all of Phoenix Valley.

An ear flicked as Geneva’s voice floated out, and then wet noses touched and the boy let a smile escape him. The familiarity of his mother’s touch eased his worries for a moment and the words almost didn’t matter. Jefferson would smell them? Pripyat inhaled sharply then, and indeed he found many smells permeating the air and ground. One he recognized as Jefferson’s but many were those of strangers and the grey puppy wondered how he hadn’t noticed them before. Still, wouldn’t Mother go tell Jefferson they had come to stay? And also did Jefferson want them there? Either he did or it didn’t matter to his mother, because with her next question she was urging him forward.

"Yeah." Although his voice lacked excitement, there was no hesitance. Pripyat wanted to see it, the longer they looked on from outside the harder it would be to enter. The sooner they made it their home, the quicker he could forget the lighthouse and truly become part of Phoenix Valley. And that was what his mother wished for, and possibly his father too. Well then, he would do it, and he would do it without holding back. They had to jump in. " ‘et’s go," and with that Pripyat turned towards the ranch house, taking the first steps and glancing back to make sure Mother was following.

They came up upon the porch and as the Whilom’s words explained the significance of such a structure Pripyat’s wide eyes swept the area. Leaders got to stand up on the porch and the others sat down below? Where would he go? His father was the leader, and Mother had said that she had helped to lead… but did she still? And what about him? Pripyat knew he was only a child, but did his parent’s ranks give him some sort of standing? Would he work his way up the ranks and lead alongside them? Suddenly he puffed out his chest in conviction. Yes, one day he felt that he would. Maybe not lead, but he’d stay here in Phoenix Valley and help his mother and father. The small grey creature would grow, gain rank and be respected. Any other future seemed unimaginable right then.

" You will stand here wiff my fawter?" Pripyat’s eyes were curious, intelligent. Although he asked such simple questions the boy could read so much more from his mother’s face, her tone. Although he hadn’t asked directly what happened between his mother and father to estrange them, he knew it was something bad, complicated beyond even their complete understanding. He knew that slowly it was getting patched up, or they were trying, that they cared for one another, and for him, each in their own way. Geneva’s love was far more obvious and warm, while Jefferson’s could be hard and confusing, but it was there, somewhere in that one eye that had peered down at him at Raven Beacon.

At her next words Pripyat suddenly worried. What if it was too complicated? What if Jefferson didn’t want them? The melancholy that shined in Geneva’s eyes made him anxious, but surely if Jefferson hadn’t wanted them he would have come that day to the lighthouse. In his most steady voice, sapphire eyes locking with emerald, the boy answered his mother unwavering. " I’s be happy here." He would be, he’d make himself be.