It was therapeutic, there was no other way to describe it. With every blow of the hammer Eilu felt his anger ebb away. The sorrow made no move to depart, but that was alright. He expected to feel sad for a long time and that didn't bother him. He wanted Elliot to know that there were those left behind who missed him. He wanted his brother to know that however short Eli's life was – it had still touched others in the process. Weilund's most of all. He owed a great deal to his sibling, something Weilund reminded himself every day. Without Elliot, his life would have been entirely different from what it was today. Eli saved him. And now Weilund was attempting to return the favour, although in a more roundabout way. And not nearly as life-altering in the process, or so he thought. But by fixing up the tree house he was ensuring that both Elliot and Kol's memories lived on in a more physical way. They all had personal memories to visit in their minds whenever – but the tree house was proof.
Despite the comfort that the ever kind Conor and Bris offered, Weilund had yet to enter the house itself. The first few days of his life in Dahlia Mai had been spent either on the roof or out and about the dwelling's territory. He kept himself busy cutting back bushes that had attempted to reclaim land during everyone's absence, he had cleaned up the clearing that acted as a front lawn of sorts, just simple tasks that kept the yearling's mind occupied. He re-potted any plants that regrew after the winter and made plans to go in search of new ones to fill the left over pots. His hours spent fighting to take back the land took him through each day and he wouldn't quit working until well after the sun set. He'd only cease when Bris arrived to bring him back to the big house Conor had graciously invited him to stay in. Even then he was reluctant to leave, giving in only when Bris' gentle cajoles became a little more insistent. He knew it was silly, but the yearling always felt closer to his big brother whenever he was near the tree house and felt as though he was leaving Elliot behind each evening when he left. Weilund would have spent his nights in the clearing as well, but both Bris and Conor insisted that it wouldn't be good for him to be alone, especially at night. He was skeptical at first, but had to admit after a while that the company of others was ultimately cathartic. But as much as they helped him during his waking hours, nothing could keep the nightmares at bay.
Before long though, Weilund knew he couldn't avoid it any longer. He had to go inside. He stood at the base one of the main supporting trees, hands hanging limply at his sides. He didn't know if they were weak from all the work they had done, or because of the task that lay ahead. He just knew that if he couldn't manage the anxiety that tore at him, he wouldn't be able to pull himself up the ladder that led to the deck above him. For a moment he toyed with the idea of putting this emotional hurdle off for a little longer – just enough time to replace the ladder with a proper set of stairs. He had planned to do it from the beginning, something he knew Eli would have wanted to do. Ladders weren't safe for puppies. He acknowledged this fact with a wince and felt weak at the knees.
No. Now or never. If he put it off now, Eilu knew that he'd never be able to bring himself to climb those steps. He briefly considered finding Bris or Conor in order to ask them to accompany him, but shook off the thought as soon as it occurred to him. He wanted to do this alone for two reasons. First of all, he wanted to feel like the wolf he used to be. Someone who hadn't balked at anything, someone who threw himself enthusiastically into any plan his brother had put forth. That version of himself seemed like a stranger to Weilund and he wanted to become familiar with it once again. But it was difficult not to acknowledge just how difficult that would be and that was because of his second reason for wanting to be alone. He knew that walking through that door was going to be hard and he also knew that there was a very large chance that he'd end up breaking down. Weilund didn't want anyone to be around for that. His grief in that moment would be for him and Elliot alone.
So. All he needed to do was start climbing. Just do it. Weilund took a deep breath and undid the tool belt that hung around his waist, setting it gently on the ground. After a moment of thought though, he pulled it back on, preferring to feel the weight of Eli's prized possessions. It made him feel stronger. He was able to steel himself. But it took several more moments for him to begin climbing.
As Weilund walked through the door, he was prepared for a great deal of things. An onslaught of emotions, a complete breakdown or perhaps even numbness. A degree of varying scenarios, all of which he was determined to handle as best as he could. What he didn't expect however, was the small bundle that lay on the floor before him. It was dark and his eyes hadn't adjusted, but from what he could tell it was fuzzy and it had wings. It was also hurt, fluttering weakly against the floorboards. The sound of its wings slapping feebly against the floor was almost as pathetic as the sound of the creature's squeaks. Without thinking, Weilund drew closer to it and immediately dropped to his knees a little ways from the tiny guy. He could see now that it was a bat, and a young one judging by its size. It was battered and its wing looked damaged, its once luxurious fur matted with grime and forest debris. Weilund expected it to defend itself as best as it could when it sensed his approach, but instead it merely gave a defeated squeak that tore at his heart.
He couldn't help but think that the bat was a fair representation of his emotional self – the two were a matching pair in a way. As soon as he made this connection, the yearling knew that he would do whatever he could to help the little guy out. He gently scooped the winged mammal up in one giant hand and moved swiftly for the door. It didn't even occur to him that he hadn't given the tree house a second thought. He was entirely focused on the little life that lay in his hand. As soon as he was on the ground, Weilund looked about himself helplessly. It wasn't nightfall yet, but the evening was drawing to a close and he wasn't quite sure what to do. Did he try feeding it, or tending to its injuries first? And would the stuff that he used on wolves work as well on bats? He wasn't sure, but knew he'd try anyway. First thing first though – he had to find water. And hopefully on his way, he'd come across someone who was willing to help.