Turn my sorrow into treasured gold.

Bangle Guffawri · 04-30-2011, 12:30 PM

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Seriously, I can't get this song out of my head x_x; This is READ ONLY. Bangle is having pre-fatherly issues, naturally. Dated to the morning of May 11th, when Skye is due. WC: 1066

Early morning colors that swept the dusky landscape provided solitude, the sun not yet risen to softly wake its children with its rays. But the shadow of a coywolf would soon watch it rise - up high from the ground as if to escape the certainty of the world itself - suspended in an oak tree which swayed in the light breeze. Limbs dangled from their sitting position, back pressed against the large trunk itself, the roof of his abode just below him.. but out of reach.

Unknown to his pregnant partner, Bangle had taken the last few, sleepless nights to climb into the tree and wish for everything to disappear. The matter was becoming all the more cumbersome, and though his mate - young but willingly strong - had been experiencing the ups and downs that child-bearing brought, the coywolf too had been there beside her, sharing her woes. What she didn't know, however, were the things that the former gypsy truly thought of on early mornings such as these.

It was painful enough to reveal the memory of all those years ago - what granted him his freedom in the first place. The craftsman could never forgive himself for that prank, it had cost him too, after all. Presently, his left hand trailed over his loose-swinging leg, where the blue-painted memories marred his skin. Even still, after he laid his pebble of a problem onto her mountain of despair, he could not forgive himself. Skye was close, he could tell. It wasn't just the mood swings that became more frequent, fervent, and rapid either; everyone could sense it. And the closer it came for the newborns to be brought into the world - the first after Orin's litter - the farther Bangle wanted to drift away.

Listless orange eyes, though full of vigor in the presence of others, stared past the rooftops and to the trees and the mountains beyond. He could just leave - forget everything and just disappear. There were plenty of wolves there in Cercatori that could take care of Skye and the young ones, and they would never have a need for the gypsy. His body twitched for a moment, as if insisting he should leap right down and head on to a new life - back to the way it used to be before he even stepped foot in the pack. But by some unknown force, the coywolf remained there on that branch, though Bangle cursed under his breath for it.

He knew.. he knew this would happen if he stayed. And, like the winter that was receding into the earth, his traveling days were gone. Never did the wanderer think to become a permanent figure of anyone, or anyplace, but it happened. Never did he see himself making friends that would impact his decisions, but it happened. Never did he imagine to have pups that he would raise, to not make the same mistakes he had done...

But soon, it would happen.

The male shut his eyes for a moment, wishing to just become one with the bark of the oak tree, then. It was ironic, really, and maybe there were forces out there that made him stay. To make him a provider, and someday a father. Apprehension swept his large ears back upon his head, worried that his tomfoolery would reflect upon his pups in a bad way, down the path to destruction. Though he swore to never do it again as he had done back up north, it was who Bangle was. The farther away from home he was, away from those he once cared about, the greater the high-jinks became to entertain himself on his travels.

Thoughts of being a gypsy overpowered the male, then, with the slowly-rising sun as the only witness. Perhaps it would be better if Skye and the pups never had him around to influence the whelps in a way that could lead up to their freedom - no, their banishment - by his own doing. Bangle never wanted that, and a quick pang in his chest reminded him of the sorrow that he could poison his family with.

Family. The word was extremely foreign on the traveler's tongue, one he left behind in Halifax that day. And now the recent years found him starting his very own.... his very own. Suddenly, it occurred to the craftsman that, no matter what things he made for trade or to survive on his own - he had never felt a strong connection to any of them. Possessions were meant to be sold, transformed, and sold again. Never had Bangle made something of his own one day that he didn't consider to sell the next, never had he crafted something so perfect that he could be proud of - but now...

His head slowly turned towards the house of the mother-to-be, eyes absent of life now replaced with wonderment. He had found the pack and finally settled, though Bangle never really stopped to wonder why. The coywolf had a new life, now, as if he was given a chance to correct his mistakes and start anew again with round, bright, innocent eyes. Eyes that would be much like his own, and Skye's too. Briefly the male wondered what they would be like as they grew, what kind of personalities they'd adopt from the gypsy father with nothing but his trade and the young mother who helped run an entire pack of wolves. Would they someday run away from them, as Bangle had done from his own family? 'No.. not unless you lead them down the right path,' came the whisper of a thought.

There was a cry in the distance.. and it seemed to call out to him. Ears shot upwards towards the sky, slowly being lit with the kiss of morning sunshine. Bangle's form quickly leaped out of the oak tree, hitting the ground as hard as the reality that struck and swept through him on the impact. The coywolf sprinted into the unknown, and suddenly all doubt was removed with another wail that drifted from the house with the growing garden, disappearing into the winds. Whether the wandering salesman knew it or not, whether he accepted it or not, Bangle dived head first into what would be the most important role in his existence.

He was running down the path to life.

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