Endsong ♥Lied des Endes♥

As always, Endsong ♥Lied des Endes♥ seems perfectly balanced. They hardly ever show strong emotions, which is calming in a way. Whenever you're overwhelmed, their presence brings a new perspective.

"Endsong and the Whispering Moon"

The cave shimmered like a forgotten secret.

Crystalline reflections danced across the smooth, gem-studded walls, glowing with a violet light that seemed not to come from the outside, but from within. It was quiet here — not silent, but full of soft things: the breath of sleeping pups, the rustle of fur against stone, and the occasional distant giggle as one of the littlest ones chased light like a moth in a dream.

At the entrance of the Gem Cave lay Endsong, wrapped in the iridescent mist of moonlight. Her Fenestra-colored fur — shades of pink, violet, and soft rose brushed together like smoke over water — rippled gently as the breeze kissed her side. The gold earring hanging from one ear swayed softly, chiming with every shift of wind, its tone delicate and pure.

Her eyes, warm orchids without pupils, stared into the sky. The moon drifted behind moving clouds, a slow dance above the sleeping world. Her expression was unreadable — not cold, not sad, not even hopeful. Just... still. Like a lake before dawn.

Behind her, a pup stirred, sighing contentedly as it nestled deeper into her fluffed tail. Another pressed a tiny paw into her flank, mumbling something about a dream. She didn't flinch. Her stillness was comfort, her presence safety. She was not the strongest, nor the fastest, nor the fiercest — but her quiet power held more weight than fangs ever could.

Featherlight often said Endsong's presence was like cool stone on a hot day — and in this moment, that calm was the very rhythm of the den itself.

And yet, tonight, something stirred in her.

A memory — or a dream?

A few moons ago, on a rare quiet evening, she had wandered farther than usual. Out of the meadows, beyond the pine ridges, into the scent-rich folds of the wildwood. She remembered it clearly — the scent of cedar and moss, a silence broken only by her soft pawfalls, and then...

She saw him.

Only a moment — a silhouette atop a distant ridge, bathed in moonlight. His fur shimmered in a way that almost mirrored her own. They had stood like that for a breathless instant, both unmoving, both seemingly unreal. And then he was gone, swallowed by wind and forest.

When she reached the place where he had stood, only the earthy perfume of cedar, fresh grass, and rain-kissed bark remained. No pawprints, no sign. As if the forest itself had breathed him into being, then swallowed him whole.

Was he real? Or just a daydream stitched from stardust and longing?

Endsong didn't know. She hadn't spoken of it — not to Featherlight, not to anyone. It wasn't loneliness she felt, not exactly. But something like... curiosity. Like the start of a melody she couldn't quite hum yet.

Now, as the clouds shifted and the moonlight poured once again through the mouth of the cave, she sighed. The pups behind her breathed in rhythm. The earring chimed again.

Maybe one day she'd see him again. Or maybe not. Maybe some wolves are meant to pass by each other only once — just enough to leave a whisper of wonder behind.

But for now, she was here, and her heart, like her cave, remained open.

And so she stayed where the pups dreamed, where crystals caught the moonlight, and where her fur shimmered like the echo of a distant, beautiful ending.

"Moonflowers and Midnight Whispers"

The night was velvet-dark, warm and humming with life. A thin breeze meandered through the Wildwanderers' camp, brushing against fur and stone, stirring the leaves with soft whispers. The stars above blinked like sleepy eyes.

Featherlight padded quietly into the Gem Cave, careful not to wake the pups nestled deep within. They were tangled together in a quiet pile of ears, tails, and little twitching paws. A soft snore bubbled up from one of them, and Endsong smiled without turning her head.

"I thought I heard you coming," she murmured.

"I always forget how sharp your ears are," Featherlight said with a smirk, settling beside her. She placed a small bundle on the ground between them, wrapped in wide violet leaves. "I brought snacks. Elk, roasted by sunstone. And… look what bloomed."

She gently unwrapped the bundle, revealing two delicate moonflowers, still glowing faintly from their recent bloom. Their white petals shimmered faintly, holding the light like little cups of starlight.

Endsong leaned closer, her nose brushing one. "You spoil me."

"You deserve it," Featherlight replied, curling her tail around her paws. "Every single pup you've raised thinks you're the spirit of the moon herself."

"They think I'm too slow to chase them," Endsong said, chuckling softly. "Which is true. But I've made peace with that."

Featherlight laughed under her breath, chewing a strip of elk as the silence stretched comfortably between them.

Then, after a moment:

"You've been dreaming again."

Endsong blinked. "How can you tell?"

"I know that look. The one you wear when you're not fully here. It's in your eyes, like a tide pulling toward something else."

There was no accusation in her voice — just quiet understanding.

Endsong hesitated, her gaze drifting upward to the mouth of the cave where moonlight pooled. "Do you remember the night I stayed out late? A few moons ago?"

"The night you came back smelling like forest ghosts and cedar?" Featherlight tilted her head. "I remember. You barely spoke."

"I saw someone," Endsong said. Her voice was low, soft as moss. "A wolf… distant, on a ridge. He shimmered like starlight. Like me."

Featherlight was quiet.

"I've never seen him since. I don't even know if he was real. But I think of him often. What if he was meant to pass through once and leave me wondering forever?" She laughed gently. "How romantic. How cruel."

Featherlight nudged her shoulder with her own, a firm but warm pressure. "If the moon ever gave you something, even just once, it was because it wanted you to carry it inside you. Maybe he was a gift. Maybe a sign."

Endsong tilted her head. "A sign of what?"

"That you are not the only one who glows," Featherlight said. "That there's magic in the world that matches yours. And maybe, if the forest wills it, your paths will cross again."

The earring in Endsong's ear swayed, catching a shaft of moonlight. The chime was barely audible, like a sigh.

They sat in silence for a while after that, chewing elk and watching the moonflowers pulse with soft, silvery breath.

Eventually, Featherlight stretched. "One of the pups drooled on my tail earlier. I'll need you to cleanse it with moonwater and prayer."

Endsong snorted. "You're lucky I like you."

"I know."

And they laughed, soft and warm, while the stars watched on — two wolves bound by old love, moonlight, and shared secrets that only the night ever truly heard.




The grove was bathed in a gentle dusk light, where towering pink mushrooms swayed ever so slightly with the breeze, their undersides glowing like lanterns. The air smelled faintly of moss and sweet bark, and soft spores floated lazily like stardust.

Velendai lay on his side, his body forming a soft arc that a cluster of pups had taken advantage of, curling against his flank and pawing at the edges of his tail. He chuckled quietly as one of them gnawed playfully on his ear.

"Easy now, Fernwhisper," he murmured with a smile, "I need that ear to hear your complaints tomorrow."

From the edge of the grove, Endsong stepped silently into view. The light from the mushroom caps caught in her fur, making it shimmer like amethyst silk. Velendai turned to look at her and, despite the pups piled on top of him, his eyes lit up.

"You came," he said, softly but brightly.

"I said I might," Endsong replied, her voice smooth and calm, yet touched with a hint of warmth. "The little ones told me you were teaching them how to listen to mushrooms."

Velendai gave a playful, mock-serious nod. "Of course. You must learn to hear the forest breathe before you chase its shadows."

A pup with oversized ears rolled off his back and bounded toward Endsong, tail wagging furiously. "Endsong! Velendai says the mushrooms sing at night. Is it true?"

She lowered her head to the little one's level, touching noses. "Some say they hum old songs. But you have to be very quiet… and very patient."

The pup's eyes went wide, and she darted off to press her ear against the thick stalk of a mushroom, listening hard.

Velendai met Endsong's gaze with a soft laugh in his eyes. "You've just confirmed everything I've been trying to tell them."

"I'm not here to prove you right," she said, though her expression softened. "But I can't deny… this place feels like a dream."

He rose carefully, not to wake the dozing pups, and stepped closer. "You're part of the dream, Endsong."

She didn't retreat, didn't rebuff. Instead, she tilted her head slightly and studied him for a moment, the glow of the grove reflecting in her pupil-less eyes.

"Perhaps," she said slowly, "dreams are meant to be shared."

And without another word, she lay down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, the pups curling between them like threads in a tapestry.

Above, the mushrooms pulsed faintly, and the grove exhaled a slow, contented breath.