Sleepy Fox Hollow hazoo hazay

Pack feast and celebration! Let me know if any of this light powerplay isn't okay!

With a strong effort, the pack had taken down a mule deer in the late morning. It was smaller than she would have liked, and would be inadequate to feed a larger pack, but for Paleo, there was enough to go around.

There were also two rabbits killed earlier that dawn and a pile of ripe fall berries collected from the woods. The falls, with the colossal oak tree overhead, could be heard and seen in the near distance. She couldn't have asked for a better place to fell the deer for a feast.

When all were assembled and prepared, Wylla looked to her pack — @Mahler, @Isa, @Emmerich, @Astraeus, and the new and somewhat suspicious @Dusty Rose — and smirked triumphantly.

Dig in!

Dusty was panting.

It was not so much out of heat or exertion; the deer hunt had been a new challenge, but not one that was past his abilities. It was just that he was nervous around these new wolves, who were all family as far as he could tell. That made sense, since he’d come from a pack made up almost entirely of family — but he’d never really thought about how hard it might be to integrate.

For this reason, he lingered in the vicinity rather than rushing forward to eat as he might have at home. He’d always been keen on scrapping with his siblings for supper, and sometimes feelings got hurt but it was always resolved with a few hours to forget. Here? He wasn’t sure.

The coywolf picked up his forepaws one after the other in a weird little dance — and then, inexplicably, he picked up a pinecone and held it in his mouth, w a t c h i n g the family eat from a few yards away.

paleo had brough down a good deal of meat for themselves. mahler was proud of them all, especially of his children, who had worked valiantly as wolves twice their age. for a while the wolves of the hollow would eat well.
after he had gorged himself, mahler lay back and looked toward their newest. the young man sat some ways off. the gargoyle studied him, and after a while, thumped his tail against the ground to signal the other closer if he so chose.
"who vould like to hear a story?"

Far be it from Wylla to wait any longer. Mahler and her children tucked in, and if she noticed the strange little coyoteguy watching and prancing with a pinecone in his mouth instead of eating, she gave no indication of it while she fed.

When she was so full she felt fit to burst, she retreated from the carcass, licking flesh and blood from her jowls, and gave the weird new guy a long, searching look. He reminded her a little of Ålesund, and the association wasn't pleasant. Lucky for Dusty Rose that Wylla's temper had banked down a lot since coming to the Hollow, or she might have given voice to some of her more abrasive thoughts about his behaviour in that moment.

Instead, she let Mahler take the lead. Dusty was pretty much just a kid, or at least he looked and acted like one, so Wylla assumed maybe that was the source of his awkwardness. She put it from her mind and turned her attention to her mate, awaiting his story while beckoning their remaining kids to her side. She wondered about Anselm in these moments, how he was faring, what he was doing, and hoped for the twenty-seven hundredth time that it was not the same as Thade's disappearance.

Anselm was older, more capable; it could not be the same.

The coywolf slinked up only after the matriarch had finished. There was still plenty left for him, even if it wasn't first-choice sort of meat. He'd thrived on much less, and so even second dibs was a veritable feast.

The food went down in a few quick snaps; Dusty Rose didn't give himself the luxury of tasting anything in his rush to finish the vulnerable act of feeding himself. He was sure at any moment he'd feel teeth sinking into his haunch, but the moment never came. Even so, he snagged a loose section of meat and bone to steal away, and then skittered back to his "corner" as if he thought someone might stop him.

Back to chomping, but now from a place where he could see all the others. And, at Mahler's prompting, the coywolf gave a furious waggle of his brushy tail and crept closer on his belly.

"Me," the coywolf said at once, already riveted by the offer. He wasn't ready to let his bone go, but he didn't chew on it, just to be polite. Instead it was tucked up against his chest, close enough for Dusty to use as an uncomfortable pillow as he listened in.

poor dusty had seen hungry days, mahler decided. favouring the boy with a warm look, the man crossed his heavy forelegs. "vonce upon a time, there vas a very cunning fox. he hunted through the voodland until he found a fine flock of fat geese."
"hey!" he shouted. "what fine luck for me! now i shall eat each of you, vone after the other!" 
mahler glanced about slowly at his listening audience with mischief and solemnity in his amethyst eyes.
"vell, of course the geese begged and pleaded, but nothing they said vould shift the heart of the smart fox."
"finally vone of the geese said, "all right. if ve are to die, allow us to sing vone last song. and then ve vill fight no more. ve vill even arrange ourselves from plump to least!" mahler chuckled aloud.
"the first goose began to sing. but before her voice ended, the second goose took it up. and then the third, and the fourth, and so on and on until the fox found that their last song vould be neverending."
"overvhelmed by the noise, he ran avay, and the geese turned from singing to laughter, and mocked him for hours aftervard."
he enjoyed such tales. it remained to be seen if the others of paleo would share his sentiment.

Fading here <3

Wylla watched Dusty Rose, halfway between amused and concerned by his skittish behaviour. It was difficult to tamp down the instinctual urge to chase when he scuttled away in the manner of a guilty criminal, but she managed, and with hardly a grimace to show for the effort!

Time would tell if she could warm to this strange little coyote-man and his suspicious ways.

She settled easily onto her side as Mahler began weaving his tale, scooting Isa closer with one foreleg and struggling to fend off Emmerich's affectionate mouthing with just her jaw. Mahler's story was not long, but by the end of it, she found her eyelids heavy and her throat tight with an impending yawn. Slinging her muzzle down over her daughter, she let drowsiness overcome her and was fast asleep before the next story began.