Redtail Rise to history

Their congregation grew as Father, Mother, Caru, and Bjern arrived. To each, Saturday’s Sunset passed a fiendly tail wag or a lick on the chin (if they were close enough). After all, she was only four months old and so submissive, respectful behavior towards the adults was expected of a Toweard.

She sat beside Sister, Shadow, and the others as their Beserkr, fondly admired as Wolverine, explained with words and gestures why they had gathered. Saturday’s Sunset understood words, though she would never speak. However, body language was her native tongue and so she watched her leader’s charades with a keen eye.

It’s time to choose our place in the pack, the spirit ruminated. Whatever shall we become?

Fighter - no - guardian - no - gatherer, the pale cub prattled inwardly, undecive. Why must I choose?

Because the pack is a team, the wise spirit explained, and everyone can’t do everything all the time. We must do our own part to collectively thrive.

Outwardly, Saturday’s Sunset stewed, pensive as she weighed her options. Then, a voice spoke up.

Fighter, Shadow pointedly declared. Saturday’s Sunset thought of the wolf blood scent and the scars on Wolverine, who had defended their territory. Then, her gaze drifted towards their Caru as she remembered swimming, playing, and fishing in the cold stream. The child’s eyes turned upon her parents. She admired her Mother’s sleek figure, Father’s strong frame, and their prowess for the hunt. Her belly had never been empty.

We are strong! the spirit encouraged her vessel. We can do anything!

Saturday’s Sunset reached a decision. She stood and bit at the air with a click of her teeth. I will become a huntress.