Set after The Mysterious Disappearance of Dozzle.
Doe’s Shadow tiptoed through the territory, anticipatory shyness ushering her fluttering tail between her hocks and smoothing her tufted ears submissively against her velveteen crown when she neared the East Cliff Den. Within her slim jaws was a sizable haunch of meat gleaned from the frozen carcass of some large ungulate that she wouldn’t have been able to name even if she’d seen it alive. She had worked at it feverishly for some time, licking and gnawing, until several inches of the outer layer were pliable enough for the older cubs — @Julep and @Isengrim, she recalled with fondness — to eat. The littlest child, a fuzzy, cocoa-colored thing with stripes of crème named @Moorhen, would have more difficulty, but she would adapt.
The inkdark sheepdog had fallen into the habit of checking in on the Cairn brood when Doe and Szymon were away, and though she had become increasingly — and uneasily — aware that this trip seemed longer than most, she found and clung to a measure of her shepherd dog’s unwavering faith. She had a flock now — and although their fangs would grow sharper, their jaws heavier, and their limbs longer than her own in time, she would always know them as hers to protect and shelter. Making sure each little lamb was clean, fed, and accounted for satisfied a natural need in the girl who desired only to love and be loved in return.
Love was a long way off when it came to the Three.
An airy whine and a hesitant “boof!” that billowed her cheeks sufficed as a greeting; she dropped the meat before the two eldest cubs — it was so large that she’d half-dragged it back to the territory — and backed away gingerly. Unsurprisingly, the firebrushed female, drawn to the scent of food but vehemently displeased with Coelacanth’s continued presence, rushed the tiny Groenendael with bared fangs and an uproarious growl. Avoiding being bitten was easy enough — Seelie was fast, and Julep was young — but the halfbreed’s Neptune eyes were wounded as only a spurned dog’s could be as she retreated far enough to appease the sea princess. “I only want you to love me!” bespoke her backwards glance and tucked tail, a whine whispering from her lips as she sulked. Julep might never like her mother’s Shadow, but she would adapt.
As usual, the cub who had not rushed her outright — Isengrim, this time — took the opportunity to fall upon the proffered meat with a predatory growl, and the pleased smack of his lips and gnash of his teeth pulled Julep’s attention away from the inky ingénue. Jealous lest her brother start in on her share, the yellow-eyed firecracker whipped around and shouldered him away, spitting like an offended cat.
It was Moorhen that Coelacanth watched most closely, tucked against the back wall with her eyes avoiding the unfamiliar guardian — but Julep had taken a protective liking to her younger cousin and bullied Isengrim even further away to allow room for the seabird to feast. Isengrim wasn’t completely sure what he thought of the interloper and how her relationship with Julep made him feel, but he would adapt.
Only after the sounds of eating turned gradually into the sounds of tussling and finally into the soft, slumbering snores of the very young did the sheepdog seek shelter for herself, tucking her tiny body into a crook of moss and stone that seemed impossibly small, even for her. She was lonely and cold and longed fiercely for the comfort of her twin — or the imperiousness of Doe — or the apologetic friendliness of Thexxan — or even the unpredictable temper of Szymon — someone? anyone? — but she would adapt.
The inkdark sheepdog had fallen into the habit of checking in on the Cairn brood when Doe and Szymon were away, and though she had become increasingly — and uneasily — aware that this trip seemed longer than most, she found and clung to a measure of her shepherd dog’s unwavering faith. She had a flock now — and although their fangs would grow sharper, their jaws heavier, and their limbs longer than her own in time, she would always know them as hers to protect and shelter. Making sure each little lamb was clean, fed, and accounted for satisfied a natural need in the girl who desired only to love and be loved in return.
Love was a long way off when it came to the Three.
An airy whine and a hesitant “boof!” that billowed her cheeks sufficed as a greeting; she dropped the meat before the two eldest cubs — it was so large that she’d half-dragged it back to the territory — and backed away gingerly. Unsurprisingly, the firebrushed female, drawn to the scent of food but vehemently displeased with Coelacanth’s continued presence, rushed the tiny Groenendael with bared fangs and an uproarious growl. Avoiding being bitten was easy enough — Seelie was fast, and Julep was young — but the halfbreed’s Neptune eyes were wounded as only a spurned dog’s could be as she retreated far enough to appease the sea princess. “I only want you to love me!” bespoke her backwards glance and tucked tail, a whine whispering from her lips as she sulked. Julep might never like her mother’s Shadow, but she would adapt.
As usual, the cub who had not rushed her outright — Isengrim, this time — took the opportunity to fall upon the proffered meat with a predatory growl, and the pleased smack of his lips and gnash of his teeth pulled Julep’s attention away from the inky ingénue. Jealous lest her brother start in on her share, the yellow-eyed firecracker whipped around and shouldered him away, spitting like an offended cat.
It was Moorhen that Coelacanth watched most closely, tucked against the back wall with her eyes avoiding the unfamiliar guardian — but Julep had taken a protective liking to her younger cousin and bullied Isengrim even further away to allow room for the seabird to feast. Isengrim wasn’t completely sure what he thought of the interloper and how her relationship with Julep made him feel, but he would adapt.
Only after the sounds of eating turned gradually into the sounds of tussling and finally into the soft, slumbering snores of the very young did the sheepdog seek shelter for herself, tucking her tiny body into a crook of moss and stone that seemed impossibly small, even for her. She was lonely and cold and longed fiercely for the comfort of her twin — or the imperiousness of Doe — or the apologetic friendliness of Thexxan — or even the unpredictable temper of Szymon — someone? anyone? — but she would adapt.
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