Dragoncrest Cliffs do you know where your heart is.

and one for other mommy! @Thuringwethil

There was something in the woods nearby. Artaax's usually bubbly, happy nature was dampened by an unfamiliar scent that had the fur along his spine prickled. His ears stood tall and alert, head raised as he narrowed his eyes at the distance. Something felt off to him, and it smelled off as well. He was too young to know exactly what the problem was, but he was also too young to doubt his inclinations. Something was out there, and he was not a fan.

Artaax felt an itching in his paws as he stood. Something innate within him urged him to venture forth to seek this unseen threat and eliminate it - either by actually driving it away or confirming that there was no real danger. The instinct was countered by one of a different kind. This one told him to stay put, be watchful, and call for someone else to handle it if things escalated. To another, it might have been a maddening situation to be stuck in. Artaax wasn't bothered at all. He simply stood, and watched, and gleaned whatever he could from his vantage point a couple dozen yards from where his family rested.

She’d given him a moment as he slipped from the mouth of the cavern. Wildfire and the other two were napping and leaving them for a little bit won’t cause much harm, especially when it involves the straggler. He does not go far, however, before something triggers him into aggression. One brow quirks up with a tilt of her head and she slows her movement so not to disrupt his process. She lingers in the background to watch. They have been protective of them but have opened up to more freedoms now that they have moved to the cavern.

Her own ears cupped forward as she searches the distance from her point of view and sees nothing of note except for the distance ruffing of high shrubs between the trees. It eventually settles and her pale gaze drops down to the boy.

Artaax felt the vibrations of movement in his paws that told him someone was approaching. With a quick pivot of his ears, he determined in which direction the sound came from. He turned to frown shrewdly over his shoulder. He spied the Heda watching him and felt some relief from the comfort of her presence. He felt the temptation to relax entirely, run back to her and let her take care of this for him. Instead, the boy turned back with a new rush of confidence and took a few steps forward, lowering his head to the ground to sniff at the foliage that lined his path.

She’d not been as discreet as she’d intended when Artaax glanced back to catch a glimpse of her. Her expression remains blank and she looks past him further out while he doesn’t keep his attention on her. Instead, with a set of confidence she notes as new, he steps forward a little to further investigate. It is interesting to watch from the sidelines to figure out what he can discover on his own and if she gives him a little push by simply standing there, she’ll remain to keep him safe. One day, well down the line, he’ll be in a position that she doesn’t have his back and he has to be prepared for when that day comes.

Whether or not she is ready, however, becomes a sudden question she’d never considered before. Her jaws sets and she takes one step closer but does not further close their distance. Whatever is on the other side is at the paws of her son and whatever he discovered, but should it be much too big, she’s there to easily sweep up and remove the threat.

The woods around them seemed to still for a few seconds as Artaax nudged at the detris at his paws. His eyes narrowed as he looked ahead at the spaces between the tree trunks without lifting his muzzle. As the quiet stretched on, he began to doubt his conviction that something was out there. He'd heard something, and he thought he'd smelled something. He'd definitely felt as though there were eyes on him. But maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe he was being foolish and this was just his imagination getting away from him...

Bi-colored eyes shot to the right as the faint sound of scuttling permeated the quiet. His ears perked as he crept forward, his gangly frame slung low to the ground. He moved forward about six or seven feet before pausing to scent the air again, searching for a hint of the creature that plagued him. His muscles tensed when he caught the scent again. It was not one that brought any particular animal to mind despite the odd sense of familiarity he felt. The boy listened quietly for a few more seconds before he began to creep forward again towards the spot all of his senses were now pointing, Nomi momentarily forgotten.

Thuringwethil does not move forward as he sorts through his abilities and tries to locate it. He isn’t quick to rush in and throw his weight around in order to find it. Either it would run away or attack immediately and neither of those are anything she wants him to face. If he were to learn that way, she would not stop him, but she is pleased to see him break down the use of all his senses in order to figure it out. He moves a few more steps forward and she only takes one to counteract the distance while every part of her instinct deep down focuses on the same thing her son has located. Should he look back, her expression remains blank and allows him to make his own choices to locate his newfound prey.

The brush shifted subtly ahead of him once again. Artaax's breathing slowed as he crept forward while his heart pounded in his chest. It was not fear driving it, but merely anticipation. The boy did not seem to truly know fear. He knew caution, he knew concern and suspicion, but it wasn't exactly fear that motivated any of these feelings. And it certainly wasn't fear that motivated him now, but a natural instinct to ensure that nothing unwelcome in his territory came anywhere near the ones he loved.

That and he really wanted to see wtf it was.

The young wolf paused only two feet from the thicket wherein he was confident lied his prey. His hackles stood erect as he lowered himself back onto the ground, eyes narrowed as he snaked his head to the side in an effort to see through the spaces between the foliage. They widened slightly when he finally spotted... something. He caught a glimpse of ruddy reddish brown that reminded him briefly of Blixen, but it held less ginger in its tone than his sister. His ears cupped forward and his head tilted as the faintest sound came forth. It was the sound of a tiny, frail little whimper.

Suddenly the fire in his chest faded to cinders and he stood to close the remaining distance. Artaax pushed the brush aside with his muzzle to reveal a creature he had never seen before - a small red fox, likely not more than a few weeks old. It was trembling fiercely and gazing up at him with terror in its black eyes, leaving Artaax immobile with uncertainty. Instinct said that he could kill and eat this, but there was something else in his nature that stopped him and made him feel that he wanted to protect this pathetic little creature. What inclination did he obey?

The boy took a breath and turned to look back at Nomi. It was time to get help from a grown up.

Never do her eyes leave the boy. Her ears cupped forward listen distinctly to their surroundings and their threat is low so close to Hougeda. If they were further in the redwoods, or even out of the territory, her attention would have stretched much farther than their immediate surroundings. Each move her son makes, she notes, and eventually he no longer pays attention to her. His drive his admirable and she eases some of her posture, taking a slow and silent step forward, only to hear the same tiny whimper he has.

Her head tilts, ears cupped forward upon her head, and her nose flares to pull in exactly what he’s looking at as he pushes through the foliage. Thuringwethil takes a few more steps closer just as he glances over his shoulder to look at her. With the decision he has made, she moves closer and stands nearby, peaking through the shrubbery at what he’s found.

The misplaced baby fox makes another sound as she gets a look, staring for a long moment. Foxes are more of a nuisance than anything and if there’s a child, there’s a mother. Artaax is big enough that he can’t be kidnapped by the pest but damage is still possible. Getting rid of this may cause the wrath of the mother but there is little concern that she can’t handle the creature if it comes for them.

“When there is a child, a mother is never far,” she explains, glancing around for signs of an enraged vixen coming for them. “Foxes are often a pester to us. Can you tell if she’s nearby? Or been here recently?” she asked, her nose twitching against to reconfirm whether or not she’s nearby, ears cupped forward for the hissing that is surely to come.

Thuringwethil approached steadily, and Artaax instantly felt some of his uncertainty ease. The little fox began to whine harder at the approach of a much larger predator, but still the only movement it made was to tremble fiercely in place and shift its gaze from one wolf to the other. The boy nibbled his bottom lip gently as Thur spoke to him, thoughtfully taking it all in even as his own opinions and considerations emerged in his mind.

All of those thoughts fell silent as Thur set him a task. His nostrils began to twitch as he turned his head away from the kit to prod at the surrounding brush. Mostly, he smelled the creature he had already found. But there was something else there too, but far fainter. "I smell her, but not very well. I think..." Artaax frowned, turning to look back out towards the place where he had been standing before, "I smelled it better over there." He wasn't sure what that meant, but reasoned that it must mean that the mother was indeed prowling around here somewhere. He swallowed hard and looked up at Nomi, wondering what they would do now.

Artaax takes a moment but he does determine her presence, whether or not she is around. She lifts a brow as he turns and scans the area again, indicating the direction the mother possibly had been at least once, likely recent. Her ears cup forward and she listens to their surroundings, nose twitching for anything fresh. She has not yet exposed herself and without a sound, Thuringwethil does much notice anything beyond a scent that may or may not be here in that moment. Her nose twitches and she addresses her son without turning her gaze from their surroundings.

“Kill it. Then we will find the mother,” she instructs, then slowly turns to see how the boy takes his new command.

His gaze drifted away from Nomi as she considered his comments, turning back towards the spot where he had best smelled the kit's mother. He didn't know what would be asked of him. In fact, he didn't really think anything would be asked of him. This seemed very much like the part where his responsibility would be done and the Heda's would take over. Artaax should have known better than to expect such from his mother - his commander. Her words sent a prickle along his spine, and he turned to her again with widened eyes.

Kill it?

Artaax gaped at her for a few seconds before glancing at the trembling infant. Were it any other creature, he likely would not have hesitated. Or maybe it would be better to say that were it any other age, he wouldn't. Truth be told, he might have looked upon an infant fawn the same were it sitting so innocently, harmlessly before him. The idea of hurting this creature was... not appalling, but... unsettling. The boy gulped nervously as he stood, torn between two intense emotions. The first to never, ever disobey or displease his Nomi in any way. The other, to not hurt the helpless.

Tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them away before looking at the dark Heda again. "Why? he asked, unable to help himself. He suspected that he was edging far too close to disappointing his mother by the simple act of questioning, but he just couldn't bring himself to act without first understanding why it was necessary. Something instinctive drove him to protect the weak, and the fearful little fox before him was nothing if not the perfect example of this.

Excuse this mess :(

It takes a long moment for Artaax to do anything and she glances down as he mulls over the command, eventually lifting his head back at her to question her choice. One brow quirks upward and she gives him a second should he come to his own conclusion, yet silence still lingers. She nods once in understanding and looks again to the kit. “They are a pest to us. They steal from our reserves and competes against us for food,” she explains. Perhaps outside of Drageda, it would be different, but the den site is much too close to Hougeda for her liking.

Thur's answer did not bring the relief he was looking for. He did underdstand better why he was asked to commit what felt like a crime, but he still felt sick as he nodded and looked again at the little fox. He knew this was not a wolf. He knew this was a pest and one day, an enemy. It would compete for food and cause difficulties for his family. He could allow it to do that. His family's comfort and safety was the most important thing in the world to him, and this creature was a threat to that. Or it would be, someday, when it was grown.

Why did it have to look so much like Blixen and Wildfire?

Artaax shut his eyes as he bared his teeth and lunged suddenly at the little fox. His aim was true, and he grabbed it instictively around its neck and bit down, hard. He felt the bones snap between his jaws and tasted warm blood as it spilled into his mouth and over his tongue. It was the sound, though, that he would remember as he went to sleep that night. The sound of it shrieking out in terror and then pain as he attacked. The sound of its neck snapping, and then the sound of its body thumping against the ground as it went limp in his teeth.

The boy dropped it quickly and turned away from both the body and nomi, trembling just as fiercely as the fox had been whileits fate had been debated. There were tears in his eyes now, and he blinked furiously to drive them away before the heda could see.

Artaax does not answer any more questions, not that Thuringwethil think there are more to be had, and she watches as he evaluates the kit a second longer. She gives him his space when she takes a step back to sniff out the direction of the possible mother. The sudden shriek from Artaax’ attack pulls her attention back, watching as he gets rid of the problem, but she does not linger on him long. While he gathers himself (something she doesn’t notice, having turned off), she begins the search for the other half of the problem. If there are other kits she does not know about, cutting off their source will ensure their death but at least one has been taken care of. Thuringwethil glances over her shoulder as she leads him, pinning down the scent of the sly vixen.