Wolf RPG

In the dead of night, a chirping cricket caught the sleek white ear of the bandit, a light sleeper. It was close to him, a foot or so. It's spring-time calls loud and clear in the crisp, calm air. He lifted his head and peered around. He could not see the bug, but he was honing in on the noise. He rose to his paws and quietly padded forward. Normally, a chirping cricket would be a source of entertainment, but tonight, it was a source of annoyance. The boy was hungry and angry; he was hangry.

Drawing near to the insect, Ferret was aggravated to find the chirping had stopped and so he had no idea where the bug was, somewhere among twigs and debris. The bandit lost interest. Nose to the ground, he started to wander, tiptoeing around his family as he edged further and further away. By the time the sun started to peek above the horizon, he had found the pack's borderline and crossed over into the neighboring forest.

His nose picked up a smell of interest, and he started to dig furiously, throwing clods of dirt behind him.

Hatshepsut wanders. 

Hunger is a constant, not broken by the few mouthfuls of flesh she manages to fish from the waters here and there. Her teeth strip the bark from twigs, her tongue sweeps insects into her mouth. Logs are split to find grubs and she digs deeply into wet banks for worms. Her suffering is compounded by the indignity of her situation, and the Regent finds self-hatred lurking upon her one morning.

Hatshepsut wanders, until sharp movement through the trees draws her attention; the gilded woman sweeps down upon it quickly. A child, playing in the dirt. The Egyptian is reminded momentarily of her daughter's years as a babe, and then the thought leaves her, and hunger replaces it.

A morsel of flesh here -- Hatshepsut hates herself for thinking so. She is near to the pup, but not to near as to be easily seen; here she sits to watch its gamboling, for guilt overtook her brief and murderous thought, and as penance she will guard the child until its family locates its whereabouts.

A handsome little rogue, masked and confident. She smiles wanly.

He is not a wary pup; he is bold and brazen, and so does not monitor his surroundings for he does not fear. The she wolf was able to approach and watch him, as his eyes were glued to the ever-deepening hole beneath his paws as he excavated. It was not until he sat down to take a break, having found nothing, unaware that he had detected the scent of a mouse burrow and demolished it as he dug, that he noticed he had company.

Ferret's head turned, and he narrowed his eyes on this new wolf. His black paws were muddied, and his snout and belly bared the evidence of digging as well. He sniffed audibly in her direction, more of an insulting gesture than an actual attempt to ply anything meaningful from the air. He did not need to say anything, his imperious expression screamed, what are you looking at?

The child soon spots her, but no fear is upon its dirty little face. Charmed, Hatshepsut lifts herself from the shadows and pads over to solemnly inspect the place where he had been digging. She is unused to being about children, but this one is intriguing in a filthy sort of way.

Casting a glance about for the absent parent, Hatshepsut now faces the boy. "For what were you digging?"

Awaking to find Ferret gone wasn't that out of the ordinary. All the boys tended to wander when they woke up, but when his scent led further and further away from the rendezvous site, Fox felt a sinking in her gut. Letting Peregrine know she was off to find their most cantankerous son, Fox followed his trail with ease. Even with one bad eye, she wasn't a complete waste of space. Confidence issues were definitely starting to creep up on her, though. How could both of the alphas of this pack lead if neither of them could properly see?

Finally coming upon her son—and somebody else—Fox quickly planted herself between the masked boy and the stranger. "Beat it," she commanded, no room for discussion or negotiation. Peregrine's own daughter had made Fox untrusting of anybody and everybody who was not part of their pack. And, to be perfectly honest, she didn't entirely trust the newer members of Redhawk Caldera. They still needed to prove that they were decent folk who weren't going to attempt to kill her children.

"I'll deal with you later," Fox said in a lower tone to Ferret, giving him a disapproving look.

Had he wanted to answer her, Ferret would not have had a chance. His mother had caught on to him, and had followed him to here. She intercepted the pair, and for a moment the boy was cocky and took a step forward. It was two against one after all. But his mother shot him a look and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was in shit. His ears flicked back and be scowled, with brows pitched down and muzzle wrinkled. How dare she would intrude upon his fun. The hole beside him was forgotten, his narrowed eyes continued to hold upon the stranger.

The boy does not speak before they are joined by a fierce ruddy female, albeit her eye blistered with infection. Hatshepsut takes in the protective stance of the other woman, the relation of her scent to the boy's own. Mother. Her eyes trail to the firm, confident stare of the child before she turns and trots into the shadows. Her belly is cramping with hunger, but the other wolfess is not weak -- she would have fought valiantly for her cub, and Hatshepsut does not want to risk injury. Thus her departure is as swift as it is silent.

Thankfully, the other female left without so much as a whimper. Even though Fox was fairly certain she would have been able to fight her way out of it, she didn't want to, especially not with the current state of her eye. Once she was certain the other was gone, she turned a single grey eye onto Ferret.

"Home. Now." Her tone was stern and there would be no wiggle room on this. "You are not to go off on your own like that. If you want to explore, you have to let us know. If I, or anybody else, catches you out here again, you won't be allowed to leave the rendezvous site. Kapish?" There was only one acceptable answer to that question.

Ferret retained his stormy scowl, but now he fixated angrily upon the ground as his mother stated the rules (ugh) and threatened with not being allowed to leave (as if he could be stopped, he thought brazenly). "Pish," he grumbled when prompted, refusing to look at his mother as he dragged the blunt nails of one paw across the dirt. He did not wait too long. He got to his paws and brushed past her, carrying his head low as he sulked toward home.

He seemed to understand, at least in some regard, and Fox watched as he began stomping off toward Redhawk Caldera. Only when he couldn't see her expression did she let her features soften and smile. He was going to be one hell of a son. Maybe a little bit foolish, but then again, hadn't she been foolish? Why yes, yes she had. Hopefully it wouldn't get him killed in the end, but she wasn't putting any bets on that. Only a few paces behind, she followed him all the way back to the caldera.