Wolf RPG

the clouds had continued to grow darker and thicker as the day dragged on, though thankfully shikoba would escape the darkening sky to enter her ulaq. in her maw would hang a rabbit, with fresh blood spilling from its neck where she holds it. shikoba has tried to be diligent about her exercise and to lose the mommy-pudge, and while she gets closer and closer, some still stubbornly cling to her stomach.

none the less, the growl in her stomach reasoned with her strong code of diet and exercise; the woman had earned this, she would tell herself at least. she would crawl into her bed of furs, of course not without booping her little @Mojag on the nose and turning to face the opening.

she would place the rabbit down for his inspection, should he desire. soon his milk teeth would be replaced with meat rippers, and he would no longer cling to her side but instead to the bodies that are offered to his mouth. and as she would watch over him, the sound of rainfall would catch her attention.

"mojag, look--" she would say, nudging him gently before peering out of the ulaq's mouth, "lluvia, rain." she wasn't quite sure if he had seen rain already, but it still at least excited shikoba. it was something rare in the desert, so rain always meant a good thing.

When his mother returned to the ulaq he was half asleep. She touched his head and he roused, looking to the meat she carried with a bloom of curiosity.

Letting out a yawn while she settled, Mojag hustled to where the rabbit body lay, sniffing at it, finding a different scent upon its fur where it was spritzed by the rain.

His interest flashed to Shikoba when she spoke. The boy looked outside at the sparse silver static that was the rain beginning to spit at the dirt, and then squished himself against his mother, mimicking how she lay with her eye upon the door.

his mimicry brings such joy to her little heart that the woman offers a sweet swipe of her tongue against his cheek before looking out once again to the rain. spring rain was something different than winter snow or even the fall rains. something about it promised life, something about it was warmer than the chilling droplets that fall through the colder seasons. 

here she would tentatively stick a paw out, feeling the cold rain sprinkle against her coat before she would withdraw it. "rain is special," she whispers to the boy, "anaa's home dry, not much water. rain brings life to Moonglow and to us." she wonders if he truly understands her words, perhaps he would just sit and listen or try and babble back. either attempt would be acceptable to his mother.

His mother swipes her tongue across his cheek. It is warm and wet, but not so uncomfortable that he dislikes the sensation. The attention makes Mojag feel warm and content.

When she moves a paw and it begins to darken with dots of rain, Mojag is immediately invested. He's staring at the transition of her fur where it darkens with rainfall, his batty ears turning to her voice - it is quiet, a whisper, and he has to concentrate to hear her.

Anaa special. He murmurs. This is his attempt to show his understanding of what she has said, which is itself limited, and in the end Mojag's comment could be easily misconstrued - but in a positive way. He didn't know what special meant, but Shikoba spoke so reverently of the water and his own reverence was easy to spot.

mojag would not go unheard by his mother, here she would simply smile at the boy. although she knew there was still much for him to learn about the language of the spine and of the desert, shikoba felt it would be best to talk to him as if he could understand, rather than baby him. if her son would be anything like her, then he would eventually pick it up at whatever pace felt right to him.

now, the woman finds herself on her feet and she ventures out just a few steps from the protection of her ulaq. the shower is light, the rain does not immediately chill her. and looking up towards the sky for just a moment, the native inhales before looking back towards her son. with a motion of her nose, she encourages for him to walk outside and just feel the rain on his back, even if it is a few steps.

Mother does not speak again.

She steps in to the rain and dances through it, looking back to Mojag as if to invite him to play, and he is more than happy to follow.

The sensation of the rain across his face is a little jarring at first - he tilts his face up and snaps his little teeth to catch the drops - but when he realizes it's harmless, he seeks out his mother instead.

Giggling, he calls out: Rain feels funny! As he cannot yet contextualize the feeling of wetness or the sharpness of the drops upon his body, that is all he can say to get the point across.

mojag bears all the playfulness in the world, something all little children his age should embody. shikoba looks toward him with a big smile, wondering if this would forever be a key memory in his mind as it would be in hers.

when he remarks on the silly feeling of the water against his body, shikoba merely smiles at him. "mojag can shake to get rid of water too." and now, the woman gives herself a good shake, as raindrops go flying from her body to land all around her. thankfully, because it is not a heavy rainstorm so the drops are microscopic. had it been heavier, mojag would have been hit by another fierce wave of water. 

"rain is cold, mojag must not stay out too long or will get sick." while his pelt ought to keep him warm, shikoba understands that immunity from things often does not grow without exposure and years of life, perhaps even months. she'd rather not risk a runny nose or a cough from her son. so with that, she soon draws back to enter the mouth of her ulaq once again, hoping her little warrior will follow.

When his mother shook the rain from her coat, Mojag could watch as some drops flew free while others pelted upon her and were flung off too, all of which made him laugh again. Some of it sprayed in to his face and caught across his tongue but he did not care, it was not cold as it came off of Shikoba, and it did not have a taste.

He wanted to try and shake too, even though the rain was so light. Mojag moved to mimic his mother but was not co-ordinated enough; he ended up only shaking his rump and tail, but was giggling as he did it.

Before too long Shikoba was trying to draw him back inside the den. He did not want to go, but she was insistent, and so Mojag reluctantly followed. He wanted to play in the rain more! And dance in it! But his mother settled in the ulaq and Mojag did not want to be alone. That sentiment won in the end.