She returned from another search with a dark, slick creature writhing in her jaws. There'd been a pond in the Maplewood that had had a colony of beavers residing at a dam, and one had alerted the others to her presence with a slap of his great, broad tail against the pond's surface. She'd thought her stealth foiled, until she realized she'd brought herself between one of the resident beavers and the pond while it'd roved off in search of a tree to fell. The path leading down toward the pond had been well-worn by the short, stout creature, and was marked by several tree stumps along the way, indicative of its progress. It would fail to fell the last tree on the path, and find itself targeted instead by the brawny young wolf.
She had to give it some credit, it could bite much harder than she'd expected, and it'd sunk its teeth into the fur and skin of her shoulder a couple of times on the way back. She dropped it and punished it when it did, weakening it and carrying it by its nape so it couldn't hurt her again. The blood that trickled down her leg was thick and had begun to congeal by the time she made it to the heart of the Rise, where she hoped she'd find some of the kids. She summoned them with a short, gruff howl, hoping she could entice them to practice their budding hunting skills on a creature that wouldn't likely outpace them.
His hope was beginning to wear.
Another search, and no sign of his mother.
However, the scent of blood in the air made his heartbeat quicken. Lilia was approaching and announced herself with a muffled growl. He could see she had brought a captive with her, one that he had never seen before. It had a freakishly flat tail, paired with a stout body. In protest, it occasionally twitched and wriggled in her jaws.
The Bearn abandoned a hunk of bark he had been chewing on, which had cost him a few puppy teeth within the week, and wandered over to see what the fuss was about. His gait was lacking in its usual enthusiasm.
There, he stood in silent observation, assuming the pose of a stalker as he waited for Lilia to release the creature.
She wasn't surprised to see Mulherin respond to her summons first, and was pleased to see his interest in learning how to hunt had grown. He crouched slightly, eyes fast upon the beaver that Lilia held in place by keeping one foot pressed heavily against its tail. She lowered her head to snap her jaws together whenever it made to turn and bite at her with its long, yellowed teeth.
"Hey, Thcout," She greeter. She lifted her paw, and grinding its teeth together with loud creaking noises, the beaver began to amble away. Lilia moved to try and block Mulherin from view for a moment, though she waved her tail to reassure him. "Give 'im a minute for a head thtart," She said. "Then we'll twack him down."
Hi, thcout,
He echoed with a thin smile, venturing closer.
Seeing this wasn’t necessarily a stealth mission, he eased his posture. He observed as the odd looking creature was released from Lilia’s hold and subsequently fled. Somewhat slowly, but surely, fled.
They’d have to track it down.
Wha’s… him?
He inquires, unsure what to call the creature.
She cracked a surprised, but genuine grin. It was comforting to hear him talk like her- but soon thereafter, the glow faded. Occasionally, he sounded like Avicus too. She wondered quietly how long that would last for, and hoped that he might always remember the sound of her voice, and share it so that she might hear it again too.
"That'th a beavuh," She said, as the creature ambled off. "They live in water, motht of the time, usually in pondth an' laketh. They uthe their big teeth to chew through treeth, an' build thethe big pileth of 'em in the lake where they live. I ain't shittin' ya, they -literally- eat through treeth. Big oneth, even." She said. She tilted her shoulder toward him, to show the puncture wound it had left when it had grabbed her. "Tho, ya gotta watch out fer that," She warned. "Everythin' you hunt an' eat ith gonna wanna protect it-thelf- that'th why we hunt together," She said, with a grin and a wave of her tail.
Mystified, he listened closely. Images of the beavuh wolfing down trees—as easily as wolves with meat—capture his imagination. Sure, he'd chewed on sticks before, but ate them?
You gotta be kiddin'..
The comparison makes him wonder, what it be like to live in a den of your own food? Like a beavuh?
The thought of living inside a carcass made his nose twitch. Surely that would stink after a while.
Gathering his thoughts, he gave the gash in Lilia's shoulder a concerned examination. Thah hurt? Did he try'n eat ya?
"Nope." She said, with a slow shake of her head from side to side. "I'll take ya, thometime, show ya what a beavuh dam lookth like." She offered. She felt he'd be impressed to see the great, hulking masses of branches, trunks and twigs all held together with swamp mud, and to see the deforestation caused by the beavers and their keen teeth. They were quite impressive, for prey animals.
"Hurt a lot," but, y'know, that'th life, She said, shifting her shoulder and grimacing at the pain. It would swell up, she figured- and would need to be cleaned out well before she went to sleep, but those were problems for later-Lilia. Now-Lilia had a task to complete, though she wanted to keep Mulherin in place just a bit longer before setting him off on the trail. The beaver was wounded, and was a slow mover regardless- and they were far enough from a water source that she felt certain it couldn't give them the slip. Not for another ten minutes or so.
"Everythin' you hunt ith gonna have thome way of protectin' it-thelf. D'you know how a deer might protect it-thelf?" She asked.
How they builth in the lake? Won’ the wateh jus’ wash ih away?
He asked. He’d have to see a beaver dam to believe it.
Lilia posed her own question to him—a test of his hunting knowledge. He’d never hunted a deer before, but even his limited observations were enough to give him the answer.
Whih ih’s feet, they kick,
He replied.
Brimming with impatience, the boy began to grow antsy. He lifted his chin and gave the oncoming breeze a tentative sniff. Was it time to pursue now?
”You’d think, but they uthe huge treeth an’ muck, an’ it all th-tickth together,” She explained. Mulherin seemed genuinely interested, and so she figured she would definitely have to plan a trip for them, someday. Perhaps go back and find this beaver’s relative.
”Yup. Deeuh can have a nathty kick, an’ they can rear up in front length like thith an smash ya that was too,” she said, leaning back to lift her front paws, striking out with them as a deer might, as an example. Or dey got antlerth, in the Fall. They can th-tick ya right through withem,” She said with a macabre grin.
”Now….Which way’s that Beavuh go?”
He listened, but he’d been more focused on the prospect of where the beaver had gone. His ears stood tall on his head and his gaze never left the spot he’d last seen the creature.
You ever geth thuck by ‘em? Their anthlerhh?
He asked Lilia, distracted by her demonstration.
Then, it was time to track.
Thih way,
The boy scurried past her to find the beaver’s trail. He scoured the ground for any trace of its scent. It didn’t take long for him to find it, without wasting a second he set off through the brush, hurriedly and wordlessly.
”Nah,” She said, a clear flaunt. ”I’m too fatht. But nah, It’th really jutht ‘cauthe I watch out get ‘em.” She said. She wanted him to learn to be bold, but not foolish. Bucks posed a real threat.
He found the scent trail and she went after him, but given the speed he was going at, she saw fit to check him a bit by pulling alongside and nudging his shoulder.
”Thlower,” She whispered, ”Quiet. Like with the cricket-th.” Of course this beaver was wounded and couldn’t get far- but she still expected him to hunt it as though it didn’t know he was coming.
Too fatht, or fat?
He jested, unable to stifle an amused giggle at his own quip.
His pace is then checked by Lilia, who prods him gently.
Oh—oh, hhorry,
He mumbles, heeding the advice and slinking into a crouch. In his fervor he realizes he has lost the scent trail and doubles back to find it, despite still knowing the direction the beaver had ventured in.
His goal was to follow the trail, not the beaver.
If he was going to dish it, he’d have to take it, too. ”If I was too fat, it’d gore me with both antlerth, duhhhh” She shot back with a snarky laugh. Nevertheless, her eyes shone with appreciation that Mulherin was going to have spirit. She hoped he’d stay that way.
She didn’t move to guide him, but followed and watched approvingly as he quietly slowed, and corrected his path. She wasn’t going to offer him any more advice, if he didn’t need it. A little check here and there, but she wanted him to feel what it was like to listen to his own instincts- an important aspect of hunting.
Hey!! Maybe you'd juhht deflect it, y'know.. 'cuh your fat ihh so denhhe,
He countered, still snickering.
Soon, he found the trail once more and followed it keenly. A smudge of blood along the vegetation within a thick bout of undergrowth made him pause, sniffing at it intensely, before moving along.
As he tracked, his mind wandered to Lilia's wound—was she moving slower because of the pain? At least she didn't seem to be limping, not noticeably. He thought then of their Hælend, who had disappeared along with Avicus—who would heal her now?
You hhure you're okay?
He asks, turning.
They were gaining on the beaver, but she noticed when Mulherin seemed to flag. Her head lifted when he asked a question that came out of the blue, though her heart softened when she realized he was likely asking because he was afraid another wolf he cared about might leave on him.
”Yah, I’m fine. Had much worse’n this before,” She said casually, but quietly. The blood had congealed, and she would need to clean it better later, but she felt certain a bite mark from a beaver wouldn’t put her in too much misery. ”Yer turn now to make him pay.”
His thoughts and response were interrupted by distant rustling.
Wait,
He whispered, coming to a stop.
The beaver, injured and exhausted, trundled along nearby as fast as it could. It was a long journey back to the dam. With poor hearing and vision, the creature didn’t sense their approach just yet.
The young Redtail lifted his chin and glanced around. Though, height proved to be an issue as the brush was still too tall for him to see over. He turned to Lilia to see if she had better luck.
She stopped when she was commanded to do so. She watched as Mulherin used his nose to sniff around, trying to crane over the tall grasses. He looked back to her, and she moved to his side. The beaver was not far off- so she didn't want to risk blowing their cover just yet.
"Look at the grath," She said. "Thee how it part-th? How the dew ith brushed off in platheth?" She said. Even if he couldn't see the beaver over the grass, he could potentially follow the very subtle but noticeable track it had left behind as it had made its way away. A little blood smear here and there, and there were a few visual cues that they were getting closer.
Uh-huh,
He replied.
He did as instructed and noticed the subtle path the beaver had wove along its trek. Inching forward, he put his nose to another spot of blood along the ground. His adrenaline spiked—they were closer than ever.
The vegetation grew thicker as the pair went ahead. Thick bushes and brambles lined the beaver’s chosen path, ultimately leading into somewhat of an impasse. Here, the vegetation grew so thick one could not walk through it. However, a smaller creature could crawl beneath the bulk of the thorns—as the beaver had done. Mulherin sniffed at the path, reaching his head into the shadows. His head and shoulders fit.
He pulled himself out and thought of Lilia, who he wasn’t sure would also be able to squeeze through. She could navigate a way around at the expense of potentially spooking the beaver, or losing the trail.
Would they split up? Would Lilia try and wedge herself through? Or would they both find a different path?
He stopped, glancing to Lilia once more to receive her advice on the unsaid dilemma.
He caught on quickly. Soon enough, she supposed, he would need very little guidance from her. She could recall the days when she had looked to one of the adults for training, but those days had not lasted long. Life came with a bounty of experiences that she had to learn without being guided every step of the way. Mulherin looked to her when the beaver's trail led to an area that was tangled and thick, and when she moved forward to investigate, she knew she would not fit through the same small gap the beaver had gone.
But Mulherin could.
If he could catch up with it, he'd be facing it one on one, in a narrow place. She panted softly and regarded him with an even gaze. A soft growl of encouragement was given, before she made her way to circle the patch, just in case she could find another way in, or catch the beaver on its way out.
It was up to him to make a choice; whether he would risk taking on the animal alone, or give up.
Her encouragement was all he needed. The silver of his tailtip disappeared as he crawled into the unknown.
He crept and crept until he could see the beaver. It idled, preoccupied with something held in its small paws.
He could only get so close without being detected. Like a waiting viper, he rushed forth and struck with a sudden violence.
All that could be heard was his gurgling growl and aggravated thrashing, broken by squeals from the beaver. Eventually, it grew eerily quiet. Minutes passed.
Finally, he emerged from the brambles the same place he had gone in. A flash of silver once more, the boy exited rump-first, dragging along his prize. His chest was slick with blood—though only a tad was truly his. Numerous thorns littered the black of his pelt.
Panting, he sat. His discomfort was minimized by the glow of victory.
From the spiny tangle, she could hear rustling, and she chuffed a pleased note knowing that Mulherin had decided to pursue the beaver. She doubted very much anything devastating would happen- the beaver had teeth, but it was injured and now it was cornered. While she did suspect he might come out with some small injuries, she also felt it was part of the learning process. How many times had she sprained a muscle or been cut or bitten while hunting? Countless times.
The sounds that came from the tangled mass of bushes next she knew would be the mark of a triumphant hunt. No squeals from the child- only from the beaver. The last gasp of gurgling breath barely audible over the rumble of Mulherin's growl. Skirting the edges, Lilia paced, echoing the sounds with deep purrs of her own.
When he emerged, it was with the beaver in tow, and he was met with the gleaming, yellowed teeth of his tutor. A deep, throaty chuckle came from her as she moved forward to congratulate him and pluck some of the thorns from his mussed up fur.
thinking we can fade this here or you can add one more!
Lilia celebrated the victory with him. His tail wagged enthusiastically.
However, when she snagged a thorn from him, he let out a discontented sound that embodied both a whine and a growl. With the thorn had come out a small tuft of attached fur.
Ow,
He complained with a breathy laugh.
Doggedly, he then grabbed the carcass once more and hurried away before Lilia could pluck out any more thorns. He figured, anyway, it was only a matter of time before she'd finish what she'd started. In the meantime they would cache away the meat.