Dawnlark Plains darkest hour

The trees afforded her plenty of shade, though the air still felt thick today. Soupy, Druid mused as she trotted through the maples. She should probably slow down to avoid overheating, though she’d spent more than a week dwelling on this. Now that she’d made up her mind, she was in a hurry, particularly as she didn’t want to lose her nerve.

The trees thinned and she could see Redtail Rise in the distance. Druid’s stomach lurched, though still she didn’t slow. She navigated across the moraine at a frankly reckless speed considering the rugged terrain, then increased her pace when her dainty black paws struck the flat ground of Dawnlark Plains.

The mount seemed to grow larger and larger in front of her. Druid’s heart thundered in her chest, leaving her too breathless to call out for @Redd.

Raider didn’t make the trip home overnight. She slept through the next morning, tossing and turning as fever dreams plagued her. When she finally lurched awake, a hideous thirst burned her throat. There was no water near at hand, though she knew of a few pools on the plains. She staggered away from the moraine in search of one.

Every few steps, her scar prickled. She ignored it, until she couldn’t. Planting her paws in the grass, Raider swayed a little as she turned to nip at the irritation. No matter how much she nibbled and licked—her tongue as dry as scraping sandpaper—the gnarled flesh remained itching and inflamed.

Grunting in irritation, she licked her chapped lips and looked forward, desperately scanning the ground for water. She saw swift movement but ignored it momentarily, until she realized that someone was moving at speed toward Redtail Rise.

Forgetting momentarily that it wasn’t her home to defend and protect, she lunged after the fleet-footed figure. Raider bum-rushed her without warning, snarling savagely as she sank her teeth into the would-be interloper’s thigh, just as had been done to her some three months prior.

Redd did not know what was happening.  She had not expected to come across familiar faces as she stalked the boundaries of the Rise, let alone locked in apparent battle.  She scented the blood first.

They were known to her but were also a threat to her Rise.  Their violence was too close.  Wealda stalked forward with a stiff-legged threat and snarled, her fangs bared to make it apparent that she would defend as she saw fit.  She did not know what this conflict was about or who started.  In this moment she did not care.

Druid picked up on the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls and an accompanying snarl only seconds before fangs sank deep into the same thigh once torn open during a hunt gone wrong. The sound that tore out of her throat could only be called a squeal as her posterior dipped under her attacker’s weight.

She tried to pitch herself to the side and break free from the stranger’s hold, mindless to the damage it would do. Druid did move with enough force to break the bite, scrambling sideways and catching a glimpse of her masked attacker. She didn’t recognize her, though there was something familiar about the foam at the corners of her mouth, stained pink by Druid’s own blood.

Driven by stark terror and a rush of adrenaline, Druid clawed at the earth and propelled herself back toward Rivenwood. She never saw Redd, much less heard her snarl, as she tried to flee the scene before the madwoman could launch a second assault.

Landing a strike usually brought about an intense feeling of satisfaction, particularly during a hunt. All Raider felt was rage as her teeth sank into the trespasser’s flesh. She grappled the smaller woman’s body with her forelegs, trying to drag her to the ground and quite possibly rip her apart.

Instead, her victim broke free, yanking violently out of Raider’s grasp. She planned to charge again, though the sound of a snarl distracted her. She glanced over to see Redd approaching, giving the gray she-wolf just enough time to run like a bat out of hell.

Raider’s lips wrinkled, blood and foam dripping from her jowls. She glared after the escapee for a moment, breathing hard, before eventually looking to her sister. She felt a flash of fury at Redd’s interruption, which in turn brought about an abrupt feeling of confusion.

The rise wasn’t hers to defend any longer. But even on her own turf, Raider never behaved like this. It was one of the things that set her apart from the other Redtails. So why had she done that? Her ears pinned back uncertainly as she took a sliding step backward.

And then the thirst hit again. Raider forgot all about what had just happened. She ignored the Wealda’s presence altogether as she frantically resumed her search for water.

There was a prickle along her spine, a feeling of wrong at her sister’s appearance.  But this did not deter her.  Wealda remained still and rigid, her lips peeled back in an aggressive warning that would become action if Masquerade came any closer to the Rise.  Her fear only made this more important.  No wrong could be allowed past her.

Another wolf might have felt concern towards Druid or sympathy towards Masquerade, clearly not herself in this moment.  Wealda held neither.

If Masquerade moved away, she would allow her to depart just as Druid had.  If she came closer, Wealda would have no choice but to attack.

The wretched thirst consumed her. She no longer noticed Redd, nor their proximity to the rise. Some stranger’s hot blood still sat on her teeth and tongue, yet all she could think about was water, water, water. Head bent, she combed the summer grass, her movements growing ever more erratic.

She moved closer to her sister, entirely unaware of her or the territory looming behind her, only to jerk back in the other direction entirely. And then she stopped, sniffing audibly for several seconds before a loud, desperate whine burst out of her mouth.

Raider began pawing at the earth, ripping out great clods of grass and dirt. A shallow quickly formed. She barked madly at the damp soil, clawing at it with a berserk desperation until finally, finally, water welled up from the loam.

She was coming closer.  There was no aggression in her now, but that did not matter.  Even this close was too much.

She was not reacting in a way that was right.  She needed to be driven away.

The growl burst into a full throated snarl from Wealda’s chest as she lunged forward and slammed herself into Masquerade, aggressively shoving her sideways and snapping at her face.  She did not wish to maim her, only to force her to put distance between them.  So Wealda did not pin her yet.

If she was pinned she could not leave.

Still, she would tolerate no disagreement.  The longer Masque stayed the more a danger she became, the wrongness setting all the fur to rise in a ridge along her nape and spine.  The rush was a final warning.

The warning growl fell on deaf ears as Raider dipped, though there was no ignoring the collision. Redd knocked her off her feet, teeth grazing Raider’s crimson face as she writhed in surprise. She scrambled to right herself out of pure instinct, though there was no thought of defense, much less retaliation.

With absolute tunnel vision, Raider dove for the inch of water sitting in the divot. The instant her tongue touched it, her throat spasmed painfully before locking. She whined through the agony, finding it difficult to catch her breath as well.

She collapsed abruptly, though she was far from still. Raider flipped onto her side, cheek pressing toward the shallow water. Still she could not drink it. No matter how she writhed in the dirt, pushing her face into the pitiful puddle, she could not force the water down her throat.

Raider let out a thin cry of absolute anguish.

The sounds Masque made were heartbreaking.  She did not seem to notice Redd’s presence at all, but this only heightened her fear.  She had attacked here once. She would attack again, and if any were to drive her from this place, it should be Wealda.

Redd was frozen inside, twisted for the first time by pity she couldn’t swallow.  She did not want this to be real.  She could not deny it was.

It was Wealda that grabbed Masque by the scruff and dragged her away, thrusting her roughly towards the spine.  It was Wealda who stood menacing still, unmoved, with her own mask of furious fear.  Redd could do nothing.

If she knew the extent of the problem she might have offered the mercy of a swifter death.  Instead she bit sharply at her flank in a desperate bid to force her to flee.

Raider kept wailing as Redd snatched at her scruff. She tried to pull free, desperate to return to the water despite her inability to drink. She fought the Wealda the whole way as she dragged her, though it wasn’t until the shallow disappeared from sight entirely that her single-minded focus finally broke.

Her sister’s grip relented a second before she shoved Raider. She stumbled, then righted herself. Her golden gaze found Redd and stared, though there was no recognition. And though a flicker of menacing intent flashed through her, she could hardly pay attention to any urge besides her demanding thirst.

Foam lathering her lips, she fled to resume her desperate search for a drink.

The wolf who stared back was not her sister.  Redd was caught in that gaze, and for a moment, there was a palpable tension heavy on the air between them. Violence lay in that space.

Then she broke it with a turn.  Redd watched her disappear with a growing despair.  If this was a punishment for her then it was fitting.  She didn’t resent the malice in Masque’s eyes because it was what she had expected before, having done what she did.  The only injustice was that it was not Masquerade who leveled it.  Her sister did not deserve to lose herself.

Redd retreated within her and, with that, there was only Wealda.  The Rise grounded her.  The Rise was all she needed.  She held no broken unknowable pieces, just a simple and singular vision.  Even still, Wealda lingered some time after, both dreading and hoping to see a figure come back in view.