Bearclaw Valley nostalgia

the world is muffled beneath the hush of dawn, save for the rustle of branches, the slow inhale-exhale of her own breath. she is still, watchful.

she sees them from a short distance, perched along the boughs above, feathers puffed against the cold. small things, fragile things. too easy to startle, too quick to flee—much like her. she needs to be faster. smoother. she shifts her weight, soft-footed across crisp blades of grass. she tells herself she won’t miss this time.

there’s a flicker of hesitation. she can hear her pulse in her ears, that creeping doubt slithering in like it always does. what if she fucks it up? what if she hesitates too long? she grits her teeth. no. focus. you're fine. you just need to move.

muscles coil. a slow inhale. a sharper exhale. then she lunges.

wrapped up with ameline and then thrown into the quick-moving routine of a running pack, ancelin had regrettably not spent a lot of one on one time with his packmates. wanting to change that, he chose the first trail he found, following it until instinct dropped him down.
one of the younger wolves was hunting, and ancelin hung far back, not wanting to ruin her strike.
she was quick though. he pondered another hunt, perhaps for something that ran hard and fast. that was the best part of a chase to him, winding yourself on the blood.
his eyes watched with approval.

twitch’s breath stutters in her chest as she lands, claws skidding against the earth. the bird barely has time to react before she’s on it, jaws snapping, the sharp crunch of bone between her teeth quick and final. warmth spills over her tongue, metallic and rich, and she exhales slow. she didn’t miss.

there’s a moment where she just stands, allows the small surge adrenaline pulse through her veins. her ears twitch, flicking back when she catches wind of the wolf in her peripheral.

her hackles don’t rise, but the stiffness comes immediately. ancelin. she recognizes him—ameline's mate, the rex.

she swallows, flicking her tongue over the blood at her muzzle as she sets the bird down. “um…hi.” her voice is quiet, unpolished, more wary than rude.

whipthin with a slight look to her, she greeted him shyly. ancelin decided at once that the valley must help her respond with more robustness, and waved his tail as he adopted a more neutral position. "you're fast and patient. good things to be."
rex motioned to the spray of feathers, the bit of blood lingering in the air. "you specialize in birds then?" ancelin teased a little, hoping to encourage the other in hopes she'd open up. he wasn't one to press, but his curiosity was roused.

twitch shifts where she stands, weight pressing subtly to her back foot, like she’s debating retreat. not because she’s afraid—just uncertain. praise always sits weird in her head, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit. she isn’t sure what to do with it, so she just huffs softly, flicking an ear.

his question makes her glance at the mess of feathers at her feet. birds are different. they aren't like a deer that bolts in a straight line or a rabbit that bounds blindly. birds demand timing, precision, quick reaction time. twitch had that.

she kisses her teeth, eyes widening with something like discomfort, "uh, no," she mutters, "just easier to catch on your own than a deer," it’s not untrue. she’s not good at chasing, not in the way wolves are, nor is she a fan of it. she can’t win a test of endurance, but she can be quicker. more efficient.

"i couldn't do that. not well. you're fast," ancelin decided to compliment all the same, but he didn't press it. "we could use specialized hunters," the rex went on. "we have a lot of hunting ground. if you ever wanted a lesson, let me know. we'll go."
he messed with one of the feathers for a second, catlike in his focus.
"or. or. we could hunt coyotes. too many of em."

twitch watches him, ears angled just slightly forward, like she isn’t sure what to make of him. compliments don’t sit right in her head, but at least he doesn’t linger on it, doesn’t wait for her to fumble through a response she doesn’t have.

a lesson? been a while since she last had one. she learned through necessity, through trial and error and figuring out what worked before she starved. still, she doesn’t shut him down. files it away for later.

it’s the second thing that gets her attention, though. her ears lift just a little. coyotes. a known pest to bearclaw, apparently. nasty things, scavengers and opportunists, all sharp teeth and sharper instincts. a challenge, but not an impossible one.

twitch finally steps away from her kill, nose twitching at the air, gauging the wind. "don't see why not. where they runnin’ thick?"

aha; there it was. "eastern border," he motioned. "trying to cut through stone and trees. but no one ever accused a coyote of being smart," the rex declared, blissfully unaware of his own distant heritage through a certain great-great.
he led them off at a lope, muzzle dipping twice before he had the scent and trotted to meet with teeth.
"you hunted them before then," he assumed. "nasty things. we're leaving their heads on the border."
almost, almost he asked if she wanted to gamble on that.

long legs keeping pace with ancelin as they head toward the eastern border. her focus is sharp, her ears flicking occasionally to catch the scent of coyotes in the air. she’s already sizing up the hunt, her instincts kicking in without need for much direction.

yeah, i’ve hunted ‘em, she mutters, her voice rough, barely more than a murmur. her gaze remains fixed ahead, but there's an almost imperceptible nod of her head. with @Cole.

she doesn't speak much more, her actions speaking louder than her words. her body language is all business—leaning into the hunt with a single-mindedness that’s instinctive. she follows the rex at his command.