Dawnlark Plains beware

set for immediately after this!

A strange woman had called for @Redd before.

And he catches her scent again. He'd only known it because Redd had carried it home with her. The Berserker hadn't the energy, or time, to ask.

The scent of blood lingers in the air as well, which sends him into action.

Curious as ever, he hastily reports to check out the scene. What awaits him is utterly baffling. 

Upturned soil, a half puddle. Blood, saliva, foam. It reeks of Masquerade somehow, a bit of the stranger and a twinge of Redd—enough so to know that she'd been here.

His hackles stand on end. Instinctual alarm-bells scream at him.

Without further hesitation, he leaves at once, hoping to catch up with Redd. She was heading home, surely.

And after a long jog he does. He espies a flash of the Wealda up ahead.

Breathless, he calls after her.

The fuck? 

It was not long before the Berserker came.  This should not have been a surprise; he was never far when these things happened.  Yet somehow it had not occurred to Wealda to call for him.  She did not know why.

She was still shaking.  The fear hadn't dissipated, and this kept her here, locked in a defensive pacing near the border of the Rise.

Wealda did not know what he asked or what her answer should be.  No words seemed capable of explaining what she had experienced or the way Masquerade had acted.  She stopped her restless movements and her ears laid back, but as she stood there, still no answers came.

She didn't know where to begin.

mountain boulder watched wealda pace and was unnerved.

something had happened to thorn caller, something he was old enough to have seen before. 

like the younger male, he too had investigated the claw-torn earth, the droplets of scarlet, and the foam.

now he trailed the other two leaders, stepping forward to offer a reassuring rumble which vibrated in the very dirt. 

but he was worried for the pups. between moon runner's illness and now this, mountain boulder was growing rather anxious about their place on the rise.

He had never seen Redd like this. Shaken; visibly so.

Words were never her way, and he finds himself unable to say anything either.

The Berserker’s expression softens. He walks toward her, warmly embracing her with his chin upon her shoulder, if she did not shy away.

It felt foreign, in a way. Redd had always been cloaked in an impermeable layer of stoicism that he couldn’t rival. He rarely saw her cracks; but they were there, of course. The stress was mounting on her.

And soon they are joined by Ulfhedinn. He turns, regarding the man with a woof.

He sees the tension on his brow. The anxiousness was palpable.

Mulherin was a calming presence, as was the Ulfhedinn when he arrived a moment later.  Wealda could not break but did take that presence and stand with it.  It helped, especially her brother’s silent understanding.  She nosed his fur in thanks.

They needed to know.  He might or might not understand what she’d done.  It was only what she’d had to do.

Masquerade.  She was wrong.  Did not recognize me.  It wasn’t safe.  And so Wealda had done what was necessary.  In doing so, she knew she had also driven Masque to a likely death.  She did not know how she understood her sister was dying, but if death had a face, it looked like hers.

a woof returned. children had been born to thorn caller. this too was known to the wolves of the rise, and he looked toward the peak as if considering.

blood to redtail. but not redtail. and ultimately mountain boulder's care was for those of their land.

you did what was right, the set of his ears conveyed.

but again he glanced to the mountain, wondering if blood star would go anyway.

You did what you had to. He responds quietly.

Still, confusion swims in his mind.

Who else was there?

Nonetheless—that was not the greatest concern. But he felt it pertinent to know of any strangers lingering around the Rise. They could be a danger to Masquerade, in whatever maddened state she was in.

He sees the look in Mountain Boulder’s eyes, and wonders the same thing.

If Redd did not go, he would.

It helped that he said it.  The weight however remained.  Her sister’s cries, and the chilling way she’d acted, would likely remain with her for years to come.  She was glad only she had been present.

One.  She ran. Druid would not be a danger, she thought.  She had likely returned to her pack to recover and, in all that happened, Wealda dismissed her outright.  There was too much else to think of.

last from me unless they call him back! <3

their words came. mountain boulder turned to look toward the place where thorn caller had made a new place for the existence of their pups. 

the fate of the natural world was unfair. it had selected one beloved to them for death, and he stepped forward to exchange breath with them both, a whine spared for the sorrow. 

the younger wolves held a tension he did not, and so mountain boulder pulled gently away from them. he would not leave the rise, remaining behind if one or both of them chose to pursue thorn caller.

instinct bid mountain boulder stay close to his pups, and he answered with alacrity.

There was not much else that need be said. The huntlead would tend to his young.

None of them were certain how this would unfold.

His stomach; turning over, the future had a strange way of whispering to the past.

Dread.

He swallows thickly. Then nods, holding her gaze. 

We’ll figure it out. His eyes seem to say.

Ever optimistic.