Blacktail Deer Plateau like father, like daughter

for @Dawn lmao sorry for the most basic generic thread title

The herd was thriving. That was good, at least.

Shale wished he could have seen the harbingers of doom earlier than he had last winter. The deer wasting to nothing. The herds slowly thinning. Perhaps it was his knowledge of those events, which had brought such destruction to his own life, that sharpened his eyes this winter. Perhaps he watched too keenly.

He sat on a small hillock, gazing at the deer. The order had gone out to spare the does until they gave birth in the spring, so he was searching for the decrepit and elderly among the males. A stumble here, a groan there. The glassy-eyed ones, who had seen much of life and lived to tell their tales.

Shale supposed he was beginning to enter that part of his life as well. His fifth year of life began soon. . .middle age, for a wolf. Here he stood, with no children, no legacy, to show for any of it. Sadness came over him in a wave.

He tipped his muzzle back, ready to loose a lonely howl to Day, seeking companionship, but lowered it after a moment of silence. No use bogging his brother down with his issues; Grayday had enough on his plate. So he watched, and waited. But for what? he wondered.

lmao - thanks for starting!

With her stab wound on the mend, the girl had finally tired of waiting for it to heal and left the rendezvous. The scab, predictably, had cracked and bled, but she refused to stop her travel towards the herds, for it had been a while since she'd seen them last. When she came across one of the splinter herds, she realized quickly that she was not alone; her father stood some distance away. 

Squinting, and remembering that she'd seen her father moments ago in slumber at the rendezvous, she came to the quick conclusion that this must be Shale. Approaching, curious to meet the male one on one (as she somehow hadn't thus far) she chuffed her greeting as she came to a stop a short distance from him, tail wagging at her hocks.

A wordless greeting somewhere near caught his ear, and he looked around, his eyes finally falling on his oldest niece, who stood a short distance away. He stood in response, wagging his tail and padding over to her, his amber eyes momentarily brightened.

"Dawn," Shale began warmly, smiling. "How are you?"

He was astonished at how much she favored Grayday, even at her young age. He supposed he had never met the mother, so he had no other parent to compare her to. But the eyes, the pelt, were all his brother's. . .and his, by extension.

He was remarkable like her father, but up close, she could see the many little difference that set them easily apart. His greeting was warm, and she smiled in turn, replying, "better." She glanced him over once before asking in turn, "and you? surely you're settled in by now."  It had been a couple weeks since the man had come to Morningside, and besides seeing him around the rendezvous as she'd loafed around it in her utterly useless state, she'd never really spoken one on one with the man.

He smiled, nodding. "Yes, it's starting to feel like home." Which was a good thing. Nothing really had, since his children had died. Even with Lucy, in her last days, their panicked search for prey had led them here and there, never staying anywhere for longer than a few hours. The plateau was the first place he had stayed long-term in moons.

"So," Shale said, looking back out at the deer. "Will you be a hunter, then? Like me, like your dad?" He supposed she must be; she was built for it, slim and long-legged, with that inner spark of energy that helped to run down prey over many miles.

And again, he wondered about the mother. While Day's first litter greatly resembled him, his second had traits Shale hadn't seen before--mottled, thin coats, particularly Lavender's. Where was this mystery woman? Or had there been more than one? Day hadn't spoken to him about it, yet.

Which he supposed was fair. Murdock was the only one so far he had spilled his guts to about Lucy.

He said that he was, to which Dawn gave a small smile, tail waving at her hocks still. "I'm glad,"  She added; and it was sincere. Perhaps in the past, she would have said something of that nature merely for the formality, for the hate of empty silence. But now she truly was, glad, that her uncle had settled in well and that there seemed no outliers in their tight-knit family. 

 "I am," She affirmed, glancing back towards the herd.  "I'm an ambassador first, but I'm working on bettering my tracker and deerstalker skills." Dawn looked back towards Shale, curious. "and you? what do you like to hunt?"  Did he prefer the thrill and the chase of the bigger prey, like herself, or did he have the fleetness and agility to go after hares, rodents, birds, even?

He felt a sudden surge of pride, to see her, to hear her speak. Mom and Dad would be proud, he thought, to see their granddaughter so alive and well, here in a new land. Who led a pack alongside her father, with a mate and the prospect of future generations to come.

"I prefer the deer and the elk, too," he responded, smiling. Shale looked out to the herd, rooting around peacefully for sustenance beneath the snow. "It's amazing, the relationship we have with them. They support us, and we support them."

He figured she knew what he meant, but he went on, regardless. "We spare their fertile and their young, so they can grow strong. And at the end of their lives, they provide our young with food." Shale looked at Dawn, his amber eyes lit by some inner light. "Almost poetic, right?"

she realized, as he spoke, that her uncle shared with her the same type of fascination with the hunt, the cycle of life and death. she was silent as she spoke, though a small smile played across her muzzle as she looked out towards the deer. she agreed softly, and after a moment spoke again, words light. for a while they stood together, overlooking the herd and finding that they shared more common ground than simple physical appearance. when the sun began to dip did she excuse herself, slipping away to mark once more the borders before night fell across the plateau.