Redtail Rise Spirit of Tara

The first few days after coming home, Masquerade hid away beneath their pine. They stayed off their feet to let their sore foreleg mend and caught up on some much-needed sleep.

But soon they recovered enough to slink out of hiding and rejoin the rise’s routines. Actually, they threw themselves into a new one. It was early days yet, though Masque turned their focus to tending @Avicus. Whether the Wealda needed food, shelter or just companionship, that was their calling now.

They thought about consulting with @Ashlar about other ways to support Avicus during her pregnancy. But two things stopped them. Firstly, herb lore was beyond their comprehension and, frankly, their interest. The Alpha female would be in good hands with the Hǣlend. Secondly, something about this entire endeavor struck Masquerade as women’s work.

She didn’t question this. She embraced it, just like she seized a rabbit’s head in her teeth and executed it in a screaming spray of blood and brains. Masquerade’s tail twitched upward over her hips as she then carried her kill toward the cache nearest to Avicus’s usual haunt.

Tags are meant for reference. Anyone is welcome!

New Snow came also to the place that the young Blood Spot went for the same reason. Change was in the air, and New Snow anticipated that with it would be more young come Spring. Her own spirits were not so terribly high in proestrus herself; she was sore, sorer than she had been even upon her return home. She was not yet receptive to contact from her man, and seemed content to keep away from the rest.

But she delivered things all the same. The hitch in her gait was improving by the day. With rest came recovery. New Snow brought to the cache something she had not the stomach to finish. Half-eaten, New Snow would bury the rest for the packs leader to enjoy. It was relatively fresh. Of the two, Blood Spot brought the better gift.

New Snow kicked dirt back over the place she had delivered the well sized portion. And then she sat, lifting her leg to self groom. The swelling she noted was the area of most aggravation, and when she heard Blood Spot approach New Snow paused, stood, and shook out her furs. New Snow moved to greet the girl, and though her tail wiggled happily it clung tightly to the region that was then most vulnerable.

When she arrived at her destination, she saw New Snow already there, the smell of freshly churned earth barely concealing the scent of a kill. Masque hesitated, then moved forward and placed her own game on the ground. She would bury it, though first things first.

She turned to regard the Bitan, who moved forward to greet her. The Toweard dropped her tail in deference, sniffing noses with New Snow. Was she here to support the Wealda too? Rather than feel competitive about it, Masque was just glad someone else was looking out for Avicus and her unborn pups.

It was women’s work, she thought again, and took a step back to regard New Snow thoughtfully. The Wealda had allowed her to breed last season. Would she welcome a litter this year as well? Would she let Masquerade help? She didn’t want it to be like the last time, where she had been a stranger spying, intruding on their den site.

Will you have pups again? she asked forthrightly, aware that New Snow and her mate didn’t speak but knowing they still understood.

New Snow was always happy to support; though she had no aspirations to become caretaker, such a thing was in her nature. When needed, New Snow was happy to look after the cubs. She preferred hunting, and sparring—but she could do each thing happily.

And she was all too happy to see Blood Spot. Her ears perked, and by now she was past the point of wincing as she felt the wind bite against the open spot of her notched ear. Scabbed over as it was, there was no pain anymore. She was growing used to it. 

New Snow looked over them to be sure their own wounds from traveling, what might have been gained, were no worse for wear. And once satisfied New Snow offered a happy swipe of her tongue to their forehead. 

There was a question asked; New Snow recognized a word, and her tail wagged rapidly as she shifted her weight. Pups! She whistle-whined happily. New Snow loved pups; she thought of the ones to come, but equally adored the ones that the Rise had reared. Blood Spot among them. 

By this point, Blood Spot was all but family to New Snow—and she wondered if Blood Spot looked forward to other pups. 

New Snow made a small, low-throated noise as she tilted her own head. Almost as though asking Blood Spot what she thought.

The term “pups” certainly elicited a reaction. New Snow’s tail broke into a wag as a happy whine eked out of her throat. Another noise followed it, along with a cock of the woman’s head. Masquerade watched these shifts, heart lifting, the fur on her forehead cool and damp from New Snow’s touch.

I want to help, Masque said. I want to help with the pups when they’re born. But more than that, I want to help… She paused, trying to remember the correct word, expecting mothers. I want to hunt for them, she continued, pointing her ruddy snout at the dead rabbit, but do anything else they need too.

She drew in a breath, wondering if New Snow would be open to an apprentice midwife. Her tail remained low, the tip flicking tentatively hither and thither.

A lot was said. But New Snow again picked up familiar words. Hunt being her favored among them; and upon the hearing of it, if it were possible then New Snow's tail would wag all the more. New Snow loved the hunt, too. And she could see the body language of Blood Spot, who seemed amicable and something else then. But the both of them were good.

New Snow drew next to the girl and wagged her tail. Days past felt a blur, but New Snow was confident in the present and even the future. Blood Spot would surely be a part of both; New Snow did not know that Blood Spot was expressing her desire for just that.

She yawned, to show she too was amicable and at ease with Blood Spot. There was trust there, now more than ever.

New Snow’s body language spoke volumes, even if her mouth never moved beyond the occasional swipe of her tongue. Masquerade’s own body wagged when she seemed open to the Toweard’s assistance.

Will you use the same whelping den you used with Bobcat? Masque wondered.

New Snow could recognize the universal word of den, and more importantly the name of the son of herself and Mountain Boulder. She seemed to consider the question, and thought of how her son worked now to make his own space. New Snow sniffed quietly, turning around and digging a little deeper within, before she turned and looked back to Blood Spot.

And then she took two steps away, lowering her head as her wolfish brows lifted when she looked away. An invitation to be followed, though she sensed Blood Spot would first need to either eat or bury the thing she had brought. New Snow shifted her weight and waited.

In response, New Snow took a few steps away, clearly intending to lead Masquerade somewhere. The Toweard nodded her understanding, then turned to cache the hare she had slain for her mother. It would be quickest to dig where the soil had already been moved, so Masque quickly stashed her offering beside New Snow’s, then shoveled the earth back into place with her red snout.

Dirt clung to her muzzle as she trotted back to New Snow, nudging at the woman’s pale shoulder and saying, Okay, show me.

New Snow watched Blood Spot work, tail loosely hanging behind her and ears twitching as she listened. And once she finished, New Snow's tail waved happily. Once Blood Spot stepped alongside her, New Snow was on her way.

It had been a long time since New Snow had gone this way! The compulsion had not returned, and she slept with her boy cub and her man in the open elements now. It was a bit of a distance, but fortunately her leg was not bothering her as it had been. The scabs upon it were settled, and nothing was so deep (there) that it meant permanent impairment.

New Snow paused to sniff at something, but then continued.

And at last, they came to the place she had whelped Thursdays Dawn and Bobcat; she set her nose to the earth as she drew closer to the whelping den, catching the scent of something else that had settled there.

You can choose whats sleeping in the den! (Or if it's not currently sleeping and out and about!)

Masque paced herself alongside New Snow, dirtied snout even with the woman’s shoulder. They walked close enough that they occasionally brushed against one another, each small point of contact strengthening the familiarity and bond between the pack mates.

She recognized the terrain as they approached the den where New Snow had whelped a pair of pups late last summer. Masquerade waved her tail approvingly. It had served the mother well last year, so why shouldn’t she use it again this season?

But as they each roamed closer to the lair’s mouth, Masque’s hackles prickled. There was a fresh odor lingering here, not to mention prints in the dirt just outside the den and several scattered piles of droppings. Her muzzle scrunched as she tried to identify the scent, dirt falling loose from her whiskers.

While she was busy assessing spoor, something stirred in the den’s interior. There came a loud chittering and then out barreled a raccoon, its teeth bared as it lunged at New Snow, swiping at her with a mitt full of sharp claws.

Feel free to write the lil’ rascal, of course!

Raccoon, she smelt.

But there was little time to truly register what she would do next as the raccoon lunged for her face, making a bid for some part of her. It's sharp claws landed, agitating and opening the wound already scabbed at her muzzle—the wrinkling of it further aggravating it. New Snow yelped in surprise before she lunged blindly toward it. Her jaws clicked against open air.

Evidently, she had unintentionally herded it in the direction of Blood Spot. New Snow regained control of herself as she watched the raccoon lunge for the girl, too—territorial and defensive. New Snow moved to help, territorial herself over this place, but watched for what Blood Spot would do so as to not get in the way.

Not long after I wrote that post, I sat down to watch “RV” over lunch and there was a scene where they opened the oven and a raccoon burst out of it, lol.

Masquerade sucked in a sharp breath and sprang at the raccoon’s furry hide, though she wasn’t quick enough to prevent the slashing blow. Her chest tightened at the noise New Snow made: Ki-yi! Her caretaker’s instincts turned her head to regard the woman, leaving her vulnerable to the raccoon as it—she, heavily pregnant—whirled with a fearsome scream.

Her haunches bunched as she tried to backpedal, though she could not avoid the onslaught entirely. The raccoon champed at the bridge of her ruddy snout whilst simultaneously scrabbling at her with its hand-like paws. Her talons scraped at Masque’s face, causing a noise somewhere between a growl and a yip to escape the Toweard as she defensively snapped her own teeth.

Haha, of all the animals! I rolled on Google and hit a 9!

New Snow noted its condition with her nose; she released a snort and thought nothing else of it as she watched it go after Blood Spot. Only once it moved itself away from the cub of Red Womans face and toward another part of them did New Snow go for it again, this time grabbing it by the back. In the process, the raccoon scratched New Snow again, but after healthy and hearty shake New Snow heard the snap of its neck that indicated its death.

She huffed and dropped it before Blood Spot for them to eat should they wish, bits of blood coming from her own muzzle. Sniffing to inspect Blood Spot, New Snow would seek to clean any bleeding injuries upon them with her tongue.

The points of her fangs glided harmlessly over ticked gray fur as New Snow yanked the raccoon out of Masque’s reach. The Toweard blinked and straightened as the she-wolf dispatched the feisty critter by snapping her neck. Her body immediately went limp in the wolf’s jaws before dropping to the earth with a dull thud.

The two she-wolves rushed toward one another, inspecting and tending wounds. Masquerade could feel several stinging slashes on her face. There was a shallow bite mark on the bridge of her snout. What smarted worst was a deep scratch right near the corner of her eye. At least they mostly seemed superficial.

After they finished attending their injuries, Masque looked down at the bulk of the deceased raccoon. She had never killed a pregnant creature before. She nosed at the swell of its underside curiously. Some instinct whispered to her about the sweet, tender meat to be found in the raccoon’s belly. But she thought of Avicus and New Snow with plump bellies and found herself unable to open the carcass.

Instead, she took a step back and said, You should eat it, especially if you plan to carry pups soon. Maybe you could use its skin to line your den?

New Snow could only truly recognize one thing of which the other spoke, moreso understood due to the withdrawing from the food item than anything else. New Snow wasted no time in eating when it became apparent that Blood Spot would not, tail wagging. New Snow understood nothing else; she had not slept on furs within her life, only the earth and what it offered. In the fall, piles of leaves; in the winter, she insulated herself in the snow alongside her man and taught her cub the same. Bobcat had stayed with them up until recently.

The Clawan did not finish the meal, still full from her earlier meal, though had taken the particularly nutritious bits and nosed the rest toward Blood Spot. Turning back and entering the (now empty) whelping den, her eyes alight upon an old, worn skin from @Amalia. There are memories attached to this item that New Snow had forgotten! And she was happy to find it. It was well loved by Bobcat and Thursdays Dawn, and would be well loved again she would ensure. New Snow knew not how it was made.

But she took it to show Blood Spot! Old scents upon it that would, in time, fade and become new again, rich in the scents of that which did not yet exist.

New Snow didn’t answer her in a way Masquerade could follow. The Toweard watched as the woman fed on the raccoon for a moment, then turned her attention to their surroundings. She ranged around the small dooryard, curious whether the raccoon might have a mate that would return home to find his pregnant partner slain.

When she looked back at New Snow, the woman nosed the remains toward her. Masque switched her tail and shook her head, walking over to join the woman as she moved toward the den’s mouth. She hung back, letting New Snow attend to her space.

The she-wolf produced a worn-out skin, presenting it to Masquerade. The Toweard sniffed it at great length, not only combing through all the rich scents but studying its contours. She wondered if there was more to such a thing’s preparation than simply ripping the pelt from an animal’s hide even as she turned to eye the bloodied raccoon.

She stepped over to the partially eaten carcass. New Snow’s teeth had torn some of the flesh and fur, smearing a good deal of it with sticky blood. Perhaps it wouldn’t make for a good blanket. Nonetheless, Masque wanted to try parting the skin from the body.

Some time later, she looked up from her work and said to New Snow, This is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.

New Snow shook her head, the skin slapping her muzzle gently, once Blood Spot was done looking at it. And then moved to deposit it back into the whelping den with a happy huff. Emerging covered in dirt, she looked back to Blood Spot who seemed to be tearing the food apart. Seeing that some of it wasn't being eaten, New Snow delicately picked up some of the edible bits and buried them, getting all the dirtier.

And then she spun three times to curl in a ball and rest. Her chin lay upon her paw, and she watched Blood Spot, unsure of what she was doing but interested enough to not be distracted. Her head lifted when spoken to, and her gaze fell back to the work Blood Spot was doing. Still uncertain,  New Snow tilted her head.

New Snow only cocked her head. Masquerade huffed a laugh, then decided to abandon the endeavor. She padded over to the white she-wolf, easing down beside her. Rest sounded good, especially after expending so much energy.

She was covered in sticky blood, with bits of fur and gristle smeared on her legs. Masquerade bent to lick herself clean, an undertaking that took nearly a quarter of an hour.

Feeling refreshed, she settled back with a sigh and then a yawn. Masque smiled at New Snow, then yawned again and sprawled on the cold ground, ready for a quick catnap.

New Snow would help groom and remove blood from Blood Spot when allowed. Grooming was one of her favorite of bonding activities, and she was all too happy to assist. She would pick away at gristle (and swallow it mindlessly), sweeping blood away with each thorough stroke. Once finished, New Snow stretched with Blood Spot and loosed a long, loud yawn.

Sniffing Blood Spots shoulder-blades, New Snow let out a self-affirming huff to indicate they had both done a good job before she sprawled out comfortably alongside the daughter of Red Woman. Head against head, the cadence of the others breathing brought New Snow to a full, deep sleep swiftly.