Rattleskin Redoubt is it like a fight club thing?

for @Candle but aw

Just a little further—!

Tiny paws flail feverishly towards a songbird. Already halfway into flight, Hazel’s quarry had seemed to take whatever bit of her confidence with it. But maybe — just maybe —if she could reach just far enough in time—!

Down comes the coyote a large thump. Panting heavily, she looked to the loose feathers between her toes, then frowned up at her would-be lunch.

“Damnit…” The ‘fake it ‘till you make it’ pep talk fails again.

Hazelnut hoisted herself from an unforgivingly scorched earth. With tail between her legs and ears flat on her head, she scuttled off to find… something. Literally anything. Another stray bird, a bit of leftovers. Hell, she’d even tear up a lizard right now!


…



Ok, maybe not a lizard.

Candle, too, had been pursuing the bird. She'd halted in her tracks at the sight of another coyote in the distance, unused to seeing kin who were not also Tribe in the desert. Talisman had been the last. He no longer frequented the ravine, and there was a passing sadness in the priestess for that — but those who mattered most remained, as they always had.

She knew the moment she spotted the girl that she would invite her to the ravine. All kin could be Tribe; that was their way. But would she stay?

Candle watched her fall, watched her rise to scurry off perhaps in search of other prey. She yipped to the other coyote and took off toward her, darting around her in playful circles by way of greeting. There was food to be had if they worked together, but first Candle would see if the girl was amenable to friendship.

The hunt gone wrong had caught the attention of some further off pair of eyes. And until this new company came bounding forward with a yip, Hazel took comfort in the thought that her failure had gone unseen.

But nevermind that embarrassing display, she could forget about it. Or convince herself she’d forget eventually at least. A seemingly friendly face would make the process a bit smoother.

Heya, stranger. A lip lick betrayed the attempt at a nonchalant greeting. Nothing a little tail wag couldn’t fix, right? You, um, come here often?

Ye - es! Live here! Candle spun in a joyful circle. So the girl was friendly! When Candle finally stopped spinning she was left a bit dizzy, swaying slightly as she stood and regarded the other coyote. Hunt?

She gestured toward the ravine. There was good hunting to be had there, and besides, the girl could meet the rest of The Tribe. And someone with a firmer grasp on spoken words than herself, Candle hoped.

The worry — what little there was — of having her nose bitten off was put to rest. How could she not trust the stranger after a good spin. Besides, she seemed too dizzy to do much of anything at that moment.

A bit more energy was put into Hazel’s previously pitiful tail wag, and her eyes lit up at the mention of hunting.

Yes! The eagerness in her tone could not be snuffed by a quick clearing of her throat. Another attempt at nonchalant-ing failed. Uh, I mean yeah. That would be, like, great actually.

Hopefully her company would be a hell of a lot better at catching things!

Candle yipped joyfully and turned at once, gesturing for the girl to follow. She put her nose low and searched for scents of rats or mice, blowing sand around with periodic snorts below the surface to stir up the scent. Soon she found what she was looking for.

A bit of digging and a tiny squeal that ended abruptly produced a single rat. Candle took the tail delicately between her teeth and dangled the rodent in the air, showing the girl. Then she flung it to her and took off again, still heading in the direction of the ravine. Her nose was at the ground again, searching for more.

Hazel promptly took the rear. Let it be known she had done little to aid the search other than the occasional sniff. She’d like to think she’d made a contribution to the table. But her sloppy attempt in catching the now-dead rat was a humble reality check.

Her tracking skills failed her in this moment, so too did her nonexistent grace. Yet another sting to her fluctuating ego, what little was left of it.

The little coyote struggled to get a good grip on the prey, solved with an eventual hardy chomp. She could settle in step for a good two seconds before another rodent went darting between the two. Maybe her hunting companion had gave it a good spook with her attentive sniffing. Or maybe Hazel’s clumsy footing was an alarm bell. Either way, she’d take advantage of its blunder.

Well… she would surely try! Because despite the semi-confident, ’ah got ‘is! The rat whisked out of paws reach and into the nearest little burrow. You’d think it had punched it’s ticket then and there, but Hazel failed to realize the previous ray occupied her jaws until she was halfway through some frenzied digging. And by that time she figured it was way too embarrassing to quit now.