Iktome Plains As the crow flies

Blinking against the morning light, Chacal slipped from the loving embrace of her family and slid out into the shrubby moors without a sound. An icy fog left a chill in the air that hovered just above the horizon which was still pink from the dawn. She would have heard an expression about such a thing- to take warning should the horizon be such a shade in the morning, but she wasn't concerned for the weather. She was concerned for her brother. 

With her breath held, she took her first wavering steps beyond the pack's marked borders and into the plains, pausing for a moment as though expecting to be called back immediately to her homeland by one of her guardians. She felt naked to be wandering alone, her shoulder surprisingly cold from where it was usually warmed by the flank of one of her mothers or siblings. And while Chacal amused herself quite well in solitude when within sight of the den, she seldom strayed far from someone else's side when exploring, like a child clinging to their mother's apron in the kitchen. 

But no call came, at least, not immediately. None came to sweep her back into the safety of the moors as she had stolen away like a thief on silent tiptoes. She had very little sense of direction, and a fledgeling's experience of tracking and scouting, so she was well out of her comfort zone being out in the plains on her own. She sniffed at the earth expecting it to be generous and forthcoming about its secrets, but had no idea what exactly she was looking for. So she began to wander, slinking along with her belly close to the ground as she quietly began to zig-zag her way through the plains.

*scoops this up and dusts it off*

She thinks, sometimes, about her time spent with Fen in the Red Meadow, and what her life might have been like if he'd lived just a few years longer. Perhaps she would be a wife and a mother by now, instead of just a nursemaid.

Of course, she loved her life, and it was a moot point either way. It was just hard, sometimes, to grow older and wiser and to look back and see all the ways things could have been different. The world seems very big at those times, and she thinks that the older and wiser she grows, the less she seems to really know with any certainty.

But she knows — Coelacanth had taught her — that a pup in need is always worth helping, and always her business. When she caught sight of the sooty youth, she stopped her pacing along the beach to watch her dart from bush to bush. There was a pack nearby, of course, so Moorhen hoped the girl wasn't lost, but she seemed still too small to be out and about unaccompanied — in Moorhen's mind, at least.

"I am hope you have permission to be out," said Moorhen, and it was a credit to how very many times she'd had to say it before that the words came out mostly in the right order, without any of them tripping over each other.

YESSSSSSSS! <3
wc: 246
EDIT: I tucked a little conclusion into my post since Moorhen's inactive- but let me know if she comes back and if you'd like another thread :)

It was almost impossible for her to move silently, even though she was incredibly light on her feet. The dry grasses and leaves betrayed her, and made each step she took almost painfully loud for the young child who cloaked herself in a world of silence. She was quite sensitive to the sounds, but found it easier to take if she made sure that she moved at a constant pace- and then the soft pattering of her feet, and the crunching of the grasses became rhythmic and therefore tolerable.

She was so concentrated on the sound of her pawsteps that she became distracted from her search, and did not notice the figure approaching her until she called out. Immediately, she scuttled in a tight circle and flattened herself to the ground, but failed to conceal herself against the straw-gold grasses of the plains. She sprawled, splaying her legs out so that she could be as flat as possible, but this wasn't summer anymore, nor was she as tiny as she used to be. She stuck out like a puddle of black fur.

The woman who had spoken bore earthy tones in her pelt but had highlights of cream that made her crimson eyes reflect the pale light of the sky. She felt scolded, and remained where she was, but slowly pulled her legs in toward her body, so she could tuck her forepaws beneath her chin. She flattened her ears in an open admission of guilt. Quietly chastized without needing to be corrected, Chacal turned, and skittered back toward the borders, defeated in her quest.