Redtail Rise — dragon's did

the morning is painted in drab colors: greys and pale buttery yellows as thursday evening lopes outside of the den. he pauses, streching the sleep from his muscles; a yawn splitting his muzzle. curiousity graps him more and more as he continues to grow both physically and mentally. the want to explore — though never to stray — clutches him presently.

maybe he'd be lucky and find some more feathers to add to his collection! the cardinal feathers augur had brought him ( perhaps he was meant to share them with his sister but did not ) were not, understandably, faring very well.

he trots further, shrugging thru thorny underbrush; eager to begin his newest adventure.

She had faithfully avoided the white pair’s den site ever since being caught there, though as she carried meat from a full cache to an emptier one, the route carried her past it. Focused on her task, Masque forgot to give it a wide berth and thus caught a glimpse of the pack’s youngest member through the trees.

The Toward froze, immediately lowering her posture and letting the hunk of carrion drop from her mouth. Her eyes darted everywhere, looking for any sign of protective parents, before focusing on the young whelp. Her ears shifted forward and back, a clear indication of her uneasiness.

Despite herself, she did not snatch up the food and make a hasty exit, instead wondering if the young boy was possibly hungry.

there is a soft 'plop'ing noise of food dropped; the cut of thursday evening's gaze — blue making a messy transition to gold — towards the source of the sound. another youngster. not his sibling and thus not one that he recognizes: immediately or otherwise ( despite that he perhaps should have ).

his gaze moves from her to fall upon the food she dropped briefly, before it flickers back to her face again, lingering on the marking of red on her face and how it reminds him of his beloved cardinal feathers.

The pup gazed at her, though she could not have said whether he looked hungry. There was an inquisitive expression on his babyish face that melted some of the stiffness from Masque’s muscles. She responded to his curious stare with a tentative smile, the tip of her tail wriggling.

Do you want something to eat? she asked sotto voce, her bass-y voice not lending itself particularly well to whispering.

the dragonling blinks at her, eyes more keen than one so young should have taking in the softening of her expression. he processes this with a soft breath of air; kicking up dust as he expels it thru his black, leathery nostrils. favoring non-verbal: as his parents, he has learned to read expressions and body language with the sharpness of a bird of prey.

her words are given a twitch of his ear; understanding them though he makes no effort to use them in return. surely, by now, he could. he should. but his tongue does not desire to form the words, his throat not wanting to make the noises.

bobcat almost finds words ugly.

a shake of his head is given; no. a tilt of his head is given before he gestures away from the den with his muzzle; forcibly. explore, he tries to communicate, tapping his paws against the earth.

He didn’t answer, at least not verbally. This didn’t particularly surprise her. At that age, Masquerade had never bothered speaking either, not when body language had sufficed perfectly to meet her needs. She was still fairly fluent, though anyone would understand the way he shook his head meant “no.”

Before she could collect her spoils and continue on her way, the pup made another gesture, nearly as unmistakable. Masquerade drew in a breath. There was no way she would risk his parents’ wrath (again…) by taking him anywhere. But what if he wandered off on his own? Shouldn’t someone keep watch to protect him?

Masquerade settled her gaze on the child, shaking her head emphatically as she firmly said, No, in the hopes it might discourage him from exploring by himself.

no —

it echoes inside bobcat's skull like an anvil striking against stone. unwelcome. unwanted. no. an ugly word and one the cub immediately recognizes as one he doesn't like.

no —

he thinks of it again, replaying it in his mind and he scoffs.

explore! he pats the earth again with his paws, a puppy yip passes thru his lips, a shake of his head given; determined to change the 'no' to a 'yes'.

He stamped, then yipped, causing Masque’s ears to flicker. Her eyes did the same, flitting about the area. She didn’t see any sign of the boy’s parents. Didn’t he need supervision at this age? It made her reluctant to leave, even though staying made her leery too.

Where’s your mom and dad? she wondered aloud, wondering if he even knew.

bobcat quickly comes to the conclusion that she is not going to entertain his want to explore. it nettles and smarts at him like a lingering wound to his pride and he lets out a huff in an effort to voice his displeasure, if the surly expression stealing across his face did not so enough.

dissapointment bubbles up in him like lava inching towards the surface of the volcano: a large emotion that he isn't quite sure how to process and accordingly, what to do with it.

he looks over his shoulder towards the den and then back to her and tries, persistantly stubborn once more: pounding his paws against the earth; explore!

He offered nothing but another round of pointed stomping. It was kind of amusing, though Masque’s chief feeling now was concern, not just for him but herself as well. There was a way to find out his parents’ location or, at the very least, let them know what was going on at their den site.

She sent up a quick note to @Augur and @New Snow, letting them know their son was out, about and keen to explore. Masquerade then glanced at him, woofed once and snatched up her goods, quickly vacating the area to continue toward her original destination.

She cannot howl back with her mouth full, but she is close enough to arrive moments after and see Bloodspot depart. New Snow comes with a meal for her son to investigate, not much thinking on the exchange her cub may have had and what it entailed, only pleased that the cubs were meeting... even if in passing. They were near to the point where it would be time to move to the rendezvous, but that day was not today.

Settling down, New Snow observes her son and again noses the food item nearer to him with a happy huff. On her belly, she then moves to gnaw gently at the rabbits hind leg.

this felt like a good place to wrap up. <3

bobcat's ears twitch as the flame-marked girl sends up a howl: for his parents he quickly deduces, snatches up her catch and scrambles away. he slow blinks after her retreating form, scowling. he tucks this interaction away, storing it in the banks of his memory, determined not to forget it. the retreat — a sign of weakness in his mind — and the refusal. the betrayal.

logically, it was only a matter of time until one of his parents came to scoop him up — if they hadn't already been on their way to do so prior to masquerade's call. bobcat is not half as stealthy as his ego would allow him to believe — at least not yet.

it his his mother that arrives, nudging food to him. sourly, he takes it, still smarting in the rejection of his desire to play. he gnaws at it angrily, stripping flesh from bone without much care for the mess he was making. and when he was beckoned to return back to the birth den he would follow along, albiet begrudgingly.