Redtail Rise It is better to yield than to come to misfortune through stubbornness

aw, maybe a @Redd?

After tending to Rotgut with a few putrid scraps, Carrion skittered through the misty-morning trees with an openness that wasn’t typically there in her stride. Usually, she moved as if she did not want to be found, but now she walked upright and ears forward, nose hunting for Wealda.

If she was to convince anyone of her worth, especially Tall Hill, then she decided that she would need to exhibit some worthiness to her pack. This was the only thing on her mind.

The silent sister, even more so than the other, and the one Redd knew least.  Wealda had not pressed her for company but today seemed different.  The seeking went the other way.

Redd moved to join her, but did not close into space, chuffing a question instead.  The others had both sought her to leave; there was trepidation over this.  But she was relaxed in stance as she appraised her sister, ears forward with interest, ready to learn her intent.

Carrion’s tail wriggled at the sight of Redd, and she licked her chops, attempting to dispel the anxious quiver of her nose. Though not as intensely proud-looking as the former Wealda, the rank still seemed to settle naturally upon her shoulders, not ill-fitting in the least. It was hard not to admire the flame woman.

She did not know this sibling well, but knowing her any better wouldn’t have changed her demeanor. It strained Carrion to ask - to want - for anything, and knowing of their shared blood did not make things any easier. Redd was more leader than sister in her eyes, so her gaze was cast downward in respect.

Wealda, she murmured. I have been listening to the butterflies. Then, after a beat, she added more plainly: I want to learn to be Haelend.

Carrion was anxious.  This was often the case it seemed, as she kept to the fringes of the pack, so Wealda watched her with a still and relaxed patience. 

The words landed strangely on her ears at first, but she dismissed the first in favor of the main.  It was not important where this came from, only that it was the role she wished.

They lacked a Haelend.  No violence had come upon them, but misfortune could come with the hunt as well.  Wealda approved.  You will learn.  It was more statement than question, but she held an air of expectation that more would be said.  None here could grant this knowledge.  She would need to seek it elsewhere.

Carrion’s eyes flickered like lanterns in her dark face. She felt Wealda’s approval and liked the warmth that it gave her. She wasn’t entirely sure what use such a feeling was just yet, but she would puzzle over that later. There was a more pressing question at the forefront of her mind.

Where does the raccoon get its ringed tail? A rise in her voice indicated barely contained stress. Carrion had never left this place for longer than a day trip. And no one in their ranks presently had any medicinal knowledge. How? she asked, a little more insistently.

Carrion spoke in riddles at times.  But for Wealda, to whom most words were useless excess, these were no more oddities than the small talk of strangers.  The heart of the meaning was all she cared about, and she struggled to find this when her sister spoke no more than any other packmate.  Carrion was familiar to her.

At first she did not know.  Haelend was gone and would be no teacher.  No others in the pack knew this either.  Caru was different, and neither former nor present held the knowledge that Carrion sought.  So Masquerade would be no help either.

In a few short days, perhaps a week, the answer would come.  And Wealda would tell Carrion of the deal with the wolves of Queya River.  Right now she knew no sure path.

It must be found.  This was the only answer she had, and there was an understanding in her look that what she asked might be impossible.  A raccoon was born with its rings, a wolf with the joy of the hunt and a knowing of that which it needed to survive.  Perhaps she would touch this knowing in herself, perhaps there was more.  Redd was not Haelend.  She could not say.

Carrion felt her frustration rise. Found?! she wanted to wail. Why must I look at all!

She knew this was a complaint of the weak - of the frightened. If she ever expected to support her pack beyond hunting or catch the handsome eye of Tall Hill, then it was simply something that must be done, as Wealda said.

Still! Her exasperation with the situation battled freely with her resolve (and it would not be until Swooping Cloud's sudden affliction that she would fully decide).

I don't have to find the river, she mumbled, somewhat petulant. The river will find me. The answers had to be here on the Rise! Nowhere else. Determined to prove this, she abruptly pivoted from Redd and skittered away in a haughty effort to root out answers she most certainly would not find.

Wealda watched her go, her quiet poise breaking into some uncertainty with the tilt of an ear.  She did not know what she might have said differently, nor did she understand how to take those last words.  All things worth having took effort to achieve.  She had thought, of any, her siblings would understand that all of life is a fight to be won.  Fangs were only often the wrong weapon.

Then she shook the conversation from herself and turned to depart.  She would learn or she would not.  Perhaps her way was the one that was meant; Wealda was no Haelend.  She would do what she could, but in the end, the one who took the role would be the one who found the way.