Wild Berry Meadow If you keep on believing..

Two days.

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"Aaaaba?” Her voice, long cracked and run dry, rasped through the silent night. Tearstained cheeks glistened under the sun, hunger gnawed relentlessly at her stomach, and her energy was nearly spent. “Aaaaabbnaaaa,” she cried, her words caught in the hitch of her own sobbing and sniffs. “Aabaaaaaa, you tan come’nout now. You tan come ou’ now, Aabaaa.” Her head drooped low, dragging along the bending ground with her tired steps. Her mouth trembled awfully with each utterance. “I’nlove you, Aabaaaa.” She loved him. She loved him so. The unbearable distance and the endless time apart were proof of her love. She knew she loved him because she could not bear being so far away for so long, and now. She loved him, she loved him, and she loved her family.

Self-soothing in the passing memories of exhaustive play, she murmured, scratching through sobs, “N Aakaaaa, ‘n Tau. Akmaaa. BPlease com’bout now, Aabaaaa.”

Her fur was torn from bramble and thicket, each tear a testament to her relentless journey. The world around her was a blurry haze. “Aaaba, pleaseee,” she whimpered, but no answer came. Her throat was dry, parched from the lack of water. Her food had run out when she’d finished the spare rabbit ear she’d brought with her on the first night. Her chest pounded and slowed, lived and fell, yet she continued to push forward. Little sleep had left her eyes caved in, bloodshot and weary.

Each movement was a struggle, her legs trembling under the weight of her exhaustion. She had been calling for him since she left, each cry more desperate than the last. “Pnease, Aaabaaa,” she coughed, the words barely capable of sounding out as her voice truly faded in and out. Her heart ached with the weight of her longing, but she pressed on, driven by the hope that she would find him. Hope that was leaving now. She didn't want to fall out here and close her eyes. She knew she could not, and strangely- feared what would happen if she did.

the shouting of a small voice had roused the beast from her latest sleep, which itself was hard to come by given her condition. she roamed from the lakeside in pursuit of it; perhaps drawn by her growing hunger, perhaps by a malevolent kind of maternal instinct that identified the crying child as a threat to her own.

the voice continued, and helped zharille to pinpoint a general area of where they might be sequestered. she lunged through the greenery until she came to a small field, and stood there catching her breath. a low note carried in her throat — a little bit menacing, a little bit inviting — but still, the ogre could not see who or what had been calling.

she paced for a few minutes, stopping to sniff at some ferns.

Footsteps came towards her ears, and she leapt for joy. "AABA!" With pinched eyes, she ran like an ox. Her head was lowered, heart striking ablaze, and running towards the legs of her aapa. "Aabababa," floored out in a messy puddle.

"Abbabaabba! Aaba!" Sniffling, trying to cling for the legs of her aaba. Hungry, thirsty, and she had so many things to tell him now. Like, how Aaka had gone on a spirit walk, and how Tautuk and her met their cousins. To tell him how Akmaaksi was doing, and tell him all about the sky sparkles. Aana had taught her to sing, and though it was very, very bad, well, to Nutu, it was heartfilled.

When she looked up to see the eyes of her aapa, she saw an ogre.

Gasping softly, she let go and sheepishly melted onto the ground with a pouted lip. "Mmmnsooooorrrwyyy." Eventually, no more tears were coming out.

I could not resist

Traveling around the territories yielded many unearthed treasures and breathtaking views. They had made it over the mountains, and begun exploring what the grasslands had to offer. The days were long and lazy, filled with the cheerful freedom of wandering wherever his paws would take him. He loved to lounge in the sun, feeling its warmth seep through his thin fur as he stretched out on the grass and watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky.

Still, truth be told, Moss was beginning to grow lonely. The immensity of the grasslands, while beautiful, only emphasized their isolation. It was time, they thought, to look for a new pack to share stories and adventures with. His heart longed for company, and for the laughter and camaraderie that came with being part of a group.

It was in the lazy shade of the meadow that the wolf had heard the cries. The flopped ear pricked to attention as they hobbled to their feet, sage eyes scanning the foliage for the source of the distress. The sound was faint but unmistakable—a very unhappy child.

You tan come ou’ now, Aabaaa.

The cries grew clearer as Moss approached, sage eyes meticulously scanning the territory for the source of the sound. Each step brought the cries into sharper focus, guiding them like a beacon through the foliage. Relief washed over him when he heard the child's next excited exclamation, a hopeful sign that perhaps the problem had resolved itself. However, a sudden gasp and a murmured apology stopped him in his tracks.

Their heart skipped a beat, ears perking with renewed attention. Moss hesitated, unsure whether or not to be concerned. He shifted once again, moving stealthily, paws treading softly on the earth to avoid detection.

Careful to remain out of sight, Moss peered through the dense greenery. He could see the small figure of the child, still trembling but now accompanied by another presence—a figure that seemed to carry an air of great authority. Moss's heart pounded as he assessed the situation, ready to spring in if necessary.

swinging her head in a boar-like fashion towards the small red bundle, she saw the puny shape of a young girl, and finally her instincts piqued. she lunged towards it; not to harm, but to grab and herd the child towards her, against her chest as if to hug her in a very rough embrace.

a few feet away lurked a man. zharille bristled when she saw him; he was low to the ground, creeping close to the girl from the other side. it was a wonder she had not smelled him, or seen him before this. however, he was earth-toned and crawling among the foliage in a way that was easy to miss.

the horomones in her body were in overdrive; it was fortunate for the lost girl that this was the case, though — zharille was more likely to cull them otherwise. for the man, this would prove to be a problem. zharille stepped over the girl so that she was made a bulwark between the two, and snarled.

the man — calling himself moss as he spoke to the girl — would be turned away for the sake of the girl. zharille reaches to snap the air with her teeth as a final warning. back off, her body said; mine screamed her teeth.

Gesturing her head around the pillar of the woman’s leg, her nose sniffled many times- more times than she could count. One, two, three, four, five, six, she’d been counting, and then lost many counts or so there. Hundred, fifty, something like that of the numbers she knew. Groveling at the lady’s feet, it had been ages since she had crept into the embrace of Tautuk and Maaksi. Two whole suns went over her head, and many, many naps if she hadn’t forced wakefulness through most of it.

The owls woke her up often.

Lady’s teeth snipped the air. They were playing, she thought, or doing adult things that didn’t quite register. Maybe her word would find themselves lost in the tension, but she spoke through them anyways. She always had. “I cand find my aaba’,” she sniffed. “Nyou helps me?” It was rude to ask before she had figured it out herself. But Nutu didn’t know if she could figure it out herself. Had it been enough time? Enough time to figure it out herself? “P-pnease?”

Moss had been spotted. Warning teeth snapped through the air, clamping shut with a thunderous clack. Instinctively, they dropped to the ground, pressing their belly to the earth, small, small, small. Their tail wagged placatingly at their haunches. I'm little! Not scary! Not harmful!

Hello, ma'am, I mean no harm, he said softly, his voice trembling yet sincere. He shrank even further, crawling backward to give the woman ample space, their movements slow and calculated. Every inch they retreated, they hoped to convey their good intentions.

I only want to offer my help, Moss continued, their tone gentle. He kept his gaze low, not daring to make direct eye contact. We want the same thing, right? Her to be safe?

wherever the child came from did not matter; that she was not born of zharille did not matter either. in her current state, zharille was flooded with enough naturally occurring chemicals to lay a claim upon the bundle and deem them owned. why not? the child was in need of a mother, a protector. zharille could be those things. perhaps by virtue of not being her blood, the desert people would not feel inclined to take this one away from her.

the man lingered but was flat upon the dirt, which satisfied something in her too. he spoke in favor of the child's protection and zharille let a low rumble emanate from her chest — he had best keep himself back, unless he wanted to tempt those teeth.

the child was hiding among her thick, tree-trunk legs. zharille moved so that she was uncovered and looked at her sharply, listening to the muddled words that did not make all that much sense. the tone was wanting.

what is aaba? but she did not listen for long. she moved instead to grab the girl by the scruff of the neck and hoist her up, letting her plump bottom swing. her attention turned in the direction of her lake but her ears turned to every sound, keeping tabs on the man now behind them.

you? you are aaba? i am zharille. it was like hearing a rock slide trying to string consonants together. we go home. to lake.

Home? Oh, she needed a home. Snifffff.. "Tank you.." Every word, forced out beyond a parched throat. "Aaba my..." What was an aapa? What was an aapa except an aapa? Her mind stumped and tumbled. "Aaba.." A man followed them from behind, and she could not see him from her scruffed dangle, but she could hear the walking. And though it wasn't her aapa who she had found, at least she had friends now. Or, she hoped that they could be friends, because perhaps they did not want to be friends. Yuralria did not want to be friends, and- that was okay, but she wanted friends now, she was sure.

Sniff... SNIIIIIFFFFF! "I'm Nutu."

The woman warned him to stay back, her voice sharp and commanding. Moss was more than happy to comply, giving those pearly daggers a wide berth. The sight of her bared teeth, sharp and gleaming, was enough to keep them cautious and reverent.

When she scooped up the pup and began her cautious trek back to the lake, Moss followed at a deferent distance. They slid behind the pair in a low crawl, not daring to lift their thin stomach from the dirt. Each movement was slow and respectful, ensuring he remained unintrusive.

You cannot find your Abba, Nutu? they asked cautiously, trying to puzzle out what exactly an abba might be.

she would remain wary of the man, but her focus was on this little one. nutu. it was an easy name for her to grasp, and so zharille accepted it as fact. there rest of what the girl said - something about aaba, whatever that was - went in one ear, out the other.

my man mesen, he bring food. you eat. be strong. there was no part of zharille that thought of where the girl might have come from. similarly, the ogre did not begin to entertain the thought of returning her to any place or people.

mine her posture had said; and that was how this girl would survive, as the apple of the ogre's eye. at least, until her own children came around - they would then take priority.

Last from me!<3

There came a time where words stopped forming. A limp, still body behind very tired eyes. Talking became too exhausting, and for some reason, they'd all went byebye. Sniffles broke through a quiet face when silence drew on too long, and despite thrown questions, they would be met with no answer.

Nutu's eyes could barely stay open. It was important to stay awake, for aapa could come to get her and she would miss it, but they continued to fall. Why did they fall? Why did they not wish to stay open any longer? Maybe it was okay, however. Aapa would come, and even if aapa was very far away, it would not be him who came to take her back home, but aaka. Aaka always came back.

Sleep came in bursts. A well needed rest. After so long, someone finally came to save her.

had the ogre not been flooded with motherly hormones, she would have left the sleeping child there, or not even approached in the first place. as she began to pull away from the encounter she first looms over nutu, feeling the mixture of cull this thing and bring her home which fit more in line with a lioness; this was not her child, not really. for the time being, she ignored that nagging sensation.

with more care than had been shown to any of her previous children, zharille gathered the girl and stalked off again, seeking home, and her husband. this was not her child and so she could claim it in a way the desert people could not - they would not take this one from her.