Swiftcurrent Creek If they're here to smoke, know I'll go with you

I told myself no more threads buuuut...haha.....this can wait however long tho, no rush!

Mae had stolen away for several hours, stubborn and secretive with her time in a way that had become uncharacteristic of her in recent weeks. She'd been working on something. Hunting with @Akavir was nice and all, but Mae had grown used to a certain independence during her time away from Swiftcurrent Creek. It was only natural that she wouldn't be completely satisfied with this arrangement.

For the most part she'd resigned herself to her fate — but she would take back as much as she could. Even if it was something as small and hard-won as this.

She returned triumphant, her dark fur dusty, her legs and flanks scattered with cuts and bruises, holding a bloodied and thoroughly dead weasel high in the air as if it were a trophy. Look'a wha I goh! Mae yelled around its fur, nearly tripping over several things in her haste to reach her father. She stopped just in time to avoid running into him and took an unsteady step back. Then she spat the weasel on the ground.

It was a messy kill, but she was proud. It's for you, She informed him in a tone that would brook no argument. For a moment she was a child again, a child standing in a messy kitchen and proudly insisting that her father try the haphazard concoction of ingredients squished together by unwashed hands. Mae was pretty sure she'd only slobbered on it a little anyway.

Mae had been a constant presence by his side since the fight with the stranger—the moment they had returned back to the creek, Akavir had set to motion on caring for her—mostly outlined by Reverie in terms of medical ail, and yet in other ways. Guiding her had become the most prominent—but at times during her naps, or when they tended to trail slowly—he would leave markings behind for her to find—forging paths as best he could.

Removing larger rocks from them.

So it was strange to him when the black youth began to drift more and more from him. He would follow—but only so far when it became obvious she was in need of space.

She navigated an entirely new world and outlook—it was only natural she would need to find her footing somehow.

So when a heap of something was plopped unceremoniously before him, he was startled—the scent of blood thick—and then noting the mangled appearance of what was once a weasel. A crooked grin pressed against his muzzle—eyes beaming as he looked back up to her triumphant form. “Look at you, killer,” he teased, his tone laced with pride. “Thanks for feeding your old man.”

Damn straight she was a killer! Mae preened a bit under the praise, smoothing out her chest fur in the manner of a smug cat. Then she remembered how tired she was. She would never admit it aloud, but she didn't think she needed to, at least not to Akavir. Her father was observant enough to see what she'd insisted on learning the hard way: hunting alone, for her, was now impractical at best.

No problem, She moved to flop down at his side, settling in to chew at a stinging cut on her foreleg. Ever wonder why the cone of shame was invented? Behold: Mae. She paused in her chewing to add, casual in a way that could only mean this was truly significant to her, You still gonna take me to the coast?

She made no mention of Arric. He wouldn't be coming, she assumed. He had a wife to look after now, and soon kids. Whatever.

Her dad would still take her. Right? She wished she could watch for his expression.

Plunking down by his side, Akavir gave a light smirk—the praise might have seemed light to any outsider watching them, but to understand them… Nothing about this interaction was minor.

She rested, and he pulled his meal closer—feeling uneasy about hogging the damn thing, but surely, after he began to eat it, she would take some?—and both ears tipped forward at her words, a frown pulling at his features.

Before, when he had mentioned the coast, she had been quick to inform him that Arric would be taking her.

“Of course,” he responded—gnawing through skin and then cartilage. “Might have to wait until closer to the fall, though, if you think you can wait that long? Arric will still want to go.”

At the mention of Arric she made a slight face. You think so? Mae asked dubiously, ears flicking back and forth as she contemplated it. It seemed to her that Arric would be rather busy with his new family. His new children.

Surely none of them would ever be as fucked up as Mae.

If he doesn't wanna, you'll still go, right? She added after a moment, not giving her father enough time to respond. Mae knew, at least, that he didn't plan on replacing her any time soon. Surely if he'd meant to, Eshe would still be here and growing as round as Arlette.

“Of course,” he offered—realizing that Mae was partially expecting to be let down with this promise—whether by him, or from Arric. He knew the Beta male would want to go—and perhaps they would be able to have it so the three of them could travel together—

—but either way, he was taking Mae to the coast come the fall.