Sawtooth Spire too many dicks on the dance floor

She finished burying the last of her dead offspring near the edge of the woods, then reclined on her haunches with a quiet sigh. Quip had given birth to eight kits (all boys!) a little over a week ago and one by one they had perished. She should probably seek out Joker and tell him the bad news, though rather than return to the forest, the svelte vixen began picking her way up the neighboring mountain. She found a perch on a rock shelf and sat there, idly licking her paws and gazing over the treetops below.

After a while, she sank into a sphinx-like position, eyes glassy as she stared into the middle distance. Overhead, a partly cloudy sky began to grow dim as gunmetal gray cumulonimbus clouds blew in from the east and hovered right over the mountains as if stuck. Quip scarcely noticed the shifting weather until a shadow stole over her, chasing away the July heat. Only then did her vision clear as she arched her tapered snout and squinted up at the darkling skies.

It was his first time venturing from the Woods, and already he saw the promises of storms in the air. He scowled at the darkening skies, but kept walking, hoping to find shelter outside of his home for once. He had spent too long cloistered inside the Woods; Koume had disappeared for months, Vaati was making little excursions. He would not be relegated to third amongst his kin. He set out, despite the storms waiting in the distance and the water heavy in the air. 

It was the scent of blood that lead him to the fox in the mountains. It clung to her, but was old and slightly faded. It smelled of other foxes, but when he approached the curious creature, she was alone. You are not injured, His pubertized voice rumbled in his great chest, wondering what had become of her.

The sound of a voice behind her startled her nearly half to death. Quip instantly leaped to her feet and darted toward a nearby boulder. She made the split second decision to spring atop it and pivot to assess her possible assailant. Her slender body pressed low to the stone and her tail gave a few twitches when her eyes clapped upon a wolf. She hadn't seen one since the encounter at the lake and was no less wary of them than before. This particular wolf appeared young but Quip knew better than to underestimate him.

She didn't know what to make of his comment, so she made no reply. Her tail eventually fell still, though it puffed up like a bottle brush. Her muscles twitched as she contemplated fleeing, though she would wait to see what the young wolf wanted first. If he wasn't interested in attacking, Quip didn't want to trigger a predatory reaction by inciting a chase.

After a beat, she blinked and queried, "What do you want?"

She is startled, something he smiles at, taking great pleasure in his stealth abilities. He smirks up at her from her high perch, curling his torch of a tail around his dirt-shaded paws. He cocked his head at her, his stance completely relaxed as he viewed her. He knew that foxes were not well liked by wolves, but he had no reason to harm her and showed that in his nonchalant body posture, his smirk fading into an upturned smile. I smelled blood, and I thought you were hurt, He replies, looking her over. Do you have an old wound or something? You don't have to hide it,

His body language indicated no threat, though Quip didn't immediately trust it. She remained vigilant on her perch, peering suspiciously at the wolf with flinty eyes. Her stony mask cracked somewhat when he mentioned the smell of blood, which reminded the vixen of her losses.

"No," she replied simply. She wasn't wounded or weakened and she wanted him to know she wasn't viable prey. She sat up a little, hoping to look bolder and braver than she actually felt to further deter any aggression, even though the young wolf's amiable demeanor persisted.

Maybe a conversation would also deflect from any predatory urges. "Are you a medic?" The fox was genuinely curious.

She wasn't disarmed, which he didn't blame her for. She was a small fox, and he a large young wolf. But even her natural distrust of him could not hide the tell that came from his forward question. He watched her then, intent in his eyes perhaps feigning concern. Something he said made her sad, brought back painful memories. He liked that, even if he didn't do it intentionally.

Yes, He had learned a lot from his mother, which was more than enough to take her if need be, and enough to make her life worse if he wanted. Do you need me or not?

She met his question with another blink. "I'm not injured," she reminded him. Quip paused, wondering if she should quell the curiosity growing within her or indulge it. She licked her lips and hesitantly added, "Do you know if there's an illness spreading through this area?" She wasn't dwelling on the loss of her kits but she did wonder why none of them had made it. Two of them she'd lost to larger predators, another she had eaten herself shortly after birth after sensing something horribly amiss with him. But five of her sons had passed away seemingly without symptoms and Quip couldn't help but want to solve the mystery.

He sucked his teeth in disappointment (or in some wolfish version of that action), having hoped to test out his skills on a real creature. He was prepared then to simply bid her adieu and leave, but she kept him firmly still with her next question. He cocked an ear at her, eyebrow raising inquisitively. Illness? You mean like a plague? He had heard of such things, but never in real life, only brief ancedotes. Do you think that you are sick? He glanced her over again, now looking for any sign of sickness rather than injury. Or...did someone else die?

"I don't know," she answered slowly but truthfully to his first two questions. "I lost several kits," she added, feeling a mild pang in her breast. "They didn't have any symptoms, at least none that I could see. They simply... died." Quip swallowed. "I don't feel unwell," she thought to add after a slight pause.

Something rustled overhead and the vixen flinched, peering upward. It was just the wind picking up and soughing through the foliage of a tree growing on a bluff a few yards above. Beyond the ruffling leaves, she could see how dark the sky had gotten.

Turning to face the young wolf again, she waited to see if he could provide any information about an illness sweeping through the local wildlife. There was nothing he or anyone could do for her young now but it would be good to have answers and to know if she should be careful making contact with other animals.

He clucked his tongue in some mockery of sympathy, but having no children himself, nor having seen any remorse at such a loss from his mother, he simply accepted such a statement as a fact of life. But a whole litter was indeed strange, he had to admit. You're too young. At least, I think you are, He says, revealing little of the context of his thoughts as he went through his internal encyclopedia. Did you eat well when you were carrying them? The winter was bad I hear, He was barely old enough to remember it, but his mother had told him, along with the many other lessons she gave him. He simply shrugged in the end. Sometimes they just die,

"Too young?" she repeated in confusion. She had gone into heat and conceived at the usual age for a fox, so Quip wasn't sure what he meant. But she let it go and answered his other queries as thoughtfully as she could. "I ate as much as I could and got plenty of exercise. I didn't get pregnant until late spring," she added, "and I gave birth about a week ago."

"Sometimes they just die." The vixen bit back a sigh but nodded in agreement. "Perhaps I wasn't meant to be a mother," she mused, then suddenly felt as if she'd said too much. She felt a prickle pass through her. It was time to get going.

There was the incoming storm to consider too. "Thank you for your advice. I'm going to find some shelter. You should too." Quip afforded the young wolf a last glance before pivoting and gracefully hopping down the crags, back toward the cover of the hollow.

He shrugs at her confusion. He simply guesses, and he is wrong. From what she says, she should have had healthy pups, but she didn't. He didn't know why. Perhaps his mother did, and he was simply ignorant. Perhaps not, There is no sympathy or remorse in his words. It is simply fact, though he doesn't believe in any luck, or rhyme and reason in it. Was she meant to be? No. But neither was his mother. No one was meant to be anything, really.

The rumble of thunder in the distance ended their conversation, luckily for the vixen. He can easily return to the Woods, at least in his mind, but he watches her leave. Stay safe, He was he's supposed to say, and so he says it before he turns away and descends the slope of the mountain.