Blacktail Deer Plateau stars are not small or gentle

There’s a sharp crack of tiny teeth breaking open the shell of an acorn and Stitch’s ears twitch, her tail brushing against her hocks as she glimpses over her shoulder to see Frank sitting comfortably at the junction of her shoulders. The baby raccoon’s gotten good at balancing when she’s eating without tumbling off — the first time it happened Stitch thought she was going to have a heart attack from the worry! — and Stitch lets out a soft, affectionate noise. “Are you nervous Frank? I’m nervous.” Stitch shares though she has yet to figure out if Frank is capable of understanding her or not but she likes to think that the procyonidae does and therefore typically acts like she can. “I mean they could turn us away,” Stitch is …Stitch and her last experience with this wasn’t bad per-say but she’s never been anything but quirky. Being a mom to a baby raccoon probably ranks right up there as the quirkiest thing she’s done to date. She’s out Stitch-ed herself, as her brothers would say were they here. They were not, thankfully. “Or, I mean they could accept you but turn me away.” Stitch’s pupils dilate in their pools of crystalline blue irises and she looks over her shoulder at Frank, wide-eyed ( as if that was an actual possibility because to her it is; damnit Frank is cute ). Who wouldn’t want a Frank? Frank lets out a small baby noise around her mouthful of acorn. “No, no. I wouldn’t just let you. Don’t worry Frankie, we’re a package deal.” She assures the baby and she swings her head back to her path before her, black, leathery nostrils flaring as the pack scent becomes stronger.

“Hmm,” Stitch draws, contemplative as her steps slow, leaving an adequate distance between the borders and herself. She’s tentative, hesitant and still kind of afraid they’d want Frank but not her ( oops ) but otherwise …hopeful. “Everybody loves babies, Frank. I think you should do the talking. Charm them with your cuteness.” She jokes but she’d never put Frank in any sort of position where the baby raccoon’s in danger or rather, she’d try not to. Evidently no one told Stitch that she wasn’t supposed to adopt the baby raccoon but the thought of eating her had never occurred to Stitch and if it would have, it would have made her ill. “Hit them with the big guns first,” Stitch glimpses over her shoulder with a smile. “That’s you. You’re the big guns.” She coos to Frank who blinks at her and nibbles at her acorn some more. “Don’t eat too many of those, Frankie. You won’t be hungry for lunch then.” Stitch chides in her mom voice but she nevertheless turns a blind eye to it: like the mother that pretends she doesn’t see her child sneaking cookies out of the cookie jar because it’s not hurting anything.

She’s stalled long enough and her nerves are not any less heightened so Stitch summons her courage and sends up a howl announcing her presence to the pack and it’s leaders.

517 words

So cute wowie

He was returning from a small hunt when the call rose, his ears perking forward to catch the sound and detect its location. He began to follow the sound to the source, and it turned out he wasn't all that far. On arrival, his deep forest green eyes scanned the stranger. Pale fur, slyphlike. His stance rose instincively, but ears remained perked as he looked at her. "Hello. What brings you to our borders?"

Before he could get a response, his gaze trailed downward to the raccoon, and his eyes widened slightly. "Uh...?" It was more of a question than a statement, his eyes landing back on the stranger with a slightly questioning glance.

thank you!

The male that greets her is young but adult-sized, certainly larger than her and Stitch watches him with a wag to her tail in a friendly, if not timid manner. His coat is a rich brown and grey agouti and his eyes are a deep green — the color she imagines the forest leaves around them would be in the midst of summer. Her ears slink back against her skull though, wondering if this is the moment under the spotlight that she chokes up. Now is not the time for that Stitch. “Uh, hi!” She blurts out when she realizes that it’s probably been a few beats too long since she was expected to reply. “We’re looking for a pack.” She is about to gesture to Frank who is already a beat ahead of her and scuttles down her front left leg to plop down on her paw. Stitch doesn’t want Frank to feel like she’s not included but she’s not wolf and therefore would bear no rank aside from maybe residential cutie pie ( in Stitch’s biased opinion, anyway ) so she includes her, too. Stitch blinks owlishly at the boy when he lets out a uh as he looks to Frank and then back to Stitch.

“This is Frank, or well she likes to be called Frankie too. She’s a baby raccoon,” Stitch does not state this is in a condescending manner but in a proud PTA mom way. “I adopted her about two weeks ago.” Lookit this cute thing I’ve kept alive for two weeks, Stitch’s beam down at Frank seems to say. After a moment Stitch refocuses her attention back to the boy. “Oh! I’m Stitch. Well, my name’s actually Salvatrix but I don’t think I’m not much of a Salvatrix so I go by Stitch.” She’s rambling, speaking in a rapid fire manner that showcases her nerves. She doesn’t mean to broadcast it so loudly but she word vomits when she’s nervous and her timid nature makes most social interaction nerve wracking. Especially important social interactions. She offers a little wave of her tail, in neutrality and friendly manner because she really just wants this to go well.

363 words

He sensed the nerves of the stranger and so he gave a small, reassuring wag of his tail, and a smile graced his youthful face. He understood it must be uncomfortable standing at the borders of an unfamiliar pack, perhaps assuming you weren't welcome or expecting rejection. Had he been in the same position, he would be nervous too. But, that aside, he was not one to turn anybody away without careful consideration. This wolfess seemed healthy, older than himself but smaller too. 'We're' caught his attention most in her sentence, and he glanced down to the small raccoon by her paw with his brow raised. Kieran's suspicions were confirmed when she spoke again, introducing the creature to him and then introducing herself. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kieran, I'm a hunter here."

What was he supposed to do about the raccoon...? Was a wolf pack really the best place for it? Why did she even have a raccoon? ....Why was he even considering these questions? He should just turn her away, or suggest that it perhaps couldn't come in. "Okay, then... she's cute, but what makes you think she'd be safe in a wolf pack?" It was a genuine question, more than anything. "Do you have any trades? Or plan to work toward earning one?" The boy asked - apparently he was too soft to straight up recommend she leave, or just leave the raccoon.

He introduces himself as Kieran and continues with that he’s a hunter. She makes a small hum in her throat: impressed that he had a title being as young as he is; though Stitch is no expert at determining ages. Her own age is probably rather ambiguous given on how she acts alone — Stitch supposes she’s not much of a quote unquote adult. For all she knows Kerian is more of an “adult” than she is. His questions regarding Frank are valid and but the fact that they nevertheless surprise her makes her realize that she’s never considered it: that anyone would want to eat her baby ( because Frankie’s become her baby and no one was ever going to convince her otherwise, thankyouverymuch ). Would they eat a wolf cub just because it didn’t belong? Frankie wasn’t a wolf cub, however and Stitch is fully aware of this. “Well,” Stitch’s tongue ties and she chokes on her words for a second, drawing back with slight indignation. “Because — because I won’t let anyone hurt her.” Frank was a baby, an orphan. A victim of cruel circumstance and was it so bad of Stitch to want to give her a better life? A life where, admittedly, she didn’t get eaten? A life where maybe one day she was released back into the “wild” to be with her own ilk? Stitch lets out a low huff, having never paused to consider that it was Frank that would not be accepted ( frankly, she’s appalled ).

She hasn’t offered them anything worth taking implied that they humor her and let her keep her adorable baby raccoon. Or, rather, implied that the two were a pair and that you couldn’t buy one without the other. She knows this isn’t looking very good for her presently. She’s ready to nudge Frank to climb back up her leg and take her usual seat so they could take their leave but hesitates before doing so. Still hopeful despite the bleak feeling she’s suddenly getting. “See, Frank and I are a package deal. If she’s going to be a problem or unwelcome then maybe we should just skip ahead to the part where I leave.” Stitch’s words sound sad to her own ears, and she can’t help but feel dejected but the truth is she doesn’t really see the point in going through the rest of the process if she’s only going to be turned away in the end or asked to leave Frank to die which is essentially the same thing in her mind because she’s entirely unwilling to do that.

436 words

She seems slightly taken aback at his question at first - had she assumed the question would not be asked? It was hardly something he could put aside... having a raccoon as a companion wasn't exactly normal, he wouldn't lie. But still... there was something rather intruiging about it. He was most curious.

Her words made him shake his head, as he squinted his eyes in thought. He supposed... the raccoon... it could stay, right? If she was to be accepted, the raccoon could come too? As long as it didn't cause a fuss, and wasn't a nuisance to keep around... surely it was fine. Grayday wouldn't mind, right? Kieran spoke up again. "No. I mean... The raccoon can stay, if I accept you in. I guess I don't see a problem with it." Then he paused, wondering if she would answer his last question.