Redtail Rise way of the wilds

Moon Runner was not so sure about the adult male who had joined the Rise’s ranks.

Though lean, he was well-built and predatorial. A man in his prime. Why would such a wolf join their pack if not to usurp it?

She watched him, now, with an inquisitive gaze and approached @Riley carefully. Moon Runner announced herself with a low wuff but her head bobbed like a wary hawk.

He’s watched by something. Riley felt the pair of eyes burn into him like a brand; their owner a young, fit wolf bearing a cloak of fur similar to the male that met him at the borders.

He slowed from his patrol, body posture neutral. He recognized that even among yearlings, he was subordinate — this pack was familial and he an outsider.

Moon Runner came closer, hawkish eyes upon him. Riley chuffed in monosyllabic answer, nose to the ground as he sampled the scent of squirrel crisscrossing over the leaf litter.

Though her time to assert herself was soon to come, Moon Runner walked the line between juvenile and adolescent. Her behavior was still childlike and deferential, even in the presence of the man she knew as Rolling Thunder.

Perhaps Sister would have actively postured herself. Moon Runner, however, gives the man a wide birth as she inspects him. His posture is nonconfrontational, but there is no trust between them.

Then, Rolling Thunder artfully diffused any pressure by diverting his attention to the ground. This drew the girl in and she joined the sniff-fest, using it as a guise to draw nearer to him. Still, she watches him closely out of the corner of her eye.

Tension roils between them. Riley kept still as he was inspected, yielding the first move to his packmate.

Her attention was drawn to the trail of squirrel. Riley’s paws sifted through a pile of leaves; they were damp and cold to the touch, but beneath them the scent was preserved.

Acorns. Riley’s gaze lifted to Moon Runner to see if she knew what to make of it. He’d seen several seasons now, and knew this to be the time squirrels prepared their larder stores for the winter.

But did she know? And more importantly — was she hungry?

Moon Runner is given an opportunity to take his scent. He is a wild thing, not yet fully imbued with the Rise’s bespoke fragrance, and notes of softwoods, high alpine peaks, and boggy rivers cling to his furs. It reminds her of hunting with Father beyond the borders and she wonders if Rolling Thunder would choose to become a guardian or hunter.

She shook her pelt to release any remaining heebie-jeebies and her mouth opened into a calm pant to convey her new acceptance of him. Her ears cup forward when Rolling Thunder found an interesting trail. Moon Runner mimics him and smells the acorns among the decaying foliage. But what did it mean?

Her head cocked, curious.

A whole host of information is exchanged when their noses examine each other. Riley learns her age, her sex (though this was mostly obvious to begin with), the last meal she’d eaten, her general health, and comradeship — as well as the places she’d passed through just before.

It’s enough to tell him what he’d already assumed to be true: she was knitted into the fabric of this pack, and likely shared blood with other members.

As he scratched at a leaf, he noticed her loosened jaw. His own posture seemed to melt, to signal his good will.

A skittering of leaves behind them causes his head to jerk. There, perched on a limb of rough beech was a squirrel staring straight at them — with an acorn wedged between its mouth.

When Rolling Thunder’s head turned so did Moon Runner’s.

She saw the squirrel. She whined and took a shuffle-step forward. Her tongue whetted her nose, wanting it.

The squirrel greedily shoved the acorn into one cheek and a lightbulb goes off above Moon Runner’s head.

Her nose is drawn, once again, to the ground as she inspects an acorn.

Suddenly, something hits her in the head!

Moon Runner jerks back, surprised, and looks up to see the canopy of hardwoods brimming with fruit.

There it was; the line drawn between sight and observation. A parallel in the glint of Moon Runner’s gaze — the squirrel, the litter, the acorn, the dwindling fruit of summer.

Riley started as something from above struck her head. He watched as the acorn rolled to the ground, then glanced to the canopy above. More squirrels — their scampering upending acorns here and there as branches bowed under their weight.

Despite having no chance of catching the squirrels, Riley bolted to the base of the tree, placing his paws against the hardwood with a throaty growl meant to entice them down.

Come on down Mr. Squirrel, he just wants to talk. Promise!

Moon Runner would remember this place, its abundant prey, and its many oak trees. It was a squirrel hunter’s paradise, evident by the thousands of acorns. It made the young wolf consider the food source of other creatures, too. She recalled how fish had jumped to catch black flies and how herons spear hunted for frogs along the pond’s reeds.

The squirrels began to chatter angrily, whipping their tails like fluffy ribbons.

When Rolling Thunder began to tree them, the squirrels scattered.

Fun! the spirit said.

Moon Runner mimicked him and stood on her hind legs, bouncing like a rock hopper penguin, as she scratched at the trunk of a tree yapping and whining.

Suddenly, it seemed like it paid off! While running among the branches, one young squirrel lost its footing and fell to the ground.

Naturally any squirrel in the area scattered the moment bulldozing Riley approached the tree. With Moon Runner right next to him, he tilted his head all the way back.

The world was funny upside down. He saw a squirrel running along one thin branch — the chatter and scolding of other squirrels blending in with the yaps of his packmate.

Then the squirrel fell. The branch righted itself with a snap as the squirrel fell through the air.

Riley pushed off from the tree, scrambling after it with an excited growl.

Going to wrap this one up before I head on vacay, thanks for the cute thread!

A comical moment passed as the squirrel and wolf realized just what had happened.

Then Moon Runner, too, scrambled like Scooby Doo to gain traction. Quickly she chased the squirrel with Rolling Thunder as if they were cousing sighthounds. Her hair was down, tongue all the way out, as she gave chase like a wild woman