Redtail Rise Restraint

It was pretty incredible what a difference a full belly made. She’d even managed to get some sleep, though it was the restless sort, plagued by nightmares of Avicus’s fatal hunt. Speaking of her late mother, Masquerade felt tentatively hopeful that she could keep her inner Avicus under control, though she knew there was only one way to be certain.

Four days after the former Wealda’s death and two days since the new one’s rise, Masquerade strode across the borders. She doubled back to study the scents, squatting to refresh her own markers. The Caru then hesitated briefly before calling out to let her pack mates know her whereabouts.

Determined to keep her feelings in check by keeping busy, she headed to a nearby cache, her limp slight. Masque would start there, then make a systematic check of the rest of the rise’s stockpiles. After that, if she had the stomach for it and her leg would allow it, she might round up the young adults for their first hunt since Avicus had fallen.

Redd waited for her sister’s return, patient, but with a deepening anxiety that sent ripples through her calm.  She had thought she knew loneliness; ever since she was young, she had never melded in the ways the others did.  But she had not known the loneliness that Wealda wore.

She had not been her mother’s choice.  She had not been anyone’s choice, and this had been made clear to her in every encounter since.  Only Masquerade had chosen her… even if for only a moment.

Their mother wasn’t here to make things right with strength.  That was Redd’s job now, and she would try with everything she had.  Right now it just felt as if they were all slipping sideways, apart from each other and from her.

She could not stop them dispersing.  She could only hope to give them reason to remain together.

Redd saw Masquerade and relief filled her, though she did not immediately approach.  It was clear enough to her they had sought isolation to think.  She would only check in if her presence seemed welcome; if not she would quietly depart.

She was pleased to find the first cache rather full, though as Masque nosed through it and scented elk meat, her stomach did an unpleasant flip. She eased away and pivoted, ready to head to the second one.

She scanned her surroundings as she walked, wondering if anyone might approach her. Masquerade knew it might be strained for any number of reasons. She worried in particular about crossing paths with New Snow, though hopefully her strong scent would make her easy to avoid.

When her eyes caught on Redd’s familiar figure, Masque slowed to a stop. She saw her sister do the same. The only way out is through, she thought a little nonsensically, huffing a breath and striding toward Redd with a slightly lopsided step.

She reached out to sniff noses with the Alpha female, then bumped her chin. The new aspect of her persona—the one she’d been calling her inner Avicus—remained unruffled. Some tension in her spine eased as her tail waved. It wasn’t low, just lower. She deferred to the Wealda, though she was still a figurehead in her own right.

Masque just hoped her new and old personalities could meet in the middle, so she could keep her word to Redd: “I will support you as your second-in-command.”

Further relieved when Masquerade did not spurn her company, Redd met them as they approached.  She did not bother with posturing, but checked them over, noting that the limp looked better.  It still appeared sore, though.

Things needed to be said, it felt.  Redd was not sure what exactly, but there was an easy place to begin.

I’m sorry.  If not for her actions, then that any of this was necessary.  I don’t want to lose more.

She hadn’t been sure if she would ask, but she wanted to know.  You would have driven her off?  The question was quiet, and clearly a bid for clarification rather than an accusation.  Redd wanted to know why; there had not been time to find out in the moment, but now was the next best thing.

Masque shifted her weight, resisting the urge to shake her head at Redd’s apology. Instead, she offered a rueful smile. Her sister had no idea what was going on in her head and she preferred it that way. She’d unloaded enough on poor Mulherin, who was her closest confidante in any case.

The tension returned when she wasn’t given a choice. Redd asked a question and it could only be about New Snow. Masque would not evade it, though it turned out her urge to correct the assumption overruled everything else.

No, that wasn’t my intent at all. It was like a reflex. Her scent triggered me. I was just trying to assert my—your—our right to breed before her, she explained carefully, in the heat of the moment. But…

Masque still wasn’t sure how she felt about New Snow bearing a litter before her superiors. Once again, she wondered if Redd knew she and Mountain Boulder were preparing to whelp somewhere other than the rise. But she bit her tongue. It was Redd’s turn to speak.

What they said made sense.  Redd listened quietly, then considered the words.  The intention was not to drive off, but the consequences were clear.  Avicus had allowed them; to change this was to deny the hunt lead’s strength.

We need hunters.  Ulfhedinn has strong children.  We would lose all.  Him, his mate, and two new Ulfr.  Ours would need food.  Protection.  New mouths to feed is all they would trade; neither had a mate like the hunt lead.  And neither would be able to hunt while nursing.

She stopped there, unsure that it was enough for Masquerade to see the future she saw.  Divided they would scarce survive, let alone thrive.

Her sister’s words really put her restraint to the test. Masque felt the jealous anger stir in her belly, though she tried to divert it by focusing on Redd’s use of the word “ours.” She had no idea what she wanted at this point, though it didn’t bear mentioning.

You should be first, as Wealda, Masque insisted quietly, particularly this season, to solidify your claim. Others can have litters later, if there are resources.

Masque knew that didn’t address the latter point. If refused, New Snow and Mountain Boulder wouldn’t stand down or wait. They would leave. Masque’s hackles prickled, though her inner caregiver sympathized with their side too.

They should found a pack in the maple forest, raise their young there. You—we can raise ours here, when the time comes. The packs could be allies, supporting one another in times of need. Our—your offspring and theirs could pair up over time, build more alliances…

She thought of Ancelin and Lilia. She thought of Dragon’s Back Ridge too. Masque made no mention of them. Her voice trailed off into silence for a beat, though there was only one thing left to add.

It’s your call, though. I will support your decisions, as your second, to the best of her ability.

She didn’t understand.  And her words were not understood either.  Redd was at a loss for a moment, unsure if there was a way to explain that would have her meaning become seen.  She was Wealda; her word was law.  But she was the head of a pack that deserved its head to think of them.  And that this decision had hurt her sister did not sit well with Redd.

Two factions again.  Two factions always.

If I do not, then I will defend.  Their pack would suffer too.  Three to hunt and to defend a territory would not allow for extra.  She did not agree that all would work out, even if she was willing to see he and New Snow as anything other than pack.

We are one.  (so sorry) Redd let out a breath, then nudged her sister’s jaw softly.  Gratefully.  If she could not see it, perhaps she would.  If Redd was worthy of her title then she would.

If a strong mate could be found, and Ulfhedinn remained with his adult children, Redd saw no reason that all three should not grow the Rise.  But if she did not find a strong mate, she would not breed; her trust that Masquerade would help with her litter shaken some by the challenge.  She could not imagine herself as Wealda, alone and unable to leave her children, leaving the pack again without a unifying presence.

I will need you.  As Caru, perhaps, or simply as a second.  Masquerade was the last true part of Avicus left here; the only one who knew as much as Redd, more even, and was able to speak on it.

Masquerade said nothing further on the matter, letting her closing words stand. She would try her best to tame her inner Avicus and follow Redd’s lead on this, a resolution affirmed as their muzzles touched. Her sister’s words reminded her of her own quiet power.

I’m here, she murmured, right beside you.

She still didn’t know where her new instincts might take her, though she was firm in her support of Redd’s right to breed. The Caru looked forward to helping the Wealda rear a litter in the spring, just like she’d done the year before.

Masque would support New Snow’s too, if that was what Redd wanted, though the Caru knew she wouldn’t go out of her way. She’d decided that the moment she’d realized they were considering whelping in the maple forest. She could only reasonably support litters born here on the rise.

Redd butted her head affectionately to her sister’s good shoulder, leaving it there a moment to let her know that she was grateful for the assurance.  It set her at ease for the most part, though there was still a seed of misgiving within her.

Redd still wondered why she had changed her mind, so quickly and so suddenly.  Did Masquerade think that Redd would not have given the rank if she had asked?  It was too late now; another shift in leadership would signal instability, and this shift could destroy them entirely.  Redd wondered if things could have been different, had she read some missed signal, said some missed phrase.

She would not dwell.  The past was done.  Redd stepped back and then looked towards the border, glancing back to invite Masquerade silently to join her.  They could patrol it and seek trails, monitoring the herds as they had done before things became so complicated.

When her sister headbutted her, Masquerade arched her head to reach her ears, nibbling at them. When she drew away, she told herself that following Redd shouldn’t be any different than following Avicus, in practice. They wore the same title. And she was still the pack’s Caru, the first one to ever take leadership upon herself.

Masque would be the deputy to Redd’s sheriff, or something like that. She snorted, nodding at the silent invitation. Her long tail raised, waving, though she kept it a few shades lower than her sister’s as she fell into step beside her.