Valley of Gold Girl, you might hold your breath until your breathing stops forever

All welcome for any Medeiros wolves <3

Sunlight sparkled across the swaying golden grass, each blade glinting sharply as it fell beneath Foxglove's dancing paws. She was getting better at it, she thought. The dance to call the rains.

Yet the sky made no answer to her pleas. After a time Foxglove let the dance fade to nothingness, going still as her muzzle tilted skyward. Why won't it work? She frowned deeply.

He just watched her for a little while, proud of them both because he knew what dance she was trying to perform. Of course, there weren't all that many to choose from — Dusty Rose was still bringing them through all the dances of his own culture — but there were enough that this little dancer had been forced to learn some nuance.

"You're doin' real good, mija," he told her, coming up to her as her frustration shined through. "What's wrong? You stuck somewhere?"

Her gaze never left the sky, but her nose twitched slightly as Dusty Rose spoke. It's not workin', Fox complained, squinting at the clouds as if that might make them answer her call. Nothing happened.

She sighed and finally looked at Dusty Rose. It always works for mama, Foxglove pointed out sullenly, her tone seeming to demand explanation. Surely he would know where she had gone wrong.

"Yeah," he agreed; Reverie was a fucken goddess — "But sometimes it takes a real long time. Y'know Mama had to dance three days and four nights before the rain came down, one time. She doesn't do it all the time 'cause we don't need water all the time."

This was what he had to tell himself to go on living his life.

"You thirsty or something?" he asked, making a playful bow. His voice challenged her to take offense and do something about it, but he wasn't sure she would take the bait. In that case, he was happy to keep talking.

Three days and four nights! That was... forever, Foxglove was pretty sure. She didn't think she could dance for that long without getting bored.

Luckily, Dusty Rose knew how to keep things interesting. How could she do anything but take the bait? Dancing had lost its luster for the moment, so Foxglove leapt for Dusty Rose's paws with jaws stretched wide, making ungodly noises best compared to the shrieks of a tiny angry raptor.

She was getting too big to pick up like this, but Dusty Rose made a valiant effort to get his jaws around her anyway. And yeah, he chomped. Just a little! As a treat! More of a squeeze, really, but this child liked to play rough. He growled deep in his throat while he fended her off (sometimes while she was actively in his mouth) and eventually knocked her over so that he could lord his toughness over her for a moment.

"Guess you're a better dancer than a brawler," he said glibly as he let her up, his tail whisking. "Or maybe you're just tiny. Hey — you wanna learn a different dance?"

Foxglove made a valiant effort, kicking and growling the entire time — but ultimately, Dusty Rose manhandled her like she was an unruly doll come to life. Eventually she accepted defeat and went limp with a dramatic huff. Even his offer of a different dance wasn't quite enough to lift her mood for several long moments. She only laid there, sulking.

Then she got bored.

What dance? Fox side-eyed him as she reluctantly caved.

His tail wheeled when she finally gave in to her curiosity and his awesomenessicity.

"It's a dance for two," he told her, his tone suggesting this was especially cool. "It doesn't call down rain or anything — it tells a story. And the story is that the leader is a strong, brave matador and the follower is a pretty red cape. Do you know what a matador is?"

A dance for two. Fox immediately thought that she would like to be the leader, of course — the matador. Whatever that was.

She shook her head dutifully when Dusty Rose asked if she knew; he never kept her waiting for long. After a moment she shifted to sit upright, signaling the beginning of true investment. Foxglove did love to dance.

Got her.

He tried to emulate his own parents. Toughen the kids up, y'know? Knock 'em down a few times to show 'em it was no big deal. Sometimes it sorta broke his heart, though, so he was glad when the sparkle came back into little bug's eyes.

God, he loved these kids.

"It's a bulk trainer," he told her. "Think of the biggest, nastiest deer you've ever seen. One that wants to stick its antlers in you. A matador tames them. He waves a magic red branch and trains them not to kill him. But they're still wild at first — and that's what you're gonna be acting out. I'll be your cape, alright?"

He showed her the starting position and began coaching her through the first steps.

Foxglove, of course, had other ideas. Like being a real matador. Dahlia would never hurt her again if she could just tame a few big, nasty deer and make them follow her around. But Dusty Rose went on with the dance before she could voice her aspirations, and so for a time she only kept them to herself.

Eventually, though, she couldn't help but pause to ask, How's this gonna tame a big nasty deer?

He froze, only the twitch of his whiskers giving away his status as a living creature. Then he plopped his ass down and let out a huffy laugh.

"Okay, baaaack up," he told her. "This is just a dance. Just pretend. It doesn't actually tame anything, so don't be going up to pointy deer, alright? Not even I can make deer be nice. Maybe we'll get you a lil possum to practice on."

Just pretend. Foxglove made a face. I don't wanna practice on a stupid stinky possum. I wanna pointy deer to come kick Dahlia into the sun! She sat too, disappointment clouding her features.

Or a mean pig. Mama said pigs'll eat anything! Even somethin' real nasty like Dahlia. Well, she hadn't said that part. It'd been implied, okay?

Dusty Rose was appalled — he had a special sensitivity to things eating kids, alright? And anyway, he didn't like the kids not getting along. Not really, at least.

"Now hold on there, bug," he told her, his brow furrowed in empathy but also concern. ""That's your sister. That means, of anyone's gonna kick her into the sun, it's gotta be you or your other sister. You can't let some mean old dear or a smelly, rotten pig move in on your turf."

He stood.

"Or you can learn this dance before her," he suggested, "And be my best lil dancer. How 'bout it?"

Had it been Petal they were speaking of, Foxglove might have agreed. She didn't mind a little wrestling here and there; who didn't love that? Even the yelling could be written off. Half the time Foxglove didn't notice her own yelling.

It just wasn't any fun with Dahlia. Her sister's goal wasn't fun; it was to hurt. But Fox didn't have the words to convey that just yet, so what she said instead was, I don't wanna kick Dahlia into the sun. I want her to go away. Her tone was unusually earnest.

But adults always knew best, right?

So she sighed and picked herself back up to continue learning the dance. Okay, She mumbled, but her energy was more resigned than enthused, and would remain so throughout the lesson.

There was little fun in it then for Dusty Rose, who had always, secretly, loved Foxglove best because of her sweet and spunky spirit. He went through the motions for a moment or two, but soon enough, he stopped and prodded at Foxglove's tiny cheek with his dark, wet nose.

"How come you want her to go away?" he he asked her, curious even despite knowing of all the strife between sisters. "Let's sit down. It's hot out here, anyway," he said, pointing his nose toward Shady Tree.

Her ears fell when Dusty Rose gave up on the lesson. She started to apologize, but then he questioned her about Dahlia, and she forgot all about feeling bad for ruining their lesson in favor of feeling bad because — well, because Dahlia made her feel bad. Foxglove went quiet for a little while as she followed Dusty Rose to the tree.

It was a funny looking tree.

That's a funky tree, Foxglove said, voice wavering a little. She was looking intently at the tree. Then, finally:

It's 'cause she hates me. She's always so mean. And mama loves her best, and I dunno why.

Abruptly her eyes were brimming with tears. She hated that. She hated crying.

He hated to see a girl cry. It tugged at all his heartstrings but he didn't know a single thing about how to fix her problems.

"Oh, mija," he said, his voice gusty as he gathered her close to him. "Your mama loves you. I think your sister loves you, too — even if she's being a lil snot rag lately. Young kids get themselves full of rabbit. That means their teeth grow long and they wanna sink 'em into something. I don't like it when she sinks them into you or your sister — but this doesn't mean she hates you, bug. It just means she's being an awful brat."

He kissed her cheek.

"I can't fight this fight for you," he told her. "Anyone else, I would. Even your mama — I'd beat her up for you. But your sisters? All I can do it help you get big and strong. I'm sorry, baby-love. It sounds like you're at the end of your lead, huh?"

Foxglove could only think that Dahlia must have very long teeth. She would have to look sometime. But she giggled a little when Dusty Rose mentioned beating up mama for her, mood finally beginning to lighten.

Mama would beat you up, She corrected him. Fox knew her mama loved her; that had never been in question. It was only that she loved Dahlia more, and Foxglove still wasn't sure why. And Dusty Rose might have been her favorite adult, but he still wasn't mama.

Yeah, Fox sighed her agreement to his question. Her tears had all dried, and now she didn't really want to think about Dahlia anymore. Why's there only one tree?