Northstar Vale marble bone

hex and viskani had met with one another among the stone cairns. muskrat had not come to the meeting, for her hunt had taken her into patchwork shadow and mud-tunnels.

all in pursuit of the little thing she led by a twist of vine. the warrior's quarry had been a red fox cub of eight moons. still bright with scarlet fur not yet shading toward the thick silver of a winter coat, they plodded disconsolately behind muskrat. bruised into subservience and laden with curled bundles of mountain heather, muskrat intended to make a gift of the fox to viskani.

to kill. to eat. to wear. she did not care, and had indicated as much. but foxes did not speak wolf, and she did not need to learn their tongue to have captured one.

dropping the vine, muskrat noted that the thing did not try to run, only crouched in dismal silence upon the ground. she called out, a coyote-yipping note, proclaiming herself as ridge warrior with a message.

He'd heard coyotes call out, similarly. More often than not, he ignored them. They didn't often seem to involve themselves in the matters of wolves, to his knowledge- save for the ones he had seen at Akashingo. While he'd long suspected- due to his appearance more than anything- that he might have some coyote lineage himself, he paid the canines little mind so long as they obeyed border markings the same way lone wolves were expected to.

But this voice came from the borders. He wouldn't have guessed that Muskrat might sound that way, calling out for their attention with a yip rather than a howl, but now when he considered what he remembered of her looks...It made sense. 

He would have greeted her with his usual, catlike smile if it had not been for the fox kit, tethered by a vine and cowering in her shadow. It wasn't often that he showed his surprise- but this situation prompted a sniff of breath, and a tilt of his head. He warmed his gaze when it returned to her. 

"Muskrat," He greeted. 

The concept of securing another animal with vine had never occurred to him. How clever...It was more interesting to him, than the fox kit was. He thought about commenting on it, but he didn't want to seem as though he'd never seen a leash before. 

He renewed his smile; it'd faded slightly with thought. "Welcome to the Vale." Hs arched his brow. He knew her to be curt, to-the-point; she hadn't likely come for small talk.

feline, confident, a familiar form came forth from the vale's shimmering light. where the ridge was plunged into forgiving shadow that did not dissipate with dawn, muskrat felt rather exposed here.

"tousaint," she purled, hiding none of her amusement over her little gift. "i find this one after they steal meat from ridge. follow far, far. kill their chieftain and the mothers." a raid, one far deadlier than had it been wolves. "slave for viskani."

placing her paw upon the tether, muskrat curled her claws into the dirt, straining the fox's neck until they rose to pad forward. if the valewolves were amenable to this, it did not mean they would welcome the captives among their own kind whom muskrat also planned to capture. this now was the natural order of their world.

"i bring?" but it was a question for tousaint, not a demand to traipse through their land. she would have liked to see it all the same. the choice remained with the coiffed man and his curiosity.

A slave.

At the end of the vine, momentarily, he saw himself. He swallowed hard, and nearly felt the knotted tether tighten. Would he cower and obey, become a servant of those who had slain his family? Or would he wait until the eyes were turned, chew his way through the vine and bolt, even if it meant being hunted down and killed?

It was fortunate that he wasn’t a fox. But where was it, exactly, that Muskrat drew the line? If she was willing to raid another pack if they hunted on neutral grounds, and took a fox kit as a slave because its family had stolen from her…

Something clicked.

Lesson learned. Do not fuck with this woman.

Now his choice was to either allow her a glimpse of the lay of the land, or refuse her such hospitality when she had come bearing a gift? He felt she intentionally put him in this position; his neighbour was like a splinter, eagerly working her way into the flesh. He couldn’t help but admire her for her tactics. 

But he did wish that Viskani would materialize instantly and relieve him of this predicament. For now, he could only stall. 

Have you trained one before? He asked, gesturing to the fox. Will it obey, or do they have a tendency to run?

cunning sunflower watched tousaint's throat bob with what she hoped was a healthy fear. yes. yes this was the response to which she had become accustomed among the swamp panthers, and now the ridge would elicit the same from those around.

as if considering his question, muskrat remained still. then her foreleg flashed, knocking the fox to its flank. a cry rent the air, one of surprise and pain. "keep in their place," she shrugged.

clawed foot flicked the tether's end toward tousaint. if he would not grant entry, her answer was gleaned. precious time ended now. "give her. tell her take fur and meat if fox make trouble."

between the wolves, the kit crouched, silent; shivering. her smirk was almost sweetened as muskrat nodded toward tousaint, taking a pair of steps backward with the intention to leave. yet her eyes were half lidded; her movements languid as she waited expectantly for tousaint to take up the lead-rope.

The little creature wouldn’t have lasted long in the ridge, he thought. The cost of existence was pain- so the cost of an error would be life. He hoped that Muskrat was not raising Nutu with such rules and punishments; he doubted it, but…She was clearly capable of being cruel if she wanted.

The vine landed near him and hastily, he laid a paw on it to keep the kit from dashing off- but it seemed to have learned that cowering was key. 

Now that he had possession of the vine, he wanted to keep the pathetic creature himself. Teach him to tend herbs, fetch thing, perhaps hunt for food or treasures…He gave the vine a tug, and on shaky feet the fox tottered toward him and crouched down. 

There was something very satisfying about being obeyed. 

You are a gracious neighbour, He said, just as Muskrat turned. The gift, after all, had come with no prompt- though perhaps Muskrat had accomplished what she had intended in giving a glimpse of her nature.

gracious. as if viskani might not one day find herself in such a rope were she not careful with how she regarded the ridge. muskrat turned a sharp grin over her shoulder, the sunyellow slitted eyes moving with promise over his face. "only taste, tousaint. this. only one taste."

before long, she was crossing the vale-border and winging her way into the land of stone cairns, a diminutive figure that moved with a hunter's grace.

suppose the montagne creatures accepted their bid? a powerful exchange, wealth and captives traded from coast to desert.

resolve tightened her step; it was time to put teeth into the world and feel for a raid. time for the name of shadow to be known.

Only a taste.

Of what- how much of a threat she and the Ridge wolves could be? Or was it intended as a show of camaraderie? He wasn’t certain, and it was a terribly uncomfortable place to be; she set him on a knife’s edge, and held the handle of the instrument herself. 

She left, and he gazed down at the miserable fox kit. 

It would make for a nice pelt, sure; but he was less keen to slay the animal now that he had seen how much fear it had survived. 

Come. He said, picking up the vine. The kit didn’t move. He gave the vine a gentle tug, and still the kit remained cowering. Tousaint flattened his ears; couldn’t it see that he was trying to be careful with it? Come! He barked through gritted teeth and jerked the vine. 

The kit stumbled forward and began to follow. His frustration mixed together with shame, to lead a captive, a slave behind him. He searched for @Viskani, the fox kit in tow.

As of late Viskani had not often left her den. Preparing, strategizing, she was much too busy. But now she found herself by the lotus spring. The area had become a place of relaxation to her, a chance to not think.

She laid on her side in the soft grass, rather relaxed until an unwelcome scent hit her. Muskrat. Fox. And slightly more welcome, Tousaint.

She rose to her paws and began to make her way towards the source, but only spotted Tousaint. Upon closer inspection she spotted a fox kit being dragged along with him. She felt sympathy for the creature. "How did you manage that?" She asked, nodding to his guest.

Muskrat's scent was fading - she seemed to have left.

The vine pulled tight for a moment when the fox kit realized he might be handed off yet again. Tousaint maintained his grip on the vine until Viskani approached, and then set it on the ground to be held secure by a paw. The fox kit lowered into a huddled crouch, stress-panting.

It be not me ‘o caught it. He said. Dis be a ‘gift,’ from Muskrat. He said. She said ‘is family raided her resources so she caught an’ killed all but dis one…Den brought it to us for use as a slave. He explained. It be a gift, per’aps…But also a warning, ehm…A show of strengt’… He said with a shrug of his lean shoulder. He glanced to the pathetic creature, and back to Viskani. 

It be your choice what you do wid ‘im. Train ‘im, free ‘im, skin ‘im. He felt the fox shudder; it made him wonder how much it could understand. He hoped Viskani would understand what he was trying to imply. I will…Assist, if you choose to keep ‘im trained. He offered I do not like de idea of slavery, but…To free ‘im might offend our neighbour.

A clear look of disgust painted Viskani's face as the situation was described to her. "What a vulgar halfbreed, and after I so graciously brought my own gift to the ridge." She hissed, but shook off her resentment after a moment. There was time to be frustrated later.

But, she would take his as a decline to her invitation. If the ridge did not wish to establish a healthy relationship, then so be it.

If they were to free the poor fox Viskani's fear was not that it would offend Muskrat - but that it would run into her once again and be killed.

"Montagne de Cigue has no need for slaves. We are much too civilized for that." She sighed, shaking her head. "But we will keep and care for it. At least until it is old enough to fend for itself."

The creature was rather cute - and it seemed fearful enough that it would not bite the hand that fed it. She would give it a name and feed it her scraps.

It was more like a pet.

half-breed.

Tousaint hid his thoughts well, but he cringed inwardly. He knew women to be strong, proud, vain- but that they could also be flawed. In one afternoon, he found himself rattled by both women, for very different reasons. Of course, no one was perfect, but…Slave-keeping and racism were unforgivable. 

He would exist in a world between them, though he began to find some amount of disgust growing within himself- directed toward himself- for becoming an enabler to both of them.

The fox kit’s life would be spared, though clearly Viskani received the gift with some amount of disdain. 

As you wish, He said, and pushed the vine toward her. Perhaps under her supervision, the pitiful creature might live a half-life, integrated amongst a pack of wolves. If nothing else, then as a pet indeed. Let ‘is healt be a reflection  of our prosperity, ‘ere in de Vale. He said. After all- what else could flaunt their progress, but a fat and happy pet?’

Placing a paw on the vine, Viskani looked down at the quivering creature with some level of pity. "We'll have to give him a name." She thought for a moment, thinking it over with care. "Faust, I believe suits him."

A name meaning 'fortunate'. Such a name suited the creature indeed. She would raise him, love him as her own. Just as Tousaint said, a show of the Vale's prosperity. Her own display of strength.

Gentle jaws leaning down to clamp onto the kit, she lifted the terrified creature and began her trek back to the settlement.

Viskani knew very well that she was flawed, but she was not weak. She would not so easily roll to her back for the likes of Muskrat.

Faust it be, den. Faust, de fox. Spared his life, and fortunately from slavery as well. As she might embrace her son child, Viskani picked up the fox kit and left.

Tousaint wondered if the fox kit was more amenable to the woman because at least he was purebred- but he wouldn’t waste much thought on it. He teetered on the knife’s edge still, but felt the impending slice lift; perhaps he too would be spared if Muskrat was pleased with their acceptance.