Redhawk Caldera Acting like we'd live forever

Set before the BWH! ... maybe @Towhee Jr? AW though!

The air carried the crisp scent of autumn, threaded with pine and the faint musk of wet leaves. Hotah moved through it with a steady, purposeful gait, the deer leg clutched in his jaws and swinging slightly with each step. The weight of the kill didn’t bother him—it was the quiet satisfaction of providing that anchored his stride. Towhee had her paws full these days with Fairywren, Peregrine, and little Tawny; their den buzzed with constant life and noise, and he did what he could to ease her burdens, one meal at a time.

By the time he reached the river, the sun had climbed high enough to glitter across the surface in shivering ribbons of light. He set the leg down upon the bank, tongue running across his teeth before lowering his head to drink. The water was cold and clean, biting pleasantly at his throat as he drank deeply, savoring the moment’s stillness.

Hotah’s reflection rippled back at him—dark fur, lean from the season’s hunts, eyes sharp but softened by something quiet and fond. He thought of Towhee, of the pups tumbling over each other in the den, their laughter echoing through the hollow. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

<3!

one thing that had quickly become abundantly clear to towhee jr was that her mother quite literally had a village to help her take care of her newborns; and for this towhee the younger was grateful. she helped out where she could, trying to ignore the pang in her heart each time she looked at her newest batch of siblings; warring with the grief of what she's lost and the joy that her family was expanding.

though she is grateful that ghost seems comfortable with her son and the two have formed a familiar bond of companionship that she held with the falcon, she feels both of their absences keenly as the feathered avian joined her son on his adventures. jr's eyes and reminders where she could not be.

trying not to stifle her only living child by being the overbearing, overprotective parent was a struggle. ghost, whether the falcon knew it or not, helped to facilitate peace between mother and son.

steps paused as she neared the river, fierce golden gaze taking note of the man she'd seen around. the war widow's takes a moment to sate her own thirst, letting out a small raspy, clipped chuff to announce her presence. a sound she cannot hear but hopes it is enough to garner his attention, however brief.

When he lifted his head again, droplets beaded along his chin and caught the sunlight like glass. A shift in the air—light, careful—drew his gaze across the water’s edge.

There, between the reeds and the birches, stood a wolf he did not recognize. Yet the likeness struck him—something about the slope of her muzzle, the flint in her gaze. Towhee, and yet not.

Hotah blinked, the faint crease at his eye deepening with that easy, disarming half-smile.

Well, he murmured, voice low and warm, either I’ve been working too long without sleep… or God has taken to playing tricks.

He set the deer leg aside, shifting his weight with a quiet ease that betrayed neither threat nor haste. Didn’t mean to startle you, he added, tilting his head in polite acknowledgment. You’ve got the look of her. Towhee. A daughter?

The tone was inviting—curious without intrusion, his posture open, as though he knew well when to press and when to simply listen.

would towhee jr have been able to speak, she might've rejoined — without thinking — that there was no god. she'd never been secular herself, but in the wake of losing her husband and all but one of her children she is less likely to believe in any sort of higher, cosmic power. though a child of ferocity, a cruelness has always run hot in her veins — now it sips bitterness like a cognac.

but she cannot speak and having to let her paws sign out the ptero gives her time to pause. to think. to ponder if he even understood ptero.

jr focuses on watching his lips form the words, offering an affirmative nod when he was finished. -towhee jr.- she offers in ptero; testing his knowledge of the physical language her family had taken to communicating in.

Hotah caught the movement of her paws the moment she began to sign, his eyes sharpening with focus. Jr’s presence hit different from Towhee’s—fiercer, heavier, grief-honed—but he didn’t shy from it. He watched her hands, then her face, then back to her hands again, piecing it together the way he’d been practicing.

When she signed her name, he nodded once—slow, careful—before lifting his own paw.

He signed back, more confident this time, though still rough around the edges:

-Hotah.-

A beat while he composed the next bit.

-Good… to meet… you.-

His timing was off, but the meaning was clear. He even added a small, respectful dip of his head, settling into a posture that was open, steady, and without pity—just quiet acknowledgement.

His gaze lingered on her paws again, and he shaped one more sign, deliberate and earnest:

-I… learn… slowly.-

A small smile tugged at the crease by his eye—warm, encouraging, not at all patronizing.

hotah, he introduces himself as in ptero. for a brief moment, the slow and careful movement of his paws in ptero is strangely enduring. it always was when someone who did not grow up learning it put the effort into learning it. it was almost like watching a newborn foal try to find their footing; amusing but in it 'ah, it's cute' kind of way.

which was a one-eighty from a much younger jr who had wanted to gatekeep ptero. having people be able to understand her universally was something she could only appreciate as she'd matured into an adult.

-likewise.- towhee jr offers, making an effort to slow her ptero so that it would be easier to watch. a soft nod given, notched ear twitching. -at least you are learning.- it is towhee jr's turn to be encouraging; which leads her to wonder if any of her newest batch of siblings would also share in her disabilities. or if those genetics would skip them.

Hotah’s ears tipped forward at her slowed signs, his smile tugging a little wider—bashful, yes, but warm in a way that didn’t crowd her. He lifted his paws again, more confident this time, careful to mirror her pacing.

-Hotah,- he signed once more, the motion steadier than before.

Her encouragement softened something in him. He dipped his head, a quiet huff of almost-laughter leaving him.

He shaped the next signs with deliberate effort:

-You… patient.-

A pause, then he gathered himself, eyes meeting hers with an earnest spark.

-We… hunt… together?-

The flow was clunky, but the meaning clear—an offer, not a push. His paws stilled, and he gave her a softer, almost shy smile, the crease near his eye deepening.

-If… you… want.-

-hotah.- towhee jr parrots in ptero, corner of her lips curling upwards ever-so-slightly. she'd gotten used to being around kin in frosthawks and even tzar's assimilation with ptero despite that she's been told he can speak and hear just fine was probably against his will; a learning by environment than a real desire to learn. there was something special, as far as towhee jr cared to look at it, about someone wanting to learn ptero out of curiosity, or the want to communicate with her mother and her.

a snort of a laugh leaves towhee jr when hotah calls her patient. -sometimes,- she admits. -you can thank my son, tzar, for that.- and that was, largely, the truth. that and perhaps, if she squinted, her brief stint at leadership what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.

-sure,- agrees towhee jr, golden gaze taking note of the almost shy smile on his expression. -a hunt sounds great.- she'd always been of the mind that there was no better way to bond with pack mates than to hunt, spill blood or bleed together.

i'll start us a new one? <3

Hotah’s answering smile was small but unmistakably pleased, the kind that deepened the crease by his eye and warmed the sharpness of his features. Jr’s agreement landed cleanly—no hesitation, no edge—and something like quiet pride flickered through him.

He lifted his paw once more, shaping the sign with growing ease:

-Good.-

Then another, smoother than anything he’d done yet:

-Come.-

No pressure. Just an invitation.

He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, tail giving a single, easy sway as he stepped toward the den’s entrance. He paused there, glancing back over his shoulder with a look that was both steady and a little mischievous—an unspoken let’s see what you can do.