Sawtooth Spire I'm not the one to normally play the fool

Backdated to roughly Feb 24th. @Quellcrist or @Ainhoa re: this would be awesome! Also referencing the current territory event.

When a huge clump of snow fell from an Engelmann spruce surrounding her chosen clearing and practically buried Wylla, she made the impulse decision to abandon the den she'd dug there. It felt bad to leave behind her progress, but it was par for the course. It wasn't like she was the most proactive of wolves, so the fact she'd dug a den already was impressive. Flying by the seat of her pants and doing things last minute was more her style when it came to being responsible.

She was surprisingly even-tempered as she weaved through the forest and headed for the mountains. A recent meal was to thank for that. She dipped and bobbed her muzzle here and there, sniffing at ground and sky alike for anything promising: stale cave air on the wind, running water, fresh dirt. Anything that could be turned into a suitable whelping den, preferably not one surrounded by trees to dump boatloads of snow on her vulnerable pups.

It would've made her laugh hysterically if it happened to Tiercel, but with her second litter, Wylla was more mature, more prepared, and more fiercely protective.

Ainhoa's movements were smooth as she graced the snowy slopes. She'd been able to build a small cache and filled it with whatever herbs she could find. Mint seemed to be the most common commodity, but she would never complain.

In the distance, she could make out the heavily pregnant frame of their female Eisen. She lowered herself in slight submission and made her approach, content to go ignored if Wylla so pleased.

"Yeah, well," Quell yelled as she reared against a tree, watching the squirrel scurry out of reach, "your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!" She barked a few times for good measure, then pushed off the trunk and resumed all fours. Before trotting away to try her luck elsewhere, Q threw over her shoulder, "I fart in your general direction!"

Some time later (after a second failed hunt attempt), she found herself at what she'd come to think of as "Wylla's Puppy Pad." Although she only ever saw Ainhoa in passing, really, the two of them had really bedazzled the place. Soon it would be time to present it to the Eisen. As Q stepped inside and flopped down on the pile of soft skins on the cave's floor, she found herself hoping Wylla would reject is so she could claim it instead. She would share with Ainhoa, of course, who seemed like she would make a clean, quiet roommate.

You guys can skip me until they (presumably) come to the den, just give me a tap! :)

Wylla's focus was singularly on finding a den up until the point that Ainhoa's scent wafted over her nose. She recalled that the woman was an aspiring midwife. While the highly private Eisen still had no intention of allowing Ainhoa anywhere near her when she gave birth, she was selfish enough to hope the other pregnant wolves in Sagtannet would, if only so Mahler would not be there to fawn over the cubs. She was already of the mind that hers deserved his attention more.

So she angled her course toward the crouched dove, quirking her lip slightly in approval. How's your midwifing going? It was a little bit of a joke, since Wylla was uneducated in the ways of the midwife. She truly didn't know a single thing about it and wrongly assumed they were only useful at the moment of birth. Her yellow eyes roved over Ainhoa for a moment before bouncing to the mountains, scouring for any little sign of a dark cave entrance or anything that might serve her purpose, only to return fruitlessly to the Ende.

Feeling immensely comfortable and at home in the by now familiar den, Quell rolled onto her side, then her back, idly kicking her legs in the air as she stared up at the ceiling. Maybe if I piss on the rug, she won't want it, she thought to herself, snickering under her breath before rolling over onto her other side. She sprawled for a moment before righting herself and heaving back onto all fours.

She padded out of the den's mouth and stilled. Before Q could contemplate where to go and what to do next, a melting heap of snow suddenly detached from the rocks above the entrance, victim to gravity. It plopped unceremoniously on the yearling's head, cold and very wet. Quell shuddered and sat down, letting the chilly ice slide down her back even as she cried out to no one, "I've been hit!"

Ainhoa had no answer, but expressed that she wanted Wylla to follow her. The Eisen allowed this, pinning a skeptical look on the she-wolf's white ruff as she padded along behind her. Her opinion of Ainhoa presently wasn't very high, and it would only fall further when the woman gestured to a cavern in the mountainside—which would've earned Wylla's approval if Ainhoa hadn't chosen to then slink away, never to be seen again by the mottled Eisen.

This left Wylla in an awkward position: facing the yawning mouth of a cavern with no context for why she'd been brought here. Parting her lips, the Eisen turned her sharp glare back to where Ainhoa was leaving and was about to call out when Quellcrist's voice blared nearby, then bounced across the mountains in a few echoes. Wylla shook her head, dismissed Ainhoa, and began picking her way through the slushy snow to where the Klinge's voice originated.

The fuck are you doing? she asked upon finding Wintersbane's daughter sitting in the cave entrance with a wet glob of snow on her head.

Nobody came to her rescue. No one laughed at her joke, either, except for Q herself. Chuckling under her breath, she began shaking her head and shoulders to throw off the last clinging bits of icy water. Above the sound of her own flopping ears, she heard footsteps, quickly followed by a voice. Quell stilled, her twinkling eyes lifted to see Wylla approaching.

Her words were coarse but her tone wasn't particularly heated. Either way, an unfazed Q suddenly reared onto her haunches and spread her forelegs wide with a loud, "Tada!" She motioned for the Alpha to look inside the cave just behind her, doing a shuffling sidestep to get out of the way even as she overly vehemently declared:



(She completely forgot to give Ainhoa any credit.)

As always, Quellcrist responded with her particular brand of eccentricity. At first Wylla was too struck by the absurdity of her posture to react, but the sheer volume of Quellcrist's voice soon had her pulling her ears back. Maybe that was why Ainhoa chose to skedaddle. Wintersbanes' daughter certainly was an acquired taste. Luckily, Wylla could appreciate a loudmouth sometimes.

What is it? she stupidly asked, poking her head into the cave to have a look. Spacious interior, clean walls, cured hides piles on the floor, and apparently it was for her? It was quite possibly the first time in Wylla's life that someone other than her brothers or Mahler had gifted her something. And it was something practical to boot. It was unusual for her, but she was overwhelmed by the sudden surge of emotion that followed this realization.

It wasn't in her nature to be anything but skeptical, so she turned shimmering eyes on Quellcrist, doing her utmost to hide them behind a stern expression. It didn't work. Why wouldn't you keep this for yourself? she asked. It was a great home. What compelled Quellcrist to give it to her, of all wolves? They didn't even know each other well and she'd been a touch severe with the yearling at the borders.

"It's a puppy pad!" Quell exclaimed, ignoring the clearly rhetorical nature of the question and seizing on the opportunity to point out all of the features. Somewhere in there, Wylla asked the million dollar question, which earned a huff of good-natured laughter as Q admitted, "I thought about it. But I'm not full of aliens getting ready to burst out of my furburger." She shrugged, winking as she added, "And by sucking up, I stand to gain more in the long run."

Q withdrew to let Wylla take a look around inside the cave, drawing in a breath of fresh mountain air. She thought she caught Ainhoa's scent and she squinted, scanning the area around the crib they'd fashioned for the Eisen. There was no sign of her, so the yearling shrugged and took a seat, waiting for Wylla to emerge and say what she thought of the place. If she didn't want it for any reason, Q would be happy to take it off her hands, but she truly did hope the leader would find it suitable for whelping.

Later, Wylla would blame her uncharacteristic display of emotion on puppy brain and hormones. She wasn't a difficult wolf to read, but that was ordinarily reserved for her negative emotions. Being gifted with such a splendid whelping den for her soon-to-come children had her putting on a watery smile in spite of herself, even though the way Quellcrist described the whole thing made her want to die a thousand deaths just thinking about furburgers.

Thank you, she said in a voice a little louder than a whisper. It was the most she could manage without it cracking. Quellcrist wasn't wrong: sucking up to Wylla was an excellent way to get in the Eisen's good graces. She valued flattery higher than almost anything, including hard work and dedication. A hard working, dedicated wolf was certainly an asset, but gifts and ego boosting compliments were the best ways to fast track oneself into Wylla's regard, however unfair it might seem.

She took a good look inside the den, deemed it more than suitable, and thanked Quellcrist again for all the work and consideration before inviting the yearling on a walk—a rare opportunity to get to know her pack mate without forcing them to endure her usual snark and scrutiny.