Broken Boulder Crucible of Broken Blouder

The audible butchering of the coyote duo outside of his own desperate melee had gone on without Redmoon realizing what had actually occurred. If he had caught wind of the savage nature of Leila then perhaps he’d be as fearful as the coyotes had been before their very bloody ends. Alas, Redmoon and his foe were going claw to claw and jaw to jaw. They ripped and rent as they did so, neither gaining the upper hand for the bulk of the wolf overpowered the smaller built coyote while the experience of this raider leveled the playing field considerably. No doubt, if Leila hadn’t unleashed her rage, this setting would be different by far. 

Gnashing teeth held in an intrepid snarl with ear spilt out to his flanks gave Redmoon a fearsome look, even so, his opponent didn’t back down. They went at it again, the tan pelt rushed Redmoon’s left forepaw but he hopped out of the way and pounced down on the lunge, he caught the coyote by the face in the sheath of his iron forged jaws and he wrenched off to the side, bringing with the rip a froth of heated blood and strips of tan motley fur. 

Though Redmoon failed to obtain purchase, his jaws had reaped a generous tally and the coyote squirmed, flopping away with a series of pained yips. But before Redmoon could finish the job, the ingrate fled into the brush. 

Panting heavily, teeth enshrined in crimson, he spat the strips of flesh from his maw and shook his coat heavily as pains started to appear in his consciousness. A dozen small cuts were on his shoulders and back from when the coyote had mounted him in the opening of the fight and a few minor abrasions were along the left side of his muzzle where the coyote’s claws had swept. He was alive! The first thought that came to mind in that moment but as soon as the thought registered, the scent of youth wafted into his nose and he spun around - his green eyes locking onto the wounded pup. 

Approaching, he grimaced at the damage and when he nudged the pup with his nose he felt the icy hand of death. The pup was ice cold and its heartbeat was barely noticeable. It seemed that they were indeed, too late to save this one. It whimpered poorly and tried to move away from him, the pain evident in the tiny lupine’s face. “Be still now.” Redmoon called low, trying to not let his gravel tuned voice impact further fear to the little one. It tried only harder to escape and the red pelt set a paw on the opposite side, preventing further movement. “Be still, I said, girl!” He snapped at the youth, knowing that every ounce of strength was needed to survive and fighting to flee from him wasn’t productive. 

Having seen enough death in his time, these wounds were the kind that wolves did not recover from. He frowned deeply at this and spied the worst of the cuts - a tooth ridden laceration just above the stomach line and it was very deep. Evidently the coyotes had intended to gut the pup and eat the tender insides first, such despicable behavior began to churn Redmoon’s stomach into knots but he forced himself to hold his ground on the child’s behalf. 

Finally though the pup listened to him and now she sat still, heaving in weakened breaths and making tiny pants of desperation. It was truly a heartbreaking scene, and seeing it was bringing the cold reality of life slamming into Redmoon’s sensibilities. Life was harsh and these things happened. It was the way of the wilds and nature’s law. Only the strongest in the eyes of the Scorekeeper would survive this tenacious reality and even then, the Caller took up your name. “Girl,” he whispered, caring for her own wellbeing wasn’t an option at this point, “the Caller is coming. Don’t be afraid. Your name is among the ones who’ve gone before.” In his way he was trying to reassure her that everything was going to be ok but her life was counted in moments at best. “I need you to recall - are there more of the raiders afoot?” 

The pup whimpered sadly - she didn’t want to die - no one did. But Redmoon pressed again, “Listen girl, there is nothing we can do for you, but I must know - is there more of the raiders nearby? Were there only three among your litter?” 

There it was, that bit made sense to the pup and she whimpered a very weak ‘yes’ that Redmoon struggled to hear despite his sharp senses. Redmoon nodded affirming the answer, “How many, from your litter were taken?” He inquired. 

“Two.” Mumbled the mortally wounded pup, her movements were growing weaker and the visible rise and fall of her chest no longer was showing - the life of this one was passing into the next. If Redmoon wanted answers he needed to be swift, though a pang of regret was seared into him in that he wasn’t able to show compassion. Time was too short and the lives of other littermates depended on this information. In that moment a spike of ice was sank into Redmoon’s heart. The cold nature of his actions through the necessity of his mission were clear. Instead of letting this pup find peace, he was forcing her to relive the past. Yes, he was ashamed, but without this information he knew the other pups were just as dead as this one was. 

Despite his reservations, now he was getting somewhere. “Where did they take your siblings?” He urged and she responded slightly before expelling her last. He closed his eyes at the departure of the young one and tipped his nose to the ground in defeat. 

“The Caller has taken her home.” He mentioned in a low tune as he turned to face the stricken form of Leila. Though for his sadness in the matter he felt no shock at the beauties appearance. He approached Leila’s side and nudged his muzzled underneath her chin to wake her from her shocked state. 

He wanted to take her in and ensure she was ok but this was not the time - there was still work to be done yet this day and already the sun had risen high and was now beginning to fall towards the other horizon. The moon was beginning to show as well, a full circle with a slight shade upon it - at least he was thankful that the red moon wasn’t here to greet him again. He took the time to divulge what information he’d gotten from the murdered pup. “This litter was five. Two are still unaccounted for and she indicated the coyotes had taken them.” For what purpose he did not know, but the thought occurred to him that nature didn’t need a purpose and the separation of species was enough. “From what I see here though, they’ve been taken to be fed on.” He swallowed hard, unsure of what to do - his instincts screamed at him to just leave this alone and let things be. Even if the pups were alive, they’d been taken to a den and there was no telling the numbers they were now against. And even then! If they managed to save the pups, he knew nothing of child care or where he could take them for sanctuary. Under his eye he’d surely fight to keep them alive but they wouldn’t last long. 

But the other part of him told himself he’d not let this stand. He’d find the den and root them all out and he’d keep those pups alive until they found a migrating pack somewhere. There again, what pack would take in two strange pups? It was unlikely, but Redmoon didn’t see much option to go the other way. 

“I’m going after them.” He announced, “I’m going to Broken Boulder.”