Blackfoot Forest MEET · Once In a Lifetime, The Suffering of Fools

Three times she circles. Then, three more. When that was done, five. And she reversed the circle, moving in sweeps, her dance a deranged one as she dizzily swept her paws roughly against the earth, heaving a heavy breath from her chest to expel something from her being—
xxxxxxBut it was interrupted by a call. Clarice was not so used to this, being called; her former pack if it could even be called that had a leader, but they were together so much of the time that meetings were never held. Not true ones. And never were they summoned as a whole. They were found. One by one. It was different, here, and Clarice was ruffled by change. And so she moved at first with displeasure.
xxxxxxIt soon changed. The yearling was one of many moods that struck her whenever they would; but ah, it was gone, and she slunk toward the meeting without a physical gift. Her shoulders—poking from her skinny frame that would again fill out in time—rolled as she moved in a feline-like fashion, and she moves to dip toward Jinx, circling her so that she could find an ear and whisper a most delightful thing: I am casting a circle of protection! We will need it, she breathes hungrily. She did not know that they needed it truly, but the voices demanded it of her. Rub, rub. Protect. Mark. Instinct in that time became what the voices always were, and so she was creating something of a spell to protect and veil their pack. A sharp, high-pitched laugh is pulled from her, and when she notes her father she looks away and heeds the others for an instant. She is compelled to speak to them, to tell them to each simply hush and wait for their leader to speak what she would, but she holds her sharp tongue and instead prowls toward her father, deciding to sit with him. She does not know, yet, that this other male is a leader; but her posture is appropriate to her current rank. She has no desire to challenge, yet.