Redtail Rise dreams didn't make us kings

The young of herself and Mountain Boulder were bright.

This came as no surprise to her, but perhaps it would be for others who might think she and her mate simpler than the rest for their lack of speaking. There were ways to understand; her cubs were evidence of as much. With enough repetition, the point could be grasped. And though she could not speak the same, New Snow had come to understand that which she heard often enough.

Mountain Boulder, too. They knew the things that mattered.

She had not learned these things from her own family. They, like her mates own, had been of silent stock. It was later in life that she had been exposed to anything but for the guttural, feral noises of mother, father, brother, sister. But these things were the words of the wilds that all understood. Words were not needed. Not necessary. 

Her children had been born to a place with more. They would learn sooner than she or Mountain Boulder ever had. But they would also be intimately familiar with their roots. All of this pleased her.

A full nights rest was not so easy to come by lately. But it was not the same as it had been when she was alone in the world. There was peace still. Her cubs were protected by the Rise, and Mountain Boulder was always near. New Snow could doze a while longer, if she wished to. But one eye opened as she heard her son make his escape. Unsure if Mountain Boulder presently hunted, she loosed a yawn before she rose to follow him outside.

New Snow looked to her son and then looked up to sniff at the wind. Nothing troublesome. She looked again to him and released a soft snort, as though to say, clear. It seemed his father might be hunting, but the scent of him was strong. The Clawan moved to gently press her muzzle against her sons forehead, an affectionate (albeit physical) 'good morning' delivered. She kept her head low, yellow eyes turning into the den to see if her daughter might follow.