Redtail Rise Spirit of Tara

New Snow was always happy to support; though she had no aspirations to become caretaker, such a thing was in her nature. When needed, New Snow was happy to look after the cubs. She preferred hunting, and sparring—but she could do each thing happily.

And she was all too happy to see Blood Spot. Her ears perked, and by now she was past the point of wincing as she felt the wind bite against the open spot of her notched ear. Scabbed over as it was, there was no pain anymore. She was growing used to it. 

New Snow looked over them to be sure their own wounds from traveling, what might have been gained, were no worse for wear. And once satisfied New Snow offered a happy swipe of her tongue to their forehead. 

There was a question asked; New Snow recognized a word, and her tail wagged rapidly as she shifted her weight. Pups! She whistle-whined happily. New Snow loved pups; she thought of the ones to come, but equally adored the ones that the Rise had reared. Blood Spot among them. 

By this point, Blood Spot was all but family to New Snow—and she wondered if Blood Spot looked forward to other pups. 

New Snow made a small, low-throated noise as she tilted her own head. Almost as though asking Blood Spot what she thought.