Redtail Rise a valentine

the young male deer are rutting. she watches a pair from well afar now, locked—literally—in combat. antlers clashing, teeth gnashing. the fight would perhaps be to the death.

a shiver runs through her as she gets a sense of a bullet dodged.

it could have been her, fighting for rights. and she would have gladly done it. 

what bothers her is that she would have fought to the death, too. and then what? would her children carry on her banner? would they be similarly slaughtered by Lilia, Ancelin and their ambition?

or—worse yet—would they have left her body cold and joined the cause of their cousin?

she shakes her head, ears flopping, as if casting away flies. it doesn't matter. what's done is done.

and perhaps the loser of this fight will fall. . .to the wolves' benefit.