Redtail Rise red

Like the others, Masquerade dropped what they were doing and heeded the Wealda’s call, expecting to assist in a hunt. When they crested the rise and saw the scene below, confusion knitted their brow. It appeared a kill had already been made, the others gathered around it to feed. Perhaps their good fortune continued and the young buck had served himself up on a silver platter after succumbing to an injury.

Their body stiffened when they saw Redd grab Ashlar by the scruff. Sometimes, tempers could rise at the supper table, Masque knew. They began to slowly descend, their goldenrod eyes fixed on their sister. Their bewilderment grew when the she-wolf dragged him toward the fallen elk rather than away from it. In doing this, it properly called the Caru’s attention to the carcass, which wasn’t a carcass at all.

And Avicus wasn’t feeding. She was sprawled, motionless, beside the stag. As he righted himself, that put her underneath him. Masque dimly registered Redd leaping toward the elk’s throat as they rushed to the Wealda’s side. Their shoulder bumped Mulherin’s as they ascertained the gash where the Avicus had nearly been decapitated. To their untrained eye, she looked beyond help.

But the quaking Caru screamed the healer’s name even as they lowered their head toward their mother. Some instinct compelled them to lick her wounds to staunch the flow of blood. But there was so much of it, too much. Where was Ashlar? They desperately glanced around for him, catching sight of their pack mates fighting the thrashing stag back to the ground.

Stay with her, Masque sobbed to Mulherin before launching to join the fray, desperate to slay the beast who’d slain their queen.