Redtail Rise Phoenix

New Snow felt the hurt of the pack. It was an open wound, one that needed stitching. And so New Snow thought, as she too looked after the kill and her children and the Rises children, old and new(er). And as she looked around, she pondered the Bloodforest. The herd had moved that direction, but they would not need to hunt for many more days. New Snow lay nearby the dead creature, on her side, and prepared to nap. But the sound of Mountain Boulder departing the scene caused her to huff, and she pressed herself into a stand to trot after him. 

After the loss of Red Woman, New Snow was far more inclined to be in his company to be sure he himself remained well. But she took her time, not wishing to crowd him in his own time of great sadness. She would be there for him, though—always. 

Some long time ago, Red Woman had accepted her into the rise, accepted her into the fold after she and Mountain Boulder had first found one another and saw their futures. New Snow was neither born here nor raised here, but she had presumed that she would die here too. 

She paused as she saw the daughters of Red Woman. Her gaze was both soft and warm, though her posture hung in some sort of in-between. New Snow had seen how it was for one to become Wealda, and she stood at a crossroads. Instinct prompted by her quickly approaching season wanted her to fight for the place—it was how one became Wealda, as she understood it here. 

But she waited for the daughter that tested Mountain Boulder to test her, and would trust more the feeling that came to her than than the one that simmered quietly within her stomach. Still her gaze remained soft as it switched from one face to the other, licking her chops and shifting her weight. True she had never claimed it before, but that was because her own place has always been certain—and her cubs! 

Now she did not know. Would they wish for the Rise to be only of their own blood? Would they seek to chase her from this place? 

What would she do, if they did?