Redtail Rise Phoenix

New Snow stood still, after, uncertain for a moment. Not desiring to upset Bloodspot, she did not approach her then, but when the woman looked her way her gaze was softer, and then averted respectfully. 

She herself did not want Wealda. New Snow wanted children, and to look after the ones that would come from not only herself but these two before her. By nature, New Snow was typically submissive and docile—though it appeared otherwise, when challenged on the matter of building her family. 

And so New Snow found her own line. It was something she would fight for, and perhaps the only thing she had bared her fangs toward another of the Rise about. But even still, New Snow felt conflicted. The Rise was her home, and these wolves she was loyal to—but were they, without Red Woman, loyal to her? 

Her gaze turned to the new Wealda. It had been answered by her actions. Gratitude lingered in her gaze. And then she looked to the other children of the Rise, who also seemed to be content with the outcome and not fall into what New Snow had seen in the place she herself was born. It was an ugly thing, setting another into the role of Omega—or forcing them out of the home they had always known. 

She remembered her own mother snapping at her heels, her youngest of siblings badgering with her while the oldest and some of her own litter mates looked on, uncertain. Her mother had known her daughter more than New Snow had then recognized, who at that time did not even dream of motherhood. Only the wide open white plains and those of her first family occupied them, then! 

But as she turned now to look at her man, she was glad her mother recognized this within her before she herself ever could. Never had she thought it cruelty, as it was the way of things—but now she believed it to be something good, and even right. 

New Snow could not blame the Caru for her actions, and would not begrudge her for them. For this was also the way of the wild. Bloodspot was a fledgling woman, and her mother was no longer there to guide her through the things to come. 

Once more did her eyes turn to her, softer still—but still she was rooted, having the sense to grasp now the root of this at least. And when her man moved, New Snow nipped gently at his hip and would follow, looking back to loose an encouraging note to her daughters in invitation before stepping after him.