Redtail Rise tonight we make the trojans pay

She had wandered long enough that the pack scents had faded, but no new alliances lay upon her.  There was no trace of danger, no sign of injury or ill health.  Satisfied, Redd allowed her space again, rumbling a soft note of welcome.

Her stance was apologetic, the message she conveyed easy to read.  Redd watched her for a moment, completely still.  She understood.  It was where they all were, and as Wealda, this was her job to fix.  Yet she saw no path to resolution.

She had stepped into the role only because Masquerade asked her to, and she still felt that to immediately give the position back would have caused upheaval and telegraphed weakness.  Not her own; the rise as a whole would suffer for it.  To drive her sister from the pack would invite animosity from the others, and beside that, she knew she couldn’t.  Not unless she was pressed into having no alternative.

For the first time, Redd allowed her mask of composure fall.  Her posture relaxed, and the look she returned to Roamer was tinged with both sorrow and regret.  She was sorry she was not firmer.  Wiser.  More capable.  More trusted.

She did not blame them.  Only herself.

Then she let out a reassuring huff, hoping to communicate this.  Redd could not force things to calm.  All she could do was wait and try to prove her own place.  She was not the Wealda Avicus had been, nor did she want to be. How this turned out remained to be seen.