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she'd hurt her leg running on the mountain with the eagle. each twinge brought a private smirk, however, and she carried on with her work and her patrols in dedicated silence.
muskrat had learned of her double predilections the night of her first victory. she had led the raid and carried home a war wife.
such a practice would have fallen barbarically on the ears of a creek wolf, muskrat thought gleefully as she pursued a hare along the eastern border. in truth, it was expected by swamp panther women of marriageable age, for often the warrior who carried her away was one known to her. a childhood playmate, perhaps even someone whom she had once felt more toward.
it was a chaotic, forceful way for lineages to shift, for new blood to be introduced, for failing clans to be absorbed into stronger places.
the hare waited, nose twitching. muskrat crouched. her memories of that night were sharp: she had led the raid upriver, far from the known encampments. it had not been a raid upon other swamp panthers, but the upland people south of them. her war wife then had been unknown to her, captured in the fleeing chaos and made to wait in muskrat's temporary den while a celebration raged in honor of the young woman.
her face had still stung in the humid air, the new wound upon her face still beaded with blood. she had ducked into her den to see the upland woman there, waiting among the furs.
in much the same way that muskrat had welcomed the pale eagle, she had found the upland wolf humored, ardent in a way a man would have not elicited, and more than willing to spend a long while as tutor to the celebrated young fighter.
perhaps that upland woman would have been amused to know her tutelage had served muskrat well. the role of war wife was temporary, and she had been freed, opting not to return to her village but to remain among the ones who had taken her. she and muskrat had continued to enjoy a passionate interlude, one that ended warmly when she chose the life of marriage and mother. fire cat was a brave warrior and good to his wife. muskrat had always approved of their union.
the hare hopped on. the creek wolf chose that moment to spring, hard and fast with a clip of her teeth.
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[m] red flint - by Muskrat - June 30, 2024, 04:08 PM