Redtail Rise onyx

his plea falls on an audience of deaf ears. 

mulherin was far from talkative. redd even further, but he wanted the clarity of her words, her admittance to defeat. he wanted to know if not only had her body been ravaged by weakness,

but also her spirit.

and somewhere there is a bitter part of him that wanted to see her crack under pressure. that was bitter from how distant they had grown from one another; bitter that this role, not destined for her to hold, she did not seize upon return.

but she doesn’t answer. not in words, at least. she speaks in the silent language of the rise. he catches the confusion in her eye and the sound of her growl is more gravelly than he ever remembered it being. 

who will step up? she seems to ask. and it dawns on him in finality that wealda was something she no longer had the capacity for. if everyone balked, she would take it again, in a way that pitied them all for not appointing someone more fit. 

frankly, he’s stunned—irked by her lack of appetite.

he’d only comprehended redd as formidable and strong-willed, but what stood before them now was a shadow of her. the harsh reality began to sink in.

who will step up?

among the gathering, a nomination.

moon runner is quick to back her father as a candidate for wealda. the ulfhedinn, feeding from her energy, grasps the reins in his strong hands.

a large part of him agrees with this decision. he feels the rest of the rise too would agree.

yet, wealda holds a certain sanctity to him. it was more than a role to fill, but rather a role to earn.

a small whisper grows louder, 

his blood; suddenly curdling at the thought of inaction.

the huntlead had proven his mettle time and time again. if he was still deserving, he would prove himself again,

now.

he too raises his tail high, a low woof sounds in his throat, and his eyes are locked onto the ulfhedinn’s hulking form.

a challenge.