Redtail Rise q-less

within a pack, all had their place in the hierarchy.

the bearn, growing older, needed to learn this. that living on the rise meant collaboration, trust, and mutual respect. ruckus would be a toweard soon. what path would they choose?

maybe to be a young berserkr themself, he finds. the bearn came at him swinging, but did not land a punch just yet. 

unphased, he rises to his feet, looming over the snapping pup. 

the mouse he held became erratic at this, as if it were being slung over piranha infested water. 

to ruckus, he merely offers a lift of his lip, no different than correction that might’ve come from their mother or father. 

the silent way of saying don’t push it. 

mulherin knew his olive branch would be snapped. yet this all served a purpose to him still, he would still test the child’s instincts to hunt, or assess lack thereof.

he resorts to his backup plan. 

he gives the mouse a toss. it squirms in the air for a moment before he catches it again, this time by the body instead of the tail. a sickening crunch of his jaws—it is wounded, now.

now, he tosses it again, this time at the bearn.