Redtail Rise LXXIV

in the new days of his tenure, mulherin grew quieter, in a way.

the gleam in his eyes lost their youthfulness. his face grew more angular, a thin crease ingrained in his brow from being furrowed.

when the ulfhedinn calls, he answers as he’d done countless times, but the air about him is fundamentally changed. 

tail held high, he woofs a greeting to the gathering.

the sight of redd and ruckus does not alarm him. he permits them nearer with a low croon. 

redd had proven her mettle, despite the turbulence of her decisions. in the wake of her challenge, he did not regard her with malice—their fight had drained that bitterness out of him.

she’d been permitted to stay, so long as she recommitted herself to the rise as a whole. the distance she put between them was hers to decide.

he gazes at the huntlead and his daughter once more, wondering the reason of his call.

through all this time mulherin made his position clear; 

if the rise went down, 

he would go down with it.

today would be the same

as all the days that had come before it,

he would remain.