Redhawk Caldera But give thanks for the glorious fight

Gannet rolled over again, rubbing the side of his face energetically in the dirt as he coated his ivory coat in a healthy layer of dust and dried grass.  He was on the tail end of losing the fluff he'd built up for winter, but the itchiness was lingering.  Slowly he screwed up his face as his nose began to twitch, and after a few intense moments, expelled a healthy sneeze.  

The sun felt amazing!  He threw his head back and let it warm his stomach and throat, enjoying the feel of summer returning.  He had found the snow and ice of his first winter exciting (and unfortunate, considering his separation), but nothing beat the summer sun and a lovely patch of dirt.

She watched from a distance, an incredulous look on her face. What was he doing? Was he having a stroke? Should she call Raven? Towhee took no action in the end. She just kept staring as Gannet eventually sneezed and then fell still. Only then did she creep forward, halfway hoping he was dead and she wouldn't have to bother with trying to get to know him like Uncle Elwood wanted.

When she came to stand over him, he appeared to be alive, if the slow rise and fall of his rib cage was any indication. Resisting the urge to poke him anyway, Towhee demanded, "What're you doing?" She squinted down at him quite judgmentally, zeroing in on his mouth because of course he wouldn't know how to sign.

Gannet's ears flicked as he heard Towhee approach but he made no attempt to rise.  Instead he lifted his head to look at her, grinning and putting his tongue away.  It was a hot day.

"Rolling," he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit to demonstrate.  He was surprised she didn't know.... was it so odd to take care of an itch with a good roll?  How did she do it?

Speaking of rolling, she rolled her eyes at his brief reply, though she inwardly appreciated the brevity; it made reading his lips a lot easier. Didn't he know how dumb he looked? She opened her mouth to tell him but then clapped it shut when her Uncle Elwood's face popped into her head. Her godfather wouldn't appreciate it if she was rude or spiteful to Gannet for no real reason.

"Where were you?" she asked, taking a seat adjacent to him. There was an accusation in the question (if not in the tone—her inflection was as toneless as ever) but there was more curiosity than anything. Raven had told her Gannet had been here for the pups' birth but had disappeared during the bad winter weather. Where had he gone? And why? Also, "Do you remember me? I don't remember you."

As she sat down, Gannet rolled onto his stomach, but didn't bother sitting up.  Instead he lifted his head, appraising his younger sister as she asked the question.

Her manner of speaking was weird... unlike most wolves who spoke often, she had little to no inflection to share emotion.  But Gannet was much more comfortable with body language anyway most days, and hers he could read easily.  Closed off, but not tense enough to be hostile.  Not like last time.  Maybe this conversation would be better.

He'd already explained what he wanted to explain to Elwood, and didn't really relish doing so again.  Normally at this point, he'd have ignored the question.  But he wanted her to like him; they were family.  So he sighed, ducking his head apologetically.  "Lost," he said, watching her response to it.  "Too much snow, couldn't find the way back."  It was only by luck he'd recognized the mountain from a distance and been able to find his way now.

"Kinda," he said, answering the second one as honestly as he could.  She was bigger now, and he hadn't known her then.  Not really.  Puppies had personality, sure, but they weren't really who they would be.

She liked that he spoke so succinctly, not a superfluous or wasted word. It made it easier to read his lips, even though he was only a single, small step above a total stranger. It put Towhee at ease, despite herself, and though she didn't realize it consciously, her muscles relaxed and her expression softened.

"Lost?" she repeated with a blink. "But... why did you leave? During the winter?" She couldn't remember winter at all but she had been told all about the hardships of the cold season, particularly this last one. Apparently the pack had moved to a cave, only for half of them to become trapped after a minor avalanche. Towhee could barely remember any of it.

An errant but not unwelcome thought suddenly flickered in her mind and she asked, "Do you remember Fox and Peregrine? Mom and dad?"

He almost repeated himself, as per usual not quite understanding the desire for enunciation.  He had gotten lost; that's why he left.  But for once he paused.  What had made him wander so far?  He couldn't remember.  So he shrugged.  It was a long time ago, and he did not recall it had been a desire to hunt that had pulled him to the edges of the Caldera that day.

Her next question was bittersweet but it made him smile.  He nodded and his tail slapped the grass emphatically as he recalled their parents.  "Yeah." He missed them a lot still, but at least he'd gotten to meet them.  It was strange to think that Towhee never would.  What was that like.  "Do you miss them?" He asked bluntly, genuinely curious.  Did she regret not knowing them, or did she care? He wasn't sure if he would, never having met them; after all, he'd had a brother he never got to meet, and never missed him.

Gannet offered no answer (aside from a shrug), which earned an even harder squint from Towhee. Getting responses from him was proving a little difficult. He seemed to be a man of few words. A moment ago, she had liked this about him. Now she was beginning to swing in the other direction.

His question distracted her. She thought on it a moment, then shook her head. "I never met them," she explained with a roll of her shoulder. It was impossible to miss someone she had never known—just like Towhee didn't really miss the ability to hear—but there was definitely a curiosity there.

"Do you?" she wondered before brusquely commanding, "Tell me a story about them." Hopefully it would be more than ten words long...

"Yeah."  It wasn't a sad missing anymore... just a wishful one.  What would they be doing if they were still here, etc.  As he'd thought though - it apparently wasn't possible to really miss what you didn't know.

She wanted a story, from him?  He frowned slightly, not particularly liking the idea or wanting to tell one right now.  What even could he tell? They'd been there, and now they were gone.  They'd done things, yeah, but nothing stood out to Gannet as being something Towhee should know about.  Suddenly uncomfortably stuck between his inability to narrate and wanting to bond with his sister, he let out a soft exhale, half sigh and half whine.

"Mum took us out once," he attempted.  "To our sister, by a mountain.". It had been fun, and was the first thing that popped into his mind, but there wasn't a whole lot more to it.  The sense of excitement he'd felt leaving the territory for the first time, his happiness at traveling with his mother and brother at his side; these were things he didn't know how to express, but despite his unease, his eyes lit up at the memory.

Towhee didn't hear the anxious whine, naturally, and continued staring at her brother in an attempt to crush him with her peer pressure (get it?). His story cleared her ten-word minimum by exactly one word, not that she was actually counting. When he finished, her brow nearly arched off her face as if to say, "That's it?"

"You are a terrible storyteller," she informed him with a critical look. "What sister? What mountain?" She wasn't letting him off the hook, mostly because her curiosity was genuine. "You left the territory? Did you go far? How long were you gone?"

He never denied it, nor did he want to be anything more or less, so when she called him terrible, Gannet laughed one of his silent laughs.  It was a relief really; she said he was terrible, but didn't seem put out by it, so seemingly he was somewhat off the hook.  

But not entirely.  He sheepishly shrugged when she asked for more elaboration.  He couldn't remember her name, the sister they had met, just one thing.  "She looked like mom.  And not one here," he said, indicating the peaks on the distant horizon.  "Far."  He nodded in agreement to the question she had asked, confirming it.  The sister away was neat, sure, but no better than Raven here.  And no better than Towhee, despite their rocky start. 

"Do you tell stories," he asked then, deciding to turn the tables.  He enjoyed listening far more than talking, which was good, because he was apparently pretty rotten at the latter.

His answers were desperately lacking detail and Towhee decided to just give up. It wasn't worth her time or the trouble, even though she was genuinely very interested in scraping up any detail she could about her (their) parents. She sighed (much louder than she realized) and rolled her eyes again.

"Never mind," she muttered, deciding it was time to go. But then he posed a question of his own. "Not really, not yet," Towhee answered slowly, one paw suspended in midair. She slowly put it back on the ground. "I'm thinking of pursuing the chronicler trade so I'm trying to do research." She gave him a distinctly hairy eyeball, which said, "And you're not proving very helpful in this endeavor."

Research? That's neat, he supposed, acknowledging it and completely missing the fact that the conversation about their parents had been just that.  He knew she was peeved with him, but he was starting to imagine that might just be her normal state with him, at least for now.

He was sorry he couldn't tell her more, he just didn't know what words to say.  "Sorry," he said, a little dejected but also accepting.  Gannet wasn't one to beat himself up for long.  Sensing her own intentions to leave, and not having much more to stick around for himself, he got to his feet and trotted off, glancing back once somewhat regretfully.  Maybe he'd think of something to tell, though likely it wouldn't be much better than his first attempt.

Whether or not he understood her inference, Gannet didn't seem willing or capable of indulging her. As a matter of fact, he picked himself up—Towhee took an over-exaggerated step backward—and trotted away. She stared after him, pretty sure he hadn't said one word of farewell, unless she'd missed it somehow. Sometimes wolves—particularly those outside of her inner circle—forgot that she couldn't hear. Perhaps he had tossed a goodbye over his shoulder.

Either way, it was a bit of a snub. Towhee's lip curled in distaste over the entire encounter. Well, Uncle Elwood, you can't say I didn't try. With a sour look on her face, the youth loped away in the opposite direction.