Wild Berry Meadow prekär

the girl has been here a while, now. it's hardly a quiet place, infused with the daily activities of all manners of foragers, from whom she has learned to keep herself full. hind limb reaches up to scratch somewhere just behind her ear as she settles back down onto her side, gaze flitting furtively through the mess of undergrowth. she'd stomached a bush's worth of the same berries she'd seen a squirrel mouth not too long ago, and thus her hunger was sated. pest did have to contend with an odd tumultuous feeling in her gut, but found it helped distract from the itch, and vice versa.

While the hunting was plentiful on the Mesa, he did not want to exhaust his own resources or to frighten them too much from their home by over-hunting his own territory. Thus, the cougar left his claim, though he made sure to reinforce his markings around the borders to ward off any who should deem this day a fit one to try and challenge him, or hunt in his realm. He headed towars the meadow that he could see from his territory, which looked like an excellent place to scout for deer, or even something so small as a rabbit...He wasn't picky- the cat was an opportunist. But he wasn't expecting to find what he ended up finding, looking lonely, scared and rather bedraggled amid the beauty of the wildflowers. 

He approached with a crouched slink, his posture lowered, lifting his head every now and again to peek over the tall grasses to make sure she was still there. He wanted to get as close as he could, to investigate the wolf-cub, and stalked her carefully and quietly- as he might do for something he intended to eat. 

He pushed his mealy face through the grasses and studied her for a moment. There was no sign of any other wolves being nearby- so it was incredibly unusual to find one so young on its own...Though her state- emaciated, and with some sort of skin affliction- spoke volumes. She'd likely been lost for at least a few days now. He sat down- still at a distance, so she might not think he would prey upon her- but close enough still that he felt confident he would have no issue pouncing her in two or three bounds. Cats enjoyed toying with their prey, to be sure- but he was feeling benevolent. 

"How long have you been on your own, wolf-cub?" He asked.

it must be some curious lack of instinct that has her stare upon the cat with no trace of wariness, for she does not think herself stupid, really. others might disagree, but whatever the reason, there is only stark interest in her bane gaze. her paw thumps to the ground, itch somewhat relieved, for now, and forgotten. it is remarkable how suddenly the not-quite-wolf had appeared, as if having slipped suddenly into existence a short distance away. 

"don' know." came her answer, soft, hoarse. she opens and closes her maw, swallowing at the dryness -- an unexpected side effect of not having exercised her voice in a while. her brow furrows as she takes in the creature a moment longer. almost unconsciously, her hind limb begins to gently scratch the back of her forelimb. "your face 's squashed. why?" there is something resembling concern in her question. she knows she's strange looking, but not quite this strange. the man's scent is sharp, musky, foreign.

The young creature did not startle or try to run- young enough, he assumed, that she didn't know to be frightened of him. While this was disappointing- and reinforced his belief that wolves were inherently stupid- he could excuse her for her ignorance simply because she was a child, and could get away with having lowered expectations. Maybe it was a good thing she'd been separated from her parents; they wouldn't have an inkling how to raise an educated daughter anyway, especially given the fact that they'd somehow lost her. 

He pitied her, though he still thought her ignorant, when she confessed that she had no idea how long she'd been on her own...Too long- but not long enough for her to forget those canine mannerisms that made her so flinchy and fidgety. He frowned when she scratched. Wolves- they never knew how to bathe themselves properly. He sighed, but some mild amusement showed when she commented about his face. He was a proud creature- and knew that for his kind, he had a lovely, long, noble shape to his muzzle- but this hound was a creature used to seeing the obscenely long, stretched-out muzzles of her own species. "It's not squished," He said. "I'm a mountain lion; I'm not like you." He said. "But..." And his eyes glistened. This was his chance to see for himself if canines could be educated. He'd wondered for years if it was even possible- but he had a chance, now. "I can help you. You must be hungry, hmm?" He purred.

the lion's incredulous tone had her confused; she had been markedly less socialized than other pups her age, and as such did not understand the reason for his tone. but his species was certainly more interesting than that, and her ears perked atop her crown, intrigue obviously heightened. again she shifted her weight, and this time her hind paw drifted up to scratch at her side. 

"they hurt m'guts." she admitted, voice still hoarse. pest blinked toward the berries in explanation, before taking a step nearer the lion. she examined him once more, somehow still bothered by his tone. "I think your face 's nice. not weird. do lions eat the same things wolves do?" she'd tried following the squirrel's diet and found it not to her liking.

Berries? He frowned as he looked, concerned that the child might've ingested something that could be hazardous to her health, but he didn't know enough about plants to tell what consequences they might've had on her. Hopefully, he thought, the pains in her stomach would be the worst of it. 

He sat up a bit, at first, when she approached- but this was simply a child, nothing more, so he lowered himself into a crouch to meet her eye-to-eye. He was warmed by her statement, glad that at least he'd caught her at an age where she might look upon a cougar and see something beautiful. Most of her kind saw him as an ugly threat simply because he had the potential to be such a thing. To her question, he nodded. "We eat meat. Same as you." He said, allowing his lips to remain parted just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the fangs he had- but there was nothing malignant about the display, merely a benign demonstration to satiate her curiosity. She might liken them to those of her own kind- daggers for carnivores.

He sat up, then, once he figured she'd seen enough of his face to get accustomed to his looks. He didn't want his whiskers pulled or ears bitten, either, and he knew that children were wont to do so even just in play. "I live there," He said, moving aside and gesturing to the Mesa, which rose up in the distance, with its distinct, flat top. "That is my kingdom, and I am its king." He said.

she squinted into the dark cavern of his mouth, noting teeth similar to the ones inside her own, or perhaps more like an adult. he seemed to have less, too -- but before she could make any more observations, his maw fell closed again. a stab of disappointment, shadowed by interest. she'd never thought to examine the maws of the creatures she ate, but rather suddenly found herself wanting to do just that. 

she shifts, stretching out a back limb rather than put in the effort to tug at the itch there. "I want t' go there. where you live." being on her own had proven miserable, even more so than being home while her siblings vanished one by one. additionally, it might allow her another look at this lion king's teeth.

A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth- though no mirth showed in his eyes. Children were a responsibility- and this was more of an experiment than anything. If he found her too annoying or impossible to teach, he could always just eat her; so either way, it was a win-win situation. He nodded and stood, gesturing for her to follow him. Part of him wondered if she might be flea-ridden...Something he would have to address. "Very well. Come along, then," He said, and began to stride toward the Mesa, oblivious to the fact that his long, elegant strides might have him moving at a speed that was uncomfortable for her. She would have to learn how to move like him, if she was to live like him. 

"You'll need a bath, and a name," He said. "I don't know what your wolf parents called you, but," He said, giving her a brief, skeptical glance. He already doubted her parents' intelligence and experience, and given her condition, he expected they'd likely failed her in the naming department as well. "You'll deserve a better name than whatever they gave you." He said.

her request was granted in a moment, and quite suddenly did she find herself hurrying to keep pace with the lion king. it did not take long for her to find herself out of breath; a diet of berries hardly offered enough energy to keep pace without discomfort. "okay," she agreed easily enough; she'd not been given enough baths in her short life to have a chance at disliking them; this being one of the many factors that led to the state of her skin and coat. 

"th-,"  she began, pausing for breath, "th' called me pestilence." silence more a moments as she gathered enough breath to speak again, "my brother w' called famine but now he's called guardian." she slows, reflexively, to reach a hind paw toward her shoulder before hurrying to catch up again, struggling to ignore the itch. really, she ought to have been a bit more bothered by the whole situation, but in her life thus far she'd learned to simply accept things however they turned out. it was simply too exhausting to make a fuss every time something changed, or went wrong. "what your name?" she queried when she'd managed to regain pace beside him, oversized ears flitting toward him.

She huffed and puffed, and he relented, slowing his pace a bit, though he did raise an eyebrow at her little, shuffling steps. Wolves were so inelegant. "Take longer strides, child; it'll tire you out less," He said. And make you look like less of a puppy, he thought, though he kept that to himself. He didn't need to be too cutting with his remarks, otherwise he'd have to put up with tears and hurt feelings. She had been surprisingly pliable thus far, a very likeable first subject. 

His breath hissed through his teeth, and he grimaced at the name her parents had given her. He looked down at her with brazen disbelief when she went on to say that her brother had also been given a name that he found to be very ugly- though for some reason, he'd been given somewhat of a redeemable name. She hadn't. This, he felt, was unfair. Were wolves prejudiced against the females of their own kind? He stewed for a moment, finding himself liking wolves less and less. "I am Virtute," He said. "And I think I'll call you Veritas. It means 'truth.'" He said. "It's a much better name, one you can be proud of." He said.

she attempted to heed his instruction at first with near-comical results, limbs appearing not entirely under her control. but, eventually, she fell into a longer stride that wasn't exactly any easier, but seemed to give her a slight edge as she moved alongside Virtute. virtute. she mouthed it silently, but no sooner had she learned his name that she found herself with a new one. 

"ver-i-tas" she echoed, enunciating it as carefully as she could even while struggling to keep up, as if it were something precious. she sounds it out once more in her mind, considering it. finally, "I like it. it's --" she pauses a moment for breath, "strong." an association likely also made because of all the leaders and kings she'd come to know this far -- Valour, Vanity and now Virtute. she lapses into silence then -- questions tug at her tongue, but her energy is concentrated solely on keeping up. she can word those later, if she slows down now, she knows not what will happen.