Stone Circle power over me

Charles looked into the water.

Why are my ears so big? he wondered to himself.

'Ugly', his mother had called him earlier that day, and then she had snapped at him until he left. There were a lot of things he didn't understand in the world. Actually, there was very little of the world that did make sense to Charles. His mother was the biggest mystery of all, because her behaviour did not seem to follow any lines and he never really learned anything from her. One day she would want him to leave, and another she would want him to come close. Sometimes she would cry and pull him close and cry into his fur and whisper shh, baby as if he was just a little puppy. That was what she often did after she had gotten really angry at him and snapped at him. It didn't make any sense.

Sometimes Charles did bad things just so his mother would get angry at him just so that she would hold him close and whisper sweet words into his ear afterwards. Just so that she would see him.

Charles made his way to one of the caches. He dug up something to eat, initially. But then he had eaten the food and he wanted to dig more, and so he dug again, and again. He had dug up several pieces of food that he knew he wasn't going to eat.

But somehow he just kept digging, waiting for his mother -- or for anyone -- to hold him close to her chest and whisper sweet words to him -- and dreading all the steps that happened before that.

this is a repost of an older thread because i like this post and didn't want it see go to waste - but dated for present time instead :)

Leta was trying to be braver, but not doing a great job at it. 

Instead she spent time with her cousins, but quietly so. Just babysitting; she never needed to be brave with them. Her presence was just enough. Leta found she quite liked children, and they helped the days pass and her aunts absence feel a little less painful. But she did not do much else. Leta felt a little useless; as the rain fell for yet another day, she determined it was time. Time to get up and just... do something. Be something. Productive, perhaps. 

So she sought something to hunt, with little success so far. The rain had ruined several game trails before she could meet their end... but her searching did yield something. Charles, digging up a cache. Her tail waved behind her as she darted toward him, having yet to see the other caches he had dug up. Hey, she greeted, hazel eyes on him, want to find something... fresher? She asked with a grin. Two was better odds than one, right?

Charles started when Leta came into view, knowing that he was being a bad wolf. But when she came over she didn't even seem upset at all. Maybe digging up the caches wasn't such a bad thing after all? Or maybe he should dig up more and let it all rot away? Charles contemplated that, but somehow he also didn't entirely mind that Leta, of all wolves, didn't think he was doing a bad thing. She then suggested they find something fresher, and Charles seemed to consider for a moment or two before he nodded.

Yeah, sure. Find any more sticks for your uh.. He couldn't quite find the word for collection so decided on - Stick place? He looked at the cache and decided he would just leave it as it was, with a piece of food half-exposed. Someone else would want food sooner or later anyway, right? He didn't need to really close it up. What are you thinking about? He wondered if she was thinking small game or something bigger.

Just one, she admits, becoming something of a stickler for proper sticks, you're gonna have to check it out though. Need your approval, she hummed, nudging his shoulder gently. Since he was the stick expert and all that. His next question was, unwittingly, a loaded question. Leta licked her chops and said, not even thinking of concealing the truth from a wolf she considered her friend, how I don't want to be sad anymore, but, quickly realizing he meant game... she blinked and said past a laugh, oh, uhm, food? 

How could she recover from that? God, how depressing was she? She had to be... better. Like her mother, or something. Trying to draw a little taller (not in a show of dominance but more in a show of, "I'm okay!") and not doing the best at that, she looked to him and said in a quiet little voice, I haven't really thought that far ahead... just thought... maybe we could find something bigger... heh. Darting forward to sniff at the ground gingerly, Leta looks back to him and suggests, uhm, maybe like, a baby deer or something? Fawn, right? Is it the season for them? She ought to remember her hunting lessons, but it was so hard to think beyond her humiliation.

Let's see it later, Charles answered as Leta mentioned the stick needed to be approved by him. Even though he'd always liked chewing on sticks Charles had no collection to speak of himself; that was just something he said because Leta implied it would be neat to have that. He liked the thought of being a professional at something, and if that something had to be sticks, then, well, that was alright with him.

He was surprised when she said she didn't want to be sad anymore, considering he had only asked about what sort of food she wanted to go for. Yeah, that was pretty embarrassing, sad girl, Charles said with a grin. He wasn't sure why he said that, but it somehow felt good when others were being awkward. It made him feel like he had some semblance of control over his life. Like he wasn't the one being pushed around, but he pushed others around. Even if those others were his only friend.

Leta recovered alright and then she suggested they could go for a baby deer or something. Charles had never taken that down with just one other and he hesitated if they could do it, but maybe. Yeah, uh, I think so, if we're lucky.

We can't all be as cool as you, cool guy, she quipped in turn, and though she felt amused she could not yet bring herself to smile. Her heart ached so deeply... but she appreciated Charles there nonetheless, even if he did acknowledge her more awkward parts. I mean, she had first... but he accepted them, at least. She bumped shoulders with him, drifting ahead some to sniff around. The mud and rain with it, on top of everything else, made it difficult to lock onto a scent still. 

Huffing, she looked back to him. Or maybe whatever we can find first, she suggested, looking ahead.

The thought that any wolf was perfect and not just a fractured puzzle with a bunch of missing pieces was foreign to Charles. If he looked around better then perhaps he would see that other wolves had better lives than him, but as it were he felt that they must all have their own problems. He imagined that when she was alone with her mother, Leta must get snapped at, too. Wasn't that just how parents were? Charles didn't really understand why everyone was so hung up on family. He liked spending time with Leta a lot more than his family, because at least she didn't hurt him.

But being called a 'cool guy' was pretty neat. It wasn't that Charles was underconfident, but he had never really considered himself a cool guy; not since spending his youth being thrown around like a ragdoll by his stronger and bigger brothers. His tail wagged a few beats to betray how pleased it made him to be called that.

Yeah, let's try find a lead, Charles said with a nod of his head and he started looking around. The truth was that Charles was horrible at tracking and hunting. He didn't contribute nearly as much as he should to the pack, and was always both afraid and tantilised by the idea that they might find out. Charles had never killed anything that wasn't already wounded. He joined in pack hunts but even then he would usually wait until the animal was slowed down. Others might think that he was simply daunted, because he was a young individual, or unsure of himself, but the truth was that Charles just didn't really know how. He wouldn't even know how to bring down a fawn, especially if an angry mother was nearby.

Anyway, for now they were still on tracking, a thing that Charles had practised on his own a bit and was decent at, but he still lacked a mentor who had taught him what all of it meant, so often he had a hard time figuring out how close or far they were or how to tell all the scents apart. He started walking and sniffing in silence, not sure what to talk about anyway.