Noctisardor Bypass the humming

Today, their mother took the two girls on a short trip away from the den site (leaving their new roommates in @Mahler’s capable hands). Druid bumbled along behind @Sequoia, her flank brushing against @Witch’s every few moments. Each time it happened, she exchanged a smile with her beloved sister.

The Zweite came to a halt and Druid was so busy mooning over her litter mate, she bumped headfirst into her mother’s taut fetlock. She bounced backward onto her bum, raising a paw to rub at the spot on her forehead. It didn’t hurt that much, though, and soon she picked herself up and looked ahead to see why their mother had stopped.

In front of Sequoia lay the remains of some ungulate or another, bones and viscera exposed to the summer sun. The first thing Druid noticed after the half-eaten carcass itself was the flies.

Wylla was loathe to leave the fern-shrouded cave. She was reluctant to meet Rivenwood's wolves, the remnants of Sagtannet and the newcomers alike — she would always think of them that way, despite being the newcomer herself — for fear of what they might know of her. For what they might say, or how they might behave. She expected the worst of everyone she met, and extended that to Mahler's followers here.

But her leg wouldn't get any better if she hid herself away and refused to exercise. Besides, Wylla's days of lazing about and trying to sucker others into tending to her were long behind her. She had not been a lazy leader in Sagtannet and she could not be a lazy subordinate in Rivenwood. She dragged herself out of the cave and forced herself to go on a slow, hobbling walk through the valley to become acquainted with her new home, swallowing down every bubble of anxiety and mistrust that arose in her.

Quietly, Wylla hoped she might not run into anyone but Phaedra or maybe her wayward son, if he was present. Instead, she followed her nose right into the line of sight of not one, not two, but three Rivenwood denizens, a mother and her two cubs, gathered around a carcass. She froze on the spot, folding back her ears as she stared at them through a screen of flies, feeling the roar and gnashing teeth of her own jealousy rearing up.

They are not his! she berated herself, dropping her eyes from the patchwork woman to the two grey-and-white pups. It wasn't enough reassurance for her to relax, though; Wylla swallowed audibly, clearly anxious to get away, and tried to force her feet to move. They would not.

While the flies and their buzzing captivated Druid’s attention, Sequoia and Witch began to eat the carrion, the former nosing the softer bits toward the pup. She clicked her tongue in an effort to draw Druid’s attention too, yet the grayer of the sisters could not stop gaping at the clouds of small black insects swarming over the remains.

As her eyes roamed hither and thither, watching in morbid fascination, something just beyond the carcass finally snagged her attention elsewhere. Druid gawped openly at the strange she-wolf rigidly standing there. The pup crouched backward, then slowly crept behind one of Sequoia’s legs.

Tucked safely beneath her mother, Druid peeked again at the frozen stranger. Curiosity warred with nervous shyness, the latter winning out particularly when she noticed the woman’s empty eye socket. The puppy gasped and withdrew, hiding entirely behind Sequoia’s leg for a moment.

Amused, perhaps, by the youngster’s reaction, Sequoia sidestepped and nudged Druid toward the unfamiliar she-wolf with the instruction to, “Say ‘hello,’ Dru.”

Feeling exposed, she shrank into herself and didn’t say a word. Instead, Druid continued staring, occasionally throwing sidelong glances at Witch to see if her sister had even noticed this new, eyeless face, and what she was going to do about it?

she followed their mother in a jaunting step, green eyes dancing across the world and drinking in all its wonderment. she grinned playfully each time she or her sister clumsily bumped into each other, occasionally nosing druid's snout or teething her shoulder. and when mother halted, so did witch— only to collapse and roll on her back with laughter as her sister face-planted right into sequoia's bum.

her laughter faded as druid became entranced by something, and witch moved to her feet with wide eyes as she took in the carcass before them. she smelled the air warily, less concerned about the flies and much more interested in the smell. following her mother's lead, she stuck her pale face into the ungulate's cavity and began to chew at its softer parts nudged towards her with her tiny, razor teeth.

she didn't notice, at first, that druid wasn't beside her— or the small gasps of her sister, at least not until mother spoke. witch pulled her head from the carcass, small bits of flesh and old blood stuck in her teeth and in the fur around her head. she had always been the bolder of the two, and moved towards the stranger with a wagging tail. if she could speak, she might have asked what was wrong with the stranger's eye (skipping right past polite greeting), but as it was she only had her body and nonsensical sounds to communicate with.

witch offered wylla a playful whine/growl/yawn in greeting as she continued to approach.

Neither Witch nor Druid spoke, which should not have been a surprise to Sequoia, and yet she often forgot they weren't fully formed. With how fast they were growing, it felt like it would be no time before they were towering over her and bossing her around. Right, right. Still working on those things called 'words,' she said with a laugh.

I don't believe we've met. I'm Sequoia, and these little heathens are Druid and Witch. With each name, she pointed her food-covered snout to the children to indicate which was which (or rather, which was Witch and which was Druid).

Witch there is especially outgoing. Druid tends to hang back until she's got the lay of the land. Sequoia smiled, opening the conversation for the new arrival to speak, completely unaware of the history she had with Mahler, Sagtannet, or Rivenwood.

Right that moment, if one of the pups approached her outright, Wylla could not guarantee their safety. Once upon a time, she was unable to even conceive of harming a child, but that was before. Before Sagtannet, before the jealousy, before feeling the regret of not taking teeth to babes that should never have been born into her pack without her permission. She had allowed herself to be undermined and done nothing, and in doing nothing, had lost the ability to command the respect her position should have afforded her.

Even now, Wylla pointed the finger elsewhere.

It didn't take long for her to regain control of herself, repeating not his, not his like a mantra in her head. Oh, but those babes sported grey and black coats that stood apart from their tiramisu mother, and green fingers of envy had a funny way of clutching tight in spite of all rationality. They are not his, and you must move past it, anyway.

She watched, tense and silent, the amusing displays of each pup, and felt a strong nostalgia for when her own were young. The first audibly gasped at the sight of Wylla, spearing the Fünfte with an emotion she could not describe. Was she really that frightening? Time was unkind to Wylla, and the play of potentially ugly emotions across her face probably didn't help. She forced a small smile when Sequoia introduced them and resisted the urge to lash her tail.

The second came bumbling forward, and Wylla withdrew a step, clearly suspended between reaching out to this pup who was not Mahler's, and turning away in disgust because of course it was Mahler's. She settled in the middle, placing a white-toed paw back down and whisking her tail in an uncertain invitation. She lowered herself, carefully, very slowly, to her belly. Here, she could do no harm. She glanced at the first again, hiding behind her mother's legs, and finally said, as if it was Druid who asked, I'm Wylla.

It came up before she could help herself; in the next second, she asked, where is their father?

Druid watched as her sister boldly approached the stranger, who assumed a prone position. Witch’s tail stirred back and forth and she made some noises which likely sounded like gobbledygook to the adults but which made perfect sense to the gray pup.

Encouraged both by her sister’s confidence and the stranger’s posture, Druid crept forward to join Witch. Sequoia and the woman exchanged a few words, during which the latter offered up a name: Wylla. She said something after that which seemed to be directed at Sequoia, giving Druid a moment to process.

She considered saying one of the few words she knew (“hi”) but instead hesitated, waiting to see if Witch would get to it first. Meanwhile, a fly buzzed right past her ear, causing her to flinch.

Wylla introduced herself, then promptly asked where there father was. Nosy one, wasn't she? Not that Sequoia minded, of course. Gossip was one of her favorite things, so she'd be a hypocrite to deny it to somebody else, no matter how little they knew one another.

Have you not met Mahler? Sequoia asked, pausing for a split second for an answer. I mean, he's not their biological father, but he's their dad in every way that counts. Not that Sequoia hadn't asked him to be their biological father, too. Mahler had insisted she find somebody outside the pack, so that was exactly what she (and Praimfaya, and Laurel) had done.

A split second to Sequoia was an eternity to Wylla, whose ears grew hot with anger. It crept down toward her cheeks, flashing along her jawline the same instant her eyes narrowed. That fucking liar!

Sequoia was quick to put the record straight, but the damage was done. Wylla's attention lifted away from the pups to the spotted she-wolf. No doubt she would've loved if Mahler was the biological father. From Wylla's perspective, it always seemed like other women were throwing themselves at his feet — nevermind that she had no actual proof of how true that was, or how pathetically he warded them off. She imagined it to be true, so it was, in her eyes. Which she turned back to the pups, fixing them with a more severe stare than she ever meant to direct at them. At least they weren't his, but did it really matter if he raised them like they were?

I do not need the title of father again, he had said, and yet here was proof he would claim it no matter how convoluted the path. She should have known better than to put any stock in anything that came out of Gustav Mahler's mouth.

Oh, I know him very well. So instead of fucking everyone this year, he's just playing daddy now, is he? she said flatly, willing the heat out of her voice. It wasn't Sequoia's fault that Mahler blurred the line on family. She felt bad for the way her eyes burned on the cubs, so she tilted her head to the side, away from them, in hopes of not offending Sequoia. Wylla was still fiercely traditional: blood was blood, and anything not her blood nor her mate could ever be family. Even Astraeus, nursed at her own breast alongside her cubs, was not regarded as family.

The fly circled back, or perhaps it was a second fly; there were so many of them. Whatever the case may be, Druid was effectively distracted, particularly when it flew right at her face. She snapped her teeth several seconds too late, then huffed and gave chase.

Somewhere behind her, Wylla’s demeanor changed. Sour words sprang from her tongue, directed at Sequoia. Druid heard none of it as she gave pursuit, eventually winding up inches from the carrion where the flies swarmed in clouds.

The puppy snapped rather halfheartedly at a few as they wafted around her head, though now the scent of meat enticed her. It wasn’t fresh, though that didn’t matter much to a wolf. She sniffed closer to what was left of the ungulate, head partially disappearing into the shadows of its exposed ribs, and nipped at a fleshy pink morsel that turned out to be a string of intestines.

She dragged it out into the open, not entirely sure if she should eat it, play with it or something else. Druid looked around for Witch, the loops of entrails dangling from her mouth, and instead caught herself staring at Wylla. Abruptly, she sensed something gone amiss and dropped the bowel into the dirt.

The pure vitriol that sprang from Wylla's mouth drew an angry frown on Sequoia's face. Druid and Witch were right here, and now this Wylla bitch was going to say shitting things about their father? Mahler, who had been nothing but kind to her. Mahler, who had raised these children as his own.

Hey, I don't know what kind of past you have with him, but please don't talk like that around my kids. If you've got beef with Mahler, take it up with him. Sequoia certainly wanted no part of it. Well, except the part where Mahler was an excellent role model for her children. She definitely wanted that.

The piebald girl planted herself between Wylla and the children, now rather uncertain about what the other woman might do to them. If she was this angry with Mahler, she would potentially lash out at the children, too.

There was absolutely no indication of it, but Wylla had already decided that Sequoia was a slut determined to have Mahler as her own. After all, it was the piebald bitch who brought Mahler up — did she know about Wylla's tense relationship with the man? It seemed exactly like something someone would say to intentionally get a rise out of someone, and Sequoia's change in demeanour was laughable. The brats could barely speak, let alone understand what was being said, but of course she would turn it around and make Wylla the bad guy here.

She swallowed back a sneer when the sensitive she-wolf stepped in front of her children, like Wylla had threatened them or something. Overreacting a bit, aren't we? she snorted. Her beef with Mahler was something she had brought up time and time again with him, and time and time again, he went behind her back with his utter bullshit. Well, Sequoia could have him. He was of no worth to Wylla, who was quickly realizing that his grand show of not siring every child in Rivenwood was little more than a farce, because he was still benefiting exactly as if he had, while she constantly suffered from crippling insecurity with every revelation.

With a second snort, Wylla shoved past Sequoia and headed for the woods, leaving her and her children behind without a second glance.

Her eyes bounced back and forth between her mother and Wylla. There was tension in the air, though Druid was much too young to make any sense of it. The two women looked fine, though when Sequoia spoke, it was in a tone she rarely used. Even though it wasn’t directed at her, the pup promptly crouched in submission.

Wylla’s tone was crisply dismissive, as was her demeanor as she abruptly left. Druid blinked after her, then looked up at Sequoia. With one look, she dispelled the last remnants of tension in the air. Druid spared one last glance after Wylla, then the woman entirely slipped her mind as her focus returned to the carrion.

She picked up the numbles again, so eagerly that they swayed in her maw. Druid shook her head to make them swing, laughing when they beat lightly against her neck and shoulders. Naturally, she bounded toward Witch, hoping to playfully slap her with the rotten bowels.

i think we can archive here! <3

Wylla had the gall to tell Sequoia that she was the one overreacting. "Give me a break and a half," Sequoia thought. And what was Mahler doing with this one, anyway? If this was his choice in women, that was his business, but boy howdy, Sequoia was now rather glad he wasn't the actual father of her children. That would mean that he liked her, which meant that she had something in common with Wylla. And that was not something she wished to have.

With the wretched wolf out of sight, Sequoia glared in her direction a little while longer to make sure she was actually gone.

That woman was mean, wasn't she? Saying terrible things about Mahler is not very nice. Nevermind the fact that Wylla had insulted Sequoia on top of it all. Mahler would definitely be hearing about this event.

Witch and Druid seemed to have already forgotten about it, bless them.