Wheeling Gull Isle slow down, it’s a science.

she was awoken by a kick — whether deliberate or not — that set her on a trajectory of grumbling. finding her current huddle of puppies insufficient, accipitra stepped — or really, clumsily dragged — over the puddle of nascent das towards the entry of the den.  

her obsession. her ruthless, uncompromising life missive; the golden plinth at the zenith of a thousand countless stairs!

she wormed close, but a look from her new-mother brooked no quarter. accipitra slunk to her stomach and glowered, weaseling towards the shape of her brother @Hierophant with pseudo-stalking puppy steps.

now that his eyes were open he found that he was unable to sleep, for he was compelled to set them on everything. during the day there was precious little, and the light from the sun pierced in the darkness to drive him back. but at night, he could safely turn his face towards the entrance of the den and bathe in the stars gentle light.

of course, he was a good boy and he dared not try to reach for them. the one time he had, mother's displeasure was too large for him to bear.

he does not notice his sister until she is nearly upon him (at least from his perspective), and he stifffens in surprise, his small tail a stiff exclamation point. with little coordination, he extends a leg towards her, suspending it in the air the best he can in playful threat to thwap her if she gets too close.

accipitra decided then and there if she could not make a break for it, she would cause such a mess of a distraction that her exit would be covert. it was a remarkably concocted plan for a creature so young; only, the execution lacked the finesse of a more experienced wolf. 

she saw first hierophant’s tail — it barbed up her vision, its movements daubed and tenfold. she never saw the leg. 

abruptly she came toppling down, chin first in the dirt.

she always seemed to be doing something unpredictable, with her mind four steps ahead of her development. he regarded her with great caution as she fixed herself upon his tail, and he could not help but bristle at the viper's lunge.

double-vision. for a moment she was both here and there. the click of her teeth as her jaw hit the ground sent shockwaves through him as he realized she wasn't playing. he turned to stone as his breath caught in his lungs, awaiting her next move before getting too close.

she came to the earth in the manner of a dropped stone. her gums clicked unpleasantly. a chatter ricocheted in her skull. 

her last image was hierophant’s needling eyes; then her eyes closed and her vision petered to black. 

she was aware of unpleasantry making its camp at the base of her chin. a scrape’s rough burn made its mark in her skin. she fumbled upright, the den oscillating. 

had the world always been so crooked?

accipitra had no means to ward off this newfound disorientation. while hierophant studied her mistrustfully, she simply slouched — temporarily disarmed and disengaged as she wrestled with the spinning of her world.

she is dazed and unresponsive. somehow, he feels like he has done this to her. unaccustomed to guilt, he felt accused in some way for his caution. closing the distance between them, he gently seeks to right her posture by supporting her head with his own, if she would allow.

her head is raised from under her. accipitra is only vaguely aware of hierophant under her — cross-eyed, she studied the rooted latticework of the den above. 

how many elytras? how many golden wings hid like currency in that dark network?

she gradually reclaims her senses, as if climbing a ladder endless and precipitous. hierophant is stabilizing her. her head is tilted back.

she is looking skyward in the manner of every one of her ancestors. 

instinct seized her — unbidden from her throat comes the booming semblance of her first howl.

they stand together in silence for what feels like a long while. his neck feels stiff after some time, but he doesn't want to remove his support, afraid she'll hit the ground again, afraid she'll make that awful noise with her teeth.

she makes another noise instead, though this one is at least welcome even as it reverberates through him.

he traces the line of her vibrating throat as he tilts his head back to see what she's howling at.

something worked through him. he copied her noisemaking first with a shaky, elongated squeal, which morphed into something more substantial the longer it went.

their voices pool together and it is a moment like thousands of others over time — two souls, one climbing note that punctures the heavens.

except they were small, and the zenith of their heavens was the dirt packed roof above. accipitra felt her brother’s howl grow and rise and it is this which gives her call some tenor; not alone, not solo — together.

her lips clap shut and her voice is no longer, but her tail wags and her eyes come to rest inquisitively upon her playmate.

the sister's howl ends abruptly while the brother's carries for a moment longer, trailing out as the last of his breath is consumed.

together. he has a feeling once again too complex for him to conceptualize, but were he older he might have named gratitude. somehow, though he wasn't yet familiar with mortality, he knew that not every family got to be like this.

the afterimage smear of accipitra's waving tail captures him and he discards the thought easily, though the feeling would remain for some time. the boy pressed tight against his sister and washed her cheek in a show of affection.

her brother’s note carried on a bit longer; a little melody only the two of them shared. 

she was too young to process these complex emotions, but as the last echo fades this scene burned in her mind; two shadows, two souls, two spirits touched by the witherfruit. the berry’s taste had long left her tongue, but its effects remained. it could not be the reason for her nascent adoration of her brother, but surely it buoyed it. 

kisses along her nose sent her stepping back, a belated registration of his affection. she rejoined soundly with her own brand of licks, toppling downward as she grappled with both bites and kisses in the gentle way only young puppies were capable of.

when it came to accepting touch, the boy had a fear response that must be stilfed. the littermates were okay and so were the savior and the milk mother. but even then, his movements were stilted, uncoordinated and incorrect.

but it wasn't like he knew what he looked like when he played, so he took to milling about with joy. she dragged him down with her and they rolled together in the dirt, nipping and kissing at each other. it was not long before he grew tired from all the fuss and activity. he threw his paws back in surrender as he panted with his mouth wide open.

if her brother’s movements were stiff, accipitra did not notice. she would always turn a blind eye to her siblings and any perceived flaw — within her was a cult of loyalty, perhaps descended from the leagues of madmen and women that comprised of her bloodline. 

like her brother, accipitra eventually tired of playing. just like that, she collapsed face down into his belly - already lost to sleep in the magical manner of infants. 

would u like to fade and have a new one with prompts? <3

yes! thank you for threading with me, this was fun!

the sister slumped heavy against him and his small arms pulled her into a tired embrace. he could feel himself slipping as slumber's siren song plucked at the threads of his mind. quickly they fell into the dark together, one after the other, and left undisturbed they might stay that way for hours.