Swiftcurrent Creek disappointed people clinging onto bottles

for @Eshe <3333 dated tentatively for early july!

The Gamma found herself trying her luck at a hunt on this day. Standing along the creek's edge was a heron, and though it minded its own business and did not deserve to have its life taken, the pack needed food. Several young children who grew fast, several new faces; the Creek was ever larger now. And Wren was many things, but a slacker was not one of them.
Leaning over a basalt slab downwind from the riverbird with two heavy forepaws placed on the edge, she watches with a keen eye. Tail of ash sways in a high flag, muscles tensed as the water rushes beneath her.
She had one shot at this.
Alright, Wren, don't fuck this up, she mumbles to no one but herself, and edging closer, she waits for the opportune moment to strike.

"Alright, Wren, don't fuck this up," Eshe was in earshot when Wren spoke to herself. She had been combing the shore for anything she could add to her herbal stock. Although she had nothing particular in mind that she wanted to find, she kept an open mind and imagination. She would find a way to utilize it.

She turned towards the hunter and their prey and stepped towards them. Eshe knew she had to be careful, so she proceeded with the utmost caution.

Unsure of how to get the other wolf's attention without startling the heron, she stared, hoping they'd feel her eyes.

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The feeling you get when one's eyes are upon you is unmistakeable. It was like a spirit from beyond the grave glowered over her shoulder. An awful, cold feeling, and as such, when Wren made her pounce for the waterfowl, the giant bird spread its downy wings and took off before her teeth could even make contact.
And into the waters she went.
Thrashing turned into instinctive paddling as she violently searches for leverage, which was found in the form of a different slab. Fucking son of a bitch! she curses at the bird, who had now touched down a ways upstream. Goddammit! Shit! I hate you! Had she fists, she would have shaken them in a crimson frustration.
Having resigned to her birdless fate, she lumbers back up onto the bank, giving her fur a wild shake and swiping her tongue over a foreleg. And it was only then that she realized the feeling of being watched must have come from somebody nearby.
Whipping her head around left and right, her gaze finally lands upon the source. A woman of the Creek, yes, she had seen her around, but this was one she had never spoken to. Can I... help... you?

Eshe grimaced as the scene unfolded before her—Wren's premature lunge, the heron's retreat, and the subsequent anger that came with the unsuccessful hunt. She felt guilty, feeling as though this was all her fault.

"Can I... help... you?"

"I-I, yeah," She mumbled, clearly flustered. "Sorry about that ... I wanted to get your attention without scaring off the heron ... but that didn't pan out how I thought I would."

"I wanted to offer to help you." she clarified, frowning.

Oh, god, she'd already hurt this poor girl's feelings.
The crestfallen look she gives Wren is enough to tug at anyone's heartstrings. She swears she can hear a sad violin in the background. Softening, she clumbers a little bit closer, tail lowered. It's okay, dude, a pitiful attempt at reassurance with a dimpled smile that hopefully makes up for the awkwardness. herons don't have a lotta meat on 'em anyway. And they're wicked finnicky. Hate the stupid bastards.
A puff of air from her nose, then. I'm sorry if I, um, scared you. I don't think we've spoken before, curiously, her eyes raise enough to make contact with her's. I'm Wren, resident Gamma to the pack of assholes.

Wren spoke, and Eshe felt a weight lift from her shoulders. "I'll help you next time," she promised, her gaze lingering on the other's dimpled smile for a beat longer than she meant to.

When Wren apologized, Eshe shook her head. "No—don't. I know how frustrating it is to lose your prey ... and I was being creepy." 

"Nice to meet you, Wren. I'm Eshe! Kappa—" no, Epsilon? She couldn't keep track. "—of Asshole Creek."

"You know, we should consider re-branding the pack—Asshole Creek has a nice ring to it."

At that, a booming cackle that could have come from the hoarse throat of a hyena. Hey, we all love to stare awkwardly at each other sometimes, eh? Teeth of ivory jut out from between her lips in a teasing grin. Don't apologize. I'd rather make a joke out of it than have yah go, oh, silly me, I am just SO sorry! she pitches up her voice and feigns an accent that could have been transatlantic, a paw waving for added dramatic effect.
She's a kappa, she says, which would have been something like a hunter in her homeland. But of course, things were a bit different here. Another boyish laugh at Asshole Creek. Maybe we should bring that up to Akavir.
Turning on her heel, she motions with the tip of her nose for the pair to take a stroll towards the thicket just on the edge of the Creek. C'mon. You hungry? We'll go find somethin' else. I think yah owe me.

The noise from Eshe's mouth was hoarse and loud; it certainly wasn't the prettiest thing that had come out of her mouth. She froze for a beat, eyes wide in surprise, and her jaw slacked as she wondered how in the world she did that. When the moment passed, she laughed again with a wholehearted belly laugh.

"If anything, I think I have to apologize for that," she joked.

The mention of Akavir was sobering, and she grew suddenly sheepish at the mention of their Alpha. "We should—I'm sure that he'll be all for it," her tail waved as she remembered their first meeting. "He warned me that the pack was chock full of assholes."

When Wren offered a meal, Eshe beamed. "That'd be great, thanks," she answered, drawing herself to her packmate's side. "Lead the way!"

Already, the tension between them had fluttered away into something much less serious. Eshe's laugh comes right from her belly, thunderous and melodic all the same. The gamma finds herself laughing along; oh, how badly she needed to.
Oh, man, you should'a seen the first time I met Akavir, she falls into a slow-paced stride, eyes only parting from Eshe to make sure they were going in the right direction. They would go southeast towards the meadow, Wren had decided, weaving through brambles and ducking under low-hanging branches. he scared me shitless. I got interviewed and I swore it could've been the last day I ever saw the sun.
With everything that had swept to the forefront of her mind — Akashingo, Lilitu, Silvertongue, Germanicus — she had little time to think of the ones she knew before her time with Swiftcurrent. The memory of Colt brings a bitter chill that washes down her back. Marcus... the thought of Marcus brought confusion; anxiety.
She wonders if either of them have been looking for her.
She decides to place this all in her metaphorical back pocket. There was no use reminiscing. What're you in the mood for? Bird, fish, deer, somethin' else? 

There hadn't been an interview when Eshe joined the pack. "You did?" she asked, surprised. "I didn't ... what kinds of questions did he ask you?" Especially since they'd scared Wren shitless—she imagined that they must've been pretty intense.

Her mind wandered as they walked, thinking of Akavir and the first time she'd met him and how she'd mistooken him for Figment, and ralized how thankful she was for the turn of events. Even if her attraction for the pack's alpha was unrequited, he'd given her a lovely home.

"What're you in the mood for? Bird, fish, deer, somethin' else?" Wren asked.

"Hmmmmm," Eshe replied, snapping back to attention as she considered her options. "Do you guys have turkeys around here?"

Eshe seems surprised, and Wren was beginning to sense some double standards on Akavir's part. Squinting, she maintains her cool exterior, a roll of her shoulders indicating a shrug. Now, I won't go into any detail, but, uh, let's just say I knew a guy that Akavir had some beef with in the past. It's alright now, though. At that, her head is lifted proudly; broad chest puffed out in a fanatical display. I like to think Akavir and I are pretty close these days.
There was a lot of ambiguity and unnecessary complexities to the inner workings of Wren and Akavir's bond. Pent-up lust, loneliness, camaraderie. A web of things that had no label or definition, and perhaps didn't need one.
And within that was protectiveness — Eshe's eyes seemed to light up like a schoolgirl at the mere mention of Akavir's name, and Wren being Wren felt a need to passively assert her dominance. Was this chick good enough for him? Or perhaps it was just jealousy; the way Wren craved his approval, clawing at walls and praying he would spare her a glance if only for a second; and in comes Eshe, this pretty little thing who had not a mean bone in her body. If Wren had to guess, she was sure Akavir had been eyeballing her from the moment she arrived.
It was how she initially felt about Silvertongue all over again.
The inquiry about turkey brings her back to reality, even if only for a moment. Um, a pause. I think so. Maybe if we're lucky we can find some.

"I like to think Akavir and I are pretty close these days." Wren said, standing tall as she spoke.

"That's good that things are alright," which was the opposite of how she felt. Things were not alright—especially things including Akavir. Hearing that they were "pretty close" was something she hadn't expected, adding more confusion to the subject. Was Wren the reason Akavir hadn't slept with her? Her stomach twisted at the thought.

What made things worse was that Wren was better than her in every way—she was a pretty, young thing that could give him children for years to come. She was in her prime, and Eshe was over the hill. It felt impossible to compete, given the circumstances.

Her upset simmered on the back burner as they discussed what they'd hunt. "No worries if not," she said, waving her tail. "Honestly, I'm fine with anything—I'm not picky!"

Eshe pretends as if Wren's comment about Akavir is nothing, brushes it off of her shoulder; but eyes are the window to the soul, and if the creekwoman knew anything, it was the classic signs of jealousy and heartache. She saw this within those honey-brown saucers. Some twisted part of her got a sense of satisfaction. She wanted to be Akavir's main girl — not for the sake of sheer power, just the knowledge that he approved of her. That he wanted her. That she held influence, a voice, a safety net for him to come home to. That within his eyes, she was pretty and strong and smart and worthy, that he would tell her this even when she herself didn't believe it.
But these were not things she would say.
With a low chuff, she presses her nose to the earth in thought, before raising her muzzle to motion Eshe in a direction. There were tracks, traces from some animal nestled between two overhanging oaks that she now weaves through with a flag of her tail. I smell something. We'll find out what it is, eh?

"Wait a minute ..." Eshe breathed as she crouched at Wren's side. "There's no way." She was slow to anger, especially regarding creatures with less intelligence, but this crossed the line. "That sonofagun!" She puffed out like a porcupine.

Realizing that Wren most likely didn't understand what was getting her all hot and bothered, she turned to her hunting partner. "It got into my fermented fruit," she explained with a huff, "I've been preparing a test batch, and I have no idea how it got to it. It was buried near my garden and wrapped in leaves ... it shouldn't have been able to." But that was neither here nor there. She lifted her and looked toward the scent trail, getting another noseful of the souring apple as she sniffed the air.

"It's probably drunk, so it'll be easy to catch."

Admittedly, Eshe's clean-cut refusal to swear brought a guffaw from deep within Wren's chest. She hadn't the chance to ask what was wrong before it was explained to her.
Fermented fruit, much like what Sen-moot had served at Akashingo. She made a mental note to steer clear of that if she wanted to keep her dignity within her pack.
Damn, she chuffs, striding a few paces ahead of where Eshe had pointed. Purple-red splotches stain the grass in a lumbering path headed towards the treeline, and in a clump lays a patch of tawny fur. S'a rabbit. You think it's worth it?

Wren gave a hearty, full-bodied laugh, which confused and hurt Eshe. She didn't think the situation warranted that reaction, but the stained trail stole her attention before she could say anything. Her stomach dropped; she'd worked hard on that batch.

"Very worth it," she answered. "I'd be surprised if it got very far. I experimented with that batch and put some poppy seeds in it to see if that'd affect anything." She was prone to hangovers—especially the anxiety-inducing type. Since poppies were used for their ability to steady nerves, she wanted to see if including them would change anything.

"Honestly, it's probably passed out by now. It wasn't very potent, but I imagine it got drunk quickly because it's so small."

Eshe certainly knew a lot about whatever it was she was talking about. With Wren, on the other hand, it flew right over her head — naturalism was the absolute furthest thing from her specialty.
Oh, how stupid she felt.
You sure know a lot about, uh, plants, it was meant to be a compliment, but she was sure it didn't sound to be such, and so she adds; it's cool.
Pretty, way too nice, hadn't been interrogated upon admittance to the Creek, and now she's smart? Jesus, what a woman. Wren felt so small in comparison, so useless. She half wanted to run off right then and there, go drown her sorrows and lock herself in the noiseless cavern of her den.
Eshe probably bothered to decorate her den. She seemed the type — girly, floral; a gentle sunsnow. Wren was more of a mud puddle.
The thoughts brew in her stomach, churning and twisting, and for a good moment, she simply stares.
But then, she decides to shuffle further into the shrubbery, there's a rustling sound from a berry bush a few yards further ahead. Might've found our culprit drunkard. she lowers her voice to a whisper and points with a raised paw. You wanna do the honors? I suck at ambushing.

Wren's compliment surprised Eshe. "Oh, uh, thanks," she replied awkwardly, clearly caught off guard, "learning about plants has always been easier for me to learn than hunting, fighting, and, you know, normal ... things." She sucked in a breath, feeling the gamma's stare; she'd overthink this conversation for months. "... Sorry," she mumbled, glancing away as she stewed in her insecurity.

Thankfully, the rabbit offered some temporary relief. Eshe trotted after Wren, picking through the foilage until they found the rabbit. It stumbled around on unsteady feet and stopped occasionally to ground itself. Catching it wouldn't be challenging, so she took the olive branch.

Although Eshe stumbled as she approached, the rabbit couldn't escape quickly enough to save itself. She tackled it and snapped its neck, ending it all with a click of her jaws. "At least it went out somewhat happy," she said, taking a step back and motioning with her snout to invite her over.

"You might feel a little weird after eating it," Eshe warned. "It shouldn't be too bad, but no worries if you don't want any." She would try it only because she wanted to see if her experiment worked.

Eshe rambles, Wren had begun to notice. She found it endearing, and at the same time ever-so concerning. Hey, nothin' wrong with that, a light chuckle flutters from her chest. if you like it and you're good at it, the world always needs more plant people.
A passive sport. An honorable one. Something Wren herself lacked. Now, she was just getting nauseous.
The rabbit's short life is cut to an end, most likely whilst it didn't even feel the fear. Eshe's movements were swift; yet again, Wren finds herself impressed, and digging herself further into the impossible black hole of self-doubt.
She's offered some of the spoils, even when the meat is tainted with the fruit of Eshe's labor, and quite literally. I had a uh, she starts to shake her head. reeeeeally bad experience with those kinda berries a couple weeks back. Akashingo. I'onno if I wanna risk it, but, uhm, thank you.

Want to wrap this one up?

Eshe completely understood Wren's hesitation and didn't take offense to it. "I totally get it," she replied, blissfully unaware of everything that had transpired between her and Akavir. "I've had some bad experiences with it, too."

Although she was peckish, she decided to save it for later; Eshe worried that Wren would feel uncomfortable being around it after her bad experience. She'd eat before bed, and hopefully, the effects of the liquor would put her to sleep. 

"Well ... thanks for helping me out with tracking this guy down," she said, pulling the dead animal closer. "I'll help you hunt heron whenever you need a paw."

sure !!! <3 such a lovely thread, thank you :')

Eshe understood; did not press. There's a brief lapse of her anxiety in the form of relief.
Wren ended this venture with no food for herself — or anyone else — and what she did now have was insecurity that piled and weighed heavy on her shoulders. A sickly feeling to her stomach tells her that now is her chance to escape.
Bah, don't mention it, dude, still, she puts on her brave face, a toothy smile given. sorry the only food we managed to get was a, uh, very drunk hare. But hey, there's always next time. Kill her now.
She gives one last nod and a playful nudge to Eshe's nape before departing. Her den would provide her the safety needed to swallow the bitter pill of fear; let it swallow her whole and then numb her until she can no longer keep herself awake. She would not speak to anyone else for the rest of the day.