Redtail Rise Requiem

Two days later, Masquerade still couldn’t comprehend the enormity of this loss. They had dealt with Avicus’s absence before, but not like this. There was no coming back from this. The Wealda was dead and… where did that leave the rest of them?

They knew they should talk about appointing someone in Avicus’s stead. There was no point in holding it open for a dead woman, after all, and the rise would need to move forward. Avicus would want that. But she wasn’t here to consult. Masque was still too busy grappling with that to consider pragmatics.

They crawled out from beneath their favorite pine tree and walked sullenly toward the crest of the rise. Ready or not, they needed to face facts. And the pack needed to rally together, hold onto one another, to make it through this dark age.

It wasn’t the first time they’d lamented over their dead mother. And it wouldn’t be the last. Masquerade’s deep, familiar voice rose into the frosty December air. The dirge poured out of them in a stream of vapor that caught the weak winter sunlight, giving shape and form to the yearling’s grief for an instant before it dissipated into the ether alongside Avicus.

There was nothing.

The North Star had gone out in his skies. All was dark and no music stirred in his chest. She had been his music. She had been his everything.

How could he sing without air?

How could he stay without a home?

He’d failed her, but she’d failed him the same. They’d never been meant to share a long life but somehow, still, he’d allowed himself to hope. The miracle of her return had seemed too much to be real and now he wondered if he truly had died out there on the search. Perhaps this was hell. Perhaps this was punishment.

Perhaps it was just life. And life wanted him to suffer.

He was not strong enough. As the song rose, Ashlar let the Rise disappear behind him. And he would not look back.

cameo post only <3

New Snow ate from the beast that had struck Blood Spot and slew Red Woman. Winter was here, and the brutality of it was in full force. She was not one to waste meat or think any deeper than doing what their family must to survive. And then after having her fill, she strode away and began to spin in circles, creating some sort of groove with her paws—

A song. Her ears pricked, and she recognized the voice. It did not seem a summons, but the mournful dirge could not be ignored by her sorrowful heart. New Snow tilted her head back and sang, too. 

Despite being terribly full, she made way toward the source of the song. Perhaps they could nap together.

He hears the voice of Masquerade, but he doesn’t have it in his heart to sing. The boy has adjusted to the second, now final, loss of their mother. A wound, buried deep, still bleeds though.

Dark paws carry him toward the sound of his sibling’s call. Another voice breaks nearby, New Snow. He sees the pale woman in the distance and croons a low note to announce himself. Meeting her stride, he embraces her with rub of his head along her shoulder and a nip of her whiskers.

She has always been there for him. For that, he expresses his gratitude.

They will walk together.