Redtail Rise Altay

That same fox came back, sneaking into the territory this time and thieving a rat from the cache closest to the border. Masquerade discovered the theft and tracked the sly creature across the borderline in the direction of the marsh. There they found the vixen snacking on the last few scraps of her stolen snack.

Caught by surprise, she tried to dash away but Masque lunged in for the kill. Fool me once, they thought as they bore down on that slim orange body, pinning it to the cold earth. Their teeth found their target and the rise had one less trickster to worry about.

The Caru gave in to a sudden, instinctive compulsion and dropped to roll all over their kill. When they found their feet again, both Masque and the dead fox were smeared with blood. Their long tail lashed upward as they snatched the carcass off the ground and tossed it in the air, then leaped up to catch it.

Eyes bright, Masquerade loped back to the rise with their prize.

Masquerade came to Riley with a bouquet of blood flowering their pelt. In their jaws hung the loose form of a fox.

Riley apprised the creature, and then the Caru. There was a sparkle to their gaze he had not seen in some weeks -- but truth be told, his own presence in the Rise had been scarce as tension boiled over and settled anew.

He lowered his head, a low wag of his tail given in greeting.

When they caught sight of Riley, their eyes danced. Without warning, they galloped toward him, only to dig their heels into the cool grass and come to an abrupt halt. They dipped halfway into a bow, only to straighten up again and snap their head in his direction, loosing the fox’s still-warm body.

Coming in hot! they yelled as soon as it left their mouth, the threat punctuated with a light bark of laughter.

Riley was not a man of quick wit. While clever in his own way, his synapses fired of their own accord — often rerouting in inexplicable ways in his head.

Masque had warned him, but Riley did not react in time. The result was a belated flinch, a turtling of his head into his neck, eyes squinting and lips parted in the mildest expression of shock before —

The fox struck, sliding from his face to the ground.

Riley stared at it for a beat, as if wondering where it had come from. A few cogs whirred, a spark of play coming alight. He seized it and flung it back to his comrade, no such warning given for the imp who’d literally put the fox in his court.

The carcass made impact with Riley’s face. Masque’s lips formed a moue, surprised by their own precision, right before they let out an ungainly snort. They were still laughing, louder now, when Riley plucked up the limp body and flung it back toward them. They dodged it with another snort, eyes dancing as they planted their feet and looked to the Ulfr.

They saw a smear of blood on the corner of his jaw, trailing toward his neck. The Caru mulled for a moment, then paced closer. Masque paused about a yard from him, still gazing at the patch of sticky fur. Their eyes then raised to catch his.

You got a lil’ something, they said lightly, moving slowly as they pressed their nose against his neck, here. Let me, they muttered.

They peeled their lips back from their teeth a little, then gingerly combed through his fur with their incisors. They removed the blood, cold and gummy where it clumped the individual furs, then smoothed it again with their tongue. Masquerade completed their task thoroughly before stepping back.

Raising pups gives you the strangest skill sets, they remarked with a laugh, thinking of all the times they’d cleaned messy little faces. What should we do with it? the Caru said in the next breath.

Their eyes dropped to the vixen’s body. They could eat it, of course, or cache it. But that fur was so lovely and soft, Masquerade wondered if they could remove it somehow. Wouldn’t it be nice to sleep on that instead of the cold, hard ground this winter?

Masque was so much faster than Riley -- so much more agile, so much more --

well, everything.

His breath hiked in his throat as Masque stepped close. He could feel the heat of their breath on his throat -- a sussuration of warmth that stirred every blade of fur along his neck.

Close.

Masque's teeth made their way over the thin membrane of his pulsing throat.

He stiffened. It was at that moment that a new sensation wormed its way into his heart, settling somewhere in the tightly packed spaces of his ribs.

When Masque stepped away Riley's eyes were glazed. It took several seconds for them to snap back to the crimson framing their face. What? Oh. Children. Masque had been caretaker for many. Maybe give it to them? While the fox's fur held no beauty for Riley, he could see the practical use of gifting it to someone like Carrion. Maybe she could sleep with that, instead.

He suggested they give it to “them” and when they realized Riley meant the pups, Masque’s nose wrinkled. They smiled. They liked that his first instinct was to give it away to the pack’s young.

They’d probably just get it dirty, if not outright destroy it, they argued, with all the fondness in the world. Can’t we skin it and keep that for ourselves, then give them the meat? they asked lightly, the smile still playing about their mouth.

They tried to catch his eye and only now noticed the sort of faraway look on his face. Masque’s head canted slightly to one side as they studied his expression. It reminded them of all the times they’d wandered off in their thoughts in Riley’s presence, a realization which earned a soft snort.

Earth to Riley, they joshed. Is there something on your mind? Without giving him a chance to answer, they playfully narrowed their eyes, took a step closer to him again and declared sagely, There is.

Riley's skin still tingled with the ghost-sensation of Masque's touch. There was a warmth beneath his pelt that flushed his face and chest.

He wanted to hold that feeling forever.

His attention snapped back to the fox pelt. Masque could have argued it would poison them, and he would agree out of sheer principle of being agreeable. Why he felt the need to be so amenable in their presence mystified him - for a moment, he remembered Esme and the feelings she'd inspired in him too. Okay, give them the meat.

His cheeks blushed as Masque turned to him, pressing close to his face. The brightness of their narrowed gaze beheld him in full, causing his heart to hammer. He blinked as he carefully rubbed his neck where Masque had groomed his fur. You touched me. His tone was that of a boy mystified and in awe.

They didn’t expect his naked honesty, nor the tone of his voice. Masquerade wasn’t oblivious. They sensed an implication in Riley’s words, even if he himself wasn’t aware of it. Judging by the look of wonder in his eye, he probably wasn’t. And maybe Masque was wrong, though their stomach still dipped.

So? they said, shoving at his shoulder. There, I touched you again, and it was no big deal.

They looked down at the dead fox smeared in blood, an idea striking them like a bolt of lightning. Masquerade swallowed and looked up at Riley sharply, a calculating expression now on their ruddy face.

I have a better idea for this. I think you should take it to Redd. Have you ever thought about courting her? She’ll be of age this spring…

Masque reached for him again, this time brushing his shoulder with a coltish push. The gesture was far less intimate, and a little of the moment died in Riley then as he realized that maybe Masque had meant nothing by it.

All the same, he would not forget the sensation so soon. He looked down to the fox in the snow. Its fur was a bright flame against a white backdrop. Beautiful, even -- if one appreciated such things.

His throat knotted as the conversation turned to something else. Riley had never considered Redd, at least not in that way. He was a wolf of linear thinking and linear desires -- in some ways, it made him a plain man. While the world was moved by men of ambition, it was the plain men and their quiet lives that built the world. Their strong hands, somber smiles, and unwavering dedication found packs and dynasties, and at time, carried on their backs the thrones of kings.

I don't know. I don't -- So many things he wanted to say that died on his tongue. I don't know her like that. After all, it wasn't Redd that brought him into the fold of Redtail Rise when he had been a limping loner with nothing to offer.

It had been Masque.

Well, they countered without missing a beat, hooking a paw beneath the dead vixen and then pressing it toward him, take this and get to know her.

Their eyes studied his face, wondering if they were reading it right. Should they tell him? It felt strangely presumptuous. But it made them think: what did Riley want? The only thing Masque knew about him was that he apparently didn’t like to share.

Is that something you want? A mate, a family? I just assumed, but you know what they say…

With the fox thrust to him, there was little use in arguing. Riley thumbed the soft blades of fur absently.

Prompted to think beyond the present, Riley examined the question asked of him. He wanted stability. Peace. His longings were not necessarily for children, but for a sense of belonging. Haven’t given it much thought. A half-truth meant to protect himself from playing the fool. He stiffened, gaze panning to the rich vermillion that framed Masquerade’s face.

What about you? His voice dared not betray the tiniest ounce of hope he felt.

If he hadn’t thought about it before, he would now. This wasn’t even the first time they’d raised his awareness on the topic, Masquerade remembered with a little twitch of their lips.

His query gave them the perfect opportunity to explain their stance, though they hesitated. Masque’s asexuality wasn’t a secret, per se, but it wasn’t something they discussed openly. They’d really only talked about it with Mulherin. Riley was their friend but he wasn’t a confidante like their brother.

Thinking about the look on his face a moment ago, Masque said gently but firmly, I don’t think it’s for me. But my sister, on the other hand… Masque laughed, then held up their paws. You should think about it. That’s all I’m saying.

But they didn’t want to push him or make Riley uncomfortable, so Masque decided to change the subject. Rather, they ended the conversation by suddenly diving forward and snatching the fox again, hoisting it high as they pranced just out of reach.

In the silence between Riley’s question and Masque’s answer, it was like a guillotine raised. Her response was the lever pulling it all downwards.

It was his fault for breathing life into something she didn’t want for herself. He’d hitched his cart to the wrong horse. While not stupid, he could be slow — but now it made sense on why twice now, she’d directed him to other women.

He hid the frown that threatened to break his composure. Thankfully, there was no need to limp to an answer — Masquerade was already moving, the fox seized in her jaws in play.

Grateful for the distraction, though fully aware of what she was doing, Riley thudded after her with a yap. Hey! No take backs.

They swung the carcass out of reach when he advanced, giving it a teasing shake. Then Masquerade repeated their earlier move, tossing it at Riley’s face. He would probably expect it this time, maybe even catch it properly.

I would never steal from my siblings, they quipped with a Cheshire grin, tail waving. Come on, we have to get her out of her coat. We’re going to have to be very careful if we don’t want to tear it. And I guess we should probably wash it too…

The vixen’s fur was matted with blood and a bit of dirt too, after being tossed around like a toy. Masque smiled through a sigh, then motioned for Riley to follow as they began trotting toward one of the rise’s streams. After they separated the fur from the flesh, Masque would help Riley clean the former for delivery to Redd, then take the latter to the pups.

Fade here? :)