Bearclaw Valley open up your skull, i'll be there

something in athalia had shifted.
in the days following ashkova's return, she could not stop herself from questioning — why. why. why. he had left. he had left. he had left. he was as good to her as dead, and yet he had the gall to assume she would ever want anything to do with him again. just like mother. mother who came and went, sometimes multiple times a day, and other times she did not see her for weeks. why? why? why? where did she go when she was gone? why did it not feel like she was really — here?
with ancelin and ameline busy, athalia was left now to her own thoughts, and think she did. she spent most of her afternoons pacing in pointless circles to the point there was now a divot in the reeds just beyond the stretch of path leading to the whelping den. when she was not pacing, she was motionless, sprawled on her side or on her belly, watching the birds. the birds. the birds. they had finally, finally, finally come back to her. her birds.
athalia felt like a jumbled puddle of goop, disjointed, discombobulated, disoriented. her thoughts traveled around her brain at lightning speed, going going going going going going until they would sometimes stop completely as if she had not been thinking at all, as if she were lifeless, as if
they were not her own
the thoughts, the thoughts, they had been ripped right from her head, stolen, squeezed from her like pulp from a fruit
but who and why and who and why and who and why and
ashkova ashkova mom ashkova mother mother ash ash ash mother mother it was her wasn't it she was stealing them she had sent ashkova here she knew where she was she was coming coming coming coming coming
she needed — to hide. yes, hide, yes yes, go away away away and so that was what she did, the bruingirl, dragging herself out out out into the hidden reaches of the valley near the rotten remains of what was once an altar for a god she did not know. she did not eat. did not sleep. could not. would not. could not.
here she would have to stay.

oh she was good at this, she was sooooo good at this.

gun dragged what was left of a wolverine away from the deep reaches of the valley, obtained from the half-buried cache she'd found as she - heart drumming thunder-loud in her ears - snuck deeper into it, having staked out the large entrance for a day beforepaw to find an opening.

the most intelligent part of her heist.

making huffing and snarling noises as she walked ass-first with the "catch" in her jaws, was the least.

gun didn't realize her behind had come upon a sacred clearing, much less a currently occupied one, busy with pulling, blood pumping with excitement - the fear of discovery replaced by elation of a premature victory.

hi yes she is trespassing :) if things come to violence, i accept anything besides death :3

being greeted by a plump orange ass while in the midst of a psychotic break was not something athalia could have ever even dreamed of experiencing, and yet here she was.
having spent the last hour and a half or so sitting and gibbering to herself in between dry heaves, she was not exactly the most sharp in the mind at the current moment, and so it took her a good few seconds to even recognize that there was something next to her. when she did, however;
@Ancelin! @Ameline! banshee screeching, unholy expletives flown from betwixt her lips in a garbled salad she herself did not understand. she thrashes, swinging her limbs, and her jaw flies open, teeth lashing down upon the strangely fleshy creature like a hatchet.

sleeplessness, anxiety, protectiveness, and rage confirmed themselves within ancelin. with single-minded intent he tore from the denfront, smoothly running along the paths he had memorized, the trails he and athalia knew.
thief.
interloper.
threat.
the juggernaut that was ancelin did not stop; in a boil of pine needles and sap-twisted fur, and tangled pelt, and sheer furious madness in his eyes, he slammed into the nearest side of the creature and bit hard into the wrinkles of skin that hung its body.

like a fired glock, the bulky female lurched in place at the slasher screech coming from behind her. 

whipping her head around with all its skin and drool, wolverine still gripped tight in her teeth, she was greeted with the trashing advance of a young wolf - coming at her with the sort of motion and expression that made her sluggish brain fire off rabies!

but the body was quicker. teeth occupied, gun replied to the attack by lowering her head, letting the wolf's face crash into the broadness of her skull. there wasn't much on her own side to be shaken. gun let the wolverine drop and gaped her maws to close around the perfectly-legally-and-morally-justified assaulter--

when something big and heavy crashed into her side, tipping the dog's low center of balance and sending them both rolling on the ground, gun herself briefly turtled on her back, exposing ample bite targets.

she kicked her hindlegs to throw off the new attacker.

cameo :)

 
”You can be a printheth, and you can be a printheth, and you can be a printheth and-“ she hovered with her muzzle over Athella’s head; while she intended to assure each of her squirming children that they were all royalty In a very Oprah-like fashion, she froze when Athalia sounded the alarm, calling out for both of her parents with fear in her voice. Ameline rose and went to the den’s mouth, gazing out into the open with eyes narrowed by worry and growing anger. She could not leave the children- she would have to trust that her eldest would be put to the test, and then pass it. 

She would do what she could for her, though; and so she howled for @Annorak and @Athens with a summons; Go to Athalia! Prove yourselves! 

After all, if someone had slipped past a sentry, they would likely be eager to make up for the mishap. Questions would be asked but for now, her responsibility was keeping her four youngest daughters warm, safe and fed. 

She returned to them, and settled back down. To Athella, she spoke next. ”And [i]you [/i]can be a printheth too.”[/i]

from his perch where he watched the valley, he was stunned to hear such a pleading call from ameline.

go to athalia.

though confused, he did not disobey. 

racing toward the scene, he threw himself into the fray with a snarl. 

when legs belonging to the unwanted creature flew outward to kick, annorak took the opportunity and lunged for the hip, tasting tangy blood when his teeth sank into the meaty flesh.

they were caught on their back. and with his persistent pulling and tugging, he did what he could to keep them there.

above all else, athalia was, by most definitions, a wild animal. and she certainly felt like one now, using all the force in her lithe body to hold down this — wretched creature who had literally crawled from the woodworks, tearing haplessly at cinnamon-hued wrinkles and hunks of nothing but skin. it felt as if she couldn't even make a dent in this fucking thing.
which very well could have also been because of the relative lack of control she held over herself. a marionette held up by unknown strings, driven only by the wolven instinct to protect what was hers; her thrashing is immature but fiery, and soon enough she has the creature on its back.
ancelin and annorak were soon to arrive at her shrill warning call, and as they made their leap, athalia made room for the rejoinder. tail tucked between her thighs and teeth flashed in a wild scarlet snarl, she retreats in order to circle 'round the interloper, huffing and grumbling with hideous sounds that ricochet off of the evergreen.

was like facing off against a mad alley cat, the way the skinny one went at her again and again, gun meeting teeth with as broad a cut of her meat as needed to prevent a proper bite. still, the nicks, the nibbles, the combat hickeys piled up and the bitch was now dotted with growing red spots. the goddamn bubonic plague on her pelt.

when she was forced onto her back, one dark head got past gun's kicking hindleg, and she felt a full mouth stab into her thigh, the attacker pining her down with a part of his weight.

shit shit shit, she knew the maneuver would be followed up by a snipe at the throat, and the mastiff twisted best she could to protect the underside of the neck, not hoping for the repeat miracle of her chain blocking the strike.

twin said in discord there ain't a postin order from here on out, so imma try and respond quick as i can!! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

ancelin scarcely registered annorak, only that a heavy pair of jaws were suddenly at his disposal, and at that of bearclaw. 
his senses did track athalia; when she retreated and moved to flank, ancelin did not snap for throat but the exposed hard shoulder, wanting to bite until something gave beneath his teeth.
downed as she was, the wild young rex felt assured of their position as winners here, and used his weight to hold her, claws adding their own insult.

she trashed even though that only made the teeth and claws dig in deeper, ruin her further, but fuck was she not down to die over a stolen carcass.

let 'e go! gun borfed through spit and saggy lips, chain clicking with her fierce motions. i didn't hhacking hhean it!

in that moment, she felt such a vicious hatred for the white-coated cunt who'd ruined her face and speech, that it - and maybe the pain and the panic - made her eyes wetten and her voice crack.

HHLEASHE, i'll go!