Redtail Rise cordovan

Just in the interest of keeping things moving <3 if any assumptions need updated, let me know!

Her way back to the Rise was slow.  Riley's claws had gouged runnels into her sides and stomach as he'd struggled to get free, and his teeth had taken root in a few places near her throat.  Fortunately her own will to survive had won, though she felt little joy in the victory.  She had not known Riley, but still he had been kin.  It was only fortunate he had not also been pack.

@Mulherin had given pursuit.  Wealda had wished to join him, but there was one who remained.  And so instead she ushered her newfound shadow @Ruckus towards the Rise.  She would carry him if he began to fall behind.

They were a strong child.  She did not even think to consider it strange, how willingly they followed the one who had slain their father.  For the same reason she had not hesitated to do the slaying in the first place.  Her only thought was to protect. 

She did not enter far before slowing, then lingering on the fringes of the territory.  She had been near sickness; she could not carry it into their midst.  Wealda sank to her haunches, then turned to once more to inspect her sister's son.  It was strange to see that familiar mask on something so small.

In the end, Moon Runner heeded Father and decided to hold down the fort at the Rise. She had been entrusted as Trēow and had a promise to fulfill. Yet she waited, ready to receive Wealda and Berserker when they returned. However, the young wolf never expected their alpha to appear in such a state.

Moon Runner could smell blood before she laid eyes on them. Her leader was in bad shape. Fresh wounds glimmered with wetness and her gait was lame. But there – with her! A young infant… maybe a month old.

Moon Runner was shocked… and this was displayed when the white fur of her body stood on end as if she had touched a plasma ball. Even she, a feral woman, could put the pieces of the puzzle together. This was the get of the breeding pair of Nova Peak… and its parents… Blood Spot and Rolling Thunder…

A great tragedy has happened, Moon Runner’s spirit instinctively knew. But how?Why?

Animals don't ask questions. They don't wonder. And so Moon Runner could only accept the outcome.

Her furs smoothed. She approached the pair with a soft and gentle posture. Her tail wagged low, as if asking Wealda for permission to come close. She wished to inspect the child and her leader’s injuries.

something had happened.
the dawn boy knew not what specifically was wrong, and even if someone tried to explain it to him, it would have gone over his innocent head. all he knew was that the stench of blood and sickness was thick and pungent, and that it made him feel nauseated. he trundles after moon runner with the same sense of determination, pale eyes shrouded in a cloud of darkness that such a young child should never wear.
but he is child no more.
especially not as he lays his eyes upon the grungy infant which came in tow with wealda — and when he notices that the godawful smell is coming from her.
guard hairs bristled; where moon runner halts herself, the dawn boy drops to his knees and crawls closer, tail hooked between his hind limbs. his tongue flicks out from between his lips as he emits a low whine, eye contact with his leader unbreaking.
what have you brought home?

mountain boulder's jaws closed around the boy as he approached blood star. there was no chastisement in him, only the answer of instinct.

the pup should not have been so far. he had followed his own internal voice, wolf rejoining to wolf. moon runner's soft tone elicited that of ulfhedinn.

but wealda had remained here for a reason. he could smell it, the hanging illness, the blood. 

nudging his son back, not yet forbidding the boy the scene unless tuesday pressed, the huntlead turned back to the grave wounds in the hide of their leader, the child that he recognized at once as belonging to thorn caller. 

his own chuff was for blood star. the pack would rally here unless she bid them go, and he was experienced enough to know that the illness was passed through fangs.

but how long until it took wealda? his eyes held an uncommon pain as he waited for her to direct them in this.

Ruckus glued themself to Redd's side. The reason for which was unknown even to them, but they felt a strong sense of attachment to the woman. Redd stopped, and Ruckus stopped with her, still-blue eyes curious as to why they stopped. Ever since Riley had gone lifeless, the two had moved.

Three(!) others approached, and Ruckus looked at them as much as they could through their blurry lenses. They were lighter in color, not dark like all the wolves they had known up to this point. They seemed to know Redd, though they did not talk. Ruckus thought this odd. Dead! Bur'd! they chirped, those being two of the few words they knew well.

She did not know enough to fear for herself.  The instincts that kept her away went no further, and despite seeing their affliction, Wealda did not know the cause.  Her only worry was the discomfort in the wounds and the knowledge of Mulherin’s pursuit.  The Berserker was without the pack.

She allowed Moon Shadow to approach without question, but emitted a soft warning growl when a younger one came forward too.  Ruckus was now pack, claimed by her, but this did not mean caution could be lost.  They would learn to treat those unfamiliar with care.

Fortunately Ulfhedinn arrived.  Wealda relaxed as he collected Tuesdays Dawn and kept them back.  

Her ears twisted at the words, but they held no context for her.  The child spoke of their parents maybe.  Dead, she confirmed, her voice quiet and roughened by exhaustion.  Pack is here, now.  She hoped this was understood.  To have him wander would risk losing him to those who stole his siblings.  Yet this was his own choice to make; a pack was chosen, not forced.