Swiftcurrent Creek Nile

The autumnal season had settled in: the air cooler, the leaves brittler, the nights lonelier. River saw it was high time to socialize her children, introduce them to a life among many others. Provide them with pack hunts, friendly competitions, and camaraderie. The only things she missed about home in the Grove.

These days she thought often of her own mother, her brothers, and wondered how they fared.

As much as she had become an isolationist, she knew it was vital that the pups experience pack life, so that they might make an informed decision when it came time to walk their own paths.

Like little soldiers they followed single file, wary of corporal punishment should they break rank, yet no less spirited for the journey. @Jet helmed his siblings, with @Harrier, @Creek, and @Campaign, respectively, bringing up the rear. They could barely contain their excitement as they tittered amongst each other and peered about with round eyes glossy from being held open every second possible.

The skies were cloudy without gloom and the wind softened to a tease; a glorious day to meet their first pack.

River had chosen to take them to the borders nearest to their former den, not only because of its proximity, but because it was encircled with not one but two achingly familiar scents. This same coincidence might have turned her away from this pack had she not seen double the opportunity for acceptance. After all, she couldn’t imagine many packs would be willing to take in five new mouths – four of which being unable provide for themselves.

But if one or two of the members here assumed they were the father…

She howled for an audience.

And while in wait, she educated the broodlings on their first border. Get a good sniff, bums. Remember to never cross a line like this without permission. If I ever hear you’ve done so, I’ll turn you into bug juice faster than you can say sorry.

The four protested in a chorus of ewwwwws and yucks!

Exactly. Now pipe down and start using those noses. The wind’s in our favor. Tell me if you can smell anyone.

An audience requested—an audience given. Akavir when rounding the borders hadn’t expected to come upon a mother and her four pups—and a certain dread pulled at him as he closed the distance between the two—tail flagging out, gaze sharp upon them as he was about to shut down any potential of four more mouths to feed this close to winter…

But the warm pelt of brown and cream gave way to a pair of striking silver eyes—and if memory served proper from that brief interlude, a very smart mouth.

“Ah,” he uttered quietly, pale eyes just as quick to skip over her and to study the four cubs at her side. This had the potential to be awkward…

This had the potential to be very, very awkward. An ear flickered once—his eyes rounding back up to her, the faintest twitch at the corner of his jaw the only giveaway he even noticed in particular the darker child among them. “Akavir of Swiftcurrent Creek,” he rumbled then, a wolfish brow arching as he waited for the reason of a rogue wolf summoning them.

“I can smell someone.”

“I smell someone, too!”

“I see someone!”

Settle down. And sit, don’t slouch. The large pups made for an anxious little army, jostling for a position, squirming in their seats. But they understood when it was time to be serious; their mother had that look about her. Keep quiet until you’re spoken to.

River kept her posture humble, squinting at the dark figure who approached. His panther stride was familiar, and those champagne eyes were a dead giveaway. She followed his gaze and withheld a conscious smirk as he beheld her brood, but the pride she felt in merely glancing their precious crowns, all in a line, could not be dressed down.

Akavir of Swiftcurrent.

Introductions had been the last thing on their minds at their first encounter.

River Sandraudiga. She bowed her head. I hoped to introduce my children to the nearest pack. See if any were open to accept eager minds, and mouths, into their ranks. Hopeful, but not desperate.

As much as she wanted to gloat and imply his relationship to her children, the huntress had more tact than that. She allowed room for his denial, or refusal to accept that these children had anything to do with him. She remained silent in the event there were prying ears listening for things he wished to keep unheard. Though her gaze harbored knowing, her expression remained dignified.

She began to gesture languidly to the young ones. This is Consequence, Ramification, Repercussion, and Fallout.

“I’m not Ram’fication! I’m Jet!”

The other three began to rattle in protest.

Apologies. I meant this is Campaign, Jet, Creek, and Harrier.

So far Burdock had had a very good day. He had eaten, he had beaten @Violet in a game of fetch (in his own words - he had let her win, because she had had an unfair advantage of having longer legs), he had followed his father around, showering him in questions after questions, until he had been sent away to find mom. Who instead had been in the mood to entertain the demanding kid with stories. Here lies an explanation, what happened next.

You see, Burdock had by now outgrown the stage of pink and fluffy stories, where everything went well and moral. No. With every permanent tooth he got, the new predator to be grew thirsty for the real stories. The scarier they were (and if there was a bloodshed - even better), the better. And is there any greater tales to entertain little monsters than those of long fought wars? By the time he was out and about romping through the forest, he had forgotten the exact storyline of, what he had heard, rather he was reimagining and playing out particular scenes in is mind, where he was the mighty warrior, who - well beat all kinds of bad things: dragons (sticks), cursed plants (here some blueberry bushes felt the wrath of Burdock's claws and incomplete teethage), witches (that would have to wait - but he knew that his sisters were of the witch kind) and - well - others.

So, when he spotted Akavir and then the little company he was entertaining, Burdock wasted no time, bounded towards the gathering, gave a superficial look at the newcomers, then looked up at the leader and asked excitedly: "Are these going to be our slaves?" The boundless energy and enthusiasm in his voice probably gave an impression that slave-keeping was something Swiftcurrent creek practiced regularly. "Can I have the one with eyes like toad's?" he asked, pointing to the pup with golden eyes and, if you knew, what a beautiful colour the toad eyes had, you would understand that this was not an insult. 

Oh—she was certainly not one to be forgotten, and his jaw became a little more slack as she carried on with introductions. Not just a mouthful of a last name—Sandraudiga, interesting—but an onset of rather smarmy names given to four bundles of absolute indignation as they argued what their actual names.

Consequence. Ramification. Repercussion. Fallout.

The last one was certainly the heaviest. And potentially the most likely to become true.

“What compelling names,” he remarked wryly, gaze shifting over them once more. They could be…

They might not be, though? Were they…?

“I see you’re missing Guillotine.”

Before he could make much more than that—Burdock—perhaps one of their most mischievous this year—came jauntily up, and the Mayfair partially expected a demand of introductions so he can begin to play with the guests who had perhaps shattered Akavir’s current relative life.

'Are these going to be our slaves?' Wait…What? 'Can I have the one with eyes like toad's?'

He certainly hadn’t expected any of that out of his little mouth—and his jaw slackened even more, though a curl of amusement pressed at his lips as he rounded his gaze back to the four pups. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he offered with a sweep of a paw. “May I introduce you to the welcome wagon.”

What the hell was even happening here…

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Language

River snorted, prepared to make some morbid allusion to Guillotine and their twin, Executioner, but the banter was cut woefully short by the appearance of a dark boy, roughly (read: exactly) the same age as her own children. The child had a strange white ring encircling an eye and, apparently, quite the mouth.

River sighed as the comments set off her children, each bristling with varying degrees of affront. All except for sweet Creek, who just kind of snickered quietly to himself. Jet was the only one to retaliate verbally, however, while the others minded their mother’s sidelong glare.

“I’m not no slave!” The “toad-eyed” boy crowed.

Then, a lean in and a quiet, “pssst, Hare, real quick, what’s a slave?”

“It means ‘servant,’” the girl stage-whispered back, reigniting Jet’s righteous fury.

“HWAT?! I’ll show you a fuckin’ sla—”

River’s ominous growling cut him off. Not now.

All four littermates fell deathly still for a moment.

Having been brought up as loners their entire lives so far, her children had been raised much stricter than most pack-born wolves, and they knew better than to disobey because their lives were more at risk. (This, of course, made them ripe for rebellion these days – but they still knew better than to do so in front of River.)

Later, she would explain to them the precariousness of being a loner near packlands, how they could not afford to be injured without their own pack to support them, and that they weren’t in any position to take offense to whatever “welcome wagon” was wheeled out.

Though sufficiently curbed, Jet’s spine continued to ripple disdainfully, and he glared daggers across the way, muttering to himself: “I’m gonna pee right on that stupid eye circle one day, just watch.”

Expelling her annoyance in a breath forced through her nose, the huntress waved her tail. As you can see, we’re in need of some socialization. I’d like for them to not be completely feral, if I can help it.

Viinturuth abandoned his hunt to respond to a summons from nearby, and upon his arrival he found that he hadn't been the only one. He first noted Akavir's sterling shoulders then, when he lifted his dark eyes, recognised the silver eyes of a tawny-pelted wolfess.

Young wolves lingered close to her, gangly things with oversized ears and loud mouths.

His belly flopped, but his stride did not falter. Viinturuth glanced among them, all four of them, and inhaled deep. They're mine, he mused, and anxiety threatened to mount; had she come in search of him, and what had she shared with his brother?

He lingered at Akavir's flank, a pale and silent shadow.

Burdock could see that he had insulted Toad-eye, who was less than pleased to being classified as a servant to a puppy his age and also smaller than him. In return the boy offered him a victorious grin and winked at him mischievously, as if saying - you do not even know, what is awaiting you here! Instinctively he knew that once the four vagrants were out of their mother's sight, he would be outnumbered and would have to repent his bold claims. He would need a back-up and some strategic planning with his siblings. Adults may have other views, but hierarchy had to be settled between the kids, so that everyone knew, who was who and what was allowed. 

However, judging from the very innocent and childish look he offered first to Akavir, then to Viinturuth, everyone would see a smiling village idiot not a Napoleon Bonaparte-to-be in disguise. He wagged his tail excitedly, when he turned to face the lady, who was the mom of the children. "Are you here to marry Akavir?" he asked her, looking from one to the other expectantly. 

A ruckus and wave of indignation—and Burdock barely batted an eyelash after causing it. River spoke of hoping to raise non-feral children—Viinturuth flanked him…

… and then Burdock started the interview process, politely inquiring about her intentions with the pack. Or it’s Alpha.

Stunned for a moment—his eyes gave a sarcastic but suspicious look to River, as if that must have been her true plan—before casting a sideways glance to Burdock. “Why, Burdock? You think I have a chance?”

The banter was far easier than the heart of the matter—and that was… the unanswered question of what her intentions actually were. Grimly, he cast an eye on his brother—jokes aside—before studying the sharp-tongued mother. “I assume you’re looking for a place…” He paused, looking over the four once more. “We have eight other young mouths to feed, though. It’s not exactly something I can present easily to you.”

As the rabble from the peanut gallery beside her died down, a specter materialized, just as achingly familiar as the shadow. And now that they stood side-by-side… their features were remarkably… similar…

The flitting of her eyes between them could be misconstrued as a loner concerned about being outnumbered, but we all know that’s not what was on her mind.

Moonlight and Shadow.

She nearly missed the young bandit’s words in all her unbidden reminiscing.

Sorry, kid. I’m not the marrying type. Wasn’t once enough?

The mention of eight young mouths to feed was not a huge surprise to River, who smiled ruefully. I see. Seemed the pair of them had gotten quite busy, both here and afield. Her eyes tried to determine which one the boy belonged to.

But none of that mattered. Her own children were growing more independent by the day. A pack large enough to feed eight non-contributors meant just as many pairs of eyes looking out for her children. Yet, despite the benefits, River was not near desperate enough to insist or beg. Even if she was raising their children, too. I just need a place they can get acquainted with other wolves. Maybe a place to leave them where I know they’ll be safe while I hunt. I’m not looking to be taken care of.

She swallowed the feelings of an impending rejection. If you have a recommendation for where else I might socialize them, I’ll take it. Gratefully.