Redhawk Caldera it's a hard whump life for us

When she had left Drageda behind, Magpie had not expected to live much longer. Injuries, starvation, and hallucinogens were bleak enough within the safety of a pack— they were typically a death sentence for a wayfarer. Her memory of that time felt more like a dream, with flashes of images that her mind couldn't quite latch onto. But she remembered him, and how for a brief moment it seemed she would finally achieve what she dreamed of and longed for.

She blinked back tears, pushing forward despite the pain that lanced through her spine and haunches.

It turned out that he had simply used her, and did not care to stay and see what might have come of that night. Even as she began to feel stirrings within herself, Magpie clung to the hope that she could make it alone— at least long enough to find the nomadic Corvidae. But she had grown larger, and no closer to reaching any hint of them.

And so she had altered course to return to the only other home she had known. Her journey became more urgent, driven by an overwhelming sense of wrongness, though Magpie did her best to ignore it. She did not stop to think what her sister would do, to ponder how this could possibly be reconciled with the fiery woman's view of family— only that Fox had done this numerous times before, that she might be able to guide her. Magpie couldn't lose this, too.

Her gait faltered as another wave of pain rushed through her. Redhawk Caldera was in sight, only a few minutes more, but the Corvidae's rear legs went out from under her. Magpie crumpled to the earth, sides heaving, small tremors rippling throughout her body.

"No," she moaned, sobs wracking her breath. It was too early.

Perhaps she had blacked out from the pain, but it was over more quickly than she had expected. Her throat was raw, possibly from screams she did not remember making, and the scent of blood was thick in her nose. She felt nothing but a dull throbbing in her hips and groin, and a wetness beneath her haunches— nothing against her underside. And there was no sound other than her ragged breath and occasional sobs.

Magpie shifted, a hind paw meeting something solid and slick. A strangled cry of surprise and horror left her throat, and she shut her eyes as a wave of nausea overcame her. Without looking, she knew. Yet, still, she braved a glance after she had steadied her breath. She thought she would scream again, but instead the Corvidae felt her heart and mind go numb.

She scrambled slowly and awkwardly against the earth, striving weakly to put some distance between herself and the three dead things.

He was halfway through another mind-numbing patrol when a scream pierced the air, causing Peregrine to dig his toes into the earth, freeze and listen. He swiveled to look back the way he had come, squinting at a dark blob in the distance. Even as he tried to discern what he was looking at, the Alpha began to lope in that direction. When he saw that it was a wolf, he kicked into a higher gear, only to slow again somewhat when he recognized those markings. He was unmistakably looking at Fox's sister, Magpie, and it had been so long that Peregrine honestly couldn't remember how he felt about her.

And why on earth was she sleeping on his borders? And why had she screamed? Was she having a nightmare? Or maybe a fit? Was she sick? Crazy? A thousand questions flicked through his head as he warily closed the distance. By the time he came within a few yards of her, Magpie was stirring. She was breathing heavily and seemed a bit out of it. Then she abruptly cried out and scrambled away, revealing the answer to all of Peregrine's questions: three tiny wolf pups lay on the ground, fresh and dead as hell.

His jade eyes narrowed as he ascertained the situation. He felt a momentary empathy with Magpie for her loss—he knew well the agony of losing a baby—though his heart quickly hardened. She meant nothing to him, her pups even less. Without a sound, the Alpha prowled to stand over the three little corpses while keeping his dead-eyed gaze fixed on their bereft mother. He stared at her for a long beat, then slowly dropped his attention to the dead pups, a broad paw striking out to gently roll them onto their backs.

A few seconds later, he threw back his head and howled for @Fox.

Her gaze was locked upon the dead things, though her stare was blank. It was as if her mind had separated from her body, as if she were watching the memory of some other wolf play out— horrified, and yet powerless to change any of the events unfolding before her. It did not seem real; it felt like a nightmare, or faded memory. Magpie felt detached from both her emotions and her physical form. She was sobbing silently, and a throbbing pain continued to radiate in her traumatized body, but it seemed as if it were all happening to someone else below her.

In her silence and distant stare, cold logic prevailed.

This was often how first litters to young mothers went, and given the circumstances, it was the best possible outcome. They were premature. Had they survived birth, they would have died soon after— whether she were alone, or with her sister, it would not have mattered. She would have been unable to support them on her own, and she knew her sister's position on bastards. She should have taken action to prevent their birth as soon as she had known they would have no father, no pack to provide for and protect them.

Magpie's body wept, but she could find no grief for their loss.

If you had asked Fox what her last encounter with Magpie had been like, she would have stared blankly for a few seconds, shrugged, and said it was fine. The truth was, she had already forgotten all about it. It hadn't been a particularly momentous conversation on her side, and if she'd known that Magpie was going to get herself knocked up so soon after, maybe she would have beat it into her half-sister's head that doing so was a terrible idea without a stable support system to help out. Or at least she would have tried a little bit harder.

The Redhawk alpha wasn't far off when Peregrine called, having been watching the kids do kid things. Since his call had a sense of urgency, she let her legs take her as fast as they would go. When she arrived, her heart was pounding in her chest, her tongue dangling out her mouth, and her eyes (one good, one cloudy) bright from the run. The smell of blood was thick on the air, but it was no blood of prey.

Her eyes moved first to Peregrine, but she let her gaze linger there only for a moment before focusing on Magpie. Her half-sister looked a right mess, and it was obvious what had happened. She'd given birth right on their borders. Instinct took over, and Fox made no move to comfort her sister or explain herself. She walked up to the three lifeless bodies, sniffed, and crunched the first one between her jaws. This was the cruel way of nature. This was why bastards were not meant to be.

His mate arrived promptly and he watched her, wondering exactly how Fox would react to this shitshow. He half-expected her to take pity on her sister. Instead, she summarily ignored the ailing she-wolf and directed her attention to the pups. Peregrine backed up a step or two to give her room to investigate them, still observing her every move. When she grasped one of the corpses and began to consume it, his ears twitched with interest.

Perhaps it was sick to do this right in front of Magpie but she had just delivered a litter of dead and presumable bastards on their doorstep. What did she expect? The Alpha shot her a quick glance before bending down to latch onto the second pup. He backed up several more steps, giving himself and Fox both room to enjoy their snacks. The third was left to her too. It only seemed fair she should get dibs on eating her own nieces and nephews.

Peregrine made quick work of the small, tender body and then stood there, licking his lips, attention shifting between Fox and Magpie as he wondered what might happen next.

She winced as the pair descended upon the tiny corpses, but it was an autonomous response— she felt nothing as the wet crunching sounds interrupted the silence between them. Magpie shifted to her feet, slow to mitigate the pain of doing so, and limped toward the remaining child. Her lips peeled back in warning as she moved past Fox and Peregrine— the caldera was their kingdom, but these had been hers.

She paused in front of the remaining body, chartreuse eyes gazing at the cold, dark thing. Magpie expected to feel something— to imagine what it might have been like had the child survived, who it might have become. There was a small pang of guilt when there was nothing forthcoming, and the black-and-white female was quick to dismiss it. Guilt would not change the current circumstances.

Her head bowed over the tiny creature, and after another momentary pause, she took it into her jaws and bit down hard on the lifeless body. She was weakened after this; she needed the nourishment.

Had it been anybody else, Fox would have forbid her from eating the sweet morsel of her would-be child. Instead, Fox finished her own snack and watched as Magpie and Peregrine did the same. What was Magpie's plan for coming back here? Would Peregrine even allow it? Would Fox allow it? The matriarch was in no mood to start the discussion, figuring Magpie would explain herself sooner rather than later. Having lost two children of her own, Fox had no sorrow for the three that had been gone before they were truly alive. If anything, Magpie should have been grateful that she hadn't been allowed the chance to become attached to them.

Passing glances between Magpie and Peregrine, Fox remained silent, steady, and prepared for any number of actions her half-sister and/or mate might take.

When Magpie made a move toward the third and final corpse, the Alpha's hackles bristled and his lip lifted. But Fox didn't attempt to guard the baby food from her. He remained tense but quieted, eyes narrowed as he watched her devour her own offspring. As the sounds of meat being torn and swallowed filled the air, Peregrine thought back on his feelings toward her. He couldn't remember details that well, though he did know she'd left at least once, possibly two or more times.

The instant she polished off the last morsel, the Alpha male lunged toward her, snapping his jaws in a crystal clear attempt to drive her away from the caldera.

Feel free to powerplay a hit!

Her life had been a series of bad luck and even worse decisions— but this, of them all, seemed to be the worst of them yet. That had become abundantly clear the moment the stillborn pups had left her body, even more so as the shock began to wear off and as reality began to set in. Hindsight was 20/20, and Magpie could clearly see each terrible (but well-meaning) decision that had led her to this moment.

"I shouldn't'v—" she began to mumble, even as she swallowed the last bit of tender meat. But Peregrine was already charging her, and anything Magpie could say wouldn't be adequate in the least. Her body was sore and mangled, and she staggered in a pathetic attempt to dodge the attack. Shouldn't've what? There was a list somewhere of every choice she had ever made, and each had a red cross marking them as mistakes.

Perhaps Fox should have made a move to block her mate from chasing Magpie off, but she didn't. Instead, she simply watched him. Something had changed when Peter had died, and Fox hadn't been the same since. Fox licked her lips, her one good eye watching her half-sister get chased off by Peregrine. Briefly, she wondered if Magpie would resist his efforts, but something told Fox that Magpie was a little bit smarter than that. Then again, she had just shown up on their doorstep and given birth to stillborns... so maybe she wasn't that smart.

The Redhawk matriarch took a few steps backward, not wishing to interfere with their scuffle (should there be one). It was easy to let Peregrine make this decision for her rather than try and come up with some reason to let Magpie stay with them again.

He didn't aim to kill or even land a hit. He just wanted to scare her into running. She didn't quite do that; instead, she staggered. But she was moving away, which was what mattered. Ignoring the smell of blood and her generally battered state, Peregrine growled, "Keep moving." He thrust his swarthy muzzle toward her, urging her to get lost.

When he was satisfied with her distance, Peregrine stopped and peered back at Fox, meeting eyes from a distance. He then faced forward, feet planted firmly, intending to stand there until his sister-in-law was gone from view.

Magpie exit. Thanks, lovelies!!

Her chartreuse were pained as her head turned to look at her sister, but the coldness that greeted her told the woman all she needed to know. Peregrine's approval had never meant much to her, and Fox seemed to have endless patience for family— except, well, it had evidently dried up. Even Magpie could not blame her, but it hurt nonetheless to watch her last ties to... anything, really, snap from the long wear of tension she had put upon them. Although she wouldn't have put it past him, it seemed the caldera's patriarch did not wish to harm her, his teeth clicking shut near her haunch but making no contact.

Magpie's lips peeled as he moved towards her again— Alright, alright, I'm going— for her body was not cooperative so soon after the failed birth. Anger took over as she limped, and her pained expression was replaced with one of determination. When she swung her head away from the pair, a last biting look directed at Fox, she knew this would be the last time she saw them. Family was more important than anything and it was clear they viewed her as such no longer.

So be it.

Her progress was slow, but she would not deign to pause. She would keep the dignity she had remaining, and she would not give them the satisfaction of a chase. If either moved toward her, to urge her on, she would ignore them and keep her head high and pace steady.

One day, they would need her— Magpie vowed this to herself, to fuel her determination— and when that day came, she would watch coldly as they suffered.

"She shouldn't have come here," Fox said once Magpie was out of sight. She was, of course, stating the obvious. Magpie had no place here, and although Fox found it unfortunate that her sister had gone and made one mistake after another, she knew she couldn't keep making excuses for her. Magpie was old enough to know better, and she'd have to fend for herself from now on. Family had never been solely about blood for Fox, and Magpie had failed to prove herself as a worthy member of the Redhawk clan.

"Thank you for... doing that. Chasing her off, I mean." It felt like a rare thing when Fox licked the side of Peregrine's muzzle, the taste of fresh, young blood still there. Life had not been easy for the reigning pair on the caldera, but hopefully the cooler weather would bring them better luck. She pressed the top of her head into his neck, then nudged him back toward their home.