Bearclaw Valley and we'd break under the weight of any pressure that was ever applied
i will pry his bony fingers free
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#1
trotting along the worn groove that lead to the rendezvous, indra thought she spied @Marten's form just outside the site's clearing. nosing along the brush slowly, the redleaf approached him quietly, her ears cupped and an almost chipper (for indra, anyway) expression on her face. the temperate summer weather, reclining now into an agreeable autumn, agreed with indra -- and she found herself in a favorable mood more often than not.

nudging a big frond of fern out of her way, she came across marten and extended the same gentle nudge to his hip; "what are you doing?" she asked curiously, no accusation or coldness in her voice.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
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#2
whoa! babies are so old by now <3

ah! what was marten doing? good question, but not one that needed to wait for an answer.

the pale boy turned his head quickly, too quickly, perhaps, as he was surprised by his mother's approach(since he was far more focused on the task at hand). from his mouth flung a live toad, which had been held gently in his jaws. it flew from his mouth, smacking indra in the face before giving a gentle plop on the ground. "rupert!!" exclaimed poor little marten, who scrambled after the creature frantically. if indra looked past him, she would've spied a little assortment of rocks and leaves and sticks and divots dug into the soft earth. 

the toad had landed on it's back, unable to escape, so marten had scooped him back up. and then, once the 'chaos' had calmed, marten looked to his mom shyly, ears flat. "oops... 'um 'orry ah," he tried through a mouthful of toad.
i will pry his bony fingers free
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#3
EEEEEEWW

indra had expected marten to turn around -- but she had not expected the soft, fleshy sphere that suddenly connected with her muzzle in a light splat, and then slid to the ground in a heap of confused legs. indra stepped back in surprise, feeling the impacted area of her cheek with a thin muzzle: "wha--"

she looked at the toad, upturned and just as stunned as she, and then she looked to marten, who fell upon the toad like a pale hawk. he muttered something, its meaning muffled behind a mouthful of frog: indra assumed it might be an apology, but she was still busy collecting her wits.

"d-did you name it rupert?" she asked in disbelief, ears pulled back in consternation as she eyeballed the thing carried in marten's jaws.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
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#4
marten nodded quickly and wildly with excitement when his mom acknowledged the toads name. rupert jones, actually, but the middle name was a secret. he turned quickly, tail and butt wiggling, and placed the toad into one of the deeper holes, dragging a stone across the hole so that there was a small crevice for breathing and viewing the outside-- but not quite enough for the little guy to escape. 

marten then turned back to his mom kind of excitedly. "this is rupert's home!" he shared happily to indra, still wiggling a little, his ears pricked, "it wasn't easy, rupert has very picky taste in interior decorating." marten's expression grew almost frustrated-- just for a short moment, as if he'd gone through a great deal of heartache decorating this toads home. yeah, dirt and puppy slobber were very expensive taste.
i will pry his bony fingers free
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#5
indra was for a moment at a loss for words; she eyed her bright-eyed child, and then eyed the "expensively decorated" housing marten had carefully crafted. to some it might have been a hovel, but indra felt a warmth seeping into her heart that marten could be so caring, so tender, so strangely compassionate.

obviously, he wasn't her child.

she smiled at the makeshift prison home and marten's comment, though a frown followed quickly after. "what do toads eat?" she had no idea; bugs, perhaps? how would he keep the thing from escaping -- or more importantly, how would he keep the toad well fed? indra positively abhorred the idea of sharing food with such a creature, and would resolutely draw the line at rupert being fed table scraps, no matter how cute or unblinking his weird eyes were.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
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#6
oh no... how was indra so wise? marten realized how many holes his plan had it in as soon as his mom asked one question. his brows furrowed and ears splayed, and marten made a face as he began to strain to think. "oh-- i..." he began uncertainly. 

"leaves?" he questioned hopefully, tilting his head to one side, "or-- no-- caterpillars eat leaves..." oh but wait! marten lightened up a little bit. "are caterpillars just skinny toads?" that would solve his problem!
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already, indra had unraveled marten's grand plans -- she felt guilty to see such worry spread across his features, an uncertainty she had not meant to affect. her own ears fell and a frown worried her features briefly as she thought hard on toads, and everything she knew about them.

which, in truth, was very little.

her little charge was quick to offer his thoughts: indra wrapped her mind around the theory that they ate leaves. could they? she did not recall them having teeth, and reasoned that suggestion might not be wholly correct. but what then, if not leaves?

caterpillars. her expression lifted. "hm.. i don't think they're skinny toads.. and maybe not leaves.. but... caterpillars.. good idea marten - it's bugs. they have to eat bugs!" she peered down at the enclosed toad, which eyed them both with a weary indolence. was it too much to hope the toad could tell them what he ate, just to spare them any humiliation?
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
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#8
rupert just croaked.

"bugs!" parroted marten, tail wagging, "i'll catch him bugs so he'll stay fat." rupert's best feature, after all, were his curves. he didn't get that physique overnight! but, anyway, marten didn't really know how to catch bugs. he thought about it for a second, head tilting at his mom. "you think if i just held him in my mouth n' carried him around he'd use his tongue and catch his own bugs?" 

the image might've been funny, marten running around with an extended tongue, catching bugs. but he didn't find it funny at all-- it was very practical, actually. and intelligent. "that way he'll move faster, cause his legs aren't as long as mine, mama."
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#9
the toad croaked, drawing indra's attention forth to its spherical form and lazy slit eyes. she looked at it dubiously, digesting marten's small speech with a mother's bemusement. she could not fail to see the logic behind marten's idea, but at the same time, had picked up enough toads to know they peed liberally and often.. which was not something she wanted in her mouth.

"would he let you do that? isn't he afraid of us?" she peered down at the portly creature, still skeptical. "i know a place you could find night-crawlers... if he would eat them.."
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
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#10
it was no secret that today especially marten had swallowed an insane amount of toad pee. granted-- he wasn't sure why he occasionally tasted something gross, he just chalked it off as rupert needing a bath. 

"rupert is my friend," marten insisted, ears pricked upwards, "he's not afraid." who in their right mind would every be afraid of marten anyhow? of that puppy breath though... maybe. but even marten was growing up and out of that. "night-crawlers?" he asked with his head tilted, "like... bugs and stuff?"
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#11
if indra doubted the strength of their unusual bond, she did not utter it. casting one last glance at the imprisoned toad she motioned with her jaw for marten to follow her -- with or without his new best friend rupert.

she knew of a place in the earth near the caches, which was not so far off, that often seemed to gather an unusual conglomeration of worms. likely it had something to do with the amount of rotting corpses stacked above it.

nosing along the dirt, indra marked a soft piece of loam with a rake of her claw. after a reassuring glance to marten, indra started to dig.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.