Sleepy Fox Hollow we are just happy to serve you

Set January 4th, early morning.  Thread prompt: Finds an injured baby animal

She'd nearly stepped upon the thing, not seeing it among the bare-branched trees. It blended with the drab colors of winter. A weak little sound drew her attention, though, and Maegi now gazed down at a juvenile red-tailed hawk, one of its wings folded beneath it. 

Irreparable. Broken. And she held up her clubbed paw, the mirror of the raptor's disability, and felt her throat burn with sorrow. 

She had been incredibly fortunate throughout her life to survive. This bird would likely not receive the same treatment. Maegi was surprised that a predator hadn't picked it off already; her own traitorous stomach gave a gurgle in the presence of such an easy meal. 

She reached out to pull a fallen evergreen bough closer, shielding the hawk from the chill. It gave a tremulous squawk and pecked in her direction, missing her cheek by a significant distance. 

Weak. Dying. Wouldn't the ultimate kindness be to send the bird into the next life? She frowned, sitting with a sigh. She sat vigil, waiting (for what?). Agonizing.

Wylla was still wrapped in the haze of the season, but she felt foolishly confident that Mahler would not allow even Takiyok to lay a hand on her, so she didn't bother to hide herself as she searched the territory for something to eat. Her head was bowed as she weaved a haphazard trail through the hollow, pausing here and there to root around in a snowbank for recent scents.

She found Maegi's fallen hawk not by scenting it, but by sniffing out her packmate. Given that she was in a much better mood lately than she ordinarily was, she made for the club-footed she-wolf without a hint of animosity from their last meeting. No question about the source of her good mood; now that Wylla's heat was in full swing, the agitation from previous weeks had melted away and was replaced with an unusual euphoria that could turn anyone, even someone she'd had a disagreement with, into attractive company.

That is, until she saw what the Centurion was looking at. Quirking a brow and sidestepping to confirm what she'd seen, Wylla called out, hey, what are you waiting for? Gonna eat it or not? Because if Maegi was gonna pass up a free meal, then Wylla could definitely use one.

The voice cut through her morose thoughts and she looked up, immediately stiffening upon seeing who it was. Wylla seemed to be in more of a chipper mood, but Maegi didn't trust her one bit. Their last interaction had been prickly at best; she certainly didn't want to deal with this right now.

I was praying, she responded. It was a lie. What had she been doing? The bird was beyond saving—perhaps Maegi had just spaced out, paralyzed in a crisis of conscience. Finding herself suddenly cloaked in the hawk's own feathers. My faith honors the dead and dying. . .no matter which soul it is.

Maegi glanced down, staring sadly at the avian youth. You can have it, she said, her voice pitched low. She didn't have the stomach for it, not anymore.

For a faithless wolf like Wylla, praying was a pretty stupid reason to hesitate when a fresh meal presented itself on a silver platter. She made no mention of it, though, besides peering suspiciously at Maegi and chancing to ask, why? What use was praying for anything when there were no gods out there to listen? And even if there were, what use in praying for food?

She had a lot to learn when it came to how others operated, assuming she even had the patience to learn. Most days, she didn't. She canted one long ear in Maegi's direction nonetheless, curious for her response, but she didn't waste time taking her up on the offer. Deft steps closed the distance between her and the juvenile hawk, and in moments, she had seized it and broke its neck with a violent shake of her own.

Depositing it in the snow, she took a moment to lick her lips, primp the fur on her chest, and ask, you sure you don't want any? before bending down to tuck in.

She felt nearly immediate affront upon hearing the question, taking it to be a rude condemnation of her faith rather than an innocent query. Still, she bit back a retort (my, my, Maegi was growing up) and turned her eyes to Wylla, unable to watch the woman dispatch the hawk. At least it had gone quickly, and would serve a purpose. . .even if that purpose was keeping a colossal bitch in good flesh.

I don't really know, Maegi responded, shrugging. It's always been this way—what my god has asked of me. Honor the dead, the dying, the defenseless and the damned. They need someone to speak for them. She didn't know whether she felt proud or foolish, speaking this to someone who would likely scoff at it.

She shook her head at Wylla's question, in juxtaposition to the way her stomach felt, empty and aching. I'm fine, she murmured, nostrils flaring at the oh-so-close smell of blood. Perhaps Jaes would smile upon her later and bring her upon a fresh kill. One that wasn't so similar to her own sorry, crippled form.

Surprisingly, Wylla was less interested in Maegi's god than she was the fact that Maegi didn't know why she did what she did. How incredibly stupid, she thought, to devote oneself to something they didn't fully understand. It made sense, in a way, why Maegi believed in it—surely a wolf with a disability as significant as a clubfoot needed to believe there was worth in the defenseless and damned of the world—but to do so without understanding why, that was the kicker.

She shrugged when the Centurion refused the bird and dug in, eating in silence for a second before pinning the pale she-wolf with shrewd yellow eyes. Why do you do it if you don't know why? What was the point, besides needing something to believe in to ease the pain of being a cripple? In Wylla's world, cripples either rose above and made themselves useful or they were left to die and no god took pity or mercy on their soul.

No god took pity or mercy on any of them, so why pray? It seemed Maegi disagreed, for rather than explaining, she stalked off in offended silence. Wylla watched her go with an impassive eye, then shrugged and returned to her meal. Wasn't her problem if someone got all prickly about their religion when it didn't make sense.