Seaside Moors Broken Lungs

The skyline above the horizon had yet to brighten, and even hovering what seemed like only a hair's breadth above the line of ocean in the distance the stars still twinkled. It was not long before dawn and the sun's approach had already set the distant mountains crimson with a tinge of rouge. With the mist hanging above the ground and the gentle, saline breeze causing the timothy to sway back and forth, the moorlands were still in a lullaby state when Chacal quietly moved from the warmth of her mother's side to sit just outside the den's entrance. 

It was quieter now; with Erzulie having given her older siblings more freedom to roam, and Chacal found herself developing a curiosity for the space and freedom they now tasted- but as an obedient child, one who feared repercussion, she remained where she was. The youngest of all of them, the smallest, and the quietest. Most days, she hardly made an impression on those around her, but this didn't mean she got less than what she needed. She would accept silence and solitude as much as she gave both to those she loved most. So in the withering dark of twilight, she sat and waited to watch the light creep across the sky to warm the back of her dark ears.

Rosalyn had of course noticed her daughter's quiet.  It was not alarming to her... at least, not yet. But she noted it with the same manner that she noted traits of the others... a pattern, one to watch and to see how it grew as they did.  That didn't mean she didn't try, though.

What do you see, little one? she asked, as Chacal moved from her side to look outside.  Her own good eye glanced past as well, but saw nothing.  It was automatic - with little ones to watch, danger could come in many forms.

She felt the fur along her nape prickle, but not in fear- simply a response to the feeling that she was being watched. When she tilted her head back, nearly rolling backward a bit on her round bottom, she found herself gazing up into the scarred features of the one who made her smile instantly, every time. She pursed her lips, as though to utter a soft woo of appreciation in response, but made no sound. But the gentle wriggling of her tassled tail would be obvious enough. She felt silly, being caught out on her own- but glad to have her mother's company as well. 

Rosalyn gazed out toward the horizon where the stars, twinking, began to fade, and Chacal continued to gaze toward the horizon with keen interest. It would not be long, now, until the birds took to the skies, to hang about on the bouyant saline breeze with their wings held out like parasails.

The silent howls made her chuckle every time - an adorable quirk of an expression.  She looked out as well.  Soon we will show you Rusalka, and the shore.  And you, little Chacal, are going to love it.  It was quite the assumption, but she was always looking with such intensity to her silent observations.  Rosalyn couldn't wait for her world to open up.

Until then, the boring old den it is, she added, teasing, and brushed her muzzle to tickle the girl's side.

More words that she recognized, including the sound of what she assumed by now was her own name. Her gaze, directed toward the distant horizon, persisted; it was where the sky was darkest and the stars still twinkled brightly, and she thought she caught sight of something skimming not far above the gound. Perhaps a bat, or a swallow, by the way it dipped and weaved, snatching flies out of the air with speed and agility. She pricked her ears, but couldn't hear it; too far away, and too small. 

By now, she was fairly awake, and ready to get the day started- and since she knew she couldn't go far- especially not before the sun rose, she lowered her gaze to see a stick- a long, barkless piece of driftwood- that someone had dropped off, likely as a gift for the puppies. She dropped into a crouch, wriggled her bum from side to side, and awkwardly crow-hopped toward it, before she flopped onto her side, grabbed it and began to chew on one end while kicking the other end with her hind feet.

Chacal began to play, and Rosalyn watched for a few moments.  They started so small, and grew so fast... she tried to drink these moments in as they came, both individually and with all at a time.

With a pause, though, she spotted an opening.  And with a glint in her good eye, she reached forward to gently grip the toy, pulling lightly with a playful smile cocked at the girl.  Would she accept the challenge?

It took her a few moments to get a good grip on the stick, before she was really able to start chewing at it, and noticed with glee that the driftwood crackled between her teeth as they sank in. It was thick enough that she couldn't bite the stick into two pieces, but she left behind small but deep punctures, which she'd pause to inspect every now and again, pleased with the effect her teeth were having. 

She felt the stick move and she wrapped her forepaws around it more tightly, sliding her gaze down the length of the stick to see that the other end had disappeared beyond her mother's muzzle. She simply held on for a moment, maw agape and grappling the stick, before she bared her teeth in a silent grimace, and with her tail wriggling, she promptly declared her ownership of the stick by straddling it, turning her wriggling bum toward her mother as though to say No, this is mine before she continued chewing on it.

Rosalyn's delight only grew as her daughter did a sassy turn and displayed her rump, a clear indication.  Well then!! 

Ill teach you to, disrespecting your mother, she thought with a silent shake of laughter.  Then, gently, she began to pull.  She didn't want to take the stick, only to apply enough tug to make Chacal resort to tugging back.  So she began slowly, then picked up with a gradual intensity.

Her technique might've worked, if only for a few moments. She straddled the stick with her backside turned toward her mother who she trusted, of course. But a lesson was to be learned, and when she felt the stick begin to pull backwards, she was jolted forwards and bonked her nose on the ground. She clamped her little legs around the stick, but with another pull she was ousted, and did a somersault straight off the stick, over her shoulders and ended up sitting back on her plump hindquarters, somewhat dizzy. 

Something hitched in her breath as she swayed gently, and craned her head to look back over her shoulder at her mother who swayed too, with the rest of her surroundings. Whatever it was she'd just done, it was fun! She bounced to her feet, and forgot about the stick- the next task she had was to figure out exactly how she'd done that somersault again- so she flopped softly on the ground over and over, sometimes making it all the way up onto one shoulder before her hind end would flop to the side. 

Hopeful she might get a bit of help, Chacal stood with the crown of her head on the ground so she could peer through her hind legs at her mother. She lowered her front end and wriggled her tail a bit- inviting her to come and give her a push so she could do a somersault again.

She'd meant to only slowly tug, to match whatever resistance the pup was giving, but she'd overestimated.  Chacal hadn't been paying any amount of attention, and as a result, she turned in a somersault.  Pups were hardy, but Rosalyn still dropped the stick and went to nose her, checking to ensure all was well before smiling.  It appeared that Chacal had enjoyed the ride.  Sorry, hijita.  You want to go again?  She laughed, then gave her a gentle shove to propel her over.

She waited, wiggling her bottom, and watched as her mother came closer until all that she could see, from the view between her own hind feet, was her mother's forepaws. She felt a gentle touch, and bowed her head so that when she was given a gentle push, she rolled forwards over her shoulders, curving her spine slightly so that she rolled with surprising finesse into a seated position with her back toward her mother. 

Delighted at how well that had worked, she leapt up like a little sprite and dashed around her mother, circling her with happy, bouncing steps, before she skidded to a halt in front of her again, forehead lowered to the ground and bouncing on her hind tip-toes, waiting for another push.

Chacal rolled with such delight that it was impossible not to share in it.  Her daughter didn't speak, but every movement and look was so expressive, it was not hard for her mother to understand.  It even felt, at times, like she could understand more than with others who hid behind words.

Maybe I should have named you 'pillbug', she teased, nosing her before gently acquiescing and pushing her forward once more.  If you like this... we shall have to try a hill soon.  Then they could both roll.  She hadn't done so in years, but she remembered the joy of it, and she knew Chacal would find it a longer and better version of this.

Chacal huffed and puffed with glee as she watched the skyline reel between her hind toes as she was sent hedl over heels again, gently. Dizzy, she stood up too fast and faltered sideways several steps before she was able to right herself- and blundered directly into her mother's warm side. Once there, she nuzzled her face into the shades of warm mahogany, snuggling in close as though to thank her mother for indulging her, and for showing her a new trick. While morning had stolen across the Moors, Chacal felt herself beginning to succumb to the effects of waking up too early- and yawned tiredly. Committed there, against her mother's side, she slumped, and in the early, soft light of morning, she relaxed into a gentle slumber.