Moonspear the notes of a strained refrain

He had made his way down by the borders where coniferous forest blended in with that of the old-growth. It was here where the ferns were bountiful, springing up still from towering trees that knew more history than he ever would. Here, where the border was wide and the terrain varied with rises and gullies, and generally where things were quiet. In that pocket nestled up against the rise of stone to the jagged peaks that divided one region from another, the world was a comforting place. It reminded him of times of the home he had grown up in; had there been some stunning water feature to the face of the monolith risen aside him, it could have passed for it.

The early morning was not as chilly as it had been, though in the higher climes of Moonspear frost had swiftly decorated all it could grasp and hold to. It was replaced by a low rolling fog in the lowland, the kind of element that had he been away from the crag would have set him on edge. Perhaps it would have here too once, but he had come to know the territory intimately and he did not wonder as to where he was or what could lie out there. He knew—in this case, it was the elk herd that he had tracked that loitered not far from their claim.

The southern valley just beyond their claim was not their usual fare for hunting grounds, but it was gentle enough to traverse and the breadth of their claim skirted along its edges in wild, varying pockets. Dirge brought himself to halt along such an edge to mark it once more, establishing that they were still very much here and very much aware, but often this stretch of land was devoid of lunatics or wayfarers both.

And it was the place that he had asked @Atlas to meet him, so that they might scout it together.

The young wolf of the mountain had grown to be disappointed in himself and the experience he had made for himself in the world. For the majority of his first year, he had remained within the pack out of obligation to his mother and the duty that he felt was owed to his family. The shade had reminded himself that he did not have a purpose beyond serving his family, but he could not help but look to his siblings with envy. Even Osiris - the most dutiful of them all - was creating relationships with those beyond their borders. Atlas was left roaming the borders like a caged dog, eager to snap at anything that drew too near. 

His heart was in the best place, but he could not help but dwell in his limited ventures, never beyond the edges of Moonspear. As he set out that day, Atlas could not help but to wonder if it had developed into nothing more than fear. The idea that his habits could turn to comforts so easily frustrated him. His lip curled and the shade quickened his pace across the terrain and toward the southern valley. It did no good for him to dwell on it, but he recognized the crippling squeeze of his stomach at the very thought of roaming outside of the family's claim. Even seconds after he had felt it, he knew how foolish he was. 

Catching the sight of the gold-touched Dirge, Atlas chuffed to announce himself and loped to close the remainder of the gap between them. Once he had drawn beside his father, the young Ostrega glanced to the figure and breathed a quiet sigh. Where to today? his breath struck the air in a soft plume. Winter would be upon them within a month or so. Atlas looked out beyond where they stood and drank in the scents carried by autumn wind. There was a shift in the air, for certain.

The wind shifted against him for a moment, crisp and almost invigorating. Inviting, in a sense, to a wolf who had long and longed to wander but was otherwise bound by obligation. Tracking the elk was a means of killing two birds with one stone; he could fulfill the desire to wander a bit and also do something that would bolster their chances of survival with the winter to come.

He didn’t have to wait too long for Atlas to join him. The sight of his raven-haired son pulled an easy smile to his face as he joined him; Dirge often did not get to spend time with his eldest children one-on-one those days, and he was grateful that they still wanted to be in his company. All of them were punctual in their own way too, a good sign that they were willing to join him as much as they were to continue to aid the pack.

“Just a bit further south into the valley,” he told Atlas, “I’ve been tracking a herd of elk that’s about to go crossing through and I figured it best we get a headcount and size them up from a distance.” It went without saying that he thought perhaps Atlas would have liked the task too, knowing that he had hunted with Osiris and Hydra before. And Altair had not hushed entirely about how helpful his older brother had been too—no doubt he would enjoy whatever story Atlas could make out of this.

It was good that Atlas had caught his father. He’d always enjoyed the time he spent with the man, though he understood that they both kept themselves busy enough that it did not happen as often as it should. It did mean that the dark yearling was eager for the opportunity when it did arise. Though his father did not know it, the day that he and Hydra had taken Atlas to hunt and track had inspired something within him – a drive to get better. So when the golden male remarked that he had been following a herd of elk in the southern valley and he was looking for help getting a headcount on them, the shade looked to Dirge with a warm smile and immediate flagging of his tail.
 
“Sounds like fun,” Atlas answered.
 
There was an eager willingness when presented with the idea of tracking. The inky figure might have enjoyed the finding and following of prey more than the takedown. It was satisfying, he wouldn’t deny that much. He enjoyed playing the roll of the rogue and striking from the side, cutting off their prey from a means of escape. The more that he had found himself growing jealous of his brother’s hunting prowess, the more it had pushed him to do better on his own. Atlas was eager to prove to his father that he had grown in his skills.
 
With one glance toward Dirge, the dark young beast began the move toward their intended destination.

As Atlas started forward, Dirge fell into step alongside him and let silence fill the space between. There was much to gain from this opportunity; it pleased him that Atlas had lit up at the prospect, and he wished he had been more forthright in telling him why he wanted him out there in the first place. He could have rounded up Osiris too, but the father had taken notice of how his son seemed taken with the girl he had brought back from Easthollow. It intrigued him to see such a thing happen and he had thought better of disrupting their routine this time.

Dirge thought Atlas to be a bit more like his brother Antares; both were shades in their own right like their mother, swiftly adhering to whatever whim seemed appropriate. Had he been a bit more vain, he may have thought their cunning to have come from him rather than her. They were sharp-eyed but Atlas was a touch more eager in many areas. A little competition had never hurt anyone, though this too Dirge kept a close eye on.

“Altair told me you two went hunting the other day,” he said some time later, having not quite spotted the herd. They had moved on from where he had seen them last and the pair would have to pick up their trail when they reached that avenue. “He boasted about this and that, made it into an epic tale and the like—how did he do?” His tail tip curled ever so slightly, as he was curious of this too—it seemed the majority of his children enjoyed the hunt as he did.

At the mention of Altair, the dark yearling swung his head around and searched his father’s face. It seemed that the younger boy had enjoyed their time together. This was a relief; he had not imagined that the child would try to conceal it if he hadn’t had a good time, but Atlas worried that he was too quiet for children sometimes – too stern. More than this, the dark son found it rather enjoyable that his younger brother had made a great tale of their adventure. He liked the idea of Altair growing into a great hunter and storyteller, imagining that it would be something different and something delightful to witness.
 
“Ah, I’m glad he had fun,” the yearling responded with a small shake of his head.
 
“You know, he’s got some talent for hunting. He might like to join the next group hunt, just as a spectator,” Atlas then went on to say. Meerkat had played a similar role in their small group hunt. He turned to search his father, wondering what Dirge would think of his proposition. Of course, he did not wish to dictate a path for Altair. The young pup would surely find his own passions and desires. He merely wanted to show the younger litter that they were valued and would eventually play an important role in the pack.

An agreeable note escaped him.

“Your mother and I have considered having them follow along the next time we hunt,” he told Atlas. “They’re almost old enough to partake, but still have things to learn. The opportunity would teach them something.” They were beginning to behave when it came to the prospect of certain things, though he knew that they would continue to test their boundaries just as often. His youngest were comprised of a motley crew, but there was truth that some proclivities remained from one litter to the next—they all had a want to keep themselves fed.

Of course, some seemed to have a thirst for something more, but he did not ponder long after the darkness that lurked in Mira. If anything, he thought perhaps she was most like her mother and her aunts, thinking them to have the same drive at that age. Hydra had certainly possessed it when they had met, though age had mellowed her out. Children had mellowed her out, though he would have never admitted it in the same way he did not admit they grounded him and retained him to the mountain instead of roaming.

This was about as close to roaming as Dirge got, these days.

“Of course, I don’t object to you escorting them around. Your and your siblings have done a good job with them. They’re rather fond of all of you.” A smile crossed his features for a moment, only to be pulled away at the distant bellow of a bull elk. Unseen, but heard. The terrain obscured them for now still, and Dirge continued his conversation. “Though I hope they haven’t begun to test you as they have me. They can all be surprisingly slippery when they want to be.”

It would have been good for them to go along with Dirge and Hydra on a patrol or hunt. The dark yearling imagined that they would find a good deal of worth in those kinds of excursions. It would likely tire the younger pups, hopefully offering the parents some time to rest without having to worry about them. Atlas knew that he had only been that age a short while ago – only a year – but he could hardly remember the days when he would pine for the chance to roam the borders and search for signs of danger.
 
“I think they’d like that; you know. When I was their age, I wanted to go exploring a lot. I bet it would tucker them out if you took them on a hunt or patrol,” Atlas answered his father with a soft chuckle. He knew a bit of Altair’s tendency to hunt down his desires and only wanted to make sure that his hardworking father didn’t have to suffer the curious boy’s slips in behavior.
 
On the subject of making his father’s life a little easier, the inkwell waved his tail in agreement at the mention that he could take the younger kids out once or twice. “I wouldn’t mind taking them on a few tracking sessions, maybe a couple of trips to the border,” Atlas agreed warmly. Though he had grown into liking his own company and had found something of a recluse’s spirit in his frame, he thought it would be a great opportunity to spend time with his younger kin.

Atlas had a point, though Dirge found himself not as warm to the idea as his yearling son. Much had gone on along the borders over time and with the looming possibility of threats quite close to their proverbial front door, he wasn’t sure how the concept would fly entirely with Hydra. Perhaps one-on-one, it wouldn’t be so bad. But it would take more than just he and Hydra to manage the group fully if they were being particularly testy.

“May not be a bad idea to consider, especially if you’re willing to help corral them,” he said with a faint smile—did Atlas really know what he was signing up for? Perhaps he remembered having the same proclivities as his younger siblings, though he had grown up to have more of a settled temperament akin to his father.

Over a small rise, the herd came into view through a thin veil of fog. Here the air was damp, the ground soft; Dirge guessed there must have been a water source not too far off. His tongue stilled, their conversation coming to a end for the time being. He took sight of the bull elk that he could see, his proud antlers reaching far higher than his height. The bull was watching, surveying his demesne and herd.

A disagreeable note left the father—they would have to be discreet here.

“Mmm, willing to do what I can to help,” he agreed softly, wanting to show his father that he was capable of taking on more than the base tasks that had filled his days thus far. It was true that he was young not long ago, but he had learned many things in his first year of life that would not have been possible if he had remained beside the family den. Even still, as much as he had accomplished in his short life, Atlas felt as though he were leagues behind Osiris. Even Antares was climbing quickly into his strengths and passions. What was left for the golden-eyed son?
 
The two hunters fell into a quiet tracking session. Atlas followed where he was needed and extended their reach when the scent was not as strong. The herd appeared before them and the duo halted to observe their numbers and strength. The noise that was issued from Dirge was captured easily by the shade. Atlas saw the bull elk with his proud set of tines stretched into the sky. The herd was quite a sight.

The elk herd was a small group, not even close to an average size. They sprawled out through the sparse woodland and meadows, toiling over the wilting grasses for the last tender shoots that would sustain them. He knew without question that the largest of herds had more than likely moved on towards the prairies to forage for scant grains and foliage, but this one seemed to follow its own path as though they were migratory like so many others.

It was a curious thing to witness, and for Dirge it never quite got old. Every year, the paths were different even when they fell along the old trails they had helped to weave through proverbial oceans of greenery come summer. He spied out more than one set of proud tines on antlers, but there was one in the middle that projected his prowess above all.

He began counting, first along the outskirts as they moved near silent, giving the group a wide berth as not to alert them. Chances were, they’d eventually become aware of the duo working near to their outskirts, but hopefully by then he and Atlas would be beating a retreat and avoid urging them along.

Casting a look to his son, he wondered in that gaze if Atlas saw anything promising.

216 words

The two hunters moved forward silently, doing what they could to minimize noise and avoid having the herd take to running. If they could watch from a distance, there was a good chance that they’d be able to learn which of the members were weakest and mark them for a hunting party later.
 
While the two beasts prowled on the outskirts of their prey, Atlas could not help but to wonder just how much his tracking skills would develop during the winter months. He had grown into his ability to track different types of animals and to learn some of their mannerisms and what that behavior meant for a group of hunters. Though there was still quite a bit for the dark yearling to master, he had sprouted from anxious roots and had developed more of a strength in his ability. It sparked a thirst to become more and better in his field.
 
When the gold of his father’s gaze settled on him, the inkwell yearling noted it. His own sunlight vision searched the herd curiously before he turned his Dirge and his brow creased thoughtfully.
 
“There are a few,” the shade whispered, “that might be worth keeping an eye on. That old doe with the gash in her leg.” Atlas motioned toward the target he was referencing. She stood well on the leg, but when she moved forward to graze, it could be noted that she favored it considerably. It would mean that she would make for an easier mark than the others; a hunting party would be able to fell her with ease.

Atlas spoke and Dirge found his gaze snapping back to the herd, scanning through it until he found the weak-legged doe milling about with them. He made an appraising note as he watched her, concluding with himself that she may have been worth splintering off from the group to take down. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to do with the right amount of wolves with proficiency, and luckily for them Moonspear did happen to have a decent pool of able-bodied hunters to choose from.

“Good eye,” he praised then. “I was also considering some of the younger ones in their group. Late born babes, assured enough to know when danger’s close to run, but perhaps not as steady in their resolve as their adult counterparts.” Though grown and fully capable of eluding them, Dirge wanted to play on their ability to be spooked and run down just as much as he wanted to pick at the lame and meek. Either or would be a good fit for who they could muster to hunt.

“This information will please your mother too,” he went on.

The praise that was offered took the dark young wolf aback.
 
It wasn’t that he didn’t expect the compliment from his father. Dirge was a good man; he had treated his children kindly and fairly as they grew. Atlas contributed his even temper and steady mind to the gentle way that his dad had brought him up. Even in that moment, the leader of the mountain offered his own sightings to the shade – the children would have been a favorable target, as well. As the golden-eyed shadow listened to Dirge, he followed the train of thought with his gaze and picked out a good number of the youth in the herd.
 
“Before we go back, would you like to head toward the borders on this end and see if we can freshen them up a bit? It might help keep the herd within this area – marking around them,” Atlas asked with a hopeful glance toward the older hunter. Part of him could not help but to feel a little selfishly. It wasn’t every day that he got to monopolize his father’s time and knowledge. The inkwell yearling felt that it was alright to take advantage of such opportunities when they presented themselves.