Bearclaw Valley the sleeper

as war brewed between Ursus and their neighbors; as tensions rose beyond the valley's sturdy walls; as her brother recovered from his near-fatal wounds—Avicus grew.

the russet girl patrols at the mouth of the vale, spindly legs carrying her without hesitation from one edge of the cliffs to the other. she will never have the sturdy build nor great height of some wolves, instead resigned to average physique. her looks—her flaming pelt and cold midnight eyes—are what sets her apart. . .but looks do not, in fact, kill.

she has been training, though; practicing for the inevitable next conflict. she has taken in the scents of Easthollow and the pale giantess who'd harmed Aventus and committed them to memory—they are the enemy, now and forever. one day they will clash. one day she will fight alongside her mother and father, instead of being shuffled into the shadows.

and as she grows, so sooner does that day. 

Avicus draws a deep breath, lowering her head, skimming the earth with her muzzle. here are the odors of her family, and those who protect them. here is the beginning of their world and the end of the rest. they may not stand upon the earth supreme, but this valley—this sanctum sanctorum—is theirs and theirs alone.

and she will keep it that way, the youth thinks as she squats, leaving her scent along with the others. she has spent the better part of the day on guard, on watch, waiting—

for what—?

it doesn't matter. Avicus straightens up, standing tall, peering out over the meadow. her lack of patience in all else does not, in fact, extend to serving as steadfast sentry.

It was a slow start for Ashlar in this unfamiliar place.  According to the rules of his entry, the boy knew he needed to learn how to fight.  Skoll had taken an active interest but Ashlar was a reluctant pupil; he did not wish to hurt anyone, and it showed in how abysmally he'd progressed.

Ashlar kept his tail tucked as he roamed the woods near the border in search of prey.  He could at least help to feed them if he could not do anything else; he'd grown up in forests just like these and knew the secrets of the smaller prey.  Like the stoat whose trail he followed now.

His nose was to the ground as he came up on the borders, and suddenly the smell of wolf overpowered the scent of the small creature.  Ashlar's head shot up and his ears folded back.  It had crossed the scent trail, so it would now be difficult to determine which direction it had gone.

Ashlar let it go, resigned, and turned to continue searching for new prey.  Before he could do so, his eyes lit on a figure that stood on the edge of the meadow.  He hadn't met her yet, but he hesitated.  He hadn't met many here yet, a shy desire to make as little an impact as necessary winning out over his need for company.

the fur on her neck lifts alongside the prickling feeling of being watched. she turns and finds the gaze of a brown figure a little ways yonder. her nostrils flare; he reminds her of the young man from the meadow, but the scent of Ursus that reaches her quells her worry.

in fact, she's seen him before. only in passing, and she never has taken much notice, but he's known. he's one of them.

so—what's he doing? never one to roll out the welcome wagon, Avicus lifts her chin, waiting for him to approach first. she is busy, after all. if he wants to join her in securing their borders, that is fine, but she will not drop her errand to make small talk. any word beyond necessity is wasted breath, really. and for that, she loves her silent mother, her sneaky brother.

everyone else just talks too much, and she fears this one will be more of the same.

Oddly enough, Avicus' silence reminded Ashlar of his father's quiet company. It helped to put the young wolf at ease and he straightened a little, enough to offer her a tentative smile.  Hi.

He didn't really have anything to say outside of that.  He was proud of himself for that much, and his tail waved slightly as he took a step towards her.  She hadn't come right out and told him to get lost, so he had hope that she was friendly.  Even better, she looked similar to his own age.  She was at least closer than the other wolves he'd met so far.  He wondered if she liked singing, but was too shy right now to find out.  First he would see if she wanted his company.

a customary greeting. hi, she echoes, not needing to mimic the syllable nor the tenor of his voice. it is a word she knows well. she understands that there is power in words, but to her, it will always feel needless. there may be power in speech, but true weight rests in violence. blood is her currency.

he speaks but does not come much closer; Avicus cocks her head, then nods again. slower, in invitation. if he does not follow along, she'll continue along the border without him. 

chin tucked, she stares—and then bristles, muscles suddenly taut, as a squirrel races past her, startled from a nearby tree. it is followed by one of its comrades, cheeks still bulging with some sort of tasty treat. Avicus glances at the young man, eyes flashing.

hungry? she asks. without waiting for the answer, she wheels and takes off toward the running duo, wondering if she'll soon feel his breath on her heels.

She returned the greeting and Ashlar smiled a little bigger.  He followed fairly eagerly at her invitation, but not with too much speed.  The juvenile was a little too shy to catch up entirely and was fully prepared to trail at her heels.  They wouldn't get that far, though, because at that moment a squirrel burst forth, followed by another.  Hungry?  Ashlar nodded eagerly.

It did not matter if he was or not, he was more than excited to follow this quietly confident girl as long as she would let him.  She reminded him a lot of the children in Legion.  Ashlar appreciated their assured leadership and willingness to take charge so that he did not have to.  All he needed to do was stick by and help.

WC: 184

He sprinted after her and tried to remain at her flank, but his focus was on the squirrels ahead of them.  He wasn't going to jump for either of them himself though, not until she made a move.  When that time came, he'd either assist or go for the other, depending on what the situation demanded.

her adrenaline kicks up a notch as she hears the other wolf's pawsteps thundering behind her (or is it only the blood pounding in her ears?). no matter what she hears, she is laser focused on the laggard of the two squirrels; the other is sprinting away too quickly. her legs are not long enough—perhaps her hunting companion can—

—the quarry stumbles slightly over a fallen branch and she takes advantage, sailing over the ground with giant strides and thrusting her open jaws forward

the give of tender flesh! the crumbling of tiny bones,

Avicus lifts her head triumphantly, the squirrel making half-hearted efforts to escape, thrashing weakly in her mouth. it's half-paralyzed and bleeding from the waist. she drops it upon the damp fallen leaves and snaps its neck, staring at the suddenly-still being for a few heartbeats before digging in. . .

wait. no—she is too curious to eat, and looks around for the yearling, wondering if his luck had been good today, too.

rolled success in tabletop

oh boy I did not

There was no opening for Ashlar to help her with the squirrel she chased.  She was in a dead sprint after it and seemed to be gaining on it, so the leggier boy tried to instead focus his sights on the other one.  It was fast but Ashlar had a high motivation; he absolutely, absolutely did not want to disappoint his newfound friend.

Unfortunately fate is fickle, especially in times when the stakes are high in proving ourselves.  Ashlar closed the gap but the squirrel took one last leap over a low-fallen log in a gambit to escape him.  The tree wasn't even all that high, but the semi-inexperienced hunter was so focused on his quarry that he misjudged his pawsteps.  His hind paws hit the wood with a solid thwak, and with a thud his chin soon followed, brought short on the loamy floor as his entire body lost momentum abruptly.

He remained there for a second, dazed, while the squirrel he'd been chasing made its escape up a tree and out of reach.  He sat up and shook his head just in time to see Avicus look over, then tucked his tail, embarassed.  He'd tried his best, but it looked like her hunt had gone quite a bit better than his own.  At least she wouldn't go hungry.

WC: 220

in short—no. her eyes follow the squirrel as it darts upward, hiding in the branches, chattering madly. a brief pause, in which she weighs her options. she is hungry—always hungry—and yet she remembers when Merrick had helped her with the groundhogs. 

maybe she can help, too.

it is, perhaps, the first altruistic thought she has ever had; she doesn't think much of the character growth, focusing instead on digging a hasty hole and tossing her kill inside, scraping dirt over it, and trotting to join Ashlar near the tree. she huddles down in a blanket of leaves, her ruddy fur blending near-perfectly, and nods over to him to do the same.

they can wait it out. the squirrel will come down eventually for more nuts. Avicus stills herself, her muscles, her tail—even seeking to quiet the loud and enlivened beating of her heart, lest it gives them away.

Ashlar felt terrible for letting the squirrel get away, and he stared at it regretfully from his spot on the dirt.  He didn't mind not needing to kill it because each time he did, he hated the cries the creatures made.  Hunting was a necessity but it would never be one he enjoyed.  He hated that she'd trusted him to do his part and he hadn't managed to make good on it.

The girl (whose name he had not gotten yet, Ashlar realized) seemed not to have given up yet.  The young wolf's attention moved over to her as she approached, then huddled down and nearly disappeared into a bed of leaves.  Ashlar blinked, then caught on as she nodded.  OH!  They were hiding!

His tail waved excitedly, but he waited a second before creeping as quietly as he could over.  He was nearly afraid to breathe, he was so excited to see if this plan played out.  He'd always assumed when a squirrel was treed it was gone, but if there was a trick to it, it would be like the rabbits in their warrens!  Already he was learning, and he trained his eyes while he attempted to keep his breathing quiet and slow.

WC: 205

so he gets it. she watches him sink low, too, and then raises her eyes to the tree. there are a couple of squirrels up there. they will not come down if they know they are here, but if the wolves are quiet and the prey lets their guard down. . .

and they do, after a few quiet moments. one squirrel chases the other down the slender trunk, sending leaves in their wake as they hit the ground running.

Avicus looks at the young man and gives him a nod, firmer this time, jerking her head toward the squirrels in flight. it is his prey, after all.

but if he doesn't catch it on second try, then she'll have to go after it herself—and she doesn't share food.

He needed more than a ten and rolled a 9.  ouch

He barely needed her prompting but Ashlar was glad that she provided it anyway.  Since he had missed his mark the first time, this was his chance to succeed!  He took off after the squirrels eagerly and very soon was within striking distance of the tailing one.  They turned... sharp.  The leggy teen tried to snap for a tail as it flicked by, but he caught only hair as within an inch he missed the mark.

He slid on the leaves and tried to round to pursue them further but at that point they were lost a second time.  Ashlar let out a low, frustrated growl, though he nearly surprised himself with it.  He'd had hunts go wrong before, but this time was worse.  Not only had he missed twice in front of Avicus, but he had been so close that he could almost taste the frustration.  Sometimes he could be glad that his catch got away and that he need not harm it - today he could not.  He kicked the loam at his feet with prickling irritation and shame.

WC: 180

*shakes fist at dice*

she watches with hope, at first—hope that quickly gives way to disappointment once more. for he skids on the leaves, and the squirrel makes its getaway. she's running before he gathers himself again, nose aimed directly at the fleeing rodent. but she will not snare it today, either. it escapes with its life.

Avicus pulls to a halt with a huff, and throws her head around to stare at Ashlar, who looks even more dejected. a more caring, intuitive wolf would comfort him, try to cheer him up.

she's not that wolf, though. instead, she gives him a parting blink and turns to where she'd buried her first kill, digging with a quiet intensity. she grabs it and trots off like a thief in the night, spindly limbs carrying her swiftly over the chilly ground. 

she won't eat it in front of him. that would mean she'd have to fight for it—or, at least, that would be how it would work with a similarly food-aggressive being.

she has had all the luck, today, and will take her lunch in solitude.

She missed it too, but only after he missed it twice, so Ashlar had no judgements to make on her chase.  He looked up to catch her eyes in a glance, then lowered them immediately, still ashamed.  She didn't seem keen on sticking around to eat after that and he did not blame her.  He gave just a little nod to her as she left.  Thanks anyway.  It had been fun and he had learned a new trick.  It wasn't her fault he hadn't lived up to it.

His stomach growled lightly and Ashlar gave the leaves one last scuff with his paw.  There were still a few hours of daylight left and he obviously needed some practice.  He huffed, then set off at a trot towards the trees opposite of where the girl had disappeared.  He wouldn't give up so easily.  If he could find one more trail, then he could have another try to catch a meal of his own, and this day wouldn't be entirely disappointing!  As Ashlar went he began to lightly hum in an attempt to calm himself, almost subconsciously, slipping through the trees and searching for any trace of small prey.

WC: 197