Noctisardor Bypass You talk like a man and taste like the sun

Her first encounter with Rivenwood's wolves hadn't gone exactly poorly, as far as we currently know, which was more of a relief to Wylla than she would openly admit to anyone. It meant hope wasn't lost for her, despite the miasma of negative feelings that forever swirled in the pit of her stomach. It was enough to coax her out from the cavern in subsequent days so she could take time to map out the valley.

Presently, she was scraping her paws over a damp spot she'd left to mark an empty cache so the next wolf to come along wouldn't waste their time digging there. Satisfied, Wylla began to wind through the trees with her nose to the ground. A dull pain radiated from her shoulder with every step, and by now, Wylla was forced to acknowledge that it was permanent. There was no reason for it to hinder her, though. She told herself that fervently, and pushed herself when she knew she shouldn't. She hadn't let her eye hinder her and she wouldn't let this.

When she tracked down a bushy-tailed squirrel and tried to ambush it, she had to abandon the pursuit in under a minute, hissing at the way her shoulder tightened and ached. It wasn't ready for the strain, and she wasn't yet disciplined enough to know how to compartmentalize it. That would come with time, but not today. She dropped her haunches to the ground and panted in the oppressive summer heat, watching the tail disappear into the foliage with a frustrated growl.

worripa had wandered away from the den — as he was wont to do — feeling a bit excluded ( though there was no one to blame but himself ) as skaigona appeared to be adjusting to their new living circumstances and the other tenets of the den quite well. it fills him with an unruly feeling of jealousy though he does not understand the bubbling lump of heat that simmers too close to how he feels before he bursts into a tantrum. he only knows that it persists ...like their mother's absence.

she isn't coming back.

the oppressive heat bears down on him, like a muggy blanket that sucks the energy he's worked up from an earlier nap waning. the pep in his step becomes muggy and he plops unceremoniously down in the shade of a nearby bush; though it offers little reprieve.

he pants in an effort to cool himself off, salmon pink tongue lolling out of his mouth only to draw against his jowls as he hears rustling and a frustrated growl a moment later. close by!

who dere? he calls out, curious but ...not quite curious enough to leave the shadow of the bush yet.

Little bumbling puppy paws were usually very easy to hear, but since Worripa was there before her, Wylla was completely unaware of the pup on the other side of the bushes as she regained her breath and stared after her escaped prey. Her hackles rippled and she cut her rumbling growl abruptly short when a boyish voice called out, much closer than she expected anyone to be. It wasn't hard to locate the boy by sound, but Wylla made no effort to poke her head around the bushes to find him.

Instead, she rose and picked her way carefully to the foliage on the other side of the path, a little further from Worripa, and hunkered down. She debated with herself for a short time about whether or not Mahler would be pissed off at her for this, even though these weren't his children, but it had to be better than ignoring the kids or being aggressive toward them, right?

Yes, it had to be better. In the most ominous-sounding and spookily wavering voice she could manage, Wylla called back, it is I, the Bogeywolf!

for a while there is only quiet and then it is broken by the sound of well-placed footfalls — absent the awkward and stumbling steps of him or his sister(s) — that tell him it's another adult. but beyond that she is an unknown. worripa's heart thrums rapidly in his chest ...though if it is with waning confidence or excitement he cannot place.

he is only comfortable with the feelings of general hermitness, anger and abandonment as to which he copes with in the only way he, as a child, knows how: by throwing tantrums.

in their rarity, these other feelings are almost foreign. they carry with them some nostalgia but mostly they are like discovering something new.

ow, a small hiss of pain under his breath as he shifts in the cover of the bramble bush, wincing as one of its small twigs pokes him. he shifts, crunching twigs and leaves under his weight as the she-wolf speaks.

bogeywolf?

having never heard of such a thing before and thus not knowing it is likely from some story designed to scare him, worripa ( dumbly ) assumes it is her name; and because it sounds funny; he snorts with a childish giggle; the leave rustling with the tremors of his body. the giggles bubble in a strange euphoria that he hasn't felt since his mother's disappearance and he bursts out of his hiding place abruptly, without consideration that there may be danger.

he is in rivenwood ( he thinks ) and thus he is safe ( he assumes ).

worripa is a disheveled mess, with bits of leaves and twigs caught in his fur but he pays it no mind. dat name funny. he declares in broken puppy speak, still a bit away from mastering the common tongue.

The shriek of abject terror that should have accompanied the title never came. Instead, the boy in the bushes laughed at her. Wylla's fur rippled with affront that she was forced to smooth down the very next second, because Worripa came crashing right through the bush, blowing her cover even more thoroughly than he already had. She puffed up like a startled cat and almost tried to dive for proper cover, but there was no way Worripa would miss seeing her. Wylla caught herself at the last second and froze instead. Another little dark pup, another twinge of worry that Mahler hadn't been very truthful.

She didn't have long to consider that before the boy shared his opinion, to which Wylla openly scoffed. Don't you know the Bogeywolf?! She clucked her tongue like he was being ridiculous and extricated herself from the bushes. Her rear end was covered in almost as many twigs and leaves as Worripa's entire body. Nice. The Bogeywolf isn't funny! It's the most fearsome monster in all the land!

She bared her teeth in a faux menacing snarl, trying to save some face by continuing on with her pretend role as the horrible Bogeywolf, and said, and it loves to eat tasty little puppies!

nooo. worripa expands on the word — for much longer than necessary — drawing it out. uhm, worripa drawls in a breath. oh. he squints up at her, unsure whether he was supposed to be scared or not. perhaps it was not the reaction she was gunning for but it was nevertheless the one she got. worripa wasn't, for all intents and purposes, the brightest bulb in the box and it shows; plainly.

eats puppies? he parrots, trying to put together that he was indeed a puppy and thus at risk of being a snack. not tasty! he chirrups, though perhaps some sense of intelligence sparks within him as he visibly hesitates before her.

Yes, Wylla confirmed, adopting her very best spooky-ghost voice. Fat, healthy little boy puppies are the Bogeyman's favourite. Okay, that sounded fucked up. Someone overhearing this conversation from afar might wonder exactly what sort of predator Wylla was playing at. Child Protective Services, anyone?

Very tasty, Wylla countered, hunching over in her own weird approximation of a beastly Bogeyman and shuffling toward Worripa with a playfully threatening lash of her tongue over her lips. This wasn't the best way to play with a puppy — Mahler would probably have words for her behaviour later, if Worripa told anyone about this encounter — but at least she was talking to the kid, right? That was at least better than the way she'd handled the last unrelated kids she'd had the misfortune of being in a pack with.

Little did she know that Worripa was very much related to her, or she might have rethought the whole bit about scaring the boy and making him think she was a hungry monster out to get him. Licking her chops, Wylla feigned a lunge toward Worripa and clacked her teeth together — playful, not threatening — and that was enough to frighten Praimfaya's bold male child back into the foliage and away from the "Bogeyman".