Redtail Rise This Time, Baby, I’ll Be Bulletproof

Masquerade arrived at her their pine tree with a dripping rabbit swinging from her jaws. @Riley was already there. She strongly considered slapping him with it but, for once, she just plopped it at his feet as she wiggled into place beside him under the evergreen’s familiar, fragrant boughs.

The two of them began to eat in companionable silence. There was a faraway look in the Caru’s eye as she chewed each bite longer than usual. At some point, she swallowed and suddenly sat up straighter.

It wasn’t a fair fight, she declared softly.

If this what life was, Riley was as close to content as he’d ever been. He sat beneath the canopy of sweet-pine with warm meat between his teeth and a warm body against him; truly, who could ask for more?

But something was off kilter. Not with his mate, who Riley looked at in silent awe often and wondered how he’d managed her; not in their den, or their little quiet life they’d made for one another.

What wasn’t? Riley paused from chewing, yellow gaze finding Masque’s, pulled from his own thousand mile reverie.

A soft growl followed the declaration, though she swallowed it as Riley asked the obvious question.

It wasn’t fair to me, it wasn’t fair to her, it wasn’t fair for anyone, Masque continued, unaware that she hadn’t truly answered him. I was hurt. We were all grieving. We should not have pushed it.

She paused, looking down at the rabbit’s remains. She wasn’t really seeing them, however. Masquerade’s eyes were glazed. She let out a sigh, then raised her eyes to meet Riley’s.

But it never should have been a fight. Leading a pack shouldn’t be about who won one fight or who lifts her tail the highest. She shook her head. My mother had chosen me for her heir, did I ever tell you that?

A small growl punctuated the air as Riley filled in the blanks. Even this piecemeal strategy of information was enough for him to understand.

She meant the days following Avicus’ death. Of the unsettled smoke that singed the edges of the Rise’s encampment.

He agreed, of course, with everything she said — but it was the news of Avicus’ choice that brought his widening gaze to her in surprise.

So take what is yours.

Her head canted at his immediate support. A smile briefly ghosted across her face before her mouth fell back into a moue.

I don’t want to take anything. That’s my point. I’ve been here, supporting this pack, since the day I was born. I was here when Redd wasn’t, even when mother wasn’t. I’ve given the rise and everyone in it my loyalty and support. But everyone was so quick to decide Redd should be Wealda rather than me, based on the events of a single day, rather than the years preceding it.

Her fur bristled, then smoothed. Masque shifted her weight, steadying herself with a couple deep breaths. She dropped her gaze again, grounding herself.

I’ve been trying to suppress my own instincts to support Redd. And I truly don’t want to fight my sister, nor disrupt the pack. But I… She looked up at him again. I deserve to be an Alpha. I deserve to be an Alpha. And I want to be an Alpha.

Riley listened to this all with a canted ear. His heart twisted for Masque, for all the reasons she shared.

Life wasn’t fair. 

He shifted shortly after her, turning so his gaze held her in full. She was so vibrant — her face and eyes so beautiful — he hated to see the clouds of sadness darken them. 

Riley placed his paw over hers. Masque. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that the world doesn’t play fair. People don’t care about what you deserve. His breath twisted in a sigh. No one will ever look out for you and what’s fair. They are too busy thinking of themselves. You have to take what you deserve, because the world will never give it to you. Just like you have to hunt for what you kill. 

The world is a scared rabbit protecting its belly from everyone’s teeth. You — He lifted his chin with a toothsome grin — are a wolf.

Actually, none of those declarations sat quite right. And it wasn’t because she hadn’t used “Wealda,” a term which she was avoiding deliberately. I am an Alpha, Masque corrected in her head, satisfied.

She looked down as the warm weight of Riley’s paw settled on hers. That flitting smile passed over her face again, which she raised so they could look at each other while he took the proverbial floor. Her gaze did not waver as she processed his words.

Maybe you’re right. But I want you to be wrong, Masque sighed. I want everyone here to recognize my merits. I want them to want me to be their Alpha.

But they didn’t. She didn’t know why—she’d spent much time speculating—but that was the cold, hard fact of it.

I’ve never left the rise, not really, she said, apropos of nothing. Of course I’ve gone off to track prey or even scout for its own sake. But I’ve never dispersed. I’ve never disappeared. Everyone else has left at one point another, except, perhaps, for the Ulfhedinn, and nobody ever seems to find fault with this.

Riley reflected on this: the wants of Masquerade’s world, and the reality of the world.

And the reality was, people were stupid, short sighted, and selfish. He wanted to live in the world Masque believed should exist. But he lived in the world of bear worshippers and blood cults, murderous aunts and indifferent mothers.

Alpha. She’d used that word and not Wealda. For a dim witted boy, Riley could sometimes move fast.

You know — his breath hung in the air, as if he was afraid of upending the delicate balance of the life they’d built. Maybe that is because this pack rewards the wrong things.

In all her inner monologues, Masquerade had never arrived at the point Riley now stated. It was so succinct, she gaped at him for a long beat.

That’s exactly it, she murmured.

The rise had always recognized and rewarded physical prowess over anything else. Masquerade had struggled so long to find her footing within its parameters, defying precedent by thrusting herself into leadership as a Caru.

I don’t want to be Wealda. I don’t think Redd wants to be Wealda, Masque voiced, frowning as she thought of her last real conversation with her sister, who remained remote. Nobody should’ve taken the title. We should’ve let it rest with mother. She shook her head again. But it’s too late now.

While Riley sometimes struggled to see the big picture behind it all, he had a knack for seeing things up close for what they were. He didn’t like speaking poorly of her family - it filled him with a unique species of guilt - but sometimes, a little sunlight was needed to expose the dark cracks in the foundations.

Masque didn’t want to be Wealda. Riley surmised a lot of what she said was true about Redd too. Truthfully, Redd arriving as the agent of control had always perplexed Riley. It bucked what he felt were established hierarchy norms. And everyone had accepted it, falling into line behind her.

But sometimes, being in the eye of the storm was the cloudiest vantage, and standing on the outside looking in lent a clarity impossible to achieve within the cyclone.

So change it. It’s not too late. He pressed his shoulder to Masque’s silverstorm pelt. I’m with you.

His unhesitating, unwavering support meant so much to Masquerade. He had always stood behind her, she knew, even when everyone in her own family hadn’t.

Masque wanted to voice an idea, though two things made her pause. Firstly, she thought Riley deserved to share what was on his mind. Secondly, it was so preposterous, just thinking about saying it loud made her heart suddenly beat twice as fast.

How? she questioned, head canting, wondering if her mate had any specific ideas.

Well, Riley took a deep breath, his gaze angling up to the snow studded pines. Behind them, dark clouds moved like gathering sheep on a grey plain. The way I see it, there are two options.

He placed his left paw down upon the snow and looked at it. You walk up to Redd and you tell her how you really feel. It will go one of two ways. She agrees, you become alpha. Or. More likely — she disagrees, you fight, one of you loses, and both of you are unhappy.

He placed his right paw out. Or — you don’t turn on your family. You do as others have done. You make your own pack, with your own rules, and your own rewards.

She didn’t think it was possible to shatter an entire pack’s schema. Nevertheless, she listened to every word out of her mate’s mouth. For the third time, that little smile flickered across her face. This time, it lingered and she leaned forward to nip at his nose before sinking back into place.

I’ve thought of both scenarios, among many others, she admitted with a bob of her head. I wouldn’t fight, if she didn’t agree. In case I haven’t made this clear, I think it’s bullshit to earn a rank through a single round of combat, Masque said frankly, blinking loudly at her own curse.

She cleared her throat, exhaling loudly through her nose. It abruptly occurred to her that she was so fortunate not just to have Riley in her corner but to have someone who didn’t mind her bending his ear this way. All these thoughts had been stewing in her mind for so long, it was a relief to air them out. And she knew she could trust him never to breathe a word of this conversation to anyone else.

In another one of those scenarios I mentioned, I tell Redd to abolish the role of Wealda. She becomes Berserkr, Mountain Boulder and I retain our titles, and we operate as an equal council of sorts. Masque snorted. But every time I imagine this conversation, all I can picture is the two of them staring back at me like I’ve grown two heads.

The solemnity of their conversation was broken by a brief nip and a third smile. To this, Riley grinned in return , rubbing the bridge of his nose as he considered each thing shared with him.

Truthfully, nothing Masque spoke today wasn’t something Riley hadn’t already thought himself. And it wasn’t because he was one step ahead or smarter - he was neither of these things. It was because he was an observer on the sidelines. Like Watcher, he viewed the world warily and categorically remembered each interaction. He watched the way the Rise upended and mended again. How it belched out decent wolves and turned its back on others.

The pack dynamic was fucked, simply put.

Even if Masque didn’t fight, Riley understood. He agreed that actions were more important than one arbitrary fight to establish dominance. So do it. See if they look at you with two heads. If they do, who cares? At least you made your thoughts heard and known.

And if it doesn’t work — we can build a stable life elsewhere, Riley thought to himself. Finally, he understood why Wolverine and Ancelin had left it all behind.

Still that one idea lurked in the back of her mind. It certainly helped that Riley had already pitched it, in a sense. But it still felt monumental to Masquerade, to say it out loud. It felt liberating and treacherous in equal measure just thinking it.

Riley encouraged her to try approaching them regardless of her misgivings. Only when he said as much did she realize just how resigned she was about that outcome. Perhaps it wasn’t just that she didn’t think it would be taken any better than anything else she’d ever proposed. Part of her was tired of even bothering.

What if I’m done opening myself to rejection? You said I should take what’s mine. You said I should make my own rules. It would be selfish but I’ve been so selfless so long. Look where it’s gotten me. Maybe it’s time to put myself first, do what’s best for me in the long-term, even if it’s awful in the short-term.

Her heart was still doing double time, beating against her breast. She still hadn’t spat out the suggestion that lurked in the back of her throat, forming a lump there.

Of course, she said, dodging it for the nth time, I care what you think, what you want. What—what sort of future do you see for us, Riley?

Though this was Masquerade’s hard won experience, Riley understood. And he understood, because he had been observer to it all along.

She was tired of rejection and being overlooked. She was tired of trying for no reward. And she was tired of being runner up in someone else’s center stage. All of this was inherently relatable.

Then if you are tired of those things, you do what you want instead. He pressed his forehead to her a moment in thought. He was not a creature for thinking days ahead; he was a wolf of action and reaction, not forethought. His strength was in steadiness, not directive. I see a future that has you in it. Anything else, does not matter to me - as long as you are happy.

Perhaps Riley was her reward for all her hard work and loyalty. Masquerade took a moment to ponder that as she preened at the impossibly soft furs lining his ruff. There was something calming about feeling the individual strands running through her teeth. It tempered her thudding heartbeat.

The reason I brought up dispersing wasn’t to make myself look better or more loyal than the rest, she said after a moment, it was actually to point out that we’ve always welcomed them home without qualm. So if I do the same, I should be able to expect the same. Right?

Would it work like that, in reality? She couldn’t be certain, of course. But after a couple deep breaths, the Caru was finally ready to voice the idea buried deep inside of her, knocking at her ribs.

It’s my turn to take leave. There, it was out there in the world. I think it would be good for me to get away from the rise for a little while, see what else is out there. Despite everything I’ve said, I don’t plan to just abandon my home and run off to start my own pack, just like that. But I need to break out of this holding pattern. Before I make any big, irreversible decisions, I want to take a little time—and distance—to figure things out.

Masque didn’t know if that made perfect sense, though she hoped Riley understood. She hoped he also knew that when she said “my,” she meant “our,” that really it was “we,” and not just “I.” But, of course, she’d always been an articulate wolf, so it stood to be verbalized.

I want you to come with me, of course, she told him with a nuzzle. I want you with me every step of the way. You and I can run off together for a little while, or perhaps a long while, have a littley ‘hunty-moon’… Masque said, huffing a laugh as she nibbled at his jaw.

Riley liked to believe that all things were equal. But he knew that wasn't true. Wolves were more 'do as I say, not as I do' - and he'd seen that in every interaction forming his life. Would they be welcomed back if they left? He didn't rightly know. He did not have a good enough read on Redd for any measured confidence.

As Masquerade expanded on what was troubling her, Riley first thought she was laying the groundwork to leave him behind too. It was difficult to hide the crestfallen sensation of his heart -- until in the next sentence, in which she elaborated.

Relief. His shoulders lost their sudden tension as she turned to nuzzle him. It took several seconds for the little joke to land, but when it did Riley returned her nuzzle with a gentle push of his forehead to her shoulder. A hunty-moon. He marveled at the word play, wondering how many future meals might be thrown at his face during their hunting expedition. I think that's a good idea. Masque -- articulate. Riley -- a man of simple and few words. Sorry you hitched your metaphorical horse to the monosyllabic cart, Masquerade.

He readily agreed. Masquerade wondered if it ever occurred to Riley to refute her. But when it sometimes seemed like everyone else was so quick to deny her, his—perhaps unconditional—support meant more than she could say.

I’ve been thinking about all of this a lot, if it wasn’t obvious, she murmured, the remark punctuated with a self-deprecating laugh, but I think I need a few more days to make up my mind, a few more nights to sleep on it. The minute I decide anything, you’ll be the first—and only—to know, Riley Redtail.

It was understandable she needed more time. Riley nodded. It was not a small move. She would be bucking every ideal she had ever held to herself -- though she would be honoring the tradition of her relatives in doing so. It was likely neither she or Riley knew that it was a time honored ritual; so few of their ancestors had stayed in one place for very long.

You take as much time as you need. Riley pressed his shoulder to hers gently, smiling to himself at the way she had said his name. It sounded so important -- so very real -- to hear his name on the lips of someone who loved him.