Lone Star Mountain engine no.9

vague based on ongoing, tag for ref

in the aftermath of the rise’s power struggle, his feet carry him away from home.

for some reason, his heart is pedaling faster than his feet.

his body is sore and worn and yet he doesn’t want to stop. 

he searches fiercely for @Dinah,

but cannot find a trace of her. 

mulherin is drawn to the peak for this reason. having a view of the valley gives him solace. somewhere, he imagines her to be a reddish speck among the sea of grass and trees below. 

he idly stands upon an overlook and stares out.

little does he know—he won’t find her here.

He hadn’t strayed far from the rise since pledging his fealty, though often he loitered at its borders. He had never stayed in one place very long before this, much less claimed a territory. Cambria knew about borders and markings—having come across many and more in his travels—but the concept of patrols was rather new to him, as was the idea that he should contribute to the scents along the foot of the rise.

His leg was in midair, directing a stream of pungent urine at a strategically chosen point along the southern fringe, when he saw a familiar sooty figure moving restlessly away from the rise. Cambria pinched off the stream and settled his leg back on the ground, eyes tracking Mulherin’s movements. He read in them an agitation that reminded him of their meet-cute.

The Dragonling found himself shadowing Mulherin, wondering where he was headed and whether he might still be searching for the kidnapper and her victim. Surely they were long gone by now. Mulherin’s dedication impressed him and also made Cambria feel for the man. And though they had only been acquainted for a matter of weeks, they were comrades now, and perhaps that explained why he felt the urge to accompany him now.

But did Mulherin want company? Perhaps he’d left to avoid his pack mates. Cambria considered this as he climbed the mountainside toward the swarthy yearling’s perch. He hesitated, then decided to finish his ascent. If Mulherin didn’t want Cambria’s companionship, he could say so and the Blod would go back to minding his own business.

He neared the Redtail, announcing his presence with a warm bark.

he turns his head at the sound of a pumpkin spice latte.

it was only cambria.

internally, he's crestfallen, but promises to keep an eye out for dinah later.

mulherin rotates to fully face the blod, then offers a slight tilt of his head, curious as to what brought him out this far.

He stilled when Mulherin looked at him, trying to assess the other yearling’s expression. He looked almost… disappointed. Cambria shifted his weight, watching as that expression morphed into one of polite curiosity. If he wasn’t who Mulherin expected, he at least wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep on you, he said, then amended, actually, I guess I did. I did deliberately follow you here. His lips twitched as he took a step toward Mulherin. You can tell me if you’d rather not be bothered. It won’t hurt my feelings. I was just… Cambria paused, taking a breath as he searched for the right words. You looked agitated, so I wanted to make sure you were alright.

It was the most he’d spoken in a while, perhaps in his life. He was a little surprised by his own verbosity, which manifested in a slightly owlish look on his pale features.

cambria greets him with an almost nervousness. he explains himself promptly—all in more words than mulherin initially expected.

he pauses for a moment to process what all cambria just said.

and finally his reply manifests itself in a dry chuckle, oddly amused.

you can thank my mom for the rbf. he replies, stepping away from the overhang and toward the blod. it's good to get some air every now and then.

you've been settling in alright?

The chuckle eased some of the tension coiling in Cambria’s muscles, particularly those in his upper back. He out a breath and schooled his expression, though it flickered with confusion again when Mulherin mentioned “RBF.”

RBF? he repeated, tacking on, Your mom? without any awareness of how it sounded like a joking insult.

After the swarthy yearling presumably elaborated, he posed a question that was easy enough to answer with, I think so. It’s an adjustment—I forget if I mentioned I’ve never really lived in a pack before this—but I’m doing my best.

He tilted his pale head, wondering if Mulherin had any feedback in that regard. Cambria’s heartbeat sped up a little. In a way, Mulherin had indirectly recruited him. He felt a singular sort of camaraderie with him, particularly since they were close in age. He wouldn’t want to let him down.

He mulled the statement about needing air, weighing it against the question about settling. Cambria’s lips parted as a question sprang to the tip of his tongue. He shut his mouth with a gentle click, appearing to rethink it, only to open it a moment later and decide to speak his mind after all.

The rise doesn’t seem particularly settled in and of itself, though, he posited, reflecting on the altercation following Redd’s return and thinking, as always, of just what trauma had afflicted young Ruckus. It’s not a judgment, Cambria was quick to add, just an observation. Is that how it always is, in a pack?