Redhawk Caldera bidibodi bidibu

Tagging for visibility: @Alivia @Amalia @Killdeer :)

He comes to a halt beside the water, paws sinking into the silt lining it. Bushtit draws in a breath as he stares across its ruffled surface. He can see why his family favors this place; it feels like a cozy fortress. It makes him feel a tiny bit claustrophobic, but he chalks that up to his lifestyle. He can handle the confines for a few days.

The young wolf turns slightly, walking along the curving shoreline. He wants to fetch Towhee some breakfast. She’d finally come home the night before, looking completely hangdog. He recalls their brief conversation and swallows against a guilty lump in his throat. He shouldn’t have fled from Treepie like that, he knows. It was a dick move. But there’s nothing he can about that, nor her dead grandparents.

He tries to focus, dropping his head to sniff out any promising leads. Bushtit also takes notes on the wolfish scents he comes across. He recognizes Amalia’s, though there’s another feminine scent which intrigues him. His tail flicks as he moseys, caught up in leafing through the catalog of interesting smells here.

There was another fresh face in the Caldera this morning. Alivia watched from afar as the pale-coated stranger trailed the shoreline. She squinted. Was it a man, or a woman.. or maybe a child? She couldn't tell from this distance. The newcomer somehow bore the characteristics of all three. 

She closed the distance with a spring in her step. 

"A new recruit, huh?" she asked, pulling up behind the newcomer. "You must be here for the initiation ritual. I'm Alivia, and I'll be your Spirit Guide." 

“A new recruit, huh?” says a voice behind him.

Bushtit raises his head, the odor of a strange man lingering in his nostrils as he turns to look over his shoulder. He blinks almost owlishly at the woman as he spins to face her, barely registering her words. He’s too busy looking her over from head to toe.

Ayyy, we’re like long-lost twins! he observes with a twitch of his tail. Her words register and he grins as he adds, I guess that makes sense, since you’re my spirit guide. What’s this ritual involve?

Gods, he feels smooth. Bushtit remembers the days—not so long ago—when he felt completely wrongfooted around women. He’s come so far in just these last few months, he thinks, snorting a little at his dirty mind’s phrasing.

The newcomer turned and spoke, and Alivia decided it was a man. A young one-- perhaps someone stuck in between boyhood and true manhood. She could relate. Three years gone now, and she had yet to truly grow up herself. Maturity was overrated. 

He commented on their similar appearance, and Alivia opened her mouth to respond. Something about the phrase long-lost twins threw her though, and no words emerged. She already had a long-lost twin. Valiria. Was Liri still here in the Teekons? 

He spoke again to ask about the ritual-- the one she had yet to conceive-- and his voice brought her back to the present moment. 

"Oh, it's um.. very.. profound and meaningful. I'm sure they explained to you how religious we are in this pack." She paused to make a show of peering doubtfully at the boy, as if she were questioning the depth of his spiritual commitment as he snorted quietly at some unspoken joke. "First thing though, I'll need your name. Then we'll get into the details."

He looses a boyish laugh when she mentions the pack’s religiosity. Bushtit knows this lady is kidding around but he wonders if she knows just how well she’s chosen her bit. There are few things more absurd than a religious Redhawk. He snorts, tickled by the faux dubious look she gives him.

Shima Enaga Redhawk, he replies without missing a beat, unleashing a slightly smoldering look as he says his full government name. He grins as he adds, But most just call me Bushtit. What should I call you?

He’s happy to keep playing along, though he wonders just how deep this comedic rabbit hole goes. Bushtit’s mind flicks to those she-wolves who’d once tried to recruit him—as a spirit guardian, actually—and he snorts again. Oh, how the turntables.

Another Redhawk? There sure were a lot of those around here. 

If he was a Redhawk, she probably wasn't going to be able to really fool him about pack culture, which was a bit disappointing. He was already laughing at her attempts. Maybe she wasn't as good an actress as she thought. At least he seemed entertained and willing to play along. 

"I'm Alivia Redsand. Just Livi will do, if you don't like Spirit Guide." She quirked a brow. The boy was snorting again, presumably at another unspoken joke. His mind must be a truly hilarious place. 

"Well c'mon then, Bushtit. Don't fall behind." She turned and smacked her tail intentionally across his face to annoy him, then dashed away. If he followed, she would lead him on a light jog around the rim of the lake before pulling up to a group of large, jagged boulders that sat at the edge of the lake. 

"We're going out there," she told him, gesturing to a flat-ish boulder rising up out of the lake's shallows. They would have to do some climbing and boulder-hopping to make it out there, but it looked like it would be possible to get to it while remaining dry. "After you."

What’re the odds of that? he wonders aloud re: the similarity in surnames.

Instead of replying, Livi makes a face and then whirls. Bushtit gets a faceful of tail, several strands of fur clinging to his tongue. He blows a loud raspberry as he gamely falls into step behind her. He doesn’t really try to catch up, just trots along behind and enjoys the view. She’s too young to do much for him, though he’s still a hotblooded young male. And an ass is an ass.

He trails her around the curving shoreline, slowing only when she does. He arrives beside her, panting slightly, and looks where she’s pointing. Alivia wants to make their way to a boulder peeking out of the water. Bushtit eyeballs the gauntlet they’ll have to cross, grinning in approval at her sense of adventure.

She wants him to go first. Bushtit tosses her a grin, then lines up for the first hop. There’s a flat stone just beneath the surface, its topside covered in green algae. It’s angled slightly, its left corner jutting just out of the water. Bushtit knows it’s going to be slippery, particularly with the grade, but the worst case scenario is he gets wet.

He springs, paws indeed slipping on the rock’s scummy face. He nearly loses his balance, tipping forward so his nose almost touches the water. Bushtit’s posteror thrusts up into the air, his tail swinging upward as a counterbalance and giving Livi quite the view as he manages to steady himself. Well, that’s only fair.

Bushtit trailed behind, making no attempt to draw up beside her despite the very casual pace she set. He must really be getting into his role as the "guidee." Or.. maybe he was taking advantage of the view from behind. Alivia increased her pace at that thought. 

Even after seeing what she had in mind, the boy still seemed eager to play along. Alivia smiled back encouragingly. He took his leap and slipped almost immediately, his rear shooting up into the air comically. "Whoa there, butter-paws. You can't fall on the first jump," she teased. She held her paw up to block her eyes from the most sensitive part of the view, her face twisted into something between a cringe and a snicker.

“Butter paws?” he mouths incredulously, although there’s nothing but mischief in his eyes as he turns to peek over his shoulder. Bushtit notices Alivia shielding her eyes and barks a laugh. He carefully lowers his tail now that he feels a little steadier.

How cool would that be, he muses, his mind now full of butterflies, if we had wings? What would you pick: butterfly wings, bird wings or like… bat wings?

Even as he asks, he begins lining up his next move. It’s an easy one, which he makes after only a few seconds’ assessment. His feet slap on the next rock along the path, this one much larger and more exposed. Although its slanting sides give him a moment’s trouble—he primly gathers all four paws together around its little peak—at least it’s not slippery.

There’s a long breach between this and the next stone, which is another partially submerged one. Even if he doesn’t slip, Bushtit thinks he could easily break an ankle because of the height difference. He nibbles at his lip, then glances backward at Livi once again.

He means to tell her he thinks he’s just going to swim, but his body actually forces his hand before he can articulate. Just from the sheer force of turning his head, he throws off his own balance and begins to teeter. Soon enough, the young male goes tumbling into the water with a noisy splash and a perfectly cut scream.

Alivia indulged the question, even though she wasn't sure how they got on the topic of wings. 

"That'd be cool, but wouldn't wings get in the way of stuff? I'd want mine to fold up, like.." Like cockroach wings, was the first thing that came to mind, and Alivia scoffed at herself. Of course if all the other wolves were running around with bird wings, bat wings or butterfly wings, she'd get the cockroach wings. 

"..Like a firefly, or something. Light-up butt included!" she chortled. 

Bushtit's next jump was much more controlled, and it earned him a whoop of encouragement from Alivia. She nodded vigorously when he looked back at her with uncertainty. But before he could jump again, he toppled into the water with a over-the-top dramatic scream. 

"You fell on purpose!" Alivia mumbled with equal parts amusement and chagrin, although it was unlikely the boy would hear her accusation with all the splashing around. Shaking her head, she waded into the shallows. "Tough luck," she consoled him, "It was a nice try, but we're going to have to cut you from the pack roster. You know what that means.."

She dipped her muzzle low, so her chin hovered just above the water's surface. Her tail lifted playfully. 

"..Off with your head!" 

She charged forward, and water flew in all directions.

His elbow and hip hit the silty bottom of the lake, smarting a little. Bushtit thrashes, his head quickly breaking the surface. He splutters as he rights himself, feet kicking before he realizes it’s shallow enough to plant them. He can hear Alivia’s voice, though it takes him a few seconds to tune in to what she’s saying: “—try, but we’re going to cut you from the pack roster. You know what that means…”

He grins at her subsequent charge, complete with war cry. His forepaws push upward, his body rearing below the surface. Their forelegs tangle as Livi collides with him, her forward momentum shoving him underwater. For several seconds, Bushtit can’t tell his ass from his elbow among all the churning bubbles and limbs. But then a single hind paw finds purchase on the shifting lake bottom and he kicks.

His pale head breaks the surface again, his forelegs already churning in a doggy paddle. Bushtit manages to put a yard between himself and his assailant—a thought which makes him snort a breathless, wet laugh—and then spin as fast as he can, given the liquid medium. The young male treads water for a moment, wondering if Alivia will come at him a second time.

Just in case she wasn’t planning on it, he sends a splash her way and eggs her on: Come at me, bro!

As she surged forward, the water dragged at her chest, plunging her in up to her neck and deeper than she'd been expecting. She managed to get the drop on Bushtit and dunk him under, but she lost her grasp on him as he submerged in a flail of water and limbs. Alivia found herself choking on a mouthful of water and stumbled backward on the slick rocks making up the lake bottom.

Bushtit righted himself about a wolf's length away. Alivia did not renew her charge, still coughing a bit and trying to catch her breath. Although he wasn't much further out into the lake than she was, Bushtit was treading while she was still standing on the rocky bottom, muzzle hovering above the surface. Clearly the couple of inches height she had on him were working to her advantage. 

He didn't seem at all concerned about his disadvantage, goading her to continue her attack with a little splash. Alivia turned her face to avoid the spray, then pushed toward the boy once more. "You asked for it!" she shouted back, and it was all she could get out before the water depth increased and her muzzle dipped below the water. Her churning forelegs reached out toward her target, searching for purchase.

He cackles at her playful warning, swerving his body to the side a bit like a breaching whale as she launches at him again. He feels her forelegs whack him on the ribs, slowed considerably by the water. Bushtit resists the urge to kick out his back feet, as he might catch her in the belly. He doesn’t want to actually hurt her.

He turns as fast as the medium allows, then dives underwater to nip at her like some oversized piranha. His teeth aim for her own ribs, hoping to tickle her. Bushtit minds her legs, jerking back a little to avoid being struck in the face. One of her limbs brushes his snout right before he kicks for the surface to take a breath.

Alivia was doggy-paddling in place, no longer able to touch the lakebottom. As her forepaws made contact with Bushtit, she kicked out harder with her back legs, trying to dunk him under the surface one again, but it was much harder this time now that she was having to keep herself afloat too. She ended up just sort of uselessly pawing at him as he swerved away from her. 

He submerged himself and Alivia laughed, never having seen a wolf dive like a duck before. Her laugh turned into a screech of surprise when she felt his teeth nibbling at her ribs. "You little shit!" she laughed out, her words half-garbled as water lapped up over her muzzle. She groped downward with her forelegs, trying to grab him, but she missed and only brushed his snout as he came up for air. Her unsuccessful grab caused her head to slip under water, and she twisted, fighting to get back to the surface. She was not a terribly adept sparring partner even on dry land, so the aquatic medium really had her in over her head (pun intended).

Just as soon as he pops back to the surface, she goes underwater. Bushtit slaps a paw where her head disappeared, for no particular reason. Rather than wait for her to reappear, he pushes his face through the surface like she’s an apple and he’s bobbing. It’s a little difficult to see anything but an amorphous blob; they’ve kicked up too much silt and the water is cloudy.

He pulls his head out with a spraying snort, then leans backward and gives a careful kick. Fortunately, he doesn’t strike her as he glides back a few feet in the water, giving her plenty of space to resurface. Bushtit stills, treading water as he waits, wondering if and when he should start worrying…

Ummm, he calls out to her, unsure if Alivia can hear him, hellO? Do you require rescue?

He laughs, though there’s a nervous edge to the sound as he begins mentally preparing to dive in after her, drag her back toward dry land and attempt to resuscitate her. Bushtit wonders if that will require mouth to mouth.

Alivia managed to thrash a hind paw into the muck at the bottom of the lake, gaining just enough traction to push her nose above the surface. She bobbed back down and then executed a more controlled push off of the bottom to float back to the surface. With a few strokes, she was back to the shallows, coughing up a lungful of lakewater as soon as she could stand. 

"Stars, that was a bad idea," she laughed out between coughs. "Some guardian I would make. My father would be so ashamed." Or rather, he would have been ashamed of her had she been a male child. Women were not burdened with same expectation of physical prowess in Mereo, or so she had been told. She'd left her birthpack when she was too young to really remember anything about it.

She reappears just as Bushtit sucks in a deep breath, quickly paddling for the shallows. He swims after her, glad for the relatively solid footing as they wade out of the lake. Still ankle-deep in the water, he gives himself a vigorous shake. Despite the loud flapping of his ears, he catches Livi’s words. He enjoys her use of the term “stars.”

Who’s your father? he asks conversationally as he steps toward dry land. In your defense, you said you were a guide, not a guardian, Bushtit adds, shooting her a cheeky grin.

Once she could breathe properly again, Alivia shook herself out as well. She began to wade toward the beach. 

"A war general named Germanicus," she answered, flicking a glance over her shoulder to gauge whether Bushtit recognized the name. "He leads a group of mercenaries called Mereo." Alivia was unaware that Mereo was long gone from Teekon, as she had yet to go looking for them.

She gave a wry huff at Bushtit's attempt to encourage her, returning his infectious smile despite herself. The huff triggered another (albeit milder) coughing fit. When it passed, she commented, "Guide a Redhawk? In his own homeland? I'm sure you already know everything there is to know." Once she was fully on dry land, she turned to face to water and flopped lazy into the sand. 

"Who are your parents?" she asked, turning the question back on Bushtit.

Mereo! he exclaims as soon as she mentions it. Clearing his throat and calming himself, Bushtit adds, My mom’s told me a lot about the pack. We’ve visited the canyon a few times too. I like staying in her old barracks, mostly because I can tell she feels at peace there. He pauses, then admits, I don’t remember a lot about your dad, other than his name. Mom might’ve called him stodgy or something. Is that even a word?

He laughs, a warmth in his eyes as he thinks about her. Even when she’s close by, part of him always misses his mom. He wonders if Livi knows her well. Surely, she knows her some. They’re pack mates, after all.

Towhee’s my mom. I’m assuming you’ve met? he asks as he closes the short distance between them and flops down on the ground beside her.

He knew Mereo and her father. If she hadn't already been flopped over onto her side, you could have knocked Alivia over with a feather. 

"I was born in that canyon," she noted as Bushtit described the trips he took with Towhee. She liked that he had warm memories associated with the place. She'd always had a difficult time getting a read on Ruenna's feelings, the few times she had asked her mother about it. 

"I don't know," she laughed in response to his questions about the word stodgy. She did her best to continue looking casual while hanging off of his every word about her father. Unfortunately, Bushtit's information about Germanicus was disappointingly limited. 

The conversation shifted to Towhee. "Yeah. Towhee was my mom's best friend when they lived here together, in the old Redhawk Caldera. I didn't know they were together in Mereo too." Mom had talked endlessly about Redhawk Caldera, but she had been unusually tight-lipped about Mereo. 

"Maybe we could all go to Mereo together for a visit," she suggested, trying almost desperately to sound offhand. "..If you think the Mereoans wouldn't mind." She hadn't yet realized they were gone.

There was a lot of shared familial history here. Bushtit cocks his head, a smile twitching his lips. Maybe he and Livi can be the next generation of Red-surname besties? Well, he considers her a fast friend, anyway.

I don’t think they’d mind, considering they left a long time ago, he says with a little laugh. I can’t remember the details but mom would know. And, hey, I was supposed to be getting breakfast for her. So if you want to join me, we can go see her and ask all about it?

He should probably get up, though he makes no move to rise yet. He lolls there on the silt beside Alivia, enjoying the cool breeze that tousles his wet fur. He’s pretty tired after their little showdown, though Bushtit won’t let that waylay his plans to feed his madre.

Mereo had gone. Alivia's ears flattened at the news, though she did her best to curb any other outward signs of distress. She'd known it was likely; Mereo was a nomadic pack after all. This just meant that she now had zero leads on finding her father. 

Well, maybe there was half a lead. Bushtit seemed to think Towhee might know more. 

"Bet," she agreed, tossing a smile his way. Despite his suggestion, he didn't look prepared to move at all. "But I think it's more like brunch at this point." Whoops. Hopefully Towhee wouldn't mind. Bushtit definitely didn't seem too anxious about it.  

Whenever he was ready, she would heave herself to her paws and shake off the sand, then follow his lead.