Fantasy hymn of the stray dog | cuzn & creamsnekkle

[cuzn]

Wrinkling her nose at Little Rose, Jasmine grumbled, "They don't have to like us, but hasn't anyone thought that we're wasting time by competing with eachother? If every predator focused only on finding food instead of warring over the grass that only prey can eat, then wouldn't we be better off?"

Whitetooth remained silent. He'd never thought of such an idea before—he never had reason to. Furthermore, he had never met a wolf who even momentarily considered the actions of other creatures beyond the barest opinions—family, harmless, food, enemy, human. Outside of those five categories, which served as the basis for classifying every creature in existence through the eyes of every wolf, there was nothing. What Jasmine spoke of was not only of allowing the enemy to exist without conflict, but of the enemy subsequently allowing them to exist without consequence. Its very foundation was impossible to achieve. There was no communicating with the enemy, there was no understanding between opposing predators that didn't involve tooth, claw, and blood. There was only life and death.

A raven swooped down from the trees and landed, with two beats of its wings, atop the snout of the dead elk. Its beady black eyes held no trace of wariness. Soon, more would come to feed off of their kill. The coyote from earlier wouldn't be far behind.

"Sure, but good luck explaining that to them." Ashen Moon, still licking his muzzle, chimed in with a grunt. "Only wolves hear wolves, and the only time a stranger wolf will listen to you is when you want to mate. Rival packs won't hesitate to kill you if you're anywhere near their territory. You won't even get a word in edgewise."

"Well..." Jasmine's brows furrowed. "What if we make them listen?"

"The only thing they'll listen to is danger. Everything else is meaningless to them."

"Then I'll be dangerous." Jasmine held Ashen Moon's gaze, unfaltering. Her eyes gleamed silver under the pale beginnings of moonlight that sifted through the pines. Two more ravens came down, and then a third, and a fourth, and Ashen Moon, cowed, returned to his meal.

Milkweed, who'd followed Jasper as soon as she heard his yelp and who was now tentatively sniffing near his leg, very gently offered her contradiction. "That won't solve the problem. Stranger wolves don't listen to us because we're their enemy, and we don't listen to them because they're our enemy. Everything is an enemy unless it shares our blood, but the only ones who share our blood is us."
When she looked over at Jasmine, it was sorrow that reflected in her pale eyes. "The entire world is our enemy, Jasmine. All that we have is eachother."

At this, Jasmine had finally met her match, and sighed, defeated. She understood the cruelties of reality, but she still couldn't come to terms with it. If every predator in the world lived in peace, there would be no territory wars, and the only enemy that wolves would have would be starvation. Why do we have to fight eachother when nothing good will ever come of it? Why can't things just be different?

Sensing that the unnerving conversation had met its end, Whitetooth stood up and made his way towards Jasper, eyeing the brown drake's leg with a prickle of tension. "Can you walk?"

 

[cream.snekkle]

Now particularly unnerved by all of Jasmine's talk, Little Rose pulled away from the carcass the instant she was finished eating, ears flattening as she trods off to lick her paws clean of blood and dirt. She's silent, however, as for once, she hadn't anything to say in retort. While she could get easily annoyed by her littermates, something about Jasmine's absolute sheer persistence was enough to drive the thought deeper into her mind. And so, in sudden compulsion, she begins to groom her own fur, meticulously picking out leaves and twigs that had hitched a ride on her pelt for far too long.
While Little Rose occupied herself, Harebell's attention jerked back to little Jasper at his yelp, concern writ in her brow, but before she could get up, Milkweed had beaten her to him. While Jasper had clearly been hurt, he gave Milkweed a reassuring grin, one that was enough to settle Harebell back down.

Turning back as Jasmine stared Ashen Moon down until he relented, doubt began to sow deep into her heart, and what was once curiosity had been replaced with fear. Wolves were hostile to all others outside their pack. Even themselves, when encountering another from a different pack, became hostile, and just the effort that was required meant a level of trust no one had, a sentiment soon echoed by Milkweed. Even the simple idea of trusting other wolves not to bite her throat struck her with a new bout of anxiousness.
Sensing that the conversation had finally ended, Harebell reluctantly tore her gaze away from the others, turning back to finish eating as she licks marrow off the bone.

Burning Sage had been listening to the whole of the conversation, and while her pups handled their conversations, something piqued Burning Sage's interest. Jasmine could get wholeheartedly determined when her mind was set, no doubt, but this was an entirely new proposition.
Would it truly be possible to have such a bond outside of mating purposes…?

She glances over towards her mate, eyes somber, and full of worry. She, too, had never thought of it before, for she had accepted this was the way of things past death itself. There was understanding behind her answers about death and to hunt as a pack, and when it came to it, the protection of their own came above all else. For this reason, any other wolf would have dismissed the idea outright. Burning Sage couldn’t shake the thought from her mind.
A raven had landed on the head of the elk, bringing her back out of her thoughts. It stared at Jasmine for a moment, cocking its head to one side as if to look at her properly, before letting out a startling caw. Its wings flashed open for a heartbeat as it hopped down onto the neck, beginning to peck away at the exposed flesh underneath its brown hide. Upon this call, two other ravens fluttered down from the trees high above, taking great care in where they would land. Ravens were always the first telltale sign that a carcass had been found, but in the darkness, it would be that much more difficult to spot one.

While Milkweed had began to carefully inspect his leg, Jasper pulls back slightly, giving a little wag of his tail. He was alright, thankfully enough; no broken bone was poking out of his fur, and he was still able to walk on it. Sort of. That's a plus, right...? He wondered to himself.
When his father walked over to him to carefully examine him, Jasper felt his fur set on fire from the guilt of such a stupid move and his ears flattened halfway back. He crouches down somewhat, giving his father a nervous grin as he awkwardly flexes the leg. It twinges with pain, but he pushes himself back up to sit up straight for Whitetooth, ignoring the sharp needle-like throbbing sensation.
"I-I’m fine. Nothing’s broken…!"

"Honestly, Jasper, you're lucky that wasn't worse." Little Rose had stood up once again, trotting around the carcass to walk up to him with a scrutinizing gaze. Her russet fur was noticeably spotless, having been licked completely clean of dirt. "Like, what were you even thinking?? You could've gotten yourself killed jumping at the elk like that!"

"I'm fine, Little Rose, I promise!" Jasper's quick to dissuade her concerns, shaking his head as he pulls himself up with a great big huff. "S'not like I wanted to hurt myself!"

"Yeah, but you could've been."

 

[cuzn]

"Every hunt comes with its own amount of risk." Whitetooth's wisdom came with a soft grunt and a swivel of his ears. "It's best he learns now. There are always more painful times ahead. We're all lucky the bone wasn't shattered. Remember, Jasper, you'll be an adult very soon. Next season, there may be new pups, and we won't have the time to bring food for you whenever you're hungry. You and Jasmine have gotten the largest bone for your entire life up until now."

At mention of her name, Jasmine looked over, snapped out of her contemplative daze. Her silver eyes were wide and bright with alarm as Whitetooth stood above his son. His tone had lowered to the gravelly beginnings of a growl—not to threaten, but to emphasize. "A broken leg is a death sentence for a wolf. We all live only on the strength of the pack, and if that strength is compromised in any way... It would be a blessing for us to only lose one. If you can't run, you can't hunt, and if you can't hunt, we don't eat."

Lowering his head, Whitetooth met his son's eyes and held his stare. He saw potential in Jasper—potential that was muddied by his own haste. He and Kestrel were of the same breed; good-intentioned in their recklessness, but unable to understand that their individual failure brought the consequence down to the entire pack. Jasmine was the opposite. She thought too deeply, to relentlessly, and if she allowed her mind to paralyze her legs she may very well find herself in the same position as her prey. Slaughtered while standing still. "Learn from us, Jasper. When you live in a pack, everyone is relying on you for their own survival. Remember that."

As their father straightened up and lumbered back over to their kill, Milkweed let out the breath that she'd been holding in polite relief. Whitetooth went easy on him. Easier than he went on Kestrel, at least. A glance at her storm-furred brother and the tension in his shoulders hinted that he'd been thinking the same thing. All of them had gotten some version of that talk, and a few of them had heard it many times, but the first realization was always the most difficult. When Burning Sage had sat Milkweed down and explained the responsibility that she carried for the first time, Milkweed spent almost the entire night pacing and whimpering. The thought that her family's lives depended on her success was the fiercest terror that anyone had ever given her.

The puphood of a wolf was brief and difficult, but because pups didn't understand the gravity of what was going on around them, they oftentimes managed to remain carefree in the midst of it. A pup born in a secure pack was marginally less likely to spend their early months in fear, but death came for everyone eventually. It was inevitable. Every pup, one day, would realize that just by sake of being alive they were one of the lucky ones. Every yearling would realize that their entire pack had starved just to keep them—the youngest—fed, and now that spring had brought new pups, it was their turn to join the adults in their gnawing hunger.

Milkweed remembered when Jasmine and Jasper's smallest littermate died. The little fae hadn't even been named. It was a single failed hunt that had killed her. A single coyote that killed her brother. An illness that killed their sister. Of the five born nine months ago, there was only Jasmine and Jasper, and the hardest seasons were still ahead of them.

"Don't worry." Milkweed sat up and gave Jasper a reassuring smile, her sympathy sweetened by a veil of flowers. "We all got that lecture, eventually. He is right, though. If you're hurting, don't keep it to yourself. You can rely on us, we have to know how to help you."

Then, sensing that perhaps it'd be easier for him if she changed the subject, Milkweed gave Little Rose a small wag of her tail. "What was your talk like, Little Rose? Was it from Burning Sage or Whitetooth?"

 

[cream.snekkle]

The young pup crouched down low below his father, Whitetooth's piercing gaze locking him in place as his ears flattened in submission. At first, Jasper didn't quite understand. It was easy to imagine the rest of the pack hunting without him; what could possibly make this so different? Perhaps his confusion was reflected in his wide, hazy green eyes, however, for Whitetooth soon leaned down and spoke of a far greater responsibility than Jasper could ever hope to grasp.
By the time Whitetooth had returned to their kill, Jasper hadn't moved a muscle. He stared silently after him, a mixture of shock and apprehension writ in his face.

Remember that.

His legs are uncomfortably stiff as he pulls them in underneath himself. His stomach grew tight, and the meal he once ate so happily now rested like a heavy stone in his gut. The entire pack depends on me…? It—it doesn’t make sense. They’ve gone on all these hunts without me. But, Whitetooth’s words answered that too. He wasn’t a pup anymore. He would soon be an adult, and that would come with the responsibilities.
I thought I’d be happy to finally be an adult… but I’m not.

Never had it occured to him before that one day he would be doing the same for future pups as his siblings had done for him, and the thought terrified him.

Milkweed's voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he finally breaks the stare, turning to look up at Milkweed and Little Rose with some surprise.

"You got this... 'talk' too?" Jasper finally speaks, softer than before. As much as it was utterly humiliating, having to be scolded in front of the entire pack, Milkweed's gentle voice brought about some comfort. He wasn't the only one who Whitetooth had to sternly talk to, then.

“Burning Sage,” Little Rose responds plainly, as if the memory hardly bothered her. She idly drew her tongue up along her foreleg, but upon glimpsing Milkweed staring at her expectantly, and the nervous look on Jasper’s face, out of the corner of her eye, she straightened up again, clearing her throat.
“It was… nerve-wracking, to say the least.” She sighs softly. As much as she certainly didn’t like talking about it, Jasper needed the encouragement. With talking about hers, however, came a particular memory.

“You know, you’re pretty lucky, Jasper.” She finally looks directly down at him, and for a moment, her eyes soften at the memory. “I had mine right after Ashen Moon’s, and it’s safe to say, mine was much easier. I was there for his lecture. Burning Sage had to sit me down later herself and explain things to me. It was awful. Of course, I understood everything immediately, so I didn’t need a second one.”

Harebell, upon hearing this, snorted, and Little Rose glared at her over her shoulder before continuing. Jasper didn’t need to know that Little Rose had definitely been lectured more than once for… other reasons.

“Anyway, you’ll be fine, Jasper.”

Jasper still didn’t seem to be too convinced, but his anxiousness began to settle, as his small body had slowly let go of the tension in his muscles. He carefully pulls himself up on his haunches, tilting his head at Milkweed.
“Even Kestrel got a lecture?”

 

[cuzn]

"Try twelve." Ashen Moon, from the sidelines, snorted, earning a wrinkled nose and a scowl from his younger, scruffy-furred brother. Ashen Moon stood, tearing off a chunk of flesh and bone to bring with him as he trotted over to where his siblings were beginning to gather. Amber eyes narrowed in contentment as he settled in for the last scraps of his meal. "He never heard the end of it last year. Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad if he stopped charging into danger like a white-blind deer!"

"Hey!" Kestrel bounded over to his siblings, ears pinned but tail wagging in mock irritation. His muzzle still dripped with blood and scraps from where he'd previously been gnawing fruitlessly on a piece of cartilage—he'd always been an awfully messy eater. "I don't charge like a deer with the white blindness—I charge in like a rabid coyote, and I'll thank you to remember that!"

The mix of tail wags and chuckles this earned from some of his siblings only puffed Kestrel's chest out more.

"Y'see, Jasper, when I was your age, I was set on being the greatest wolf who ever lived!" Despite the fact that Kestrel was only one year older than Jasper, he still spoke with his nose held high and his tail held higher. "I ran faster and bit harder than all of my littermates, but no matter how I tried, every hunt always ended with the elk chasing me instead of the other way around! And dad really let me have it back then, I was getting the same lecture almost every three days!"

By this time, Jasmine had at last joined the little group that had formed off to the sidelines, slipping in between Jasper and Milkweed to sit on the sparse patches of grass and pebbles. "But... You're not that bad now, are you? What changed?"

"Well..." Kestrel's voice softened as he lowered his head. "Then, you two were born, and I realized... No matter how great I was by myself, I would never amount to half as much as I would with my pack. Before, when I messed up a catch, I would just make sure that I ate last, and I was fine with feeding off scraps, but then... Five new pups came, and I knew that I had little brothers and sisters at home that were relying on me. The whole time, I'd been trying to be just like dad, but I'd been doing everything by myself, when I should have been supporting everyone else instead of trying to carry the world on my shoulders alone."

What had briefly become a jovial conversation of gossip and memories now took on a newfound tenderness that left Jasmine feeling warm under her pelt. The glances and smiles traded between her elder siblings now took on new meaning—she saw gratitude in the way Kestrel looked at Milkweed, and gentle modesty in the way she dipped her head. Ashen Moon, too, was now leisurely and relaxed, his eyes narrowed and his ears flattened. Even Whitetooth, from where he sat a ways away beside Burning Sage, had softened the tension he held so constantly in his shoulders, and the icy autumn air felt less like a chill of needles and more like a soft blanket laid around her.

The moon was beginning to peek above the towering pines. Nearby, the gentle bubbling of the stream mingled with the chorus of cricketsong.

Further away, in the shadows, the silver shafts of moonlight reflected off the pale yellow eyes of a coyote, who was patiently awaiting the wolves' departure from their kill. If they lingered for much longer, a polite coyote wouldn't be the only visitor looking to claim this carcass.

 

[cream.snekkle]

Hearing this, Jasper's eyes widened. Kestrel himself trotted over after Ashen Moon's little jest, puffing out his chest as he spoke of his lectures like they were as normal as having four paws. He was so untroubled by his experiences, even despite admitting that the elk would chase him, of all things. Before Jasper had left the den, he couldn't possibly imagine being attacked by one, let alone get chased, but after seeing the elk at their full size for the first time in his life, he didn't question it.
The expressionless eyes of the doe as it had reared up above him, hooves ready to pound his skull into the dirt, was enough.

And yet, here Kestrel was, more than a dozen lectures later. He carried himself with confidence, as if he always knew what he was doing, and a carefree demeanor Jasper admired him for. Even as a tiny pup, chasing Kestrel about had become one of his favorite games. Of course, any pup enjoyed a good game, but he loved to run after Kestrel most of all. While Little Rose would only get annoyed by him crawling all over her in an attempt to get her to play with him, and Jasmine certainly didn't enjoy being tackled all the time, he wrestled with Kestrel with abandon. Despite getting hurt quite a bit, whether it was through tussling with his older brother or wandering too far from the den, Jasper always insisted he was perfectly fine and pulled himself right back up, just like Kestrel.
And just like Kestrel, Jasper never could stay in one spot for very long. Always curious, he would sniff out every crevice and every crook, even bringing a frog he caught into the den to show to Jasmine, only for the stupid amphibian to hop straight into his littermate's face. It took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure out he had to kill it first before bringing it inside.

There had only ever been one time when Jasper didn't leave the den. On the night his third sister passed away from an illness, it spread to him, and he had spent the next three nights fighting for his life.
Never again.

Having regained some of his confidence, Jasper sits up fully, his tail beginning to wag. The lighthearted conversation began to rub off on him, and for the first time since the sun had fallen, the anxiety weighing down on Jasper's mind had lifted. He still didn't quite understand what Jasper meant by carrying the world on your shoulders, but if Kestrel was this nonchalant about it, then it must not be that awful, Jasper supposed.

"Although, you attempting to fight a bear for a carcass was a pretty stupid decision." Harebell, having cleaned off her piece, strode over to Kestrel's side, watching him with a fixated, yet slightly amused, look. "I've lost count on the amount of times I've had to pull your fluffy butt out of a bad situation. Sometimes I wonder if running after Kestrel here was in preparation for when you came along, Jasper." She barks a laugh at Jasper's indignant expression.
"But, if it helps any, even I've had to be saved once or twice, too. By Little Rose, no less!"

"Oh, please, don't flatter me too much~! I was only doing what was right."

From where she lay, content with her belly now full and satisfied, Burning Sage watched as her pups remained in deep conversation. Her expression softened, and her tail gave a slow wag as she turns her gaze to her mate. Even Whitetooth had noticeably relaxed, his shoulders now lax, and she couldn't help the small chuckle that rose up in her throat. With a quiet whine to get his attention, Burning Sage sits up, licking at his muzzle lovingly. I couldn't have chosen a better mate, Burning Sage thinks to herself.
"You know, you and I have come a long way, too." She murmurs. There's affection shimmering in her dark brown eyes. "Jasper will come around in time. I'm sure of it."

Her words rang with truth. Ashen Moon and Little Rose were now subordinates, Harebell, Milkweed, and Kestrel had become yearlings, and little Jasper and Jasmine had finally joined them among their ranks. The two pups, as well as the rest of their siblings, had much growing up to do before they would start considering moving beyond the pack, but all would come in due time.
Seeing the pups taking their places alongside their siblings, pride swelled within her chest for the Lost Creek Pack. For their pack.

Until her ears suddenly pricked, and her hackles rose uneasily. Her head swiveled to check their surroundings for a moment, taking a deep, careful breath to catch the scents on the air. Nothing of note. Raven, elk, coyote and wolf, but not a single other predator, and the unnerving feeling only deepened. Burning Sage wasn't certain why. The coyote was polite enough to wait for its turn, its eyes gleaming in the darkness, but the ravens were making quite the fuss, cawing for the rest of their brethren. The forest knew another carcass had fallen, and soon, more would be upon it—and them.

She gives Whitetooth a silent look, then, turning to the pack, she gives a sharp, short bark, followed by a second, to catch their attention.

"We need to find a place to rest for the night. We shouldn't stay by this carcass for too long, or else we'll be asking for trouble. Come now, we're heading upwind."