Calanthe had indeed spotted the pheasants - her ears had picked up their distinctive, scraping calls soon after she and Moraxia had started their hunt - and similarly to Moraxia crept towards the small group as silently as her paws could carry her. It wasn't about simple footfall; Calanthe's whole body slipped so low to the ground that with every slithering step her belly threatened to scrape across the forest floor beneath her. The pale woman's breaths were low, steady, only just enough to carry her forward. She had never hunted pheasant in her life, but she had listened to the stories of wolves who had. Stealth, they had so often told her, was the only way one could take down a pheasant, for the birds were as flighty as they were stupid.

Amani, Cathair, if you are watching me now, guide my teeth. Calanthe's prayer was unvoiced, but she imagined she could feel strength pouring into her body as she moved from then on, as though every muscle were coiling itself tightly down so that she could leap at a heartbeat's notice.

There they were, a group of four of them. Calanthe's spine itched with anticipation. Her best bet would probably be the closest one to her, one of the smaller hens who hadn't realized yet that she was here. If she could catch that one while its back was turned, maybe she would stand a fair chance of actually taking it down. It had been a good long while since she'd eaten anything feathered--

Chaos took the clearing as Moraxia leapt forward with a great, thunderous bark that sent all four birds scattering into the air. Calanthe reacted, throwing herself into the fray with two or three hard bounds and flinging herself into the air after the slowest bird to take flight. Her teeth snapped together on the bird's leg, and she dragged it back down in a flurry of squawks and feathers. More than once a wing slapped her hard across the face, effectively blinding her before she was finally able to pin the thing down and snap its neck.

Calanthe stood over her bird, breathing hard as she stared dumbly at it for a moment... and then she snorted in disgust and stepped away from the mangled thing. Clumps of feathers lay scattered around it, most of them bloodied from the violence with which they had been ripped from the bird's flesh; the leg she had initially caught was broken nearly in two, and oozed with more blood. What a wretched scene it made! A good hunter didn't spill this much blood, not over anything so small! Amani or Cathair would have had this stupid bird pinned down from the outset and snapped its neck in the next instant, all without ever drawing a drop of blood.

Calanthe might have, as well, if she had had a fair chance at her quarry... Something settled like a low-burning coal in her gut as she snorted again and gave herself an angry shake, then reached down to very carefully gather her catch in her jaws to carry back to the den - the perfect excuse to avoid looking at Moraxia. If she had been hunting on her own, she would have made a better showing.

The hunter felt overwhelming pride as she spied a pheasant resting at the foot of the smaller woman next to her. A grin leapt across her face as Moraxia’s tail wagged furiously behind her red-backed body. ‘Yes! We did it!’ the wolf happily thought, quickly scooping up her catch and moving back toward Cal. The female let out an angry chuff that stopped the ecstatic predator instantly. Something wasn’t quite right; Cal seemed disgusted by the bird that lay mangled and torn in front of her paws. A string of confused thoughts spun into Moraxia’s mind.


‘Perhaps she’s frustrated at her own actions for not securing the correct bird she had been aiming for? Did she hurt herself? She doesn’t look hurt,’ a puzzled look crossed the brown eyed wolf’s face as the bird continued to dangle from her stained maw, blood dripping slowly down her neck and chest. ‘Maybe she couldn’t see my signal from the other side.’ Another snort erupted from the female followed by a seemingly aggressive shake. Waves of anger washed over Moraxia as the woman avoided eye contact with her, reaching for the mutilated hen.


The distinct act of disgust was noted very deeply within the canine’s mind and was not something she would soon forget. Sure, the wolf was still new to the pack but she had come to recognize signs of aversion quite well through her father’s common gestures when she was a pup. Normally, Moraxia was not one to act on impulse but she just couldn’t ignore the rudeness Cal had shown her, and surely there must have been some reason she was deserving of it. Cal had proven to be a reasonable lady thus far, and the large woman hoped it would remain that way.


Instantly, she let the pheasant in her mouth drop to the forest floor with a thud in front of her moving at the same time to place a paw harshly on top of Calanthe’s fresh kill. This would certainly grab her attention. The large woman puffed out her chest and steadied her stance in case the female chose to react violently to her actions, eyes locking fiercely onto hers. Softening her look after a moment, she spoke. “Maybe we should have planned that out slightly better, I will allow you that—but your frustration over a messy kill is no reason to treat someone in such a way.” Her words continued to grow with intensity and sternness toward the wolf in front of her. Rank was becoming meaningless in her mind; if the woman let such a petty thing get to her she was in no way better than Moraxia. Retracting her paw from the kill, she kept her eyes narrowed at Cal. “I’d like to be friends, but you must know something: I am not someone to simply stand by and let those I associate with—those that are my supposed family—walk away in such an angry manner over something so small.”


A sigh escaped her lungs and the canine’s confidence waivered. “Forgive me, if I have wronged you in some way, but I’ll be damned if I let things end on such an unhealthy note.” Her words remained strong with a direct purpose, rolling off the tongue with extreme passion. Hopefully her impulsive behavior had not just cost her a new friendly face.

Of course she dropped her own catch when Moraxia did; the larger woman clearly wanted to talk, and Calanthe wasn't so irritated anymore that she wasn't willing to do just that - or, at the very least, she had been starting to calm down enough to be reasonable when Moraxia decided to lay one paw on her pheasant. For the second time in several short moments, Calanthe felt her fur start to prick along her spine as she listened to Moraxia actually scold her.

Was she completely stupid, or did she simply not understand just how much of a shibboleth it was to any serious hunter to keep bloody quiet - especially when hunting in a group, when signals should be clearly given, rather than tossed around from whichever spot each participant felt like taking up?

"You're right; we should have planned that better." Calanthe's voice came out tight as she tried to search for the right words to make her side known without causing an unnecessary rift between pack mates. "The ruckus we caused will have alerted other creatures nearby; any others attempting to hunt will find it more difficult in this area now. Pheasants are noisy," she allowed, "but we made noise of our own in bringing two of them down. You don't... scare a flock you're hunting," she added, her voice softening - and dropping into a sigh - as she hit on exactly what about Moraxia's behavior had so irritated her. "Especially if you can't see your hunting partner to know if they're ready. We're lucky it was pheasants; a flock of geese would have made us pay for startling them before we attacked."

The pale woman glanced down at her bird now, and doing so brought her attention to her posture - and how very unlike her that posture was. In response to Moraxia's almost motherly stern words, Calanthe's head had come up, and her tail was slowly beginning to follow suit. She was responding like... like a higher-ranking wolf. Like someone who belonged at a higher rank than the woman in front of her.

As quickly as she noticed it, Calanthe began to relax into her normal, neutral posture again, and the shake she gave herself this time was to ground herself as she said, "But... it was a small hunt. You're right; I shouldn't be so upset over it. I apologize," she said sincerely.

Her body remained stiff as the woman spoke in such a disapproving tone; surely the two catches they had managed should be enough proof to the female she was capable of hunting just fine. Fiery anger raged on inside Moraxia but she managed to keep such feelings of discontent at bay. Noticing the change in posture as Cal continued to speak the wolf couldn’t help but back down slightly. As wrong as she felt this wolf was in criticizing her hunting she was ranked above Moraxia and could do as she pleased until it changed. Surely, the wolf felt above this woman in ranking and ability to assist the pack but there was no use in creating an enemy. Nodding her head silently, she loosely agreed with Cal’s reasoning, hoping to diffuse any further possible situation.


The tone of the woman turned softer and it reminded Moraxia of a motherly tone; first a scolding filled with raw emotion followed by a more reasonable answer and possible advice. It made her skin crawl.  The shake relieved any further tension between the two, the apology sealing off any sort of misplaced anger still remaining in the amber wolf. She nodded now, realizing that it was her turn to apologize. “I’m sorry for disrespecting you in such a way; I don’t usually have much of a temper.” Glancing down at her paws, posture relaxing, the wolf took a moment to breathe before moving to pick up her kill. The pheasant sprawling limp out of her mouth, she looked back at Calanthe with a smile. “Time to eat?” A slight muffled giggle followed her words.


Only time would tell if this woman would pardon her adolescent ways but Moraxia felt it was nothing to look down on. What mattered now was they had been successful in finding lunch for themselves—and after all that work she was definitely going to enjoy it.

The last of Calanthe's irritation fizzled out as she listened to Moraxia's apology. She hadn't meant to tear such a rift between them; why couldn't she have thought a bit before opening her mouth? She was acting like a spoiled child, upset with her playmate's inability to follow the rules of a game - and, in the end, hunting these pheasants had been just that. They had caught food, yes, but only enough for themselves, and that had been the intent all along. It really wasn't enough to cause such a ruckus over.

"Time to eat," she agreed with a feeble smile of her own. She wished she could say she was sorry again, but felt that doing so would only cheapen the first apology. Better to move on and attempt to mend the bridge before it turned to cinders. She fetched up her own bird - and really, it was still edible - and led the way back through the trees to a sheltered little grove where they could eat without having to worry about enraged pheasants returning to take revenge on them.

That's what birds did, after all. Because birds were horrible creatures.

"You did do well bringing yours down," the pale woman commented as they began to eat. "Barely a feather out of place - I was always taught that's the mark of a good hunter." She smiled again, still hoping the friendship she had briefly glimpsed with Moraxia had not been nipped at its bud. Only time would truly tell; all Calanthe could do now was try to make amends as best as she could.

Calanthe paused in the middle of ripping her own bird's cream and mud-colored plumage, her own ears pricking at her larger companion's words. Guilt and discomfort swept through Calanthe for yet another time that day as she recalled the way she had responded to Moraxia's defense of her actions. When had rank become so important to the pale woman that she was willing to jeopardize her fledgling relationship with a new pack mate over whether or not that paltry standing had been respected? Calanthe was fourth. That wasn't even enough of a rank to sneeze at.


"It was nothing," she told Moraxia honestly. "I shouldn't have been so quick to react the way I did - I don't know what came over me." Except maybe the fact that I rank over somebody else for once is starting to go to my head, her mind added sardonically. She had been more than tumescent with the way she had treated Moraxia moments before. Shame ate at her insides as she ripped another batch of feathers from her bird - as if doing so was somehow punishing her past self, as well.


It took the smaller woman another moment or two to realize she hadn't ever answered Moraxia's suggestion that they go hunting again. The idea was certainly and interesting one, although if Morxia had suggested it after a less confrontational hunt Calanthe would have been even more receptive to it. Instead she ripped a piece of meat free and took her time downing it before she smiled and said, "I definitely think we should hunt together again - although perhaps next time we should try something more terrestrial. Marmots, or maybe beavers." Calanthe had never hunted beavers before; doing so with Moraxia - and possibly floundering around together, instead of both hunting relatively competently but with clashing stalking and attack styles - would hopefully be exactly the sort of fun they needed to put this pheasant business completely behind them.


That was her hope, anyway. It wouldn't do to have even just two wolves in their pack divided; if the Crest wanted to continue thriving as they were now, everybody needed to be able to at least tolerate each other. Autumn would be upon them soon enough, and only a united pack would be able to face it head-on.

{EXIT}