She was nearly there in her healing journey. Rou was satisfied with her healing progress, and her bandages were ready to come off within the next couple of weeks at the earliest. She was eager to get back out and about and resume her usual duties. Her pups were growing into themselves and showing progress in who they would be when they got older, though Amethyst had had a rough start since she was born the runt of the litter, she was finally released from Rou's medical care and observation and had left the den earlier to...well, she assumed to wreak her first havoc now that she was free to do as she wished. Things were changing. Things had changed. And things would continue to change. Winter was upon them, and that brought closer the time when Red would take over. She wasn't getting any younger, after all, and although she was still as spry as ever, she knew it wouldn't last forever. Not to mention she wasn't sure how her latest injuries would affect her later on, though she supposed time would tell. Hobbling her way toward the outside of the Gorge, she tilted her head and called for Red. Whether he was near or far, she requested his presence so that they could talk about the future.


"Speech!"

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Redrum’s ears twitched sharply at the call, his muscles giving their habitual, unsettling spasms as he processed the summons. His breath hitched briefly, his golden eyes narrowing into thin, gleaming slits. His mother was calling for him. He must answer.

He barrelled on, intensity rippling beneath his crimson coat. His mind is silent, waiting for her voice to clarify all. When he finally arrived, his frame was spasmic yet relaxed, head low and gaze fixed on her. He circled her once, slow and predatory, his tail sweeping behind him. It might have been threatening to others, for him, it was his way of looking her over—her injuries and her physical state. He grimaced. Long ears falling flat, his shoulders hunching that much more in frustration of that which he could not mend.

"Mother...called?" he rasped, his speech its usual halting rhythm, both gravelly and low. He tilted his head, the motion sharp and almost birdlike, before he stopped his pacing, standing close, uncomfortably so, his gaze boring into hers. The faintest flicker of something—anticipation? Curiosity?—danced behind his golden eyes as he waited, every muscle taut like a bow string.



"Murder"