Mother, I Done Fucked Up

The bird landing on the verandah wasn't unusual. The kids had taken longer than usual to get down tonight, Gilda gnawing on Corsair's growing antler nubbins and the boy was using his dexterous paws to braid his sister's fur, until she bit too hard, and lightning quick it devolved into face biting, hair pulling and screaming. She needed to go for a walk to calm her own mind before trying to sleep, so it wasn't like Scald was waking her up with his request.

Once she was on the ground, she stretched and yawned, shaking any lingering tension from her shoulders before she made her way to the Moor. A familiar scent clung to the strands of her son's coat as she reached out to tug gently on the white tips of his cheek fur, a shoulder bump encouraging him to join her on an evening stroll, despite the crispness in the air. Clearly something had the boy on edge, and maybe moving would help him process his emotions. It often helped her after all.

"Can't be any worse than your sister picking a fight in the state she's in, and we both know that'll happen again," and again, and again. Deluge was nothing if not predictable in her insolence and disregard for her own wellbeing. Just like their father.

No, Scald was more like her, so this had to be something significant. She left the air between them open for him to voice his concerns, the relaxed set of her shoulders and her tail hanging loosely between her heels to encourage confidence that whatever he had to say wasn't likely to make her mad.