babies breath in the breeze
The two girls were growing fast, and learning even faster. Already well out of the den, and ready to explore the world that awaited them. My oh my, did the time ever whirl past. He was almost certain the two had been born only a few hours ago. Of course, he was decidedly enamoured with them, but that was a personal secret more than anything. It was not his place to parent them, so he offered only what Miss Shaye asked of him. Once or twice, he'd heard the two call him uncle. Surely that was an error, but he wouldn't dare correct them. The male heaved out a heavy breath. The cold air f the late winter morning was doing absolutely nothing for his lame hind leg. There was an ache in the knee that was screaming at him more than usual. He'd stashed a tiny amount of juniper berries, still attached to their nettle covered twigs, in a small hole he'd scraped out of the den wall. Rolling laboriously onto his belly, he lifted himself ever so cautiously onto his feet so that he could amble over to it. A few of the berries would be enough to help him start the day. He prayed his grunting and groaning didn't wake the children, as it was almost certainly too early for any of the sleeping wolves in this den to be awake. |
A tiny yawn left her maw as she disentangled herself from Motif’s form and left her mother’s side to get a better look at what the crippled man was doing. She was fascinated with the scars that marred his dark coat. She’d been caught staring more than once before. Quietly she’d make her way to where he was messing with something.
”What’r doin?” She asked curiously as she settled back onto her haunches, her tiny striped tail curling around her too big paws. Her blue and lavender eyes gazing up at him with the full force of her curiosity.
A few of the twigs had started to die quicker than anticipated, and several of the berries were no longer fit for consumption. He was busy nipping a few of the good ones from the twigs when he heard a little voice pipe up behind him. He hurriedly mashed the berries against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, sliding the mixture down his throat. Thin skull, still held low between his shoulders and forelimbs, peered around his right forelimb to get a look at the girl. Ah, he'd woken Poem. He'd been hoping that the children would sleep through his early morning self-medication, but alas. "My bad leg is giving me grief," he maintained a hushed whisper, auds tipped back towards his skull. "I didn't mean to wake you, love, you should go back to sleep." he crooned with a soft smile twitching ever so slightly at his lips, turning slowly about to face the child. A few hobbling steps, dragging his lame leg behind him, brought him back to his bed. He arranged his lame leg beneath him with some effort, and lowered his hind end onto the soft pelts before dropping his upper body down a little too heavily. A deep sigh escaped him, suddenly exhausted.
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Poem remained where she was as the older male rearranged himself to lay back down in his portion of the den. Her brilliant blue and purple eyes watched him carefully as he spread his body as comfortably as possible over the furs that marked his nest. He sighed softly and she crept closer to him.
Carefully, so she didn’t bother any of his injuries, Poem tried to arrange herself between his two front paws. She always enjoyed a good snuggle into his black fur. With a smile on her face she attempted to curl up there. He’d said she should be asleep but he didn’t dictate where she needed to be asleep.
”Why does your leg.. give you grief?” She asked again quietly, hoping this time that she might get a real explanation to his injuries. Poem didn’t hold her breath though, a day later wasn’t exactly her being older.
ooc. sorry for the wait!!! D: Without much in the realm of verbal response, the child crept into the space between his forelegs and began the long winded task of curling up comfortably. He grunted as he widened the space between his elbows so she could press tighter to his chest and usurp his meagre body heat. Once she was settled, he would cross his forepaws in front of himself and enclose her in his embrace. ”Why does your leg.. give you grief?” she questioned after a moment of silence. The wisp sighed softly, not necessarily upset. It was just difficult to decide how to broach a subject such as slavery and maiming to an innocent little creature such as this. The male lowered his cranium so he could attempt to gently lave his tongue between her ears and down towards her spine. Perhaps if he could soothe her into sleep, he wouldn't be forced to tell the full story. He didn't want to upset Miss Shaye by exposing her children to something so traumatic at this age. "When I was young, I lived with a group of... bad wolves." he began softly, rasping vocals a low croon. "They had taken me from my mother when I was born, and they were worried I was growing too big." he let his eyes squeeze shut, powering through the story as best he could. Had he even told Miss Shaye this tale? Now that he thought about it, no. He'd never told any of these wolves the story of how he'd become lame in his hind leg. "My first master gave me a minor limp, but my second master thought it would be safer if I couldn't use it at all. That way I wouldn't be able to fight against them. My second master gave me most of the marks on my face, too." he found himself struggling to speak around the tightness in his throat, and ended his story mostly because he couldn't force the words out anymore. He sought to worry at a tangle in the fur of her downy scruff with his front teeth, delicately combing at the strands. Epitaph had begun to worry after these girls like they were his own spawns. He would never let anything happen to them like what had been done to him as a child. They were far too precious to know the darkest horrors of the world. |
Her favourite caregiver was telling her sister the story of his leg, and she didn’t want to interrupt. She waited until it seemed he had finished speaking, before she raised her head and looked at him. There was love and anger in her eyes, why would anyone hurt this soft, sweet man. He had done nothing but look after them and show them love. He often cared for them when their mother was busy doing boring Alpha-stuff. He was the kind of wolf you greeted with happy bum wiggles and friendly swates, not.. Laming, and scars. She couldn’t scarcely understand it.
She got to her feet and wobbled over to join the cuddle-feast going on without her. She leaned against Epitaph’s back, not sure there would be enough room for both of them in the curve of his paws. “But why would they do that?” she said “Whats a ‘master’” his story made no sense to her, as a wolf who had been raised with love and kindness.
Her uncle explained that he lived with bad wolves, and that he had been taken from his mother as a young pup. Poem couldn’t imagine that kind of treatment. Even the simple thought of being taken away from her mom forever made her eyes sting with tears. How could someone do that to Taphy?
He went on to explain his story further, buut Poem only understood parts of it. She didn’t know what he meant by master, but before she could ask him to clarify Motif was there. Poem looked over to her sister as she voiced the same questions swimming in her own mind. The girl looked up to Epitaph as he nibbled through a tangle in her wild mane.
And there was Motif, waddling closer to join in on the story time. He lifted his head from where he was worrying at the back of her sister's neck, watching her move about. She leaned heavily against his back and side, but he hardly felt it. The juniper berries were finally beginning to work. He shifted his hindquarters, laying his legs out to the side and pulling his knees up so he could curl himself around her tiny form if she chose to stay where she was. That way she could feel safe and included. Something he had missed out on at that age. “But why would they do that?” Motif questioned softly, and he could see the sleepiness washed away by confusion and fear. “Whats a ‘master’” Oh dear, he was most certainly opening these young minds to a world of hatred and fear. Miss Shaye was going to be so mad at him. Would she banish him from the den, where he could no longer taint their innocent minds? He sighed heavily, a frown pulling at his dark lips. His toxic gaze drifted down to little Poem, whose eyes were glassy with tears. "They did it so I would continue to work and do what I was told, and not argue or fight back." he murmured, tail seeking to curl up along the curved line of his hind limbs and brush against Motif's small body. "When I was little, I wasn't allowed to argue like you sometimes do with your mother. She might be upset with you when you do this, but she would never hurt you. It was not the same when I was your age." he explained softly, craning his neck so he could attempt to soothe the worried young girl with a few carefully placed swipes of his tongue along her shoulder. "My masters were the bosses of me, they were usually bigger than me, and they were not nice. If they told me to fetch them food, I would. I had to, or they would hurt me." he continued, carefully choosing his words so that the children would not be so terrified that they couldn't go out anymore. Neither did he want to truly let on the horrors of his youth; of Grim's brutal rape during the night, or Hemlock's victims writhing at his paws. "But you don't have to worry, my loves." he softly nuzzled into Poem's flank, breathing in her milky puppy scent. There was the inexplicable sense of safety tied to that scent. "That will never happen here, your mother and Rhyme would never allow that." he assured them both as best he could, praying he hadn't ruined their impressions of the bright new world they were entering into. |