#WELL TBH ITS ONLY HONSU

[theazkapack]

Winter Shift

While resting from her scouting duties, Glawn takes some time to think about the recent changes in the pack and how she feels about it.

The den feels colder.

It may just be Glawn’s imagination, but it feels colder, lonelier even, as she stares at the empty space near her. Most of the pack is outside, hunting and helping, braving the fierce snow to be able to bring food and furs back here. The pack den’s is almost empty, and Glawn would think so, if not for the muted whinings of pups.

Her sister, Honsu, had given birth to 3 healthy pups a fortnight ago, the tiny kids left on the soft bed of feathers and fur while their mother left, joining the hunting party as soon as she could, as if desperate to run away from her children. Glawn couldn’t fault her, it felt weird to know less than a few meters away, tiny tiny wolves had been brought to life, when the last time she remembered so felt so long ago, in milder places where food wasn’t to be hunted and health was a given, and not a wish; when she could still sleep next to her parents, as the humans took care of their territory, a sweet melody of the past that could not be heard again.

But, Glawn thought, she couldn’t run away from it, unlike her sister. The pups were here for winter, so she knew come Spring the gangly kids would leave, stumbling behind their mother’s steps into the wild. If she strained her ears, she could hear Jet soothing them, the lone wolf having gladly taken the pupsitter role, their inexperience greatly covered by their enthusiasm and efforts. They were a great asset, especially considering how much Honsu appeared to run away from her charges, spending only the necessary time with them before leaving once again, into the harsh snow to hunt for food or to glare at Ashlen from the safety of her perch with Glawn’s other siblings.

She barely hid her whine, as she curled up, thinking about her friend. Ashlen was less and less in the den, practically living outside if not for the brief moments where they would nap at her side, before once again leaving with tired joints into the distant lands of their territory. The leader of the pack was tired, especially with winter upon them, limping from place to place, bringing food and items to amuse the wiggling pups before leaving once again, their duty too great to let themself rest for more than a few hours before bracing the wilderness once more. She missed them, oh so greatly, and for a second, she let herself feel bitter against her siblings for coming, knowing Ashlen’s absence was their fault, before she remembered herself and shook her head.

It was wrong of her to be resentful towards her siblings when they had clearly needed help, and yet, as she stared at where Ashlen should be, their presence a warm weight against her side, she couldn’t feel that remorseful. She had grown attached to her new life, waking up and playing around with Lannel or Shivo, sunning in warm afternoon with Ashlen, scouting the places that rested after the river that delimited their territory and coming back to a happy pack, not the current shade that was here, hungry and famined, tension and constraint infighting at every second.

She had given up on her siblings, having slowly come to terms with the fact that she would never see them again, and yet here she was, three of her siblings alive and whole, having survived alone out there. She knows their life there was harsh, she sees it in the way Honsu tracks almost obsessively their rations, how Clower stands to the background, ready at any moment to leave and bolt, in the way Aursa is different, scars covering the once untouched golden fur. She sees it, like a glaring mark, in the way she can count every rib in her sister’s chest, in the way Clower seems to freeze when Lannel and Shivo fight too loudly, in the way Aursa eats so fast, as if he thinks the food will be snatched from his maw.

She sees the evidence, so piled up and high it tears her open, an empty feeling that leaves her adrift in the cold winter. And Glawn knows herself, she would rather die than let her siblings leave, knowing deep within her that they would die without her pack’s help, knowing that they wouldn’t manage to adapt to the wilderness that this place is, so different yet so alike to the place that once was their home. They wouldn’t survive out there, and Glawn isn’t keen on getting kin-slayer branded on her fur, a shame pressed for everyone else to judge upon.

But, her siblings being here is a disaster, she is not yet blind to it. Ashlen leaves longer and longer, Lannel and Shivo only seem to know to snap at each other, fur always bristled, no longer the gentle wolves she had become friends with. Jet stays enclosed in the den, barely going out there, focused so much on the pups survival she is surprised they hadn’t become a stone guardian from how little they move; Mosra who only sticks to the edges, almost afraid to interact with anyone. In how Clower barely seems to talk, ignored in favor of their more abrasive sister; in how Aursa seems confused, stumbling around, not knowing how to kill the tension that keeps the pack on edge. Glawn sees it, how the change hurts them almost, leaving the pack barely hanging by a thread.

She sighs, and slowly stands up, throwing one last glance at the bed that should hold her friend, before she walks outside, the snow instantly clinging to her golden fur. So much has changed, and yet, she thinks morosely, she has a job to do. The sun rises, the Moon leaves, and Glawn is a scout, ready to fulfill her duty as it is intended.

She picks a direction and starts walking, hoping that if she walks enough, she will manage to ignore how everything seems to be crumbling around her.