#baronyofthesilverwolf

But soon that mix up is corrected.

*******

Gladiola does her patrols, but she keeps an eye open for Briar. It's ..been while since they really talked

Ivan pads by her side, alert and on duty.

On the other side... or trailing behind... or stalking ahead, is Dusk. The young pup has a lot to prove, being Silverwolf's pick of the litter, and yet when the monsters came, she found that Dote, the little Glennie who she actually outweighs, blocked her from leaving the kennels. It was an outrage, but luckily, puppies don't hold grudges... much.

"I'm sorry, Dusk" She says, "You're a good girl, but Dote has... well, she's not realizing you've grown and can handle things on your own now. She's over protective and needs to see you not as who you were at your most vulnerable, but as who you are now, and who you are becoming. I don't know where she got that"

Dusk sticks her nose into a particularly interesting bit of brush, and sneezes!

The dogs may not be the best conversationalists, but they are good company, none the less.

"Are you mocking me?" She asks Dusk, and gives her a scritch, looking at the bush as well. Bit paranoid, but she missed a grown piskey.

She pats Ivan with her other hand

It wasn't her fault, really. She was patrolling way out past the trods to Earthrunes at the time. And Piskies? They're good at being unnoticed.

That they are. And there's pride that Glass' nose is so good that guy got sniffed out even up there. Not her dog, but still a Silverwolf member. "FIne fine.. lets keep going around"

Ivan tilts his head, looking off through the trees. Dusk raises her nose to sniff the air, but then drops it again to sniff at a potential game trail...

It's a nice afternoon, not too hot, the sun is shining, but the trees provide dappled shade.

Gladiola looks at ivan, "You see something? Someone? Ivan, Dusk, come on" She follows Ivan's instincts on this, heading that way.

He raises his head to sniff the air, looks a bit uncertain, but starts that way.

This is off trail, and harder going, for a very large dog that has to try to push through the brush, and for a Troll - luckily, the branches and prickling hedges mostly just side off her stone skin.

Dusk darts forward curiously!

"Dusk, pace" Meaning not to get too far ahead. Dusk is among the smartest of the dogs, and shows great leadership potentional, but she's young yet.

She doesn't go that far, but beelines over to a tree, and sits, her tail flashing, at the base. Staring up!

And Gwen goes there, and looks up herself.

There is something up on a branch that looks like it doesn't belong - out of reach. A smallish lump that stands out from the shape of branch and leaf.

Gladiola bites her and raises her spear, not to stab, but to see if IT can reach the lump where her arm would fail

She can, easily, and can prod or poke at the lump - it looks furry, but is motionless.

A stop. And another idea "Boogity bop, fish swim, birds hop, birds fly, and antilope lOpe. Maybe you'll talk with me? I hope"

The bunk for willow whisper flowing

She realizes as she starts the bunk that willow whisper involves whispering, and whatever that is, is up on a branch at spear length - not within earshot.

Well, easily for the dogs, but Gwen is cursed with mere mortal hearing. Besides not being quite sure WHAT it is, which can make it more difficult to wrap her magic around it...

She starts to feel foolish, then she laughs . Might as well laugh at this.

Ivan sits and his tail wags. He doesn't seem to sense danger, but he likes it when Gwen laughs!

Dusk, eager, hops up with her forepaws against the tree and yaps! The tree shakes a little, and... thump, "It" falls down.

A squirrel? Well, an un-squirrel. The squirrel is no more. It has ceased to be. An ex-squirrel.

She looks over the dead squirel, without touching and keeping the dogs away from it

Wounds? Signs of illness?

Ivan and Dusk are now both snuffling at it, but she easily backs them off with a word.

It's cold and stiff, not a recent death (at least, not warm), but oddly, there is no immediately obvious sign of death. No blood, the neck isn't twisted... she could take a closer look.

She gets a bit closer, and kens

It's a squirrel. Not a magical squirrel, nor a fairy squirrel, nor a demon squirrel!

Dusk whines softly, she wants to sniff it again.

"No, Dusk. Something odd. though.." A pause and she tries the willowwhipser now "Below, the under, the ancestores sleep, and I fear your little spirit also has creeped. Happy Hunting grounds for me, may you have a happy land of trees for thee. But I must ask your shell, to tell a tale, how you died before you fell"

She feels the magic well up as she whispers, and it simmers, under the surface, waiting for a question.

She whispers "What or who killed you?"

The whisper is a rapid, chattery sound. It flew, without feather, without flap, a pinch, and I was in it's trap. Oh! I did not know it's sound was danger, or a chatter-chatter would warn my troop. What bird goes buzz?

A look of sympathy, and she tries to think of what goes buzz, bees? A drone? That jerk brought in drones ... she whispers "Did it smell of man and his things?"

MAN makes noise, talk-talk and Stomp stomp. No man sound, no man scent here, no scent at all! I sleep cozy on my branch in the sun, and dream of nuts so sweet. So sweet! Cha! An annoyed squirrel bark. And do not wake up.

A nod sympathetic, death comes for all, but that doesn't make lives cheap, any more than a dozen diamonds on a shore should be less amazing than one. A whisper, her last, she suspects, "If you saw it at all, what did it look like?"

She expects it can only compare whatever to animals it knows, at best. But that's not the squirell's fault.

It came as I snoozed, I did not see, thought I was safe, I thought, up in my tree. No cry of hawk, nor slither of snake to squeeze until no breath I make - no weasel's teeth, for too smart for that, I rest on thin branches and they are fat! A buzz bigger than stingy bees, an ouch more than wasp leaves, it came on wings while I dreamt, I know that - but what squirrel fears a naked... bat?

The cantrip fades, leaving just a sad dead squirrel behind.

"May you soon dance again among tree tops amid sunbeams" She says and picks up the dead squirel with a gauntleted hand to look it over more intently

It said it was pinched.

There is nothing that she can notice on it's physical form. It seemed to be a fine example of the species, plump and healthy. Perhaps a trace of dried foam on it's mouth, and the little claws are clenched, it died in shock?

Dusk paws at her leg, she is curious too.