Don't look a gift horse in the mouth

Mama — Valeska had been gone for soooo looonnnggg. That left only Mother — Amaranth to watch over them, which meant, well, they weren't.

Being watched over.

Hardly at all.

With that happy thought, Alder had ambled all the way up the ridge toward the western borders, stumbling lightly over a rock or two along the way as he went (still having large, clumsy paws - he couldn't wait to outgrow the stupid things). No Mama and no Mother in sight meant he could go wherever he wanted, not that Amaranth cared about what he did in the first place.

Hopping cheerfully across a thin stream, he suddenly stood upright, catching movement in the distance. Something rustled in the underbrush; something small, something...

It smelled like...

Prey.

Alder was still too young to do much else but watch his parents and other packmates hunt, but he was very eager to learn, and this looked like a golden opportunity to start. He sank into a crouch, slinking a little bit closer, the scent growing stronger and stronger.

Delicious.

Delectable.

What if he caught it? How impressed would Mother be at his catch, especially so young? He would be a prodigy! Maybe Violet would even treat him a little nicer, seeing that he was actually useful.

Alder waited - breathed in very slowly - then leapt.

@Jericho

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Jericho knows these lands are "claimed." Every land these days feels "claimed." But it is the ancient law of rabbits to disregard the ancient law of wolves. The incorrigible beasts know nothing of civility, and would expect the deaths of rabbit kind regardless of claim. Let the wolves of this land take offense; it doesn't matter what thoughts the beasts carry.

The scarred buck is here to look upon the warrens of this land. New slaves must be taken. Perhaps, if the warrens are dignified enough, a bride for the prince. He moves quietly, drawing no attention. Or so he thinks. He forgets the beasts live by their noses. His scent gives him away, but the beast's footsteps betray it. Then the snap of paws, the flash of red, and Jericho's old bones move without even conscious thought.

The envoy of the other warren has gone tharn, staring at the point where the wolf leapt without any thoughts in their head. Jericho will offer them one good deed: "If you care about your life, you'll move." Then he takes a glance back at the disgusting thing that had tried to kill him. He offers only a brief snort of derision. "Idiotic," he states, and then bolts.

He doesn't know this land, but he's sure there'll be a bramble patch or a log to hide in. He recalls seeing a bush with thorns not far from here. All he has to do is lead the wolf on a chase-- unless the envoy stands there like an idiot and dies for him. He's fine with either.
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Two rabbits. Two! One shot out immediately, pausing only to communicate something to its - partner? Did rabbits have partners or friends? - before quickly making its escape. The remaining hare stayed behind, staring utterly dumfounded toward Alder who slid to a halt barely two feet away from the thing.

What the...

It wasn't moving at all.

The red pup eyed it suspiciously. Mama had told him about stuff like this. Whenever prey acted weird or welcomed death, it meant they were sick, and eating them would make wolves sick, too - and this one sure was behaving in a way that didn't make sense.

Alder pursed his lips, gave the motionless rabbit a very wide berth as he circled around to the other side of it, then took off at a dead sprint to see if he could find where its healthier, more mobile friend went.

He tore through the underbrush, all gangly paws and flapping tail, panting excitedly until the scent trail stopped.

Where had it gone... he sniffed again, pointing him toward a fallen log nearby.

Yes.

Alder crept up on silent paws (or so he thought), propped himself up on top, then thrust his forelimb down into the open knot that led inside, hoping to flush out his prey.

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Ah, there's a hiding spot. The fallen log should work, and he could hide out the wolf's patience. Young ones rarely have any motivation. He's seen that from the recruits he's beaten into line, and from the years he's lived as a prey animal. Of course, it seems this one is too stupid to take the free meal. Or too proud. It doesn't matter. Assigning personality to the monsters doesn't matter much.

He hears the wolf approach before he sees the paw, but he's sure the log is thick enough that it can't simply be broken. But there is an open wound in the wood, and a red paw sticks through. Jericho sneers. An amateur mistake, one that would work on a rabbit that didn't know his way around the world quite yet. But he knows that wolves run on their paws, and an injury to a pad could be all the difference between escape and death. This is an easy target. The knot's too small for the wolf to stick his maw through, so this strike, even if it misses, should be safe.

Teeth bared, Jericho snaps forward and tries to bite at the wolf's exposed toes. Perhaps the pain will teach the impudent creature a lesson.
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Head cocked upward and tongue over his upper lip, Alder wore a very pensive, very busy expression as he fished around for the treasure he sought. Mother would be so proud - so pleased - him, an accomplished hunter, not even half a year old -

CHOMP

“Ow!” he cried, removing the offending paw from the cursed log and giving it a quick shake. The hare had aimed true, its sharp teeth penetrating one of the rough pads of his outer toes, and blood trickled freely down onto the gnarled wood below as he gave it a few hurried licks. He frowned, eyes darkening.

Bastard.

Alder jumped back down, trying to think of something he could do to flush out the nasty creature. He didn't realize prey could fight back - at least, not something that small - and he would have cursed under his breath had he known any good ones.

With a soft growl, the boy searched his surroundings. There was a fallen tree branch nearby, small enough for him to carry, but the end was thick with leaves and twigs that would surely entangle any rabbit that might attempt escape. He hurried over, gripped it within his jaws, and dragged it to one end of the log as a barrier, securing it in place with a few firm tugs. If the hare tried to leave through his obstacle, the slight delay would give him enough time to come round the other side and take him out with relative ease, he thought.

Alder slowly crept back toward the side where the rabbit had entered, placing himself squarely and forefront at its opening.

The red pup got a good look at him, now, the little monster. He was older for his species, definitely not in the first blush of youth, but he was spry for his age and quite nimble with his footing. Alder would have to be careful, but he was certain that a five-month-old wolf could outsmart a rabbit.

Probably.

“Come on,” he goaded, licking his lips, fangs partly exposed. “You can't stay in there forever, and I have all the time I'll need...”

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For Trickster

---

The smart thing to do is bolt while the wolf sets the snare, but Jericho takes a moment to recover. The taste of blood is still strong in his mouth, and he almost dares the damn boy to try again. He'll leave it with more scars, he's sure. He waits for the moment to come again, but this time he's trapped. Or is he? The boy seems almost confident, but it's dumb in some regards, Jericho is sure.

He could respond with a taunt. Get the beast riled up, make it impatient. But instead, he glances at the brambles and branches. Surely meant to snare him. But if he presses right, surely the wolf will not be able to tell the difference between him actually being snared. "It seems you have outfoxed me," he starts. "But you forgot a fatal flaw. I can slip through these branches."

He presses a paw to a few of the branches, making them rustle. He lets out a grunt of annoyance. "Damnable snares!" Let the ruse work, he thinks.
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It had never occurred to him that food could talk back.

Weird.

Nevertheless, he puffed himself up at Jericho's taunting, already knowing he had won. Such big talk from such a small beast! The hare seemed so confident that he could escape his clever trap, but it would be of no use - one could not fit a square peg in a round hole, so to speak, and the branches were clustered much too tightly together to allow passage. He would be caught for sure, and then Alder would have his victory at last.

It worked!

The hare had completely ensnared himself within the twisted, leafy arms of his prison, writhing pathetically against them as he struggled to break free. This was it! Hunting was so easy - prey was stupid, much more stupid than Mama had let on, and he wondered then why he and his siblings were forced to wait until their sixth month to even begin accompanying the other adults on their forays for dinner. He wouldn't even be allowed to participate yet, at that - it made no sense to the boy.

Why, look how quickly he'd caught this critter!

Honestly. He was a prodigy.

“Hah!” he cried triumphantly, tail held high. “You walked right into my trap!”

Alder had no idea he could be so clever. Like, he knew he was reasonably intelligent, but this was downright devious levels of ingenuity at play here, and he couldn't believe his own brilliance.

“You're stuck now, and I'm gonna take you home to Mother and show her what a great hunter I am, and then she'll finally praise me and love me!” he quipped, engaging in the classic Villain Monologue Sequence often known to precede their ultimate demise. Not that he had any idea - he was just relishing his accomplishment.

Alder circled around toward the blocked side of the log where his victim had (supposedly) managed to trap himself, and realized he didn't actually have a plan beyond this point. Was this where he... followed through? He'd never bitten anything with murderous intent before. Nothing bigger than mice and bugs, that is - he hesitated, wondering what it would feel like to crush the hare's windpipe within his jaws. It was an enormous step for him as both a predator and an individual, and Alder wondered if he'd be able to do it in one try.

He swallowed nervously, then began his approach. He would kick the branch out of the way and then quickly leap in to secure the rabbit while it was stuck...

... Hopefully...

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For Trickster

---

It's working, for Jericho hadn't crawled through the branches at all. Instead, he had simply shook them with his paws to make it seem as if he had gotten stuck. Now that it's worked, Jericho turns and bolts towards the now-open side of the log.

A more arrogant rabbit might have taunted. They might have responded to the young wolf's monologue about the differences between rabbits and wolves. They might have even turned and leered, giving a moment for the wolf's failure to sink in. It is weakness to want to turn and see the defeated face of a predator, though. Revenge is more than taking satisfaction in defeat, though. It is in living every day in defiance. He is going to live, and this wolf is going to lose all the pride he was going to have.

All for taking the harder path, which is almost commendable. But not commendable enough for Jericho to deliver any sort of pity or compassion. For the wolf, it would be a point of pride to catch him. For Jericho, it would be his life. And he has much to live for, even if his fool leader would leave their warren vulnerable to these creatures. No, he's going to live, and he's going to spite every wolf that chases him for it!

And so he summons the spirit of the ancient rabbits, the spirit that knows all rabbits live to defy. And with the ghosts of his ancestors on his heels, he runs.

He runs like bloody hell.
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Damn it!

Mama — Valeska had unfortunately, through no ill intent of her own, taught him a variety of colorful curses by this stage. As devout as she proclaimed herself to be, Valeska's knee-jerk reaction was always a good round of swearing to take the edge off of whatever was troubling her at the time, whether it be a stubbed paw or any other mild inconvenience.

Mother — Amaranth, however, did not swear - she didn't need to.

Alder grit his teeth and tore off after the rabbit, seeing his only hopes of redemption fleeing at speed. Stupid, stupid, stupid - he should have known better. For a brief moment his eyes welled with frustrated tears, realizing he was every bit as ignorant and oafish as everyone made him out to be.

He'd had his prey cornered - perfectly centered. There was no way he could have fucked it up, but he did, and now it was speeding away, probably gloating over how dumb -

Alder yelped, tripping over a rock, suddenly feeling a sharp pain blossom up the length of his paw.

“You won't make it anyway!” he barked after the retreating hare, a snarl edging his tone. “Someone's gonna eat you, stupid rabbit!”

Cursing under his breath, the boy limped up to a standing position once more.

Maybe if he just didn't talk about it at all, he could forget the whole thing.

Frowning, he stalked - albeit gimpily - back toward the dens.

He didn't even want Aunt @Harper to know.

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