You've run out of time,

Though her children were generally of age where they could hunt, she threw in lessons here and there but she hasn't seen if they truly done so. They chase butterflies, and she teaches them occasionally with that of fake prey or general lessons.. Though as pups may be and growing to better teeth, she thought maybe it was to be time to do real prey. To get used to the factor of their teeth going into that of a living prey and claws coming down onto it.

Through the forest she stalked, a close eye to the ground and sky, finding something that was perhaps suitable, for the current time being.. She couldn't use something large — and caught sight of that of a sparrow. As it was on the ground feeding on stray seeds, she slowly approached it with caution.. Only when a moment of silence was between, did the Queen dash out, catching the bird with a quickness into her maw. She only bit down gently though, as the bird tweeted and struggled it was not truly harmed, just stuck within her maw.

Then Celnes retreated back to the den, with a struggling sparrow to her mouth.. She carefully placed onto the ground, knicking her teeth upon it's wings ever so slightly to injure it enough where it's flight wasn't immediate. Though she continued keeping her paw ontop of it, awaiting to see if anyone of her children come out first to take the small test of hunt.

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The elken boy sat just outside the den while his mother was away. Some of his siblings played on the inside but he didn't feel like tumbling about right now. Instead, he sat, his head angled down at his paws as he watched a small bug wander around. Every now and then it would pause as he blocked its path with his paw, only for it to turn again to surpass its obstacles and be blocked again.

The bug was mildly amusing, but it couldn't really do much or get far. His lips twitched as he observed it up until his mother pushed past with something tweeting. Interest now deviated, he slapped a paw on the bug that had once acted as his toy as he followed to see what was now pinned beneath his mother's paw.

This hadn't been the first time he had seen a bird, though more often than not they were high above and out of reach unless someone had provided one as a meal to him. Now though, there was one alive and kicking right in front of him as he leaned in to sniff at the small creature. “It's still moving.” Of course he had stated the obvious, but if it was a meal why wasn't it dead already?

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The bird fluttered under her paw, gently pecking at but as a sparrow it felt but an annoying pinch. She wondered which of her children would come out first, and couldn't say she wasn't surprised to see her burnt sunshine, Calhoun. Her cousin too was a well hunter, long-legs that most Deorwine had, but he had a love for hunting in particular — if she remembered right. Though for a moment she would've think Edith would come out as well to try and challenge, only one could catch so.

Her claw onto it's wing, a dent where it's struggle enough to fly appropriately, "As a hunter, birds are difficult. They are to be approached with a silence, come prowl toward it, and remember to weigh your steps.. Close to the ground and gentle walking, — observe your path for anything that makes noise." Though as the bird would have no where to go, his stalking toward it was only just but practice.

"When I release, you must leap," though even if her son didn't agree.. And wasn't already coming forth in that of a prowling position, Celnes was already lifting her paw up to release the injured bird.

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He listened while he approached, though it suddenly occurred to him just what she wanted him to do. He had been stomping freely, though now he paused to look down. In all honesty, he didn't see much point in trying to sneak right now, she already had it, but he'd at least slow down and crouch to be closer.

As far as he was concerned the only noises he had to worry about were his crybaby siblings or if Edith and Warwick decided to throw him off, but so far so good. Celnes removed her paw and the bird would flutter frantically like a moth with wet wings. He was intrigued, almost like a cat as he watched for a moment before realizing that it was starting to getaway. Wasting no more time he lunged to try and clamp the bird in his maw.

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"A swift death is always to be asked, to clench it's throat and break it's neck, and waste no time to do so." An easy catch but nonetheless as a child, he would learn more of speed and so. Though she urged him on for the finishing touch, feeling that already the bird had been tortured enough. She had crippled it's wing where it was just a sad flight, even when it tried her son had caught it with ease. At least then he had gotten it though and it did not flee, for that perhaps was even worse — an injured bird would not survive.

"And then say thank you to the High Elk, for granting us this bounty."

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How strange it felt to hold something living in his maw. Of course, he had wrestled with his siblings, but a stray leg was not the same as a creature so small he could fit its body in his mouth. It squirmed with life and ruffled feathers, though perhaps it knew its life to be over already as it sang little.

He squeezed down, testing as his fangs squished at it with boyish curiosity. It had not been his intention to torment it, but to kill was oh so different than to play. Something raced inside him as the bird grew frightened...pity? Exhilaration? It was hard to tell, but he would eventually do as he was told and clamp down all the way.

Bloodstained his tongue, the fresh metallic taste captivating before he looked to his mother for her approval. He carried it back to her, his placement careful as he dropped it at her paws, though he would briefly paw at the body before he stepped back.

“Thank you...High Elk?”

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"Praise be the High Elk," she softly muttered, though not in a correction, more of a prayer of her own, "to every hunt is a thanks to Them, Him, Her.. Our God without a gender, though many call him with the epithet He with a Thousand Horns. Every Déorwine has a different way to express thanks, but the most one used is 'praise be the high elk, and gratitude for this hunt.'" Though internally she wondered how the being would think of herself using that of a sparrow to train her children for hunt — playing with life for a measly thought. A kill managed though, as she watched it go limp in his maw and the blood dripping just lightly where she saw it on his tongue while tasting so.

"Then can pluck the feathers out to eat." Though for a larger wolf such a small prey would be a difficult to musture, with his dainty mouth and paws, it could be a fine lunch for himself at least.

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“Praise be High Elk...” Her words had not been meant as a correction, but he did so all the same. She corrected them often anyway so it was something he had grown used to. She had given him the task to continue by removing its feathers, something he was more familiar with as he pulled the bird closer again. “Does he actually have that many horns?” How big was his crown? Was it heavy?

Though he had never carried the weight of an average elk crown, he imagined it must be heavy. Vaskian was huge and pinning down something as small as one of his siblings could be difficult currently. Oh well, guess he would find out if he ever met the High Elk. For now he would just ponder as he pulled feathers from flesh, clearing way to the meal beneath.

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"No one truly knows, for he rarely shows himself, and often only gives signs of his presence.." Not even she had seen him, and even to her dying day of a previous land, knew of his ways. She could not read his signs unlike the others, some like how her cousins had done so. The only thought that Celnes remembered if he truly did send her one, was when the white elk had attacked her. She renewed within this life, and blessed with her own children and a new land!

But, it was struggling at times.

"Some say the trees are part of his antlers," she said with an amusing tone.

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There was a mild disappointment as his mother revealed that there wasn't really a source to their knowledge. There was no one to share what he looked like and it only made him more curious. However, hearing that the trees might be a part of him made him practically forget about the bird in his paws as his gaze shifted to the trunks that were visible from the den's mouth. “The trees?” Forget how heavy it probably was, that meant he was huge!!! Didn't that also mean they lived on his head? “How come we haven't fallen off his head?”

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"Perhaps they're not truly his, but he is just connected, like he is to the elk," she slightly chuckled at his responds, though in truth Celnes would struggle a bit on so. No one knew.. What the High Elk looked like, only insistances that some may see him as the 'King' of the elk, though others claim the land itself. She too, always wondered, but would never go further or her mind would fume in thought. Except now that her son was asking more and more questions, she held but no choice to answer.

"The reason we are not allowed to hunt antlered elk, is for they are Apostles to the High Elk.. Communicators, through their antlers. To find a lost set within the forest, is a blessing." It was also but a good chance to teach him more of what the Patron was about, and the ways of why they may do certain things.

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“Apostles?” His words had been muffled by a mouthful of feathers as he pulled them free and spat them out. He still wasn't fully sure what an apostle was but hearing that they communicated through their antlers made him think of a bug. Now he didn't know if they could actually talk through their wiggly things but they tapped around like they were searching for something. Maybe it's how they heard. “So if we get some antlers can we talk to him too?” Maybe it only worked if they were attached, but laying next to them might do something? Right?

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"Those closest to the High Elk, their Apostles, so we dubbed them. Wolves are said they can get close, but only elk with antlers are the true ones closest. For us protecting them and remaining at peace without hunting, we are within his grace." She sat down and crossed her paws, urging her son to continue on with his cleaning of the bird and questions that may be. He was doing whether well with it, plucking cleanly. Though as the two relished in a but a rare peaceful time together, there was talk of the religion they were born into.

"Some say they do, some say they are given clearer signs, and even dreams from Him. It's why they are prized, for a mystery is yet to unfold." Though she didn't believe it, more found it something but a treasure, a beauty to be. Except there were a few times, where she treated such a prize as but a weapon of harm.. Thoughts came to be to the two cousins — who haunted her so.

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Having almost forgotten his prize, his mother motioned for him to continue. A stray feather stuck at the corner of his mouth was spat out as he looked down at the mess near his paws, but he paid little mind to that. He would do as he was told and finish like Celnes wanted, eventually making use of the cleared meat taking a fresh bite as he pondered. So maybe he would never hear his messages...but he wouldn't deny that he wanted to. Plus how jealous would his siblings be if he was gifted with hearing him!

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"Good job," she complimented her son as he cleaned and ate — a bird of his own. Though she particulary brought it too, in the end with his own fangs was it finished. Wolves always help together, hunting and fighting, and he too would learn alongside his siblings of that fray, "finish it up and play with your siblings." As his questions stopped, she looked at the sky ahead and noted that soon the sun would set, and gestured him to hurry his prize and flee back. Surely so, knowing her son Calhoun, he would tell the rest of his adventure of the hunt.

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As always, the boy welcomed his mother's praise, a short tail wagging at his rear dusting the ground as his paws tip tapped the grass and crunched leaves beneath his paws. Though, with his task completed, there was little left for his mother to offer him, so with mild urgency, she had him finish up to rejoin the rest of his siblings to play. Much to her expectancy, he would brag of his success to the others, particularly those amongst the eldest of their large family.

@Warwick and @Edith were becoming fast playmates for the boy in replacement of their wayward youngest brother @Aldritch. While he enjoyed his victories over his brother, he was growing to be too whiny and weak whereas Warwick and Edith could keep up. Sure sometimes Edith could be annoying with her bullheaded insistence that she was better at almost anything, but that didn't stop him from proving her wrong half the time.

Surely they'd want to hear of his daring efforts to catch his own meal and just how sweet success tasted in meat so fresh that the thrill of the hunt still pumped through his veins...even if he uh...hadn't really done the hunt part and more so the kill. Whatever, it didn't matter. He had finished it himself and earned their mother's praise and that's what mattered.

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