#live prey

At midday, Rainchaser brings in a live rabbit. The pup shoves it into a drawer. Hides it.

“No,” Rainchaser says firmly. “We don’t play with food. We eat it.”

“Later,” ey croak, and Deathstalker bares nir teeth at thon for making em speak.

“I’ll get a hunter to bring you prey every day.” Thon ruffles eir hair. “But you have to eat it. You have to promise not to let it suffer.”

Nir pup takes the rabbit out of the drawer. Scrambling away from em, it burrows under the bed.

Ey stick eir hand under the bed, flushing it out. Lunge, claws slamming down on it—

CRUNCH.

Gore seeps into eir shirt, Deathstalker’s shirt, staining it. Ey stiffen.

“It’s okay,” ne says gently. “I can get you a new shirt after you’re done.”

“If I ruined one of your nice shirts, you’d—”

“Isn’t it well past time for you to sleep?” ne asks, ignoring the fact that ne’s awake too.

Nir pup sits on the floor, carefully licking blood off eir fingers. The rabbit is a pile of bloody fur and lightly nibbled bones on the floor.

Ey peel off eir shirt, putting it in eir mouth to try and get some blood out. To eat it. Rainchaser gives nem a look ne firmly ignores. Ey’re a pup, of course ey get special treatment. And ne never really liked that shirt much.

“I can bring you jerky,” thon says. “It’ll last longer than live prey.”

Ey tear a hole in the shirt with eir teeth. Ne tries not to wince.

“That’s nice,” ne says, pulling eir hair away from eir face. “You’ll get fresh food and something to keep that won’t make any noise.” Or get dirty, but nir pup wouldn’t worry about that. Not when ey were saving food to avoid starving.

Rumbly gives Pup a bath.

Trying not to chirp about the hands in its hair, it leans into the touch. The water turns red. Its hair was loose so there’s blood in it.

If blood in its hair means baths, means warm water, it might be worth being messy. And keeping its hair. Maybe.

It pulls at its hair. It keeps touching its neck, and it doesn’t want anything touching its neck, but if it—

“Pup? Do you want me to cut your hair?” It stares at its hand.

It stares at its hand, wrapped around a ripped-out chunk of hair.

It lets go, and takes thon’s hand. Places the hair in thon’s hand.

Rumbly points— “This short, or shorter?”

It gestures to a spot under its ear. Hears metal slide on metal as its head gets lighter. “You know,” Rumbly says softly, “it’s bad luck to make thread like this. From the hair of hurt pups.”

Does that mean it will always be bad luck for thon?

“Not like that, Pup. The hair doesn’t grow right, and it holds all those bad memories. It’s bad luck to use that to make things for the people you love and care about. Because it’s full of hurt, I think?”

It watches thon collect the cut bits of hair. “It might work for a claim-braid, though. If you want an official one.”

Pup points at thon’s braid.

“Yeah,” thon says, “like that, but without the bead.”

By the time the bath ends, and it’s been dried with a towel, it’s tired again. It doesn’t want to be tired.

“Which one do you want to wear?” Rumbly asks. It picks the clothes that smell like Holder. Not like Holder, but the clothes they gave it.

Thon has to help it, because it’s. It feels heavy.

Pup lets its eyes close when it’s time for the loud-warm thing to dry its hair all the way. Shorter hair dries faster. It’s really short in the back, and the front bit is down to its chin.

It sneezes in thon’s face. Thon’s eyes pinch shut, ears twitching. “Let’s get you something to help your voice before you go to bed, okay?”

That exists?

It’s goop. The gold-orange goop that was in the warm drink, the one that tastes happy, so it’s good.

The goop (the honey) tastes happy. More than the drink did.

“Now, let’s get you to bed.”

“Stay?” Its voice isn’t good, but it is a little better. Or maybe being quiet makes it hurt less.

“Of course I’ll stay,” thon says, sitting down on the bed.

It curls up in thons lap. Nudges at thons hand when thon starts running fingers through its hair. Rumbly is Good. A lot more Good than Pain ever was Bad.

Thons hands are gentle, and thon even pauses to ask if its okay when thon notices it shaking.

It grabs thons hand. Digs claws into thons hand. Presses the hand back on its head, and doesn’t let go until Rumbly runs fingers through its hair again.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” thon murmurs. “You’re okay.”

Pup sticks the sound-words in its memory. Scratches them into one of the walls. It can’t echo it, it can’t use its voice, so it’ll just remember it.

It’ll remember it, and whenever it needs to, it’ll say it again and again and again. It.

Thon’s voice is gentle. “Do you want a story?”

Thon’s voice is gentle, weaving through stories, telling them with a songlike word pattern. It manages to get four-and-a-half stories before falling asleep.

Manages to get four-and-a-half stories before….

•••

Character Masterpost • Art from this

https://biology.stackexchange.com/questions/19502/what-emotions-can-a-snake-feel

http://vetmed.tamu.edu/news/pet-talk/reptile-emotions

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/animal-emotions/201504/the-emotional-lives-rats-rats-read-pain-in-others-faces

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/rats-are-capable-of-feeling-regret-scientists-say-9510038.html

http://www.goosemoose.com/rfc/index.php?topic=763.0

https://www.thesprucepets.com/feeding-snakes-frozen-mice-1239476

https://www.google.com/search?q=neocortex&oq=neocortex&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.3008j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8