LeatrixSage
Muse| Philosopher| Valkyrie| Gypsy Cowgirl
- Local time
- Today 7:43 PM
- Messages
- 7
- Age
- 37
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Mirmir's life would never be her own. She was the first of her litter. Not only the eldest daughter, but the first kit of the Great Huntress, Yara, the youngest High Matriarch that the Steel Fangs Clan had ever known. And it was beneath the weight of her mother's long shadow that Mirmir's fate had been decided ere her eyes had first opened. She would be a huntress, as her mother was, and greatness would be expected. She would not haul home tunnel mice or burrowing frogs – quick as a Cat needed to be to catch them, they were not good enough.
Her mother battled great sewer rats and dragged their carcasses – near as big as she was - home to strengthen the Clan, and so Mirmir must have the strength and cunning to do the same. Once she was a great huntress, too, she'd be expected to confront her mother, and she'd need even more strength and cunning for that. If she won, she'd bare kits and grow the clan, to eventually bare her own rival into being one day. If she lost, she'd prowl the lower tears of the Clan, left alone to hunt for herself if she wanted to survive.
To be strong and to be cunning, Mirmir needed to eat, and she needed to sleep, so that she could grow. And yet she had not slept, nor had the kit eaten. She'd been placed last that day thanks to her runt brother, Fendis. He'd even been cruel enough as to scar her muzzle after she'd bothered to wake him so that he could sup.
When first their mother had pushed them all away in favor of Fendis, Mirmir had thought it a good lesson. The Clan was only as powerful as its weakest link, and nurturing her runt brother would insure he would not put the Clan at risk. At least, so she had believed at first.
It was also Mirmir's responsibility to mind her brothers and sisters and see to their wellbeing. Nay, more than that. As first born, it was her duty, and the kit took pride and honor in performing her duty. Right up until Fendis' sharp, kit's claws had lashed across her nose and mouth. What a pitiful way to respond to being woken from a deep dreaming. All Mirmir had done was bite his shoulder. And before she'd been able to retaliate, her mother had picked a hissing Fendis up by the scruff of his neck and carried him off, promising Mirmir would eat last to sooth her brother's wounded pride.
Bitter outrage had turned the kit's belly sour, and when her turn came, she could not bring herself to suckle. Mirmir felt more like retching, but she'd hadn't the contents to empty from her growling and gnawing gut. Instead, Mimir turned her back on her mother's proffered teats to walk away, and Yara lifted her head to look at the stubborn kit.
"Not hungry today?" her mother asked.
"Not for milk," Mirmir answered with a coolness that was not arrogance, as much as an appropriate sense of equality to her mother.
"Was your pride stung so deep that you've lost your love of me?" Her mother's question held no bite. It couldn't, when her voice was full of wry amusement.
Mirmir looked back then, stunning blue eyes burning from their place set in a face that was cut almost perfectly in half by a patch of brilliant white set against the rich black that covered the rest of her lean body. Her ears did not pin pack, and her tail did not twitch, but there was unmistakable malice in the little kit's voice. "Fendis challenged my honor, bloodied my face, and you supported him."
"Oh, did I?" There was something calculating and cold in her mother then, and Mirmir felt the terrible weight of future confrontation pressing in around them. "Is there no room for peace between you and your bother, Mirmir? Is this slight truly worth the blood shed?"
"You coddle the weak instead of rooting them out," Mirmir accused, her hackles rising at the suggestion that she should take some higher path and let her fool brother off. "Blood has already been shed. My blood, and I'll see it paid back seven-fold!"
"On an empty belly," her mother pressed. "I can hear that grumbling emptiness from here. How will you sneak up on him making all that noise?"
"While his belly is fat and heavy, and he's milk-lethargic and sleepy, he wouldn't hear a Nest Spider Queen clacking up to him."
Her mother's tail flicked and her throat gave up a lazy, purring chuckle. "They may be large, my child, but they are much quieter than you could imagine."
"And it'd suit you well if I learned that sooner rather than later, wouldn't it, mother?"
Yara lifted herself up then, rising to sit tall above her small daughter with a grace and power that was as effortless as breath. Eyes as crystalline as Mirmir's own watched her with and unblinking surety that stole the from the kit her will and ability to look away. What her mother's thoughts could be, the kit could not countenance, and a sustained silence stretched between them.
"You've a long road ahead of you, my daughter," Yara finally said, her voice unnaturally void of its usual dry amusement. "Your destiny is set, as was mine before you, and my mother's before me. You will thrive, my little kit. Or you will die. If you are so unwise in how you pick your battles, then you will die long before you're ready to challenge me."
Mirmir's ears pinned back against her skull, her long tail coiled and flicked, and the kit hissed. It was a soul-deep sound of fury made small only by her youth. "If I haven't the strength to correct that runt's arrogance, then I renounce my rights to the position of Matriarch."
Yara admired her daughter's ferocity, and then asked without malice: "Did you not hear a single word I said? That rashness will be your undoing."
"The Clan can only thrive if it is strong," Mirmir yowled in her anger. "The runt should be culled, and you should have had the wherewithal to have done it yourself instead of setting Fendis and I against each other." Her piece said, the kit turned her back on her mother – a dangerous sign of disrespect – and raced from the comfort of the nursery. Her brother would not lounge in its safety as the others would. He'd find a lonely place nearer to the guards, or beyond them if he could slip by unnoticed. All the better if he had, Mirmir would prefer to murder her brother without interference.
Yara did not rouse a paw to stop the vengeful kit in her flight. It was true, the Steel Fang Clan only had use and need of the strong and the deadly. And if Mirmir lacked the wisdom to see the strength of her opposition, or the cunning to know when to withhold her claws, then the kit would be a future rival her mother need not fear quite so much.
Her mother battled great sewer rats and dragged their carcasses – near as big as she was - home to strengthen the Clan, and so Mirmir must have the strength and cunning to do the same. Once she was a great huntress, too, she'd be expected to confront her mother, and she'd need even more strength and cunning for that. If she won, she'd bare kits and grow the clan, to eventually bare her own rival into being one day. If she lost, she'd prowl the lower tears of the Clan, left alone to hunt for herself if she wanted to survive.
To be strong and to be cunning, Mirmir needed to eat, and she needed to sleep, so that she could grow. And yet she had not slept, nor had the kit eaten. She'd been placed last that day thanks to her runt brother, Fendis. He'd even been cruel enough as to scar her muzzle after she'd bothered to wake him so that he could sup.
When first their mother had pushed them all away in favor of Fendis, Mirmir had thought it a good lesson. The Clan was only as powerful as its weakest link, and nurturing her runt brother would insure he would not put the Clan at risk. At least, so she had believed at first.
It was also Mirmir's responsibility to mind her brothers and sisters and see to their wellbeing. Nay, more than that. As first born, it was her duty, and the kit took pride and honor in performing her duty. Right up until Fendis' sharp, kit's claws had lashed across her nose and mouth. What a pitiful way to respond to being woken from a deep dreaming. All Mirmir had done was bite his shoulder. And before she'd been able to retaliate, her mother had picked a hissing Fendis up by the scruff of his neck and carried him off, promising Mirmir would eat last to sooth her brother's wounded pride.
Bitter outrage had turned the kit's belly sour, and when her turn came, she could not bring herself to suckle. Mirmir felt more like retching, but she'd hadn't the contents to empty from her growling and gnawing gut. Instead, Mimir turned her back on her mother's proffered teats to walk away, and Yara lifted her head to look at the stubborn kit.
"Not hungry today?" her mother asked.
"Not for milk," Mirmir answered with a coolness that was not arrogance, as much as an appropriate sense of equality to her mother.
"Was your pride stung so deep that you've lost your love of me?" Her mother's question held no bite. It couldn't, when her voice was full of wry amusement.
Mirmir looked back then, stunning blue eyes burning from their place set in a face that was cut almost perfectly in half by a patch of brilliant white set against the rich black that covered the rest of her lean body. Her ears did not pin pack, and her tail did not twitch, but there was unmistakable malice in the little kit's voice. "Fendis challenged my honor, bloodied my face, and you supported him."
"Oh, did I?" There was something calculating and cold in her mother then, and Mirmir felt the terrible weight of future confrontation pressing in around them. "Is there no room for peace between you and your bother, Mirmir? Is this slight truly worth the blood shed?"
"You coddle the weak instead of rooting them out," Mirmir accused, her hackles rising at the suggestion that she should take some higher path and let her fool brother off. "Blood has already been shed. My blood, and I'll see it paid back seven-fold!"
"On an empty belly," her mother pressed. "I can hear that grumbling emptiness from here. How will you sneak up on him making all that noise?"
"While his belly is fat and heavy, and he's milk-lethargic and sleepy, he wouldn't hear a Nest Spider Queen clacking up to him."
Her mother's tail flicked and her throat gave up a lazy, purring chuckle. "They may be large, my child, but they are much quieter than you could imagine."
"And it'd suit you well if I learned that sooner rather than later, wouldn't it, mother?"
Yara lifted herself up then, rising to sit tall above her small daughter with a grace and power that was as effortless as breath. Eyes as crystalline as Mirmir's own watched her with and unblinking surety that stole the from the kit her will and ability to look away. What her mother's thoughts could be, the kit could not countenance, and a sustained silence stretched between them.
"You've a long road ahead of you, my daughter," Yara finally said, her voice unnaturally void of its usual dry amusement. "Your destiny is set, as was mine before you, and my mother's before me. You will thrive, my little kit. Or you will die. If you are so unwise in how you pick your battles, then you will die long before you're ready to challenge me."
Mirmir's ears pinned back against her skull, her long tail coiled and flicked, and the kit hissed. It was a soul-deep sound of fury made small only by her youth. "If I haven't the strength to correct that runt's arrogance, then I renounce my rights to the position of Matriarch."
Yara admired her daughter's ferocity, and then asked without malice: "Did you not hear a single word I said? That rashness will be your undoing."
"The Clan can only thrive if it is strong," Mirmir yowled in her anger. "The runt should be culled, and you should have had the wherewithal to have done it yourself instead of setting Fendis and I against each other." Her piece said, the kit turned her back on her mother – a dangerous sign of disrespect – and raced from the comfort of the nursery. Her brother would not lounge in its safety as the others would. He'd find a lonely place nearer to the guards, or beyond them if he could slip by unnoticed. All the better if he had, Mirmir would prefer to murder her brother without interference.
Yara did not rouse a paw to stop the vengeful kit in her flight. It was true, the Steel Fang Clan only had use and need of the strong and the deadly. And if Mirmir lacked the wisdom to see the strength of her opposition, or the cunning to know when to withhold her claws, then the kit would be a future rival her mother need not fear quite so much.
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