Keeping Warm

At this time of year, the brief sunlight seemed like a planet's desperate gasp above water before being forced back under. A few scarce hours to finish a full day's work and then it was back inside, retreating from the encroaching dark that held so many unseen dangers in its embrace. Once the sun was up, a frantic day began for three raptor hatchlings so they could survive another night in the chill. 

Thistle's arms were full of branches, the thick pine trees still held their narrow leaves over the winter and provided decent insulation for the cold cave floor. The woods were a decent trek from where they had staked out a patch for their pack but it was worth the journey for the way these leaves were able to protect them from the cold ground. In general, the woods were warmer than the savannah but none of the three wanted to stay there long term when they were so used to wide open plains. The only exception for their unimpeded line of sight was the overhang they lived under. It was barely sheltered from the wind but there was enough space for three hatchling raptors to huddle up during the colder nights of the year without the wind skinning them. She kicked a branch that fell from her arms until it raised up enough for her to snatch it in her teeth, grimacing at the bitter sap that leaked out where she had snapped it. She hoped that Misu and Foxglove were doing their part in insulating their home, though she couldn't imagine what else they would be doing. Daylight hours were for work, and they all knew how short those hours were at this time of year. There was plenty of time to goof off when the sun went down, to the point that even goofing off got boring. 

Tiramisu knew he had the easiest job of the three, and he hated it. He was barely back on his feet after some sort of flu had laid him and Thistle low, though she had shrugged it off faster than he had. Thistle was all the way out in the woods, gathering fresh bedding to keep them all warm, Foxglove was out hunting with one of her tricky traps to hopefully fell something huge and fluffy, and he was sweeping out the cave. Cave was a generous word to describe their home, it was a large overhang of red savannah rock that kept the heat in and the wind out; meaning aside from the darkest depths of winter it suited them just fine. It rarely snowed out here, but the nights were cold nonetheless, the clear night sky seeming to drain the heat the sun had leeched into the ground during the day. Clouds had something to do with the heat, Tiramisu knew, whenever they had thick clouds covering the nights were milder compared to the cool nights of a clear sky. His running theory was that the clouds insulated the ground in some way, the way the branches Thistle was gathering would insulate their bodies from the cold floor. The purple raptor agreed with his hypothesis, though their pinkish companion was skeptical, preferring to keep her mind open rather than accept an easy truth. He sighed as the last of the brown needles were swept out of the cave by his tail, leaving the ground a smooth, well-trodden patch of light brown dirt that had been rapidly growing cooler since he had begun sweeping. He chose to lean against the wall to catch his breath instead of sitting down, knowing the second the cold hit his chest he would start wheezing again. 

Foxglove lay in the underbrush, watching the light vanish as the sun sank beyond the horizon. Her spot remained shielded from the wind for now, letting her peer out unimpeded at the trap she had lain for the large creatures that roamed the wood's edge. It was a hole deeper than the length of her body, one she had found instead of digging and nearly fallen into herself. All the work had been done for her by the unknowingly benevolent dinosaur that had set it up, all she had to do was hide it from view and wait. She had been waiting for days now, returning every morning after retreating to her home at night, hoping the deed had been done without her interference. Unfortunately, so far, she hadn't even seen something step near it. There were worn dirt tracks on the ground and she could smell prey along them, it was a frequently used trail but it seemed to have run dry the second she had set her trap. An idea struck her, something that would both warm her up and advance her plan. She hurried back into the woods, tracking the smell instead of waiting for it to come to her. It wasn't hard to find once you were looking for it, the bear was wedged into a tight burrow, like it had barely dug enough room for itself to sleep in. From the smell it seemed it had been lying here for days, probably even longer than Foxglove had been waiting. If she couldn't hear the occasional deep breath, she would assume it had become stuck and died in its hole. Maybe she could convince it to die in another one?

Foxglove jumped on the spot, stretching her arms and legs, getting loose and limber in preparation to run for her life. Before she could psyche herself out, she lunged and sunk her teeth deep into the bear's hind leg. She could barely feel muscle beyond the fluff and fat but she could feel something pinging under her teeth as she shook her head back and forth. The bear was on her in a second, roaring and backing out of the burrow so fast it nearly knocked her flat. It was agitated, trying to rise up on its hind legs to display its full height at her. She hissed in response, splaying her feathers as large as she could make them so as not to give away the fact she was only a hatchling. A few larger beasts would refuse to consider them worth the effort, and Foxglove needed this and the bite to convince the bear she was a threat that needed to be run out of its territory. It gave chase quickly and she bolted between the trees, just leaving enough room that she could feel the swipes it made occasionally at her tail. She almost lost her sense of direction but as the trees cleared her eyes snapped downwards to the concealed trap and cleared the mouth in a single leap, using her wings to slow her fall to the other side. Her pursuer fell, meeting the sharpened sticks below with a sound Foxglove wished she could unhear.

Thistle laid the branches flat at the entrance of the cave and let Tiramisu take over the task of spreading them out across the floor. She looked out into the dark, waiting for any sign of their third pack member arriving back for the night. Fur or not, she just wanted Foxglove home at this point. 

"Whatcha lookin' at?" A voice asked close to her ear and Thistle barely resisted the urge to lash out at the sudden presence, instead wheeling around and hissing. She choked on the hiss, seeing Foxglove soaked from head to toe in blood and grinning widely. 

"Are you- Foxglove! You got hurt?" she yelped, drawing Misu's attention. The smaller raptor scoffed.

"Nah, it's all bear blood, check out the new blanket I brought back," Foxglove declared, gesturing behind her to where she dragged a bloodied, shoddily skinned pelt. Thistle didn't even have a chance to object first.

"Oh, hell no," Misu said drily, "we're not using that until you clean it."