Post by avalikia on Jun 7, 2010 20:12:13 GMT -5
Characters:
Niabi - Female Elk
Downpour - Female Elk
Setting:
Sparse Copse
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Bit by bit, Niabi's moved from the point where she knows that she'll be having her calf any day now to being sure that 'any moment now' is a more accurate measurement. Of course, it all depends on when the calf decides he or she is ready, so Niabi can only wait and see. She's spent the morning thus far browsing and grazing, and even did a short patrol around the immediate area to look for predators - just in case anything got by Ojalo. Not that she doesn't trust him, but she's not the only one in the 'any moment now' stage so extra caution is warranted. But now she is resting in the shade of the elms, looking quite relaxed.
Downpour has been a shadow around the edges of the herd, since she first came by. She seems worried, especially when she looks to one of those pregnant cows. In fact, she's been doing no few patrols herself - not saying anything, but watching as she wanders around the periphery, keeping an eye out for danger. Today, though, she comes in towards the elms, her tail flicking softly in nervousness. She sees Niabi, her belly swollen with the nearness of her calf, and hesitates, then slowly steps closer. "Good morning..."
Ears lifting when she senses someone approaching, Niabi smiles and relaxes again when she sees Downpour. Though she's noticed that the shy cow hasn't really integrated herself into the herd, she doesn't worry over it much. Surely there's a reason for it, but regardless of what the reason is, just as surely time spent among the herd will eventually crack that shell, she'd wager. "It /is/ a good morning!" she replies, "This is always the best time of year, I think. Food everywhere!" No mention of calves, despite the fact that particular subject would likely be foremost on her mind, mostly because she saw how Downpour reacted to the word the last time and she's not insensitive.
A smile flickers across Downpour's face briefly, and she nods. "Yes... the new shoots are one of my favorites. So tender, and so much taste packed into them." Then she sighs softly, hesitating for a moment with her gaze drifting down before bringing that generously-avoided subject up herself. "I... it is nearly time for... another part of spring, isn't it? For... younglings to be born?"
Of course, if it's Downpour that broaches the subject, then it must be okay. "Yes," she says, and there's an immediate broadening of her smile, "This will be my sixth, so I can say with some confidence that we'll starting seeing them any time now." She pauses for a moment, hesitating before asking, "Does that bother you?" Her tone is not at all accusatory, despite the fact that she knows the answer already. It's more sympathetic than anything, though there's also a hint of confusion. Niabi doesn't understand why /calves/ of all things would bother a cow elk, but she's definitely like to try and understand.
It's hard not to respond to that smile, at least a little. And there's a great deal of instinct that should be telling the cow to be quite happy about it - maybe a bit sad that she's not carrying one of her own, but more happy than not! But... Downpour's staring down at her hooves as she nods softly. At Niabi's question, though she lifts up her head sharply. "No, I -" she begins, then stops. She can't really deny it does, though she wants to. "It... makes me worried."
A thoughtful expression crosses Niabi's face as she considers that answer. There's the briefest of pauses before she replies, "It worries me a little too. I haven't... had the best luck with my calves in the past." But though there is, of course, sadness in her voice as she says that, there's also a quiet strength; it's a pain that she's worked through and mostly overcome and not something she dwells on. The look she gives Downpour afterwards is questioning, but she doesn't actually ask the question. Looks can easily be ignored, after all, but questions are more difficult to evade if the other elk doesn't want to talk about it.
Downpour hesitates, but she doesn't look away this time as the questioning look comes her way. It's clear enough what's being asked, even if it's not put into words, and it's been weighing in her thoughts heavily, these past few weeks. "I... I only had the one." Her voice wavers a little, and then she goes silent again. She's much younger than the other elk, and the pain in her voice is fresher, less tempered by age and the strength that can come from sad experience with time.
Watching the other cow carefully for a moment, Niabi eventually nods her head in understanding. The first calf is always quite the experience - often it ends in pain because of the youth and inexperience of the mother. Niabi's own first calf didn't live for even a whole moon. "My first four were all killed, by wolves mostly. Of course, two of them were under unusual circumstances so you don't need to fear the same would happen to you. My life has a lot more bad luck mixed into it than the average elk," she says with a tired sigh, "But I'm still looking for a positive future. It's all brought me experience that will help this calf to have a much better chance, good luck or not."
That many, all dead? It almost makes Downpour feel as though she should give up now... just the one, and it's hit her so hard - what would she do if she lost another? She's been looking at the pregnant elk, and thinking about their calves, about finding them dead like she found her own. "How... what if the wolves come again? Or the cougars, or..." So many threats, to a calf; so much smaller than a grown elk, unable to defend itself, dependent on a mother whose smallest mistake - or simple bad luck - may lead to its death.
Oddly enough, the smallest of smiles tugs at Niabi's mouth at that question. "If they come I will do my best. I can't ask any more of myself, after all, and it's a dangerous world that we live in. However, I have survived it, and so have many others. There's no reason why this calf won't be different," she answers softly. Obviously, Niabi hasn't given up. Of course, in her case she's an elk that's absolutely devoted to the idea of being a mother, and she never has been able to resist the bulls either.
Downpour is quiet, thinking on that. Perhaps there's no reason why this calf won't be different, but... there's no reason, to her mind, why it won't be the same, either. But that pain is still fresh in her mind - this is her first visit to a herd in spring, since her loss, and the sights are bringing thoughts she had buried in solitude up to the front of her mind once more. "I..." she begins, her voice quiet, and then lifts her head a little, speaking a bit more firmly. "If you need... extra guards. I... I will fight wolves."
That offer brings the smile on out in full force. "Have you any experience in fighting wolves?" Niabi asks, as she casually turns her back on Downpour but continues to watch her over her shoulder. "If not I could teach you - after I have my calf. I was a member of the official guard of my birth herd; we were a large enough herd to require one. We also have two bulls looking out for us here - but we could always use another elk who knows how to use their hooves." In other words, more help isn't /needed/ but definitely wanted.
Downpour's gaze falls from Niabi's, taking a long look over the scars that the older cow bears. They don't seem to startle her, though she takes some time to count just how many there are, and think on the stories - the danger, and sometimes the loss - that must go with each. "A little. I... spent the last year alone." After the loss of her calf, how could she return to her birth herd? To tell Niabi of her failure is hard enough - to face the cows who raised her, the other young mothers with their own calves in tow... she just couldn't manage it. "Wolves came, sometimes. I made them leave. But I am sure I could learn more." With that, she bows her head in a gesture of respect.
Trying to count Niabi's scars is an exercise in futility. They randomly overlap eachother and many of them are so old and faded that they're hard to see unless you're looking for them. They're a dual message - Niabi's had to fight for her life at least this many times, but she's also done all that and /survived/. She nods and turns herself back around, "Fighting wolves alone and trying to protect someone else, even if there's just one of them, are two different things. But all that you've learned during the past year will serve you well. And I would enjoy teaching someone else what I know. It would greatly help you next time you have a calf as well."
Downpour nods her head slowly, though that last part makes her twitch, just a little. Next time? She's not sure she wants to set herself up like that again! But she lets it go unchallenged. There's all of spring and summer left before she needs to think about calves of her own again, and if she choses, she can slip from the herd once more before the rut comes around, and put off for another year trying again at motherhood. "I would be glad to learn," she says simply.
That twitch doesn't go unnoticed, but Niabi doesn't worry much over it. She knows from her own experience that knowing how to fight properly brings a lot of confidence with it, and if there's anything that Downpour is lacking, it's self-confidence. It had, come to think of it, been the summer after she'd lost her first calf that she'd asked her mother for a refresher course on the fighting skills she'd learned when she was younger. She'd lost interest in it as she grew up, but after Knoton was killed she had to have /something/ to keep her mind off of it. It's probably why she participated in the rut that fall. "Then we will been in about a quarter of a moon, unless my calf comes late," she says, nodding her head both to Downpour's comment and her own thoughts.
Downpour manages a small smile, as she nods. A hope for self-confidence... perhaps. Or perhaps just a place to look to outside of herself. The paths inside Downpour have been dark ones, the thundering storm she calls herself after making mud instead of washing clean. "Good health to you both, until then..." she replies, with a slow nod, and then adds, softly, "...and safety."
The paths inside Niabi have been very dark at times as well, quite likely darker even than Downpour's. However, in time it's as if the sun has come out from behind the dark clouds, and nearly everything has become bright and clear aside from a few lingering shadowy places. "I'm sure everything will go fine," she says with full confidence, "There are many safe havens in this forest if you know where to look. The harder part in this forest is not the first few days but the longer term."
Downpour nods softly. Perhaps sometime later she'll ask for advice on those matters as well, but... not yet. She's not yet ready to consider herself as a mother. As a guard... that seems like something she can manage. Something she can be useful as, even. But in the end, there will be other guards, other protectors as well. The thought of failure there is... less painful. "I... shall seek you afterwards, then, and learn what I can." It won't hurt the calf any to have an extra protector learning nearby, for that matter.
It wouldn't hurt the calf to have to keep up with Niabi during the training either, though hopefully there will be a lot of naps involved as well - some things are hard to teach or learn if there's a calf underfoot, though Downpour probably knows most of that already. More likely it'll be all about formations and strategy, which means a lot of running - the thought of which is simply exhausting to think about in her present state, but she knows she'll appreciate the exercise in another week. "It will be nice for me to be able to pass along my knowledge to someone - I'd hoped to have a couple of daughters to teach it to by now," she says, looking surprisingly calm despite that statement.
By now... how can the older cow be so calm about this? She's been losing her calves since before Downpour was even alive, and yet she doesn't seem to have more than a vague regret for it. Downpour shakes her head, as though to clear it, or try to shake her thoughts into order. It doesn't make sense to her. But then, the voice of experience seldom does, to the young. "How... aren't -any- of them still... here?"
That question seems to give Niabi pause for a moment, and then she gives a heavy sigh. Just because she's coped with the emotions doesn't mean that they're not still there. "The first one was my fault. I... didn't pick a very good place to let him sleep and he was discovered by a pack of wolves. The next two - well, that was an unusual circumstance, as I said." Which Niabi seems especially reluctant to talk about. "The fourth was simply very bad luck - the wind changed while I was having her, and it would have otherwise been the perfect place, but wolves found us just as she was born. I barely got away from them myself." Though there's a lot of sadness in her voice as she describes this, it's obviously been a long time since any of it happened to judge by how... okay with it she seems to be.
Downpour shivers softly as she listens to the litany of lost calves, and lowers her head. "I... I don't really know what happened, with... with mine. She... I thought it was a good place, but when I came back, in the storm... I don't even know what got her. What... tore her up like that."
Nodding slowly with no little empathy, Niabi comments, "A common mistake for any first time mother - not that it makes it any easier." She's not certain whether witnessing or discovering such a scene is more painful, as she directly saw two - or technically three of the deaths, while the fourth remained unseen and unfound by her at least. "You /will/ do better next time," she adds confidently, "My second calf was on his own and nearly grown when he... died."
That's meant to be comforting, Downpour's sure, and yet... her worries hadn't even stretched that far, before. In principle, of course - certainly, elk die at all ages. She knows that. And yet to think that a calf, even if carefully defended, may grow almost to full adulthood - and then be taken away, just when the mother had begun to have some real hope... there's no end to it, is there? No stop to the chances for pain? "I... perhaps." If she's even willing to try again. But she doesn't want to say that to a cow that so glows at the prospect of motherhood, even after all her pain.
Well, the age that Niabi described seems to indicate that her second was at least old enough that it wasn't even remotely her fault, though that indication is most definitely false. If Downpour only knew - 'unusual circumstances' hardly describes it at all! But that story is one that Niabi has only told once since she left her birth herd, and the one she told is dead now. "You will," she repeats when Downpour expresses further doubts, "I'm sure you'll never make that mistake again, and if don't choose a bad place to hide a calf then there's few other mistakes you can make that would be fatal." More likely any additional mistakes would be in the realm of not helping a calf's emotional development properly, but that seldom results in death.
Blame is one thing, pain is another one entirely - and Downpour's more afraid of the second than the first. She's so afraid of it, in fact, that she keeps reminding herself of that pain in order to stop herself from risking it ever again, instead of letting the hurt fade away. Learning from mistakes is one thing; using them as a bludgeon against oneself repeatedly is quite another. At least she's listening. "I... suppose I have learned better." Though there are other lessons she still needs to learn... not least of which is that calmness Niabi possesses.
That calmness is something that took Niabi herself a long time to learn. In fact, it's just been over the past couple of years - since she wrapped her head around the idea of leading this little herd if you really want to pinpoint it. Before that she was much too overcautious, though she never was quite as bad as Downpour seems to be. "I have high hopes for the calves this year. The herd seems to have pulled through it okay, but I can't imagine that it didn't hurt the predators pretty hard. And even in the worst of times this part of the forest doesn't see a lot of predators. The worst I've seen is a few dogs, and compared to wolves dogs are - not a problem, really."
Downpour nods softly. "That... makes sense. I... I hope it will go well, then." That winter was certainly hard - but if the wolves didn't take their meals of the winter-worn herd, then they probably were quite hungry indeed. "Though it's still good to keep watch... I think perhaps I will go patrol." Unsurprising that the cow is seeking solitude again - she's spoken more than usual, since coming to the herd, and this topic is hardly an easy one for her.
Smiling and nodding, Niabi says, "I appreciate that. While I trust that Ojalo and Mojag won't let a thing come near us, especially this time of year, they can't watch all the borders all the time." She knows perfectly well why Downpour wants to patrol, but sees no reason why she can't be alone if she wants to be. She quite enjoys doing them herself. She's just happy that she and the shy cow were able to have a good, long talk so that they can both understand eachother better. "I'll see you soon," she promises.
The smile Downpour gives in return is, if touched with pain, a genuine one. Talking about these things does make her feel better, even when it's touching on old pains. A wound itches as it heals, and she's finding out that emotional wounds are no different... though she hasn't quite realized yet that the pains are healing. "Yes... I'll see you," she replies, with a nod, and then turns to slowly pace off, her head full of tangled thoughts that take up her attention more than keeping watch does. Fortunately, she's not the only guard.
Niabi - Female Elk
Downpour - Female Elk
Setting:
Sparse Copse
----------------------------------------
Bit by bit, Niabi's moved from the point where she knows that she'll be having her calf any day now to being sure that 'any moment now' is a more accurate measurement. Of course, it all depends on when the calf decides he or she is ready, so Niabi can only wait and see. She's spent the morning thus far browsing and grazing, and even did a short patrol around the immediate area to look for predators - just in case anything got by Ojalo. Not that she doesn't trust him, but she's not the only one in the 'any moment now' stage so extra caution is warranted. But now she is resting in the shade of the elms, looking quite relaxed.
Downpour has been a shadow around the edges of the herd, since she first came by. She seems worried, especially when she looks to one of those pregnant cows. In fact, she's been doing no few patrols herself - not saying anything, but watching as she wanders around the periphery, keeping an eye out for danger. Today, though, she comes in towards the elms, her tail flicking softly in nervousness. She sees Niabi, her belly swollen with the nearness of her calf, and hesitates, then slowly steps closer. "Good morning..."
Ears lifting when she senses someone approaching, Niabi smiles and relaxes again when she sees Downpour. Though she's noticed that the shy cow hasn't really integrated herself into the herd, she doesn't worry over it much. Surely there's a reason for it, but regardless of what the reason is, just as surely time spent among the herd will eventually crack that shell, she'd wager. "It /is/ a good morning!" she replies, "This is always the best time of year, I think. Food everywhere!" No mention of calves, despite the fact that particular subject would likely be foremost on her mind, mostly because she saw how Downpour reacted to the word the last time and she's not insensitive.
A smile flickers across Downpour's face briefly, and she nods. "Yes... the new shoots are one of my favorites. So tender, and so much taste packed into them." Then she sighs softly, hesitating for a moment with her gaze drifting down before bringing that generously-avoided subject up herself. "I... it is nearly time for... another part of spring, isn't it? For... younglings to be born?"
Of course, if it's Downpour that broaches the subject, then it must be okay. "Yes," she says, and there's an immediate broadening of her smile, "This will be my sixth, so I can say with some confidence that we'll starting seeing them any time now." She pauses for a moment, hesitating before asking, "Does that bother you?" Her tone is not at all accusatory, despite the fact that she knows the answer already. It's more sympathetic than anything, though there's also a hint of confusion. Niabi doesn't understand why /calves/ of all things would bother a cow elk, but she's definitely like to try and understand.
It's hard not to respond to that smile, at least a little. And there's a great deal of instinct that should be telling the cow to be quite happy about it - maybe a bit sad that she's not carrying one of her own, but more happy than not! But... Downpour's staring down at her hooves as she nods softly. At Niabi's question, though she lifts up her head sharply. "No, I -" she begins, then stops. She can't really deny it does, though she wants to. "It... makes me worried."
A thoughtful expression crosses Niabi's face as she considers that answer. There's the briefest of pauses before she replies, "It worries me a little too. I haven't... had the best luck with my calves in the past." But though there is, of course, sadness in her voice as she says that, there's also a quiet strength; it's a pain that she's worked through and mostly overcome and not something she dwells on. The look she gives Downpour afterwards is questioning, but she doesn't actually ask the question. Looks can easily be ignored, after all, but questions are more difficult to evade if the other elk doesn't want to talk about it.
Downpour hesitates, but she doesn't look away this time as the questioning look comes her way. It's clear enough what's being asked, even if it's not put into words, and it's been weighing in her thoughts heavily, these past few weeks. "I... I only had the one." Her voice wavers a little, and then she goes silent again. She's much younger than the other elk, and the pain in her voice is fresher, less tempered by age and the strength that can come from sad experience with time.
Watching the other cow carefully for a moment, Niabi eventually nods her head in understanding. The first calf is always quite the experience - often it ends in pain because of the youth and inexperience of the mother. Niabi's own first calf didn't live for even a whole moon. "My first four were all killed, by wolves mostly. Of course, two of them were under unusual circumstances so you don't need to fear the same would happen to you. My life has a lot more bad luck mixed into it than the average elk," she says with a tired sigh, "But I'm still looking for a positive future. It's all brought me experience that will help this calf to have a much better chance, good luck or not."
That many, all dead? It almost makes Downpour feel as though she should give up now... just the one, and it's hit her so hard - what would she do if she lost another? She's been looking at the pregnant elk, and thinking about their calves, about finding them dead like she found her own. "How... what if the wolves come again? Or the cougars, or..." So many threats, to a calf; so much smaller than a grown elk, unable to defend itself, dependent on a mother whose smallest mistake - or simple bad luck - may lead to its death.
Oddly enough, the smallest of smiles tugs at Niabi's mouth at that question. "If they come I will do my best. I can't ask any more of myself, after all, and it's a dangerous world that we live in. However, I have survived it, and so have many others. There's no reason why this calf won't be different," she answers softly. Obviously, Niabi hasn't given up. Of course, in her case she's an elk that's absolutely devoted to the idea of being a mother, and she never has been able to resist the bulls either.
Downpour is quiet, thinking on that. Perhaps there's no reason why this calf won't be different, but... there's no reason, to her mind, why it won't be the same, either. But that pain is still fresh in her mind - this is her first visit to a herd in spring, since her loss, and the sights are bringing thoughts she had buried in solitude up to the front of her mind once more. "I..." she begins, her voice quiet, and then lifts her head a little, speaking a bit more firmly. "If you need... extra guards. I... I will fight wolves."
That offer brings the smile on out in full force. "Have you any experience in fighting wolves?" Niabi asks, as she casually turns her back on Downpour but continues to watch her over her shoulder. "If not I could teach you - after I have my calf. I was a member of the official guard of my birth herd; we were a large enough herd to require one. We also have two bulls looking out for us here - but we could always use another elk who knows how to use their hooves." In other words, more help isn't /needed/ but definitely wanted.
Downpour's gaze falls from Niabi's, taking a long look over the scars that the older cow bears. They don't seem to startle her, though she takes some time to count just how many there are, and think on the stories - the danger, and sometimes the loss - that must go with each. "A little. I... spent the last year alone." After the loss of her calf, how could she return to her birth herd? To tell Niabi of her failure is hard enough - to face the cows who raised her, the other young mothers with their own calves in tow... she just couldn't manage it. "Wolves came, sometimes. I made them leave. But I am sure I could learn more." With that, she bows her head in a gesture of respect.
Trying to count Niabi's scars is an exercise in futility. They randomly overlap eachother and many of them are so old and faded that they're hard to see unless you're looking for them. They're a dual message - Niabi's had to fight for her life at least this many times, but she's also done all that and /survived/. She nods and turns herself back around, "Fighting wolves alone and trying to protect someone else, even if there's just one of them, are two different things. But all that you've learned during the past year will serve you well. And I would enjoy teaching someone else what I know. It would greatly help you next time you have a calf as well."
Downpour nods her head slowly, though that last part makes her twitch, just a little. Next time? She's not sure she wants to set herself up like that again! But she lets it go unchallenged. There's all of spring and summer left before she needs to think about calves of her own again, and if she choses, she can slip from the herd once more before the rut comes around, and put off for another year trying again at motherhood. "I would be glad to learn," she says simply.
That twitch doesn't go unnoticed, but Niabi doesn't worry much over it. She knows from her own experience that knowing how to fight properly brings a lot of confidence with it, and if there's anything that Downpour is lacking, it's self-confidence. It had, come to think of it, been the summer after she'd lost her first calf that she'd asked her mother for a refresher course on the fighting skills she'd learned when she was younger. She'd lost interest in it as she grew up, but after Knoton was killed she had to have /something/ to keep her mind off of it. It's probably why she participated in the rut that fall. "Then we will been in about a quarter of a moon, unless my calf comes late," she says, nodding her head both to Downpour's comment and her own thoughts.
Downpour manages a small smile, as she nods. A hope for self-confidence... perhaps. Or perhaps just a place to look to outside of herself. The paths inside Downpour have been dark ones, the thundering storm she calls herself after making mud instead of washing clean. "Good health to you both, until then..." she replies, with a slow nod, and then adds, softly, "...and safety."
The paths inside Niabi have been very dark at times as well, quite likely darker even than Downpour's. However, in time it's as if the sun has come out from behind the dark clouds, and nearly everything has become bright and clear aside from a few lingering shadowy places. "I'm sure everything will go fine," she says with full confidence, "There are many safe havens in this forest if you know where to look. The harder part in this forest is not the first few days but the longer term."
Downpour nods softly. Perhaps sometime later she'll ask for advice on those matters as well, but... not yet. She's not yet ready to consider herself as a mother. As a guard... that seems like something she can manage. Something she can be useful as, even. But in the end, there will be other guards, other protectors as well. The thought of failure there is... less painful. "I... shall seek you afterwards, then, and learn what I can." It won't hurt the calf any to have an extra protector learning nearby, for that matter.
It wouldn't hurt the calf to have to keep up with Niabi during the training either, though hopefully there will be a lot of naps involved as well - some things are hard to teach or learn if there's a calf underfoot, though Downpour probably knows most of that already. More likely it'll be all about formations and strategy, which means a lot of running - the thought of which is simply exhausting to think about in her present state, but she knows she'll appreciate the exercise in another week. "It will be nice for me to be able to pass along my knowledge to someone - I'd hoped to have a couple of daughters to teach it to by now," she says, looking surprisingly calm despite that statement.
By now... how can the older cow be so calm about this? She's been losing her calves since before Downpour was even alive, and yet she doesn't seem to have more than a vague regret for it. Downpour shakes her head, as though to clear it, or try to shake her thoughts into order. It doesn't make sense to her. But then, the voice of experience seldom does, to the young. "How... aren't -any- of them still... here?"
That question seems to give Niabi pause for a moment, and then she gives a heavy sigh. Just because she's coped with the emotions doesn't mean that they're not still there. "The first one was my fault. I... didn't pick a very good place to let him sleep and he was discovered by a pack of wolves. The next two - well, that was an unusual circumstance, as I said." Which Niabi seems especially reluctant to talk about. "The fourth was simply very bad luck - the wind changed while I was having her, and it would have otherwise been the perfect place, but wolves found us just as she was born. I barely got away from them myself." Though there's a lot of sadness in her voice as she describes this, it's obviously been a long time since any of it happened to judge by how... okay with it she seems to be.
Downpour shivers softly as she listens to the litany of lost calves, and lowers her head. "I... I don't really know what happened, with... with mine. She... I thought it was a good place, but when I came back, in the storm... I don't even know what got her. What... tore her up like that."
Nodding slowly with no little empathy, Niabi comments, "A common mistake for any first time mother - not that it makes it any easier." She's not certain whether witnessing or discovering such a scene is more painful, as she directly saw two - or technically three of the deaths, while the fourth remained unseen and unfound by her at least. "You /will/ do better next time," she adds confidently, "My second calf was on his own and nearly grown when he... died."
That's meant to be comforting, Downpour's sure, and yet... her worries hadn't even stretched that far, before. In principle, of course - certainly, elk die at all ages. She knows that. And yet to think that a calf, even if carefully defended, may grow almost to full adulthood - and then be taken away, just when the mother had begun to have some real hope... there's no end to it, is there? No stop to the chances for pain? "I... perhaps." If she's even willing to try again. But she doesn't want to say that to a cow that so glows at the prospect of motherhood, even after all her pain.
Well, the age that Niabi described seems to indicate that her second was at least old enough that it wasn't even remotely her fault, though that indication is most definitely false. If Downpour only knew - 'unusual circumstances' hardly describes it at all! But that story is one that Niabi has only told once since she left her birth herd, and the one she told is dead now. "You will," she repeats when Downpour expresses further doubts, "I'm sure you'll never make that mistake again, and if don't choose a bad place to hide a calf then there's few other mistakes you can make that would be fatal." More likely any additional mistakes would be in the realm of not helping a calf's emotional development properly, but that seldom results in death.
Blame is one thing, pain is another one entirely - and Downpour's more afraid of the second than the first. She's so afraid of it, in fact, that she keeps reminding herself of that pain in order to stop herself from risking it ever again, instead of letting the hurt fade away. Learning from mistakes is one thing; using them as a bludgeon against oneself repeatedly is quite another. At least she's listening. "I... suppose I have learned better." Though there are other lessons she still needs to learn... not least of which is that calmness Niabi possesses.
That calmness is something that took Niabi herself a long time to learn. In fact, it's just been over the past couple of years - since she wrapped her head around the idea of leading this little herd if you really want to pinpoint it. Before that she was much too overcautious, though she never was quite as bad as Downpour seems to be. "I have high hopes for the calves this year. The herd seems to have pulled through it okay, but I can't imagine that it didn't hurt the predators pretty hard. And even in the worst of times this part of the forest doesn't see a lot of predators. The worst I've seen is a few dogs, and compared to wolves dogs are - not a problem, really."
Downpour nods softly. "That... makes sense. I... I hope it will go well, then." That winter was certainly hard - but if the wolves didn't take their meals of the winter-worn herd, then they probably were quite hungry indeed. "Though it's still good to keep watch... I think perhaps I will go patrol." Unsurprising that the cow is seeking solitude again - she's spoken more than usual, since coming to the herd, and this topic is hardly an easy one for her.
Smiling and nodding, Niabi says, "I appreciate that. While I trust that Ojalo and Mojag won't let a thing come near us, especially this time of year, they can't watch all the borders all the time." She knows perfectly well why Downpour wants to patrol, but sees no reason why she can't be alone if she wants to be. She quite enjoys doing them herself. She's just happy that she and the shy cow were able to have a good, long talk so that they can both understand eachother better. "I'll see you soon," she promises.
The smile Downpour gives in return is, if touched with pain, a genuine one. Talking about these things does make her feel better, even when it's touching on old pains. A wound itches as it heals, and she's finding out that emotional wounds are no different... though she hasn't quite realized yet that the pains are healing. "Yes... I'll see you," she replies, with a nod, and then turns to slowly pace off, her head full of tangled thoughts that take up her attention more than keeping watch does. Fortunately, she's not the only guard.