Hunts were a thrilling experience - but also a necessity. For such a large pack - and almost as large flock - berries and the like would not cut it to make sure everyone went to bed on a full stomach. But, when prey was plentiful and lively such as this, finding something to track down was never difficult - especially when the flock was there to provide eyes in the sky. And with a large enough catch, an equally large number of pack members could be well fed.

But the first step would, as always, be finding it - because even with the Murkrow to help, that never necessarily meant that the prey would stay where it was. Some prey knows to beware the flock's gaze, on top of such. The tracking portion was still its own form of fun, however; a mystery to be solved, hints found in footprints, tufts of fur, broken foliage, and the like.

And then, when the prey is located, comes the prowl - closer, closer, creeping as close as they can to their target without being seen past the maze of trees. Which, more often than not, leads to the chase if they are spotted. A flurry of movement, wild and unbridled - heart beating, blood roaring, lungs heaving... All up until the pounce - a bite to the leg sending their prey tumbling, allowing for the hunting party to converge; a successful conquest.

Ettie is satisfied, licking the blood from her claws. The pack will eat well tonight.

It was one evening, during a patrol alongside a few of her packmates, that Ettie came across something that had their hackles rising.

There was an intruder in their territory. Though the offender was not present, the evidence was there all the same - a trail of hissing poison, tarnishing the otherwise lush plants around them. A foul thing, these poison constructs sometimes made their way through these woods - and each time, Ettie would track them to put them down. Because else, they could wreak havoc upon the surrounding wilderness.

The pack consisted of predators - but they knew the importance of preserving this forest. Thus, they waste no time in following the trail - marching at a quick but steady pace. Were this a hunt, there would be an excitement inherent in the trek - but instead, they are silent. Staring ahead. Driven in their intentions.

This intruder would not last long.

And indeed - when they came across their target, the ensuing scuffle was a quick one. The poison-mon was a mindless thing, and outnumbered by the patrol party who holds no love for it. Haru struck it from afar with her flames, Duchess darted in and out of combat with lightning speeds...

... And Ettie did not hesitate to bring her own power to the forefront; flexing her claws - gauntleted in black metal - to drive herself forward in a swift Accelerock, to strike the intruder down. She would not suffer intruders in her territory for long.

After a long day though - be it hunting, or patrolling - the pack is happy to simply return home.

To say that home is a single den though, might underplay things a little. For such a large pack, a number of homes are necessary, large dens set into the walls of a shallow - yet wide - crevice in the earth. The open space in the middle is plenty for the pack to mingle in - and meanwhile, the flock often roosts in the trees above, looming like ironic scarecrows.

When Ettie steps down into this little canyon, she is immediately greeted by a few of her packmates - tails wagging, noses sniffing, and nuzzles against her sides. She makes sure her gauntlets are clean, before she begins stroking their heads - lightly scritching them behind the ears.

To relax amongst her family, that was the sort of recreation that Ettie enjoyed. And as the welcome homes are resolved, she would waste no time in mingling with her packmates. Light wrestling with Ruffian, chasing around with Duchess and her pups, or even seeing what shiny objects Adrae has collected in her nest above... There was always something to do, amongst the pack, to occupy and unwind.

Ettie's favorite activity though, were the communal ones. Such as howling to the moon above, as night begins to fall..

Sometimes, in these dreams of hers, Something familiar will appear. Something that Ettie recognizes - that she feels as though she should remember. A figment, of something that she once experienced in yet another dream - and something that can thus, only exist in such dreams.

This figment is a she, Ettie knows this. She is avian - feathers, beak, and talons - and quite large, large enough to carry Ettie. But unlike most bird pokemon Ettie knows, she doesn't fly - at least, not quite like the flock can. Instead, she strides on long powerful legs - able to leap distances that would make one believe that she can fly.

Her beak is long and sharp. Feathers spiky like jagged chainsaws, coming in orange and black, much like the ornament that Ettie has kept with her all this time. Her gaze sharp and angular - yet gentle, loving, when directed in Ettie's direction.

There are many details that Ettie can sorta remember, and try to put together. But whenever she tries to draw it in the waking world, it never quite looks right. It's not something that she can ever explain why - just that it isn't Her.

But in these dreams, it doesn't matter quite as much. Ettie can see her as she's always been - can embrace her close, a reunion the wildchild has always craved.

And she will, in turn, croon softly - beak preening at Ettie's hair and clothing, nuzzling close.

"I missed you, Miya..."

...

... But as always - each morning after... Ettie finds herself waking up, with unshed tears in her eyes. Trying to grasp at the figment that exists in those blissful dreams - yet never able to get her pictures to look quite right...

Ability; SO CUTE!!! - This child is as cute as a wolf pup, rendering some normally aggressive individuals less hostile, and making it easier to endear herself to others. Of those who are still hostile, well... Cuteness aggression certainly exists.

Ettie was being hunted. She was well aware of that, treading through the darkened woods. But that was okay - because she, in turn, was hunting her hunter.

Getting to this point had, surprisingly, not been too difficult. Certainly, the threat of Shadow Pokemon was plenty present - having had to sneak past more than a few - but it appeared as though there were a few who had left her be after spotting her..? At the very least, to run away and find a place to hide was something she was well versed in, for those that did attack...

... She really didn't like being on her own, though. She really didn't like being away from Anne. The option to leave felt tempting. But she had to find her packmate, right? To put him in this ball - to bring him back home...

And the time for it was fast approaching, she knew - the feeling of danger that nagged at the back of her head growing stronger and stronger by the second... All until it reached a breaking point, and Ettie - following her instincts and gut feelings - dove into a roll, just in time to avoid the pounce of a Midnight Lycanroc.

Ebon snarled as he turned his gaze upon Ettie, baleful and wild. He was beyond untamed - rabid and feral - and was prepared to rip her apart as he might any other fool who became his prey.

Ettie, however, stood her ground. Turning to face him, she would snarl in turn - teeth bared - as the two began to circle one another, an orbit that only promised violence. She knew Ebon wouldn't come quietly... But that was okay - because she didn't plan for the wolf to simply sit there. If there was one thing she prided herself on, was that she was quick. Quicker than one might expect her to be at first glance.

Thus, it was when Ebon leapt at her, teeth and claws bared, that Ettie would duck to the side - her fingers digging into the earth like claws for traction, so that she in turn could leap onto the wolf's back!

Ebon howled with rage - and when a brief thrash of his body could not force her to let go as she wrapped an arm around his throat, he'd instead dig his claws in to tear at it. Ettie yelped and keened with pain at this - but her opposite hand gripped the Dream Ball tight. Growling through gritted teeth, she'd bring the ball down against the side of the Lycanroc's head.

And as Ebon disappears into its confines, Ettie finds herself collapsing onto the grass below. She was bleeding heavily - and yet, each drop that fell down froze in place as she slowly pushed herself back onto her feet. And as she glances up, she notices yet another box - the same as those before.

Much like before, she can't help but find the words beyond her. Though she tries to read - tries to make sense of the words, like her mind feels like she should be able to - it only serves to hurt her head, and raise further questions about what little she does manage to parse. It's difficult to think, past the deep ache in her arm.

But... After a moment's thought, she follows her gut instincts on what words she can understand, and chooses a button. And as time returns...

... She doesn't get a chance to see the result of her choice, or return to the castle, before she collapses - overcome.

The Cuckoolander Pup ; Purify
Howl / Play Nice / Play Rough

This was comfortable, in a sense. Far more comfortable than the prior objective she had.

To go into a dungeon - whatever that meant - with others to accompany her, Ettie found that she felt a lot more at peace. This was not the pack she was familiar with - but it was nonetheless a pack. A group she could fall in with, and work alongside. Strength in numbers.

There was a certain comfort, too, in the changes she found herself with. Claws, fangs, pointed ears, and a swishing tail... She truly looked like a wolfchild now, and it gave her a sense of happiness that she didn't expect to feel from it all. For the outside to match what's on the inside.

But, that didn't mean that trekking through this forest-like-yet-not dungeon was any easier. Though there were certainly perks from the features she had taken on, it didn't make her invincible - nor was she as physically capable as the pokemon were in a proper fight. But that was okay - because at least for now, she was still able to keep an eye out for her temporary pack.

And so, too, could Ebon - the purified Lycanroc proving to be a wild yet cooperative combatant on the battlefield.

But as the group reached the bottom of the dungeon, there came a shcok. Because who other lingered in the belly of the beast but a shiny Dusk Lycanroc, massive and imposing, that seemed to resemble Anne? The snarl that the wolf gave as she prepared for combat was enough for Ettie to decide that this wasn't Anne - or at least, the Anne she knew... Yet the fight was still something that the pup had to take a second to mentally prepare herself for.

Earthen spires rose in the wake of a maximized Stone Edge, and in its wake a sandstorm howled. The other pokemon faltered - yet Ebon was perfectly suited for this environment.

But to begin, Ettie was ready to use two cards one after another. A Howl ringing out empowers the group, and in turn a Play Nice helps to weaken this not-Anne. Beasts clash against beast - Ebon's wild fighting style putting the pressure on as he foregoes safety in lieu of laying the smackdown.

And when the time comes to finish the faux wolf, a Play Rough does the job just fine - Ebon flinging himself into the massive Lycanroc without a moment's hesitation, limbs a-swinging. The not-Anne collapses with a firm swing to the jaw, sending her tumbling down - whereupon she seems to simply disappear...

... Leaving an accessory, much like the one that Ettie retained from that dream-Galar. Feathered, spiky orange-black, evoking that sense of longing and melancholy. She takes it, holds it close... And when Ebon's paw rests on her shoulder, she leaves with him to return to the castle.

Dreams were... Strange, to Ettie, by now. For the longest time, she recognized dreams to not be reality, to be separate from it. But then came the years spent in Galar, where - though much of it was indeed separate from the reality she knew now - it left lasting effects and a memento behind, even if she could only remember pieces of it. There were the dreams brought on from exposure to the mist, where one of her own packmates was changed multiple times as a result.

Where was the line drawn, between a dream and the waking world?

It was hard to say. But it meant the idea of putting an end to a dream even stranger. She had experienced it once, in those twenty years of Galar, ad her feelings upon it were... A bit of a mess.

But from what it sounded like, all dreams had to have an end, right? The dream of Galar did. And so did any other normal dream. So this, too, had to end - and Ebon knew how. Though with the language barrier, trying to figure out the specifics from him was hard.

So, she was happy to follow his lead, as they entered those familiar woods, walking through winding paths... To the den, that the dream was centered around, she realized - the sounds of playful barks and yips echoing in the distance. "We ask pack for help?" She questioned, glancing to Ebon.

And Ebon, in response, considers this question for a second... Before nodding, allowing her to believe her initial thoughts. Not a complete lie - the pack will indeed help, but... Maybe not in the way that Ettie will think.

He has no intention of telling her how this will go. He has no intention of having her see it. It would be kinder to her, this way - for the dream to end without her seeing a drop of blood.

As the two approach the den, Anne is there to greet them - her tail idly wagging as she nuzzles Ettie. The wildchild giggles in turn - reaching a hand up to scritch behing Anne's ear, as they nuzzle her back, briefly wiggling. Soft, content, canid noises are shared between the two - and even without a shared tongue, the sentiments are communicated all the same; they are happy to see one another.

With those initial greetings done with though, Ebon would nudge Ettie to the den - giving her a brief nuzzle. Surely, she'd want to see the rest of the pack too, right?

Which, Ettie liked that idea! They could play together for a little bit, right? Smiling and nodding, she'd run off into the den, ready to greet her other packmates.

This left Ebon and Anne outside the den - and though the Dusk Lycanroc initially turned to follow Ettie, he would grab her attention with a low 'rrruff.' They had something they'd need to discuss. Something that Ettie need not know.

And though something approximating uncertainty flickered in Anne's expression... She'd agree to stay, seeing the serious look in Ebon's air.

Perhaps this was the kindest way for this to go. For Ettie to be among her family, not knowing a thing. To not see the true way this would end. For all she'd know, this dream would end the same as any other ordinary dream...

... Suddenly, abruptly, as one awakens - yet gentle all the same, with those pleasant memories there to linger unmarred...

Ettie wouldn't know what had happened, even as she awakens in the real world, surrounded by her packmates.

Initially, Ettie wasn't sure what the significance was in the journal she was given. It was a nice gift and all, but... She couldn't really read - and it didn't seem like Ebon had too much experience with it, either. So, it came as a surprise when Ettie opened it...

... Only to find herself someplace else.

Slowly, quietly, the pack moved through the undergrowth of 119. They had caught the scent of injured prey - a Sawsbuck that had gotten separated from its herd - and for the past while, they had been tracking it.

But that was not what made this hunt stand out in Self's mind. This was a special memory, because this was the first hunt her mother had let her accompany the pack on.

Her sister follows close to her side - the azure Rockruff's gaze determined. A few of her cousins and older siblings are here as well, noses sniffing and ears pricked. All the while, her mother - just as blue as her child, if not moreso - takes the lead, all the while.

Even if the pack has better noses and ears, Self instead puts her vision to work - taking note of the tracks, of the broken vegetation and hoofprints left from the Sawsbuck's hasty retreat. She is ready to prove herself, for her pack's sake. And seeing where the Sawsbuck had crashed through the bushes... With a low huffing sound, she points in that direction.

Mother gives her an approving, warm glance - and gazing to the rest of the pack, directs them accordingly.

Indeed, in that direction the Sawsbuck can be found - panting, tired... Its flanks bleed from a prior encounter with the hunting party, one leg noticeably causing a limp.

The pack begins to encircle, ready to pounce. Self and Sister are quiet as they both hunker down at their mother's side, waiting for the signal... And as the packleader darts forth, the collective joins in, ready to take down the prey once and for all.

Even as the Sawsbuck's antlers swing and hooves lash out, Self is able to leap onto the cervine's back. As it bucks and flails, she wraps her arms around its neck and squeezes, snarling wild through her teeth. Her packmates grab at its legs, trying to stop the bucking, to bring it down.

And with time, as lack of air and exhaustion alike make the deer slow... It topples over - allowing Sister to go for its throat.

A successful hunt - a clean catch. The pack would eat well tonight, and this knowledge fills Self's heart with pride. Especially when her eyes meet Mother's own - and she knows that she did well, for her first true hunt...