using the same google doc for this because im way toolazy to change it

written at 3am yahoo

anyway

A Yuty’s Quest Part One aka a dumpster fire

I didn’t proofread this so sorry if it doesn’t make sense

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A roar and a crash.

That’s all Bicker remembered of when her father died.

Bicker doesn’t really care, unlike her older brother. She’d never met him. She wants to meet him, sure, but it’s not at the forefront of her thoughts.

Her mother, Splinter, rarely talks about him, whether it be how he died or the adventures he went on. Bicker had tried to pressure her brother into telling her, seeing as he was a few years older than her and might have some memories, but he would always respond with “he was nice” or “I miss him” and never actually said anything about it.

The only things she knows about him are few; he was killed by humans, and he led the pack. However, nobody talks about what happened. It’s custom to let certain yutys remember the past, and advise the leaders in their decisions, but not even the leader’s children got access to that information. And that infuriates Bicker. She wants to know what happened.

Talking about the past was forbidden. Why? Nobody knew. You aren’t even allowed to talk to the archivists as they might slip up and reveal something. It was f*ing stupid! Whoever thought of this dumbass rule needs to be drowned. Beaten and drowned.

“Pay attention, s*head!!” A rock hit Bicker on the head.

“The f* was that for?” Bicker whipped around to see her little brother taunting her.

“Willow wants our help. You can’t just sit around and daydream all day.”

Bicker grumbled a response and shoved her brother with her tail playfully. “C’mon. What does he need?”

Although Bicker’s little brother, Argent, was only half her size, he acted like he made the rules. His energy had no bounds. He had no rules for himself; always getting into fights and stealing things. Bicker knew that she had taught him that. Even though it was annoying, she was proud of him.

Argent led Bicker to a clearing, where Splinter and Willow sat. “Found her!” He bounded over towards Willow, who had a poorly drawn map made in the snow, accompanied by the occasional rock or stick that Bicker thought was supposed to act as locations or landmarks.

“Bick! You’re here. Uh, we need help with this. You’re the one who’s supposed to know these things.” Willow gestured down to the map, his tail lightly thumping against the snow. He often did that to express a strong emotion, positive or negative. Usually it was worry.

Bicker looked down at the map. She could just barely make out a map of the northeastern sector of Valguero; Willow had placed rocks where important locations are and separated the snow zone from the tundra with a thin twig that was bound to blow away any second. A rock sat just above the stick, their pack’s camp. Smaller rocks were sprinkled across the makeshift map, Bicker didn’t know what most of them were but she could tell where the human tribe was located, somewhere at the southernmost region of the tundra, almost falling off the map. There were a few other things she recognized as well, a few rocks and pebbles indicating other yuty maps or even important camps of other species, such as the mammoths’. Though it was messy and a few of the locations were incorrect.

She looked up at Willow. “What’s this for?”

Willow shrugged and looked over at their mother, who was politely observing the situation. “Maybe I just wanted to create a map. For uh, someone.” His tail twitched. He always did that when he lied. “So, will you help me? You know all the routes for trading and such, can you draw those?”

“If you want to make a map, you’re going to have to do it better than this.” Bicker stomped on the map, the rocks scattering and some snow blowing away.

Willow pouted and looked up at Bicker. “That took me forever.”

Sometimes Bicker felt like she was older than Willow. He acted so stupid and childish. Most of the time, Bicker was jealous of him. He didn’t deserve the title of “oldest”, she did.

Bicker walked away, some snow that was matted on her fur falling and disappearing into the wind. She picked up a somewhat small and flat rock, setting it down near Willow and dusting the snow off. “Think you can work with this?”

Willow simultaneously nodded and shrugged, tilting his head to the side and inspecting the stone. “Yeah, seems easy enough. Thanks.” He stood up and strode over to a small dip in the rock where he stored his things, pulling out a bit of frozen dye (crushed berries scavenged from the northern part of the lake) and walking back to the stone. He scooped up a chunk of crushed tintoberry with his right claws and slapped it onto the stone, painting in the tundra. He grabbed some crushed stimberries and painted in the snow zone, then marked different important areas with narcoberries, azulberries and mejoberries depending on what it was, being guided by Bicker.

Bicker watched him. His movements were careful, his limbs stiff as if he even made one mistake he would go insane. At last he finished, setting it down like it was a priceless artifact. “Mind telling me what it’s for?”

Willow looked up and back to their mother, or where she was. She tends to disappear like that. It’s kind of creepy, Bicker noted.

“Er, I just wanted to make a map. To donate to the archivists.” His tail twitched again. Willow knew she could easily pressure it out of him, but she decided not to.Usually she would poke and prod until he came clean, but today she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure why.

Bicker sighed and looked him in the eye. “You’re a horrible liar.”

Willow didn’t say anything and just looked to the ground. He mumbled something Bicker didn’t catch under his breath before he picked up the stone and walked back to where he slept. Was that all he needed help with? Literally just for her to stand there and tell him that he needs to put his work somewhere a bit more permanent? He really was stupid.

+Pov change

Willow sat down in his little cave, just a rock overhanging a small dip in the dirt. It was sheltered, and although it didn’t look like much it was comfortable. Most yuty’s dont get this pleasure, usually having to share nests in a larger cave, which ends up making everything annoyingly warm. But luckily he was the leader’s son. He would give this cave to another yuty if he could, and he’s tried, but turns out the archivists have more jobs than one. They also record your faults. You could steal prey from another yuty, and you’d get a strike. If you get too many, you’ll be banished. Plain and simple. And apparently trying to be helpful is against the rules, which got him a strike. Willow wondered how his father led in these conditions. It was painful.

He leaned back against the small walls of the cave. It may have been comfortable, but it was lonely. Apparently privacy is something most yutys want, but it leaves Willow nobody to talk to, to connect to. He hated that. Sometimes he imagined himself in a different pack, eating and talking with no restrictions and enjoying himself. But he knew that deep down, all of these crazy rules kept the pack afloat. That’s why their pack was so large and well-known, also thanks to the incredible feats of Furbeak, his father, and probably other leaders in the past. Probably. He wished he knew.

He looked down at the map he had created, it was messy and he wished he could redo it. He hated to lie to his family, especially his sister, but he knew it was necessary. Only he knew what happened to his father, and it hurt to think about. Only he knew that his father was still alive, waiting for someone to help him. He was tamed. Tamed! A dreaded possibility. To be trained and domesticated by humans, creatures even a hatchling could easily decimate, was not only humiliating but it was horrid. Willow imagined Furbeak heading out to war, killing yutys against his own will and a prisoner in his own body. He shuddered. Furbeak could have died, sure, but Willow knows that he’s too stubborn to. And of course, if he was planning on taking him back, then he would need the help of his sister. His mother and brother had to be left out, no matter how much Argent might plead, it’s not safe for him.

Willow thumped his tail softly against the frozen ground. He has a ton of memories of his father, more than most yutys think. He curled up to a ball and stuck his nose in his feathers, wishing that none of this had to happen, wishing that his father was still here to help him through this.

if you read this you're officially a god