Blackbird

Fifth litter of Redeye. Pup-raised by Ursula.

Named by Bluejeans.

A tall and board male, Blackbird is an intimidating sight to see. He is dark colored with cream and white accents around his limbs, neck, and muzzle, and his eyes are black as peat pools. Unlike his mean spirited siblings, Blackbird is able to keep his cool in tough situations and holds a strong sense of duty to his pack.


He is the son of Redeye, the maternal grandson of Romulus and Kanno,the maternal great grandson of Juno, the maternal great-great grandson of Procyon and Mirzam, and the paternal great-great-great grandson of Bluejeans.

He is the full brother of Leadbelly and Tanheart. He is the maternal half brother of Royce, Rowdy (deceased), and Blackslash (deceased).

Blackbird is the pack's breeding male.

ooc Leadbelly/Lamar/Dutchess/Cora/Blackbird/Prokuon/Mydog

original

Born December 20 2023 -> she's born just a little over a year after Procyon died and a week after my real life doggie died? Insane (I'm insane) anyway she's my pick of the litter

Perhaps my next lead? design I want her to be the second coming of Procyon Will most likely call her Mydog but Prokuon is apparently another way of saying Procyon. She's his great-great-granddaughter. ‼️‼️ sex changed to be the next stud and named Blackbird like red wing blackbirds (my favorite bird) (procyon was my favorite star).

procyon markings

During the lesson: Blackbird was confused when she could catch the same scent in several spots, but Kanno's smirk explained it all. It was one of those tricky lessons and Blackbird did everything to prove she was smart enough to track prey effectively.

Blackbird comes up to Redeye and asks if there's anything she needs him to do today.


1 YEAR
Blackbird bides his time. Blackbird bides his time. Blackbird bides his time.

Despite the dreams plaguing him every night, Blackbird holds restraint. He won't kill his mother, especially not when she's got a newborn litter still nursing. He won't kill his mother, especially not when she's his mother.

The black wolf from his dreams speaks of ill and sick things. Of stolen valor and fights unwon, of old dead Mylock being rightful heir, of the path of the stars leading to Blackbird. He can't stand it.

That night Mylock passed was the worst. He'd came into Blackbird's nest and rattled out, mouth smelling like rot, "The new king reigns when the old one dies," with a half grin on his muzzle. He'd passed only minutes later, paw touching Blackbird's. He couldn't help his disgust. Aren't you supposed to wander off first and then die?

Blackbird's turned a year the day Mylock died. Bagworm had growled that it was an omen; that her father had waited until Blackbird was old enough. "Old enough for what?" Blackbird had asked, muzzle tense as he helped her dig Mylock's shallow grave. Deep enough to cover him but not deep enough he couldn't get out.

"To rule the pack," Bagworm had snarled back, angry at the thought. She'd wanted to rule too, he knows. She spoke of it often when she had been teaching him to scout. She won't go against the words of her father, however, and has told Blackbird she won't offer any competition.

But Blackbird won't rule the pack. He'd have to kill his own mother to do that. How could he? He couldn't. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.

1 YEAR 6 MONTHS
Blackbird's resolve is crumbling. Six months have passed. He has bid his time. He has waited. He has been the loving, respectful son he knows he must be. He has endured the night terrors and visits from the dead and the puppy toothed bites of his new siblings.

He wakes from every sleep, day or night, after dreams of the black wolf, of Bluejeans, of Mylock. They all want the same thing. They plague him on his scouts, which he goes on more and more frequently just to avoid his mother and siblings. They plague him when he's with the Outsider females and their pups, which he brought into the pack to get his mind off of things. They plague him at rest, at work, at leisure.

Blackbird knows how to get them to leave them. Blackbird's resolve has been crumbling. Blackbird bides his time.

Blackbird leads his mother out to the edge of the territory, claiming a strange scent he wants her to investigate. She follows him with ease, all the trust in the world, happy to help her son with anything he needs. Blackbird's stomach curdles as she trots along with him, recalling stories of her own scouts and Blackbird's puppyhood, singing songs her mother taught her and jokes she learned over the years.

When they get to the spot Blackbird is silent. She remarks that this flower field is beautiful, and wanders about for a while, rolling in the thick grass and chasing the bugs through it. She turns to him after sniffing the spots he tells her, and glances at him with a smirk before glancing again in abject horror. She's staring beyond him, and he knows she sees them too. "Oh, Birdie…" she breathes out, concern and pity splashed all over her face, her red eyes soft.

"I'm sorry, Momma," Blackbird whispers. He is gentle. He is merciful. She does not fight him, and offers her throat pliantly when he lunges.

He buries her underneath a sprawling tree near the field of flowers he deceived her in. He tells his siblings she simply died, and insists there was a rotting smell when Leadbelly says she was too young.

It is the herbalists job to offer the position of new King, but Leadbelly is grieving too heavily, and old Taiga does it. His aunt Taiga. His mother's sister Taiga. She looks him dead in the eyes, black meeting tearful blue, as she says, loud enough all can hear. "The king is dead. We shall now have a new king to reside over us, to protect us without fault, to lead us to better days, to heal us when we're ill, and feed us when we're hungry. Who will it be?"

It's silent for a moment. Blackbird doesn't wait long. He's waited long enough. He looks up from where his gaze has lowered. All he sees is the black wolf, its eyes burning like the embers of a flame staring back at him. He steps forward, holding its gaze, and if anyone thinks it odd he's looking over Taiga's head instead of at her while she asks her challengers, nobody says anything. Nobody challenges him, either, too mournful to think of putting up a fight. Blackbird's proved himself. He's young and powerful. He's been hunting and scouting for the pack since he could be without his mother.

"Well," Taiga says, lips tight and blue eyes blazing. "To King Blackbird. May he lead us to the stars."

Beside her, the black wolf disappears.