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A new day, another test. Today it was Lily's turn -- the Motherfather knew that there was sibling rivalry. Spiderlily and At Attention were the worst of the bunch and as much as she stomped on their tails and inserted herself between them, tried to cull the dissension, she was also quite proud of them for it. At Attention for reasons unknown had deemed himself her guardian -- her acceptance of it had nothing to do with needing it, even if it did come in useful, and everything to do with the love of her children -- which put him in direct contention with Lily.

As a mother she had no favorites, but Lily was a natural at deception. The prettiest flower with the deadliest of thorns. At Attention was skilled, to be sure, but it came easily to his sister. She doubted the contention would have been so bad if Lily had appreciated her talents. She may have been proud of her daughter's skill but Lull in Sunlight was not daft and knew her daughter was not fond of her natural born gift. A shame but it did not mean she didn't intend to give her daughter (all her children) the lessons that had born her through life.

Today's lesson was in little more than observation. The mare had spent -- far too long -- hours traipsing about in owlcat form. Some prints harsh and rigid; some faint. Even still others were rushed in circles or experiments in walking backwards. And still she quite expected her daughter to suss out the correct end where a pigeon skull rested in wait to be claimed. So far the doe had been correct, but now there was a tangle of prints, and she stood trying to decipher them. No great rush, there were few distractions -- or so she thought. She really should have known that company would turn up.

"A hag is better than a shrew, like you," she retorted; a grin was spread on her lips even as she turned to take in the sight of Doom with -- it may have well been the first time Doom had truly surprised her -- another doe. It was not hard to tell they were related for they resembled each other so. "And you have company. Intriguing," she cooed, truthfully. It had not occurred to her that Doom may have children for she seemed much more interested in hunting.

If anything, Spiderlily was quite surprised. The appearance of two does and of actually seeing her mother interact with others that were not her children was a new experience. And it wasn't hard to see the mares knew each other. She fixed herself up, eyes wide in wonder and head bowed ever so slightly as if submissive. What she wanted to do was bound over -- glide really -- and greet the other doe but that was not what her mother would think was smart. Always appear weaker than you are, was a good lesson to know.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?" the mare asked. She did seem a trifle more excited about the encounter (even her daughter thought so) than was normal but patient as she could be it was bloody difficult not to rush off to where the prize was perched. Brilliant as her daughter was, she was almost methodically slow at tracking. And it was dreadfully boring to be honest.

Spiderhole? The mare's eyes slid to her own daughter, another spider. And then her daughter's twin, yet another spider. Sometimes she rather thought the Motherfather itself had taken herself and Doom to place them in some perverse web. "How coincidental. You out with your daughter," her voice rose ever so slightly, waiting for her suspicions to be affirmed, before continuing, "and me out with mine, Spiderlily." A look between the two does; they looked nothing a like. Neither did she and Doom. And yet... she hid the grimace. She did so hate the idea of being manipulated. "So many spiders about, aren't there?"

And then, having noticed Doom's glance at the tracks so carefully plotted and planted -- as if she had to leave tracks, owlcats were so very good at trees -- she considered deliberately scuffing them up. Not that Doom, who had seen the pigeon skull was for payment, would take it. But Spiderlily needed to track on her own, without help.

"No, of course not. I'm constantly on blessing duty, aren't I?" and the tilt of her head, the rise of her brows, made it clear she was being sarcastic. "What did you have in mind?" As if she couldn't guess. She wasn't entirely sure Doom ever had anything else on her mind but hunting. There were worse things to be preoccupied with.

The compliment was startling. Doom wasn't often -- or ever really -- the type to offer niceties. It rather took her off guard. "It's hard to go wrong with spiders," she allowed, perhaps even more unsure than the other mare of how to respond. Really, between the two of them the appearance of niceness was unneeded. They are friends-or-something enough to be straight to the point. And there's a sense of relief when Doom ribbed her, enough that she grinned in response.

"Oh yes, great, wonderful. A shame you're not good at it. Such a high duty and all," she swatted right back with a gleeful prance of her fore-hooves. This was how she and Doom work, she felt. A comfortable bickering without false pretense. In short, they could be themselves.

Lull in Sunlight looked over her daughter and then back at the duo, "A short lesson in tracking. One of the harder parts of hunting."

Watch? She -- and from the brief rigidness, her daughter, too -- was not fond of that idea. A fuss would only delight Doom, she imagined, and so she merely shrugged. Fine, then. Let them watch. She was a radiance of pride, almost smug, as she turned her attention to her daughter.

Spiderlily wanted to protest. At Attention hadn't had to deal with an audience but then he hadn't said anything about a prize either. Mother seemed unfazed by the extra scrutiny. If I must, I must, she supposed. It was silence as she studied the tracks once more. She had picked out the trail she thought was correct as her mother and the other mare conversed but it never hurt to double check. Especially with extra eyes surveying.

"This way," she determined. Backwards tracks, it appeared, but she could see the slight slip of paws that indicated it was a farce. She didn't look to her mother for confirmation. Instead she followed the trail.

Failure would have delighted her brother, her rival, and as dearly as she loved him, that was not something she would grant him. And it may have well slighted her into displaying her temper had Doom spoken such thoughts aloud. Or it may have merely prompted her to more quickly and efficiently prove her wrong. Not that she was by any means slow -- interruption aside -- for after picking a trail she had stuck to it, eyes alert, and hooves prancing carefully alongside to prevent smudging the tracks. Even as the prints shuffled under a half raised tree root and through a crevice and on and on and around and around. Until they stopped. Only the tree bark, rough and easy for claws to sink into, remained. And with a lift of her head she found it. The pigeon skull.

"It's like yours," Spiderlily said, voice soft -- awed. She was careful in her extraction of the skull and turns to her mother with eyes bright, touched (even as a hint of passive exasperation flickers).

"Very good, my daughter," Lull in Sunlight returned but it was clear to all that she was proud. Even as she stood still there was a trace of a gleeful filly dancing in the way her eyes lit and mouth smiled. "What say you, Doom? A fine ally to a hunt she would be." No rib, no jest, but a clear tout of excellence.

There was a look that passed between mother and daughter before the mare was gone -- a flash of a darting owlcat and the mere hint of a spectral shadow in pursuit all that foretold of her following in Doom's tracks.

Spiderlily carefully turned and rested the precious, delicate skull onto her back. Then observed Spiderhole, "I don't know quite yet, but there's a stag that crafts... I may take it to him." A tilt of her head, eyes upward as she considered it then rolled a shoulder. "Mother is a, efficient teacher." And the pause made it clear that other words were more descriptive.