Lion Head Mesa a-weema-weh

Life, for the large cat, hadn't changed much. Given her size, he was easily able to feed both of them though he was aware that he would have to begin teaching her to hunt so that once her apetite grew, she could feed herself. He'd begun wondering if his techniques would actually work for her- though naturally, he had his doubts as she certainly couldn't leap the same way he could, nor were her claws built to hook and cling. It would've been useless for him to teach her to climb trees as well, he mused. He had yet to see any sign that wolves were actually of some use- but he gave her the benefit of the doubt and kept her alive regardless. 

She was a curious little creature, and he kept her under his watchful eye, studying her to see what it was that made wolves' brains tick. It seemed she was motivated by scent, and that she had little regard for how she looked while tracking and sniffing around. Her personal hygiene also left something to be desired. Presently, she scrabbled over rocks, sniffing in and around them where he assumed perhaps a mouse had made a little path, and he left her to it. He, on the other hand, preened his fur so that it shone with a dusky lustre in the morning light.