Moonspear Like a toreador

The closer the wolf came to the mountain, the smaller she felt. In the distance, it had reached toward the heavens with a mighty pitch, but as she neared its base she became more aware of its true grandeur. Acres and acres of foothills sprawled out at its base, where forests covered its shoulders like epaulettes. Here, where the earth rose and fell before the sudden shift, would be the place elks might roam, deer too. Here, they would race through forests, and climb to higher pastures in the winter. Here, they could be herded into a basin or toward a gully to be hunted; here was a home for wolves.

 She could smell the scent of wolf growing heavier and heavier, and spotted a figure approaching through the woodline. She stopped, tufted ears flicking forward to hear is she might be warned and chased off. She wetted her nose, and discerned the male's scent as being one of those present along the borders, and inferred then that this was either a guardian or a leader. 

Turning broadside to him, she swung her head low and passed her tongue over her lips, casting a whale-eyed look in his direction so he would know she intended no harm. Her tail waved quickly at her ankles; it had been a long time since she had had to speak with her body in this way, and she could only hope she was doing it right.