Ravensblood Forest shoulders smooth as raven's claws

Ikkalrok had every intention to return to the coast, but the mountains in the near-distance beckoned her wild spirit. She had not the insight to think she would not be alone in this, and that those of their ilk would have heard the very same call—she only thought of the vantage points the mountain might provide to see where it was that they would next head. At every opportunity there was, Ikkalrok and her fellows took the path that brought them to what felt much like the top of the world, though inevitably they would descend to travel through the lowlands. 

She was patient; it was easy to be when one knew the inevitable conclusion. 

Ikkalrok forged ahead of those under her command. Now and then would come their undulating cry that their brethren would know—the summoning of any nearby Anneriwok. Now they traveled mutely, however, through the Shadewood; it was an easy place to navigate, and there were many scents here that indicated that prey had passed through. Even the noseblind could sense it should they have eyes that could see; Ikkalrok observed tufts of hair from such critters, and the parting of shrubs brought on by a barrel-chested buck. Ikkalrok paused here,  one ear rotating backward as she sniffed at the leaves gingerly. From this she garnered much about the beast and knew it was not a thing that was near its end, lest it suffered from an unfortunate and unexpected fall. No wise wolf would seek to hunt them while it was in full health and in its prime. 

There was nothing else for her to do but to continue, and that she did. In her peripheral, she caught the silhouette of Savik; Anuniaq might loiter at their rear for a time until he was satisfied that there was no carrion to be shared between them. This she did not mind—she would accept any food found willingly. It would be a fatal error for any to scoff at a meal that would lead to the restoration of their energy, particularly when none needed to be exerted. They had hunted, successfully, but a night ago—food, however, was food, and simply by the look of her it was no question that she required plenty of it. 

Her nose hovers above the loamy grass, though, in the break of the trees, Ikkalrok spots the stranger during his rest; he was downwind and had not walked this particular path—it is only her eyes that determine he is there, and her ears twitch atop her crown. He appeared alone, and the gaze of Ikkalrok shifts first to the left side of him, then the right, to see if any other had bedded with him. When no signs were observed, she settled a measure; Ikkalrok had met many a loner that saw it fit to test her, and though she was a patient woman, such a virtue came second to her primary vice: wrath. 

The stranger appears travel-weary, but she knows better than to think this the case. One did not live this long among warriors without learning the way of cowards. Ikkalrok did not idle any longer—after shifting her weight, she moves into his line of sight (by now, he might have smelled her) and displays to him her disinterest with a stoic expression as she treks ahead. Though she does not look at him any longer, he is not out of her sight. Her senses keep her advised to his every action (the shifting of her ear an indicator of this), and as ever she is prepared to do what she must.