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Intent on keeping far from a potential run-in with a tribe of wolves, Nootka kept her senses on high alert. When the slightest scent of wolf caught on the wind she would divert her path. If she came upon a carcass in the snow, she was leery of it rather than eager; a tiny prayer to the animal as thanks for its sacrifice was always given, but she would never touch the flesh.
It took a few hours of careful scouting but she did eventually cross the bog. Her legs were thick with mud. She smelled strongly like the stagnant water, and shivered whenever she passed through a shadow.
This meant, of course, that when the flame's path took her towards a great forest made of immense cedar, pine, and elm, there wouldn't be enough sunlight left to dry her off or keep her warm. Night would fall and she would have to find a place to stay warm. It was this moment that made Nootka envious of the wolves she was trying to avoid — nostalgic for the days spent with her own people, of which there were many.
Nootka was lonely here. It was not right — a wolf needed a pack. She needed her people.
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It had been a few days now since the yearling had run from home, perhaps something close to a week. After having some time to consider her situation, she had managed to put her numbing grief aside so as to focus on where she was going and what she needed to do in order to survive. The first was a tough question, but answering the second came naturally; her aching stomach told her food was the top priority. Of course, actually getting the food would prove a challenge as well.
With a pang in her heart, she acknowledged that she had very little knowledge of hunting, and if she hoped to be succesful, would need to really rake her memories for tips. Surely they had mentioned something at some about point? And if not, surely she could just use common sense to figure it out... Suposedly, as a noble creature near the top of the food chain, it should be in her instincts...
Eventually, she concluded sensing her prey came first, meaning she'd need to put her nose to the ground and keep at it until something wafted towards her. Rabbit and vole were really the only scents she knew well enough to recognize, but in her small world, they were two of the only three prey animals in existance, so she didn't really consider the odds. She just kept her nose down and expected to find something soon enough.
Unfotunately, the task was a lot harder than she'd ever anticipated. So many smells found her nose - various vegiation, trees, earthy things, a foul smell from the bog she didn't know of, smaller predators - that it was almost impossible to keep track of and sift through them all. Sometimes she thought she could smell rabbit, and she hopefully perk up, but the scent would fade just as quickly as it came, replacing her gleeful expression with a pout of disapointment.
This is harrrrrd, she internally whined.
A few hours of fruitless tracking passed before she discovered another scent, one that stopped her in her tracks and made her eyes go wide: wolf. Despite her attempts at shutting the memories out, her mind instantly flashed back to that day, reminding her of the strange wolf scent all over her parent's bodies... She'd known the wolves responcilbe had had a reason for doing it, but nevertheless, as a naive child, it instilled a sense of paranoia in her that all strange wolves sought to harm others; no one, aside from her late parents, could be trusted.
She forced herself to snap out of the transe she'd fallen into, swiftly whipping her head this way and that as she tried to determine the source of the scent. Her breathing steadily picked up along with her heartbeat, fear suddenly clutching her and making it hard to think rationally. The smells got tangled up again, and she couldn't tell where the stranger was.
Run, a voice in her head quietly whispered.
Needing no further motivation, she took off in the first direction she laid eyes on, and in her panicky state, couldn't prevent herself from ramming straight into the stranger. She gave a yelp of surprise as she rebounded backwards, her rump landing on the ground with a painful thump!
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Nootka prided herself in being attuned to her environment. It did not matter where she was, she could understand the whispering within the trees, the tone of the sea upon the shore, the bleating of animals. She knew at which distance to follow a bear; similarly, to abandon all hope of finding a meal if there was a drift of old pigs in the area.
What Nootka did not understand, was this new place — its people specifically.
She had found signs of tribes throughout. The call upon the wind from a day ago was a good indicator. The occasional carcass picked clean. It seemed strange to her that these tribes would linger in one set place their whole lives — the scents were collectively placed, as if they did not roam far from their limits.
Thinking of this, and wandering as she did, Nootka became distracted. She did not notice the stranger until it was too late
— for they burst in to Nootka's periphery so suddenly that there was no time to react. The stranger's rangy body collided with Nootka's athletic one; they were a tangle of limbs for a moment, cream and red, until hitting the snow.
The wind hadn't quite been knocked from her lungs, but she was dizzy. Her head had connected (with a nice crack) upon a patch of black ice. The world swam around her, spun, and Nootka wondered if she was about to fall asleep — but she held on to her mind, to the pain in her body, and stumbled to her paws with a glower.
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Gripped with fear, the young wolf only took a fraction of a second to process the pain she'd inflicted on herself- the lingering sting of impact on her chest, the soreness of her rump, and the bitter bite of the cold snow upon her body. It wasn't pleast of course, but none of that mattered now, not while a potentially dangerous stranger was seconds away from getting to their feet and rounding on her. The only true thought in Andornika's mind was to get back, get away, ensure her saftey. Her forelegs scrambled to find a firm grip on the slippery ground as she frantically pushed herself to a stand and distanced herself from the tumbling figure, eyes wide and breaths short.
While the stanger was still gathering their barrings, the frightening yearling obsevered the product of her actions, both mildly surpised and a tad impressed. She never would've thought it within herself to completely throw a wolf off their feet like that, having been born to willowy parents and being only half grown as well. It was a brutish action, meant for the likes of a powerful guard, not a dainty princess. The notion of momentum didn't even occur to her; she thought this was purely the result of some hidden strength she somehow possessed. She even went as far as to feel a little relieved over the fact that she wansn't entirely defensless, a bit more confident, but this spark of self assurance quickly disapted when the wolf got to their paws, making their athletic build and angered expression clear as day. Perhaps an impressive move, but it certainly wouldn't work a second time, and this wolf looked ready to murder her.
Apologizing didn't even occur to the spoiled child, but she certianly regretted her actions, now seeing what she was up against. Even with a pelt comiically powdered with snow, the wolf before her was the perfect embodiment of all her fears- an angry looking stranger without a trace of mercy in their eyes, ready to spring at a moment's notice.
The princess didn't hesitate when taking another step back.
Perhaps she should run. Perhaps it was stupid to stay put when she knew the wolf before her was not happy or trustoworthy... but would running even do her any good? This stranger was probably a local, knew the land much better than she, and with the ruddy wolf's athlethic complection, Andronika doubted she'd get very far... No, running wasn't an option then. Yet how could she possibly survive staying put?
She swallowed hard as her brain searched for a solution, desperately trying to fill the tense space between them. In her mind, each passing second of silence would only contribute to the stranger's anger... Not knowing what else to do, she decided to feign strength, forcing her chin to tip up and her ears to return to their neutral pricked position instead of being fearfully pinned against her skull. Even to the untrained eye, her fear was still eminent, portrayed by her faintly trembling limbs and subtley pinched brows, but she really tried to look like the important figure her parents had been molding her into.
"Who are you?" The yearling dared to question, forcing herself to sound clear and bold.