curiosity and having no strings tying him to a time limit to return to a pack led him towards the coast. the iktome plains is ailill's target, drawn to stay on the treeless expanse that stretches only with clumps of bunchgrass that poke up through snow melt like stubborn weeds. the scent of prey is numerous here, the warm, varying aromas giving him a brief overload of information as he strives to take them all in. the hunter in him feels a bit like a kid in a candy store — wide-eyed and bristling with the anticipation of it all. it's a bit warmer here than it is in the rest of the wilds and the fog that had seemed to plague the wilds for the past couple of days and nights has appeared to burn off. ailill pushes further in the territory, not seeking to actually
hunt but instead catalog the herds that linger in the plains, lured and held there by the attraction of the bunchgrass.
when ailill is tracking or on the hunt he tends to slip into a one track state of mind. the smells of varying prey animals is prominent and he's set his own mission perimeters and he zeroes in like a sniper filing the world through the crosshairs of their scope. there's one target and the fact that something else is blocking his vision takes him by surprise. it gives him a slight start as the scent of another wolf becomes insistent the closer he unintentionally draws to her and he gives a soft shake of his head to reshape his focus. the warrior in him will not allow him to stay so ignorant to the rest of his surroundings.
if not for the fog earlier in the week burning off and the melt of the snows to expose the terrain they'd blanketed she might've been easy to slip past. as it was, she stands out in contrast to the golden and emerald clusters of bunchgrass. his golden gaze is drawn to her — a quick assessment made as he studies her from afar — she is a pale sylph of a woman, covered in pale pink scars, her head held high. he considers just walking past her but his tracking has been interrupted and that'd be rude.
hey.
ailill offers in greeting, foregoing the usual chuff because he doesn't doubt she's aware of his presence.
well met. her response strikes him as posh and for a moment the eloquence of it startles him. he collects himself soon enough, however, and offers her an easy grin. light-hearted and friendly. ailill's vernacular isn't very elegant on most days and he hesitates for a moment in awkwardness, wondering if he should return the 'well met' or not. in the end, as to not come across like he's mocking he decides ultimately not to.
i was just tracking,
he says nonchalantly, subtly communicating that his pause on his activities wasn't a big deal. the whole point of being a tracker was the ability to pick up the scent even after he'd lost it; and anyway, he hadn't been tracking with the intention of hunting necessarily. at least, not right away. at this point, he'd mostly been storing information the scent trails had to offer him. i was just gathering information about some of the herds in the area.
he cuts himself off before he can get too deep into the mechanics of it. no doubt, she was well aware what it meant to track a herd and didn't need him to mansplain it to her.
what about you?
he asks, glimpsing from her to the glade around them, wondering what has brought her to this territory as well. was it a similar vein as his own? or was she just passing through, he wonders.