He slipped in to the valley without alerting anyone, drifting among a stand of trees and trailing the nearby foothills, the smell of rain having saturated his coat from days ago. The anger which had been ignited made itself known in small ways; the snap of branches underfoot, the insistent manner of his stride, the aura of spite darkening the air around him. Revui needed rest but it was the furthest from his mind. He found a trail which smelled of pigs - a swath of trampled grass made from a swollen belly - and decided to prowl after it with the hope he could spill some blood today.
She wouldn't consider herself the responsible sort. She didn't do things out of pure selflessness like others did for the sake of others (or at least, she didn't think she did). But she knew that acting like her normal, selfish self was not beneficial to her standing, especially when other wolves were involved. No, she needed to show her worth, show why she needed to be allowed to sleep within their borders.
So she hunted. Well, she wandered around until she found a good trail. Wild pigs. She could smell them, though the scent was partially washed away by the wet, the broken underbrush was enough of an indication that they had been here. She followed the trail, keeping her head low until she ran into another wolf trotting in the same direction. Ye smell 'em too?
she asked the grayscale wolf, smelling enough of him to decide that he was a packmate. Two'll make finer work than one, eh?
The scents were strong in the lower regions of the claim, mostly among the loose ferns and thin cover outlaying patches of forest. The further in to these clutches of trees he went, usually the scent would disperse; perhaps the targets were splintering in the shadows, finding their food and returning to their herd afterward. It was not a behavior that Revui recognized in his typical prey (deer) but these were odd beasts,
He did not get far before a rustling froze him in his tracks; he looked with his eyes first, then shifted his head low, as if anticipating the arrival of the large sow, but instead it was another wolf. He relaxed somewhat when they drifted closer, but his ears slanted when they spoke. If they wanted to hunt they could - but speaking would ruin their chances.
Then again, with the rising population of wolves in the valley, perhaps their chances were already abysmal.
Fine,
he intoned hastily, and then turned to continue staking out the grove of old pines.
Had it not been for the framing of their first encounter, Orson might have continued chattering off, for the pure sake of annoying the hell out of this close-mouthed wolf. She was a bit of a gadfly at times. But the phantom taste of pork in her mouth shut it.
She slipped after him, keeping her nose low to the ferns. Pigs were nasty, intelligent things. She drifted away from him, widening their berth. Their hunting net, if you would.