Wolf RPG

The grass had grown shorter in the plains where they had last roamed. Cropped down by the herd with the chestnut stud, who wasn't worth trifling with. He'd been especially wary of the band of bachelors this year, and with good reason. Three of them would be contenders in the next year to challenge for a herd of their own- it was a surprise already that the dark grey, Quasar, had not even just a mare or two at his side already. He was patient, and knew to save his strength for when he could steal more than just a pre-bred mare and her yearling foal. 

The white-grey and the sorrel bickered and jousted in the fresh layer of snow once they came to the Hoshor plains. In the distance, other bands, all which came together in relative peace in the wintertime. They'd have less chance of being singled out by wolves, if there were more bands grazing in the same area. 

For the bachelors, they had even less to worry about- no pregnant mares, no yearlings- save for the one with the medicine hat. But he'd been accepted among them as an additional pair of eyes, who often got stuck with the late night shift. And his blue eyes could search out nearly anything that moved in the dark; he had excellent senses. 

Grassdancer was often sent out to scout out the plains, and was a common sight among the bands. His smoky grey pelt and pleasant expression often made a few mares lift their heads, but the stallions knew all it would take to fend him off would be the flattening of ears. Of course, he knew to give them space; his job, among the throng of bands, was to scout out the ground. If anything came at them at speed, they would have to run- and the secret danger lay in the ground. 

Gopher holes. As Grassdancer, it was his job to scout them out, and mark them with a pile of dung, or scraping with his hoof. That way, a herd sent into a charge would avoid those areas, and avoid breaking legs in those holes in the ground. He was known to most for being charitable in this way- and it had gained him one meeting with a shy, red roan mare before he'd been ushered away. Their secret now grew in her belly- but he was not strong enough yet to challenge the paint who claimed her. 

For now, he was simply the Grassdancer, the one in charge of making sure their fields were flat and hard, to scout out the best grounds to eat, and to keep an eye on the horizon for predators. With this much open space, he could see for miles. Many ears listened, many eyes watched.

One had chosen to leave them.  Redd thought perhaps this was the right choice.  He had shown little interest in being pack, but their strength was in firmly being such.

However, food was low.  She had struck out and slunk through surrounding lands looking for prey she could take.  This was the first large creature she encountered.  Redd knew immediately she would fail horribly if she tested them, but still she lurked and observed.

She would not break cover.  But as she looked, they cavorted, and she noticed they had ways similar to her family's own.  There was a guard, and a familiarity that made her curious.

While he was known to most of the herds, there were still those who did not see him as being a benign scout, in spite of his gentle disposition and kind features. He didn't look too long at any mares in particular, so that the studs would simply let him pass by and scope out the flatlands in peace, but every now and again, he would get pinned ears or bared teeth and a low, snaking head from one of the herd stallions to keep him away. Grassdancer, nimble-footed, slyly stepped further away from the old, bad-tempered studs. They would be the ones who would fear most being usurped in the Spring. Younger stallions would challenge them this year, and more than a few of them would lose their mares. 

Grassdancer moved, scanning the area to see if it was at all pock-marked by divets or holes dug by little, tunneling creatures. Instead, he caught wind of something that made him stop and raise his head. He stomped one foot, and stared hard into the distance. He flared his nostrils, and moved forward a bit, waiting for a change in the breeze. He'd caught just a hint of wolf-scent- but wherever the creature was hiding, he did not see it yet. 

He snorted, a sharp exhale of breath that was almost dragon-like, signalling to the herd stallions to pull their mares closer together, and to pool their foals and yearlings toward the centres of their bands. He remained where he was, scanning the area, and inhaling the breeze, searching for any sign of fur among the roughage.

They weren’t like any prey she’d ever seen.  She’d watched herds of deer and elk in passing, oftentimes allowing @Masquerade to lead in accompanying her in this observance.  They held themselves with similar wariness, but these seemed less light and prone to spring away.  There was danger, and there was also a leader.  She watched him closest after he gave a signal the others seemed to follow.

None were infirm or sick.  She would not try even if one was, but it was news she could carry back.

She shifted, risking a closer look by circling around.  She wanted to better see their numbers and their patterns, the way they circled.  They had no horns but their hooves were larger.  She wondered if a strike could kill and thought perhaps it might.  No matter where she lingered, she would leave space to flee if necessary.