Wolf RPG

Peace and stability seemed to be returning to Redtail Rise, but it seemed to her to be a thin veneer. The cracks remained below, factions formed, and finding she could not stomach the tension and uncertainty of her home at present, Watcher took once more to wandering.

An enduring lope carried her miles away across frigid taiga and rolling hill, over treacherous moraine and through the forest Ulfhedinn and his kin frequented. She slept the nights between out in the open, nose tucked under tail and body coiled tight for warmth. She hunted when her belly growled, but otherwise she pressed on wherever her paws might take her, heeding her need for distance while things settled out properly at home.

Now she set a slow pace through a sparse woodland that glimmered gold and green and housed many creatures in the height of summer, but was open and barren in winter's grip. A cool wind sliced through her coat without remorse, driving her into a thicker copse near the southern edge, where she found an old scrape and began inspecting its scents with a searching nose.

His investigation into Widow's business hadn't been as thorough as he would've liked. He just kept remembering how her face had looked when she'd sent him away. It felt cruel in light of this to continue to haunt her, even if he was of a mind to help out, if he could. All signs were pointing to the idea that he couldn't, or at least the idea that it would be difficult to get Widow to let him. So he decided he'd leave her be.

For now.

Leaving the bypass behind, he found himself in a densely wooded area, where he followed Widow's scent for a mile or so before coming across another. Feeling very much like the proverbial cat that caught the canary while more accurately exemplifying the one that curiosity kills, he turned and followed that newer scent instead.

His prowling brought him close enough to catch sight of the wolf before the winds shifted in her favor. Losing the element of surprise slowed his pace, but he was still very plainly trying to nose into her business. With his head slung low and his steps carefully measured, he tried his best to look friendly. His narrow gaze, however, spoke volumes: Watcha got there and, Maybe I want it.

Whatever deer were previously here were long gone now. The scents were stale, two or three weeks old by Watcher's estimation, and far too faint to determine a number. She assumed from the small size of the scrape that there had been a single buck and one or two does here. Nothing worth trying to track down, at any rate.

She lifted her nose from the dirt a little to catch a new scent, this one canine in nature. Male. Healthy. Unlikely to pose a threat to her, she thought, but her posture grew more defensive all the same. As Persia came into view, Watcher maintained a straight back and turned to face him directly, but her ears pulled back and her low-hanging tail swung fluidly. Friendly, she communicated, but prepared.

He looked like he had just rolled out of a briar patch with his fur all stuck up at flyaway angles, but she doubted the lackadaisical appearance said anything about his personality. With only a quick glance at his eyes in greeting, she couldn't tell what he was thinking, but stepped aside to grant him access to the scrape. There was little to be had here, but with a potential partner, searching for the old inhabitants was suddenly more tempting.

Given his secluded upbringing, Persia had only recently been introduced to the idea that there were wolves smaller than him out there. He was only now reaching his adult size — all that was left to do was to grow into his long, whippy legs. He was pleased, therefore, to outweigh the juvenile... even though, as a subadult, he really ought to pick on someone his own age.

But the girl didn't seem inclined to quarrel over whatever she was sniffing — a spore, he was disappointed to find, rather than something more material. Persia padded closer anyway, slowing as he passed her to flare his nostrils in her direction. Up close, he could tell she was one of many, but those many weren't here right now. With a swish of his tail he turned his sniffer on the scrape instead, and then onto the dirt and detritus around it.

Then he got an idea. An awful idea. The grinch had a wonderful, awful idea...

... that it might be fun to play keep-away when he was the largest participant.

He gave another swish of his tail and took off at a trot, calling, "Well? Let's boogie!" over his shoulder. The deer hadn't been where he'd come from, and it didn't seem like they'd been where she came from, either. So deeper into the woodland was the answer. He paused to be sure that she was coming along, entirely willing to pester her if she didn't get with the program.

While Persia inspected the scrape, Watcher surreptitiously inspected him. He reminded her of so many members of her pack: the dusky brown coat of Ashlar and Carrion, the dark legs of Riley, the lank legginess of the majority of her peers. The familiarity was disarming, so much so that when the man took off, she followed at once, suspecting nothing more than a joint hunt.

Watcher tipped her muzzle up into the air and huffed shallow breaths while she loped along in Persia’s wake, sweeping her nose side-to-side in search of deer scent. Other creatures had been through here recently, including a badger. She skirted its trail and veered off to the left, away from where the badger had gone.

After some time of meandering around and loosely following Persia, she found what she was looking for: a spindly tree whose lower trunk had been stripped bare by antlers. Watcher loosed a sound somewhere between a bark and a growl, hoping to pull Persia back to her side to investigate.

At some point in their hunt, he must have grown bored and wandered off, for when Watcher came to a halt and chuffed for him, there was no response.