She had forgotten the excitement that packlife could bring, or rather she had never experienced it while within her prior home. What transpired since coming to the Vale was nothing short of test to the senses and will, as well as what one could manage when under the pressure of duty. There had been the excitement of the chase when a trespasser entered their midst. The psychological strain of having to mend a broken form. And of course the hormonal effects as spring came on its rise, turning normally composed individuals into creature driven only by their most basic instincts. One might call it desperation, but she would call it madness of the spring.

And there were many more events, she could foresee, yet to befall the wolves of the Vale. Let alone herself. She only hoped her inner strength would allow her to see it through with her sense of self intact.

But rather than dwell in doubt for the day, she chose instead an activity that brought her relief. As opposed to staring at the mountain peaks, she thought it best to scale them and have for herself a gander at the winter stripped lands below. It was a contrast to the lush haven of the Vale, one she took pride in each time she thought of her home. On the other side of the peaks, she spied the barren branches of lone trees, the prints of fodder herded together as they walked the open grounds for vegetation to consume and water to drink. She was able to taste the crispness of the air, and with it the aroma of her home rolling over the snowcapped tops and down again into the basin of the mountain. And she followed it, her steps skilled and careful upon the mountain face. Few stones turned underpaw, but those that did rang out with the sharp cries of their freedom, rolling from their impressive heights to the unforgiving ground below.

Reaching the base of the mountain awarded her the unique pleasure of scenting the earth at its roots. To her nostrils, it always seemed richer than above, though she was unaware that it was the warmth of the earth that made it so. She was a being of and with the essence of nature, lost within a quiet rapture til her nose was graced by a familiar, known scent.

Her ears pricked to attention as her nose quivered inquisitively then turned in a general direction of the scent. By the glance of her peripheral did she spy the origin of the scent; towering black laden with the musk of the creek and the heaviness of the mountain that suggested travel. And as her bi-colored eyes fully rested on her spectator, recognition sparked their hues to life. The serene state kept prior replaced by curiosity. She remembered the male vividly, for it was that dark hide she had run into whilst in her home. The same obsidian pelt that shielded his brethren from the wrathful jaws of the two that had pursued her.

“Hello?” she woofed softly, her brows receded as if genuinely surprised to see the male here. It was a little ways to the creek from the mountain.

For those of the Vale that knew of their warrior, Xi’nuata was the epitome of sincerity in the most naked of forms. Thoughts of deception were absent from her mind, telling lies- even a small one-was an act she considered disgraceful to herself. They knew her as a creature of truth be it in word or expression, regardless of the nature or context it was received. But was worth trust, though there inlaid the issue toward others. She did not understand why another might find her disposition worth their skepticism, but then she lived in a world where one’s intentions rested on their paws. Or so she believed.

Her brows knitted at his words, finding them unnecessary given the ground they stood upon. Briefly she thought back to their first encounter in the Vale. He had certainly fallen into trouble then and it was by the mercy of both warriors that the rest of the pack had not descended on the trespassing pair. He had not crossed into the mountain haven today, so there was no cause for fearing the worse. “Oh,” she voiced carefully, attempting to raising her raspy chords just above their comfortable whisper. “That’s good. Though I would suggest being careful on the mountain.” She extended her muzzle to the jagged ridge. “You might get into trouble if you lose your footing. Or worse- stuck on a ledge.” Recalling this, she remembered fondly how Ariston had been rendered immobile on a bluff. A lone white cloud upon the mountain separated from its likeness. It made for an interesting image, if not a silly one as well. She smiled slightly at the memory then let her eyes rest on the dark male’s muzzle. She caught just a glimpse of his spring yellow eyes before continuing with an offer.

“If you intend to cross, I could guide you. They are not my home, but I know these mountains quite well.”

Given their initial brief, and incidentally heated encounter, she would have taken no offence from the male had he chosen not to take her offered paw. Experience had shown that even the sensible could be ruled by a grudge, and though she too could be swayed by it, she tried her hardest not to live such a way. Regard one’s actions in the moment rather than carry it onward into the future. Though there were some instances better remembered than forgotten.

Admittedly she was surprised by his acceptance, having learned that he too was raised on a terrain much like this. Regardless of the severity, no mountains were without their challenges when scaling the unknown.

Smoothly she turned with the intention to guide him but paused suddenly when the last of his retort bent her ears. The fur of her nape bristled and lips shuddered slightly as they clenched tighter. Given the trespass he and his companion had committed on her territory, she was being quite lenient if not kind in offering a chance of redemption and perhaps a blank slate. Rather than bite her reply, she breathed deeply through flared nostrils and in turn took a step forward to begin their crossing.

“I will be mindful not to let you fall in the struggle,” she huffed softly over her shoulder, then crouched down but a little before springing for an adjacent rock to grip underpaw. “This way. Mind the slope.”

Her mind was on the mountain as she made quick work of its graduated slopes, until they came to the natural ‘steps’ along its face. It was here that the woman looked back to her follower, marking first the state of his paws with an inquisitively arched brow then raised her sights to glance for the first time at his eyes. More to gain his attention than challenge him. Had there been an ulterior motive she would have expressed it long before reaching the pocked path ahead of them.

Rather than share aloud what he needed to do to cross the narrow way, she led by example with a quick bound for an open flat setting jutting slightly. There was only enough space from the rock wall to rest just a moment before taking another surface within reach. The small tuff of a bush made it difficult to see, but by her successful touchdown, she proved that indeed there was something to land on. Again, she crouched a little before springing to another surface, then continued in rhythmic progression several times until all four paws fell firmly on more stable ground.

“I am Xi’nuata,” she announced once her mind was no longer fixed on the mountain and she was able to release a calming breath. However sure-footed she felt on the mountain, there was nothing to diminish the danger of crossing… nor blank from her mind the very real possibility of falling.

“If there are rams butting nearby then I will come hunt,” she breathed as she leapt for a lower rock. “Otherwise I wander here to pass the time.”

Without meaning to, the climb had become a kind of assessment by which the warrior was able to take more than just a face from the Creek wolf. His steps were quite sound, a mirror to her own, falling near seamlessly right after her own had been taken. Upon the mountains, she would have thought to have heard hesitation in his steps. Perhaps the clatter of stone as an uncertain paw shifted, or the break of rock as he applied a little too much weight in his bound. But no. It was very much the same as her own steps, as if he truly did not fear the jagged rocks below, or he was actual wise to the shape of the mountain and his following was little more than a game for his amusement. The latter thought did not sit well with her, but she thought it better than to assume without proof to go by.

Silently, she carried them further down the mountain til they rested on a ridge extending just above the plains. It was here that the woman folded down to her haunches and inspected a paw that had become a bother not a few minutes before. More than likely it was a tiny rock lodged in her pad somewhere. “Most find it difficult to hunt here,” she uttered softly, continuing their prior conversation before the lengthened pause. “But the reward is greater when caught. The meat is more tender and sweeter than deer.” She clipped at her paw but to no avail to dislodge the stone.

Leaving it be, she turned to Haunter and let her eyes rest on him seemingly for the first time. In the scrape in the Vale, she hadn’t noticed that one of his ears were missing. No doubt the adrenaline had done its work to mask anything that was not relevant to the situation. But seeing it now, she could not help but stare… almost admiring the unique tuff that remained til she thought it best to look away and survey the rest of his physique. She found a certain appeal in his appearance; large, like her, but was in her eyes defined by his legs as opposed to his bulk. Haphazard tuffs throughout his pelt made for a wild, unkempt coat donned across a formidable build. It was a body well suited for the warrior faction, without doubt. But for all she knew, he as indeed a part of something like it in the Creek.

In tending to herself, she hadn’t realized she was being thoroughly inspected by the dark male, but there was certainly no denying her own inquisition as he turned towards her and met her gaze. Her fur bristled slightly as a strange warmth crept into her muzzle from being caught. Like a pup caught in the midst of something they shouldn’t be doing, she ceased her open admiration and jerked her muzzle toward the open land before them.

“Thankfully, no,” she piped perhaps a little too high for her gruff chords. “There are only-“ she paused, coughing lightly to clear her throat before restarting. “There are only the wolves I protect and the sanctuary itself.” Any more than that, and she truly believed she would not have been able to enjoy the peace she found there in the Vale. The family she knew of brought only thoughts of bitterness and pain to a repairing soul. Betrayal was synonymous with the word, and it was doubtful it would be changing soon.

“And you?” As she breathed, she inhaled the musk of her neighbor coupled with the natural crispness of the air, and the hinting fragrance of coming spring. She would not have thought that another’s scent might accentuate nature’s subtle aroma. And yet there she was in repose, enjoying it in her own subtle way by leisurely curl of her tail. “Is there family in the Creek for you?”

While her eyes remained forward to the sight of the land ahead, her ears were bent slightly to the side as she listened. She was always polite when another spoke of themselves, and she felt this instance was considerably important considering how the pair had initially met. If they could share a civil word, then perhaps there was hope for reconciliation. Any positive step was certainly worth the effort in her opinion. And as it was, the present company was conducive for a relatively comfortable setting. Admittedly she found herself relaxing, but remained mindful of whom she was near and where he hailed.

“I can understand that,” she offered in turn. There were too few that understood the burdens of family. But rather than elaborating she simply let the commonality set, not so much reveling as she was accepting this as a fact.

“But perhaps in time such thoughts will change,” she uttered more for herself but audibly so that Haunter could hear.

Indeed their time spent was short, but it was not without benefit. At least to the female. In speaking with the dark male, she had learned that there was at least a civil few in the whole of the Creek. Still, she was appalled at his open intrusion into her lands, but at the same time had given him respect for his actions to protect his companion, however foolish she had been. He was certainly loyal, that much she took from him. A male of few words beyond what need be spoken. Inquisitive yet reserved, and worth the patience endured for his company. And while she had only scratched the surface of his personal self, it was enough to satisfy her and grant her the belief (however in vain) that there was a similarity to build upon and could perhaps be used to bridge the relationship between the Creek and Vale.

Not to mention, even in that brief instance, she found his companion quite pleasant. Enough so that even in his departure, the mountain woman was left with the pale glimmer of a smile upon her muzzle.

[End]