After a brief few hours of time spent among her sisters, doting upon her daughters, and recounting the past few days amongst themselves, Sitala departed again for exploration. It had been revealed through Sitala's chase of Kimala through the valley that there was at least one pack of wolves here, and that brightened their spirits. Soon the daughters would have their husbands—and with luck, their family would grow come springtime.

They had collectively decided (with Namid's urging) that the mountain pack would be their first target. The others would investigate while Sitala explored to the north to broaden their chances—and thus she had found the temperate forest. There was evidence in some of the deeper areas that a pack had once lived there; perhaps generations had passed since the dens had been occupied, but it gave her something to think about.

She was investigating one of the larger burrows with some care, finding no scents of wolves, but a strong scent of rodent. Her interest was piqued as well as her hunger, and she paced at the entrance to the den with her head canted low to the soil, trying to peer inside without putting herself through any rigorous digging. Of all things, Sitala was a bit vain.

Having decided that she was not quite hungry enough to pilfer herself a meal, Sitala began to withdraw from her inspection of the defunct den. Just outside of it's mouth was a scattering of small bones—it is here she lingers, sniffing and poking with her snout. The scent of fresh rodent is clear throughout. Something larger had eaten and disposed of the remains—curious.

There was little time for more study, though, as she caught another scent. This was warm and vibrant, clearly some kind of musk. When she lifted her head it was at the precise moment Engel spoke; she turned sharply to watch him, and the sense of hunger that had lured her to the den in the first place was revived as she looked him over.

The stranger was on the small side, but he seemed fit and healthy. She could not say she found him visibly appealing—perhaps one of her daughters might, she mused,—but that was not important. No, not at all, the woman affirmed as she drifted closer. He smelled of pack and of mountain, so she wondered if this was a man from the south.

A little far from home, aren't you? She queried, with a crocodilian smirk.

He was a talkative fellow. Probably thought of himself as charming—and with a little wink. Sitala took in the sight of him making a fool of himself and tried not to vomit. Her smirk grew into a smile, if only to supress her gag reflex. The game was afoot and she would not let herself get carried away.

To his not-so-subtle leading statement about trouble at home she feigned a bit of surprise, settling to her haunches as if she was truly interested in what he was saying; but before she could latch upon that, he turned the conversation back upon her. Sitala shrugged her broad shoulders as she said, My home is anywhere. For now, it is here.

With a small motion of her head she beckoned him closer. I was looking for a meal, but you are a much better catch. She had done this before. Twice, actually. It should have gotten easier every time, but the whole being charming part was always the hardest for her.

The sex? The killing? Not so much.

Old? She sniffed softly, watched him walk closer, and in studying aspects of him she realized how much older he was. Only a little different from herself but certainly more advanced than her daughters—not that she was ageist. She responded playfully to his request with a soft, no, followed by a small chuckle as she swept back to all-fours.

You first, she commands. Sitala side-steps around him and saunters by, her tail swaying at her hips so as to convey a playfulness that doesn't entirely suit her heavy-weight body. She turns to look at him over her shoulder and murmurs, or shall I come up with something for you?

Engel. It reminded her of the man Eyota had chosen to bed, and briefly Sitala was lost to her own thoughts—but she did not miss a beat when she responded, naming herself Nunyae, spoken like a sigh. It had been a word one of her sister's had used previously as a pseudonym, and Sitala enjoyed the feel of it on her tongue.

 (Having asked Namid what it had meant she had said, 'A beast with fangs and teeth,' which was just as fitting.)

Tell me, Engel, she drawled his name, testing it in the air and finding it had no effect at all on her desires; but that was fine, for this man wouldn't be for her, he was a gift for Sanuye. The woman slid closer and planted herself next to him, leaning ever so lightly shoulder-to-shoulder, what has chased you from your home? Is it a rival that dislikes you? If there were a better match for Sanuye then Sitala would suss it out—for now, she merely wanted to continue the charade and get some information.

Again he tried to charm her, but he only served to butcher the pronounciation of her false name; this entire situation was starting to feel tedious and she was growing bored with it. He was too old for her daughter, too smug. Sitala had half a mind to remove him from the gene pool just from this one conversation—but such a thing was always difficult even for a strong woman like herself. There would be no convincing her sisters to aid her, no matter how much pleasure Namid and Eyota seemed to experience during such acts.

No, she would just have to suffer until the game was over.

Hm, but you are healthy and strong. Surely you were a match for him! What did you do? Her ears pivoted forward and Sitala took on an alert expression, taking up the guise of a person who was deeply invested in this story.

She sighed, exasperated and growing a little tired of his constant talk of himself. He did not give her any details either, which meant she had to probe further and linger for his answer, neither of which Sitala wished to do at this point. But she leaned in a little more, letting the white of her fur mingle with his fiery reds.

But what happened? Why was a child involved? And for your alpha to have such a reaction to you — well, surely he sees you as a threat! I am surprised you let him chase you out. Sitala was suddenly very glad that her family was testosterone-free.

Thinking at first he had done something terrible or maybe mutinous (which would make him infinitesimally more interesting to her), it was a let down to hear he had just been an idiot. Being removed from his pack for such a thing sounded ridiculous; she was glad now too, that she was without and land or holdings of her own. Then things twisted so that Sitala was in the limelight.

She was no actress despite all of the tutelage by mother. Hm, I worry that you'll lose interest in me if I tell you too much, which is a fact cushioned in truth, making it easy to manipulate. Sitala watches him plainly then, eyes half-lidded as if she is off in thought and says, it has been a while since anyone of your -- whats the word -- ah, caliber, has taken notice in me. 

Well, this was an easy mark.

Hm, she hummed thoughtfully as if what he said was charming and she, bashful. Sitala's demure smile faded slightly prior to her hastily fabricated explanation: For starters, I have children. That's always off-putting to men, and surely someone as fine as you is less interested in my company now? Before he could respond to that she added, I would think the women of your pack fight over you daily—perhaps that is the real reason you are here with me, and why your leader really sent you away.

She sighed heavily as she voiced this thought, But I have been alone for so long. My husband... her voice hitched and Sitala, being somewhat overdramatic, turned away from Engel as if overcome and she bowed her head closer to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut tightly to stop any tears from falling. Of course, none would. My darling Gilia, oh, I miss him.

Unlike her sisters who were each skilled in their own manipulations, Sitala was not as fine an actress as they were, but a passable one; her words faded to a solemn disquiet as she mentioned the dead man. Truthfully, she had enjoyed his death the most—she had done it alone, unlike the one before.

As the male turned the conversation to be about himself (typical, she thought), it occurred to her that he was not a prime candidate after all. He had taken a woman, perhaps more than one—he was tainted in the eyes of the sisterhood in a way that marked him as insufficient. How had anyone deemed him a worthy match and then merely left him intact?

A second thought came to her then—that perhaps this land was stranger than she initially believed. Sitala had half a mind to inspect his nethers and make sure he was not merely boasting, that he had all his parts in working order, but she refrained; whether he was merely being boastful or spreading truths, she knew in her frigid little heart that this man would not match with her Sanuye.

He was not good enough.

This put Sitala at a disadvantage. Oh? She feigned interest with a soft coo, allowing herself to relax from her fit of sadness (false though it was) beside him. With a fluttering of lashes she looked coyly to him and murmured, What were they like? Tell me about them—tell me anything, so that I may forget my own troubles.