Charcoal broomsticks carried the shape of a svelte thief. The glower of two burning optics would dart from side to side in a sweeping motion, observant to the shadows that swayed across the forest floor. Had the sun been out, it would have dappled the earth in a burnished gold. Darkness had cast the wood in veil of umbrage. This cloak granted Tadec a concealment that would allow him to travel seemingly unnoticed. Along his shoulders and back, a few rustic flecks of his spiked pelt would sway against the light of the moon. Tadec moved otherwise, undetected across the snow-speckled woodland floor.

There, just ahead of him in a clearing where the dense wood parted to leave way for a glade that mirrored the light from the moon overhead, Tadec spotted a specimen. Her coat pattern was unusual, marking her in russet and shadow. Even from where he stood on rawboned appendages, the coyote could see her peculiarities.

Tip-toeing forward, the thief peered through the brush at the mutt woman. This, he did not know, but Tadec would assume that she did not carry the unmarred blood of a full wolf. Her size granted her height over him, but her hide seemed so streamlined and unnatural. The moonlighter fidgeted in place for several long minutes. His dull bronze optics drank in her coat like a parched fiend.

Ah, she had seen him. Tadec lowered his skull toward the ground, pulling her scent toward him in a few quiet sniffs. There was the marring of her aroma by that of a pack. He found it interesting that the wolf-kind would allow her within their ranks. Still, the prowler could not speak well for the half of his blood that – too – carried wolf through his veins. He greatly preferred the lineage of a coyote. Tadec would sooner claim himself to be only that, but his size betrayed him. While he was small and smokey, he was still larger than his coyote brethren.

A summons rang through the glade and Tadec's bat-like ears swiveled atop his crown to her. His head rose upward and the limber little fiend scuttled from the brush and into the open. The light from the moon overhead struck against the bronze of his back and shoulders, showering him in firelight. Tadec moved toward her and closed the space that they had shared in a few long strides.

The female was welcoming to him, and when she spoke, it was in the tongue of the wolf. He understood it, well enough, as a greeting. Blinking slowly, the moonlighter parted his fox-like muzzle and attempted his own tongue against the wolf language. “Hel...lo,” the spook tested with a careful placing of his words. Tadec did not like their language, but his father had insisted that he learn to dwell with the wolves. What a cursed being.

Rustling of the brush startled him, and the coyote's rickety limbs stiffened. The burnished bronze of his gaze darted excitedly toward the noise. Naturally, he anticipated an ambush from the wolf before him. How could she be so kind in light of a harsh winter? Of course she would lure him to his death. He had stolen so many things from the wolves; father Tiel'c had told him it would always come back to find him again.

The female followed his gaze and her ears became alert in the same manner that his had, but she was otherwise calm and collected within herself. Tadec still believed that she could ambush him – that she knew all that he had taken from her kind. Rightfully, the thief believed that those things belonged to him. The wolves had taken his mother, after all. Once he felt at ease with the disturbance in the wood, Tadec turned back to face the wolfess. Her gaze had settled on him with a questioning stare. His wide gaze settled on her too, immovable. Was this the nature of the wolf? To watch and to wait? The tip of his tail twitched before resting between his hocks. One long ear swiveled to the left, scoping the wild forest for signs of an approaching figure. Tadec thought the two colors of her gaze was peculiar.

The silence from her was nice. He did not feel as though he had to fight to understand each word. Instead, she spoke with her figure and he could comprehend on levels that the spoken word would never convey. Still, he was not entirely comfortable around her. When she rose – albeit slowly – the hairs along his neck and shoulders did rise and bristle. Tadec seemed to come alive with a fiery saddle. Both of his eyes bore into her own, questioning and wondering. It was only when she bowed into a playful stance that he eased himself. The wolf had closed some distance between them and he drew in the scent of her pack; he wondered what they would have for him to pilfer.

Swinging his tail, the thief did not change his expression of sharp interest, but he did loosen his tense posture. Broomstick legs danced backwards a few steps as the spindly male basked in the attention. It was only then that he caught the scent of her heat and felt his heart drum within his chest. Tadec did not wish to claim her; she was wolf and he was disgusted by her very flesh. His mind did wander to the prospect of a protective mate.

Tiel'c was wrong; wolves were not savage or remorseless. This woman was spirited and joyful, but it struck Tadec as being queer in many ways. Her bows were quick enough to cause him to flinch, but she lifted herself so carefully that he could only imagine it was to not frighten him away. The studious expression on her face was remarkable, but he noted that it could only have looked similarly to his own. The strange woman surprising, yet the thief still could not trust her. The kindness in her heterochromatic gaze was not enough to allow his defenses to fall so easily.

The female beckoned for him; first, by moving closer and then by gesturing with a sweep of her muzzle for him to follow. Tadec did so with a few mindful steps. The dark of his pelt cast him in such a shadow that his sunset gaze drifted lazily toward her and then stopped with enough room to flee if he should need it. The coywolf regarded her with a wary expression, but she did not seem bothered by his prudent reactions. He waited for her to lead.

Tadec did not know where she would lead him. He had no idea that she was pulling him toward the edges of her pack and the wolves that lived within. The suspicion that he held earlier – that of a trap – was soon to become a reality. For the time being, the thief followed her at a short distance behind, trailing after her paw prints in the snow and earth. The dull glimmer in his gaze bobbed as she led them through the woods and into the open, but Tadec did not yet fear what was to come. Instead, he yipped at her with a curious tone and canted his head to the right, swiveling ears atop his crown without understanding what she was doing with him.

The stranger never responded to him, and so Tadec was not certain that he was suited to follow her at all. The coywolf turned his muzzle to the north some ways and sniffed; the scent of the wolf hung heavily in the air. Drawing a salmon-colored tongue across his dark lips, the thief did not make mention of his departing from the female who had trailed some ways ahead. The embers of his gaze did follow her until she vanished from his sights, only for his own peace of mind. When she departed, he turned his back to the breeze and skittered away on stretching limbs until he too had disappeared from that territory. Tadec was searching and he could not be deterred by the companionship of the large-bodied creatures that inhabited the wilds.