The moon was huge tonight, slung low with a massive halo to match. Everything seemed muddled by the haze, but nothing could take it away--truly.

He had been hunting since dusk, and craved something rich in validation somehow. He wanted to really sink his teeth in--so nothing too puny was going to sate his interests. Ripe enough kinds of trails led him down the elevations, then eventually beyond with half a hint to keep him going.

And the spry yearling simply cruised on, trotting to conserve his energy while he glided after hope, comfortable in the nightscapes even without mountain underfoot--though quick to notice a little chill starting to creep in too, and hesitant to go ranging out too far with the mountain down three heads already.

Maybe this brisk breeze had him feeling extra flighty. Maybe this was urged on by the worry for his still-roving sisters that really just had him antsy and eager to cover ground in the name of Moonspear while they were not here to help do so. He knew the lack of answers was starting to weigh a bit on their mother too; she was even more tolerant of him, he found, so he had stolen some of her company, although somberly. There, he saw she was tense about them, though she never said she was outright. This translated onto him in its own way--so he had to kill time if nothing else.

And keep busy, keep going most of all.

Electrified by the clouded stare of a big moonface, a small wolf cantered swiftly across the terrace, her eyes wide and salacious as she focused on the progress of her prey. It was a male wolf, young -- younger than her, she imagined -- with a coat of char and gunmetal, moving at his own churning pace in a direction perpendicular to her. Spider twitched to stop, dropping cat-like into a crouch as she entered the realm of his hearing; then she crawled forward in limber strides, threading through the silverlit grass like a silk-needle.

She reached a clearing in the garden-grass sea, bedded by a sheet of rock that looked to be in the young male's path. A good place to be noticed. Spider eased down, sphinx-like and ready to "casually" be happened upon.

With every stride, every reach forward, he still found no resistance and held onto his momentum still; he would be a fool to not, and only paused when his nose caught wind of anything.. but more than once, it warranted nothing more than a glance. Eventually this did change, and considerably when a switch to his ears maybe caught something: a wolf? Or, so he suspected, and with interest alight, he narrowed his eyes. Even as comfortable as he was in the dark, and a considerable glow from the moon, he knew better than to trust shadows entirely from here.

His ears pricked up newly, and he felt his steps get lighter. With the mountain still close, and himself well surrounded by familiar turf, he was keen to make it his business--at least to some degree, so he honed in with a direct path.

He dialed down his trot now into a slinking walk when he was closer, and found the stranger among the tallgrass soon after. He decided not to say anything yet, for once able to keep his mouth shut so far as he eased into the encounter. The wiggle of his nose and tilt to his head were the best questions posed so far.