It was snowing, but there was only the barest of flurries in Blackfeather Woods, shielded as they were by the thick, dark canopy. To get the true essence of the weather, one must venture outside the forest, and that is exactly what Maegi did. The pale girl hobbled past her borders and headed to the massive lake just north, hoping to take a sort of evening stroll.

Trepidation sat in her gut like food gone wrong, but why should she worry? She was the apex predator in these lands, after all, even if she was small and crippled.

The Melonii padded along the shores, icy flakes settling upon her pelt. Every once in a while, one would land directly in her eye, and she'd find herself blinking rapidly, trying to rid her vision of the irritant. It was cool out here, though, and peaceful. Her winter coat hadn't come in yet, so she still shivered, but after the humid summer on the island, it was quite refreshing.

A winter wonderland, bathed in moonlight. What could be better? She wished Mou was healthy enough to join her out here.

A form of various gray hues approached, coming toward Maegi with determination in its step. It was a woman on the smaller side, with the scent of many wolves layering her pelt--none of whom she recognized. She also smelled like the mountains, and alarm bells went off in her head, thinking of the wolves who had taken her captive. But she kept her calm, steadying herself and preparing to flee, if needed.

"Hello," Maegi greeted, the quaver barely audible in her voice (but still there). "Can I help you?" It was a neutral tone--not overly friendly, but not hostile, either. Out here was fifty-fifty: the wolves were either allies or enemies, and it could swing either way. She began to size up the stranger, wondering where she had come from. Was she one of them?

She shifted a little, feeling a bit more comfortable when the woman spoke. "Maegi," she answered shortly. "I'm not a great hunter--it depends on what you had in mind. I can fish, a little." Her face twisted ruefully. Hunting absorbed most wolves' lives, but she had never been interested. She had always surrounded herself with skilled hunters; she'd never starve.

"You're from the mountains?" Maegi asked, though it was more of a statement. "I smell them on your pelt." The wariness was back, but less than before. This Wraen would have a chance to explain herself and where she came from. Maegi didn't remember seeing her on the crag where she had been taken, nor did she smell like those wolves. Still. . .

The unblemished corner of her mouth quirked in a small smile as Wraen sniffed herself. "Bad things happened to me in the mountains," she explained, blinking slowly. "I know that smell very well. I'll never forget it." At least it seemed that this alpine wolf was innocuous. After all, even Serem, who had wrapped herself in pleasantry, quickly revealed her true, sinister nature. If Wraen was evil, Maegi should know it by now.

"I've never heard of it," she remarked. "I live in the woods, not far from here. Do you know a wolf named Skullchaser?" Best to just come right out and say it. If Wraen had any idea of his whereabouts, she could use this opportunity to track him down. Bring deadly pink with her, too. . . She enjoyed the notion of watching him twitch and drool to death.

Maegi cast Wraen a jaundiced look. It wasn't that she hadn't met bad wolves, it was that they hadn't been bad to her. But. . .semantics. She shook her head at the description given; the name was too far off as well. She would remember Skullchaser forever--the sound of it was burned into her mind for life.

"He was gray, but not old," she responded, feeling a bit deflated. It would have been nice to have some lead. "He had very cold dark blue eyes. That's what I remember the most." She could see them now, drilling into her, as if peeling back the layers of her soul, one by one. Maegi shuddered, and looked away, gazing over the lake.

"He was part of a group of wolves there. I'm not sure where--I was knocked unconscious down here and they dragged me up." Vague, blurry images flashed through her mind. Feelings. Pelt against stone. Cold. . .cold. A splitting pain in her skull. She shook it off once more, blinking a couple of times before staring at Wraen again. "I guess I'll just have to keep looking for him."

Well, yeah--Skullchaser probably wasn't his real name, anyway. But he hadn't been old, nor grizzled. He was a young, sick man that needed to be eliminated--and apparently Wraen didn't get this. Her face hardened further as the woman asked the question; she didn't even bother to shake her head. The answer was written indelibly over her countenance.

"I don't care," Maegi said shortly. "He deserves to die, and I will kill him." She looked down at her scrawny figure, then back up with a wry expression, as if intuiting what Wraen had really meant. "There are other ways to kill things besides teeth and claws, you know." Things she knew too well. Too well.

"It will," Maegi responded, her smile cold. She glanced away from Wraen, then, as if the man lurked in the shadows, ready to strike. But it was nothing--only a gust of wind, rattling the leaves, or the water lapping against the shore. Just her imagination, running wild as usual. Though wouldn't it be something, if he showed up now. . .

The girl turned back to the mountain wolf, shrugging. "I'm up for that hunt if you still are," she said, feeling a little self-conscious. Her stomach was rumbling, now, and while she could just wander home and grab prey from a cache, maybe a meal caught and earned would taste all the better. And gods knew she needed the practice.