Swiftcurrent Creek samba master

Swiftcurrent Creek ranked amongst Jinx's favourite places, between both Seahawk Valley and Teekon Wilds. Shearwater's territories were first, but the Creek had climbed with astonishing speed to second. Horizon Ridge had been nice, and reminded Jinx of home, but the waves had been tame compared to Brightfish Cove's, so it was not as high on her list. The Creek masqueraded as a tranquil and peaceful place, but it hid a series of treacherous trials for the wolves living there. If they didn't succumb to the choking depths of waters that looked shallow, they faced predators from the mountains. Among those were the usual: black and brown bears, grizzlies, cougars, and golden eagles. All posed a threat to wolves, though as a pack they were much more protected.

For all these reasons and more, Jinx Kesuk was beginning to appreciate the Creek. Here, she could feel the Gods, reminiscent of home. Whether hers, Lethe's, and Lecter's presences drew Them or not, it was clear to Jinx They had blessed this place. Prey was not lacking, even in the grip of winter. Ice enveloped the majority of the creek proper, but like the water, it was full of deceit. In select places, it was thick enough to hold a wolf's weight, but along most of its length the ice was thin and webbed with fractures. An unsuspecting canid could attempt to cross it and find nothing but cold death for their trust.

Along this creek she strode, her steps brisk and her stature befitting a prowling cat. In many ways, the young mambo moved like a feline: she was quiet, quick, and above all, furtive. For this reason, she often looked suspicious, like she was up to something... But today, she had no agenda. She prowled the inner territory, straying from the borders to seek out unfamiliar scents and faces within the pack. Friend or foe, it did not matter; Jinx was out sleuthing, and as always, her greeting of whoever she found would be unpredictable.

Solène had passed several days since her arrival in Swiftcurrent Creek familiarizing herself with the lands she could now call home. She did not yet feel entirely at home within them, but she was beginning to learn the trails most frequently trod by her packmates, and she was without concious effort beginning to establish daily routines. The namesake creek itself was central to life here, she was finding. Small meals could often be found along its banks, whether the prey be rabbits foraging for the earliest shoots of spring grass beneath the lingering dust of snow, or squirrels chasing each other through the leafless underbrush. Even fish could occasionally be seen, though not caught at this time of the year, curves of silver beneath thin patches of ice that remained along the creek's shallow edges. Water, of course, was vital to survival, and there were many places where a tiny stream broke away from the creek proper to swish away and eventually form a calm pool deeper in the pack's wooded territory.

From the scent of it, the creek was also a place to socialize, for many scent trails criss-crossed and overlapped along its path through the territory. Solène had not infrequently nosed the traces of other pack members. Sometimes, she caught Lethe's scent, and sometimes, Fox's. The names of the others were unknown, and for a little while, at least, Solène had avoided those she did not know. Now, however, she was growing more comfortable, and so when the form of another came into sight along the creekbank, traveling towards her, Solène did not quickly redirect her course or find another path through the woods to avoid interaction. Instead the de Joie female kept padding along at a fair pace, moderating her ears, head, and tail so as to look neither aggressive nor dominant, simply her neutral and unassuming self. (For one trained from childhood to behave haughtily and imperiously, Solène often wondered how convincing she'd ever been at it, for she rarely felt as bossy and self-serving as Theomund had demanded she be. She was but a vessel for his own greedy desires.) "Good day, citoyenne," was Solène's greeting as she came within what she thought was earshot of a female both larger and paler than she; emerald gaze was cast down to the other's dark paws. The Iota's tail flickered in an appropriately nervous and subservient gesture.

I have no idea what Jinx's rank would have been, which works out because Solene now has the opportunity to establish herself as higher if you want (which she should be anyway)!

They came headlong at one another, affording Jinx ample time to assess the strange female passing along the bank. If she were to stand side-by-side with Solene, then she would appear to be adolescent, all sharp and stick-limbed. Solene, by comparison, had a figure fluid as the creek along which they both padded. Hers was a body shaped with expert hands, as pottery, to bear sumptuous curves. It gave off an air of softness, and had she man parts between her legs she might have pined for that beauty. Instead, she was somewhat envious, suspicious what Lecter might think of her, and cautious.

Her coat was a rare thing indeed, to Jinx, who had lived amongst wolves cast in strict black or white. Solene was chinchilla grey, with a lighter ventral bottom and a peppered top. Her paws, too, bore peppering, something Jinx only noticed when the female flicked her gaze down to the Kesuk's own marked paws. Solene said something unfamiliar, though the prelude of "good day" suggested it was polite.

Nonetheless, as always, Jinx felt the need to question it. Her stance was rigid as she stopped her motion, testing the waters with stiff wolfish formality. She didn't know where Solene stood amongst the Swiftcurrent wolves. This begged the question of who was top dog, a question which Jinx asked with her stiff body language. Her muscles were taut and her legs rigid as she fixed a pointed stare on the voluptuous beauty, demanding with her eyes Solene's position.

Yet, she did not forget the greeting. She addressed it with characteristic lack of elegance by grunting, "what's that mean?