Phoenix Maplewood graphite

The rain did not deter Redd though it ensured no trail would be found.  The damp scent of new life and greenery surrounded her, dripping from vibrant trees overhead, but she pressed through without pausing to check for trails.

Wealda would need to return soon.  Until then she sought @Gavrel.

They were bonded, and with this claim she knew he would not have left by choice. Not without intending to return.  Perhaps he tracked the herds beyond.  Perhaps he had been separated from return, forced to travel another way amongst the mountains.  Perhaps the earth had swallowed him the way it had her.  This last triggered a distress that the previous had not.

She lifted her head and sent up a powerful, searching call.  There was a desperation to it, a loneliness that only Redd could feel, yet was natural in its depth.  She had chosen him as match.  To match was to bond for life.

In time, if he did not return, the needs of Wealda would press her to decide.  Perhaps this had been his choice; she had failed to enter her season and thus proven herself unfit.  She preferred this, and held it close as she called once more, then listened for a response.  The only sound was the rain.

Better that she be found unfit.  Better that he be waylaid.  She could not dispel the thought of Avicus struck down on the hunt.  This was a dread she did not wish to dwell in.

For the first few days after relocating the sextet to Sequoia’s Spot, Druid didn’t stray too far. She didn’t even know why. Was she concerned for the pups? Did she not trust the other members of the pack? She certainly wanted her freedom back. Maybe she was afraid that once she took advantage, she would overindulge and end up neglecting her own children.

Whatever its root cause, Druid decided to get over it today. She wrapped a patrol near the north side of the bypass, then roamed toward the nearby woods. She decided she would try to rustle up some small game. She would probably not kill it outright, only wounding her prey so she could take it back to the rendezvous site and let the Butternuts practice their own hunting skills.

She saw a flash of red through the trees and paused, then proceed with caution. Druid realized it was a she-wolf seconds before the figure halted, prompting her to freeze again too. She watched as the stranger tossed her head skyward, her neck arcing swanlike as she sang a searching song.

Druid drew in a breath as her eyes traveled from the woman’s face, down the curve of her neck to her slim shoulders. She was muscular but lithe, her pelt a striking blend of bold red against a more muted, earthen palette. Druid swore she caught a glimpse of golden eyes.

She barely believed in love of the romantic variety, much less love at first sight. But something about the woman—maybe even her song of longing—hooked into something deep inside Druid. She felt compelled to push forward through the brush, as if she contained a magnet and this stranger its mate. It was so strange, yet she did not put up any resistance as she stepped into view.

There was a stranger, though it was clear in a glance that the wolf was not who she sought.  Redd pulled up short and stood, appraising the other wolf with a silent stare as rain continued to slowly gather on her pelt.

The other walked with purpose, though what her intentions were Redd could not tell.  She lifted her head with a wary touch of authority, but did not reveal her teeth just yet.  This was not a place she sought to defend if she was not threatened first.  She did not make a sound and instead waited, watching, the question clear in her look.

Why?

She hadn’t really paid the light rain much attention, though as she neared the other woman, she noticed it beading on her striking coat. Druid didn’t get to appreciate this visual for long before the stranger faced her with a pointed look on her cunning face. It halted Druid in her tracks, in part because her stomach began dipping and swooping wildly.

The other she-wolf raised her head a little and Druid sensed an air of dominance that made her heart thump a little harder. She beheld the wary expression on that beautiful face for only one of those swift heartbeats before she dropped her gaze. Her head followed, dipping ever so slightly in deference.

I’m Druid, she managed to get out a few breaths later, of Rivenwood. She didn’t feel as collected as usual, though she managed to turn her head to point south of their current position. Facing the red stranger again, she added, Who are you? with a touch of unguarded admiration in her tone.

Redd did not know why the stranger stared but was not bothered by this.  She was small, thin in a way that spoke of recovered health.  This was familiar enough to Redd that she knew such a wolf shouldn’t be underestimated.  Especially when she drew closer.  Her body language shifted from wariness to curiosity, tail and head lowering to a more neutral hold in the process.

Her coat was a pattern that was unfamiliar, and her eyes were two different tones.  The place she came from was unfamiliar as well, but by the scent, she was either mother or Caru.  That she was out scouting while the pups remained safe spoke of her strength and the strength of her pack.  Wealda did not allow her gaze to linger into challenge because of this, instead allowing her focus to drift beyond.

Wealda.  Of Redtail Rise.  More and more it was the only name that mattered.  Your claim is near?  She would avoid it in her search if she could.  Soon she would turn back regardless.

She walks divided.  The concept of association came to her, as such things sometimes did.  Her pelt, her eyes, they all spoke of someone walking the edge of sunlight and shadows.

The woman—Wealda, as she introduced herself—relaxed a little. Druid tried to do the same, though she felt nervous in an unfamiliar and not entirely unpleasant way. Redtail seemed particularly apt and Druid wondered if the pack was named in her honor. Although it had eased some, there was still a commanding air about the other woman.

Yes, it’s in the bypass south and a little east of here, she replied with a soft swish of her tail. Where is Redtail Rise?

And what brings you here? Druid wondered, though she stuck to one inquiry at a time. Besides, she sort of knew the answer: Wealda was searching for someone. Who? the Den Mother’s inner voice pressed. Even inside her own head, it had a slight twinge of jealousy.

Northwest.  To the direct north was the river pack.  She would search this forest and then return home.  He would not be lost if he were in a place with allies, unless he was lost by choice.  If this were true then she would gain nothing by finding him.

Wealda tasted the breeze again but only found damp and new growth.  She would seek a trail on her return and bring down a kill.  Moon Runner’s illness and the few disappearances left them with few hunters to spare.  Their bonds were strong, their members sure and skilled, but her task was to provide.  This search, she knew, would not happen again soon.  Already she wasted strength.  Redd chafed, unwilling to see it as such, but Wealda knew the truth.

He would return or he would not.

She had no questions, but did not press to leave.  She appreciated knowing the lay of the claims around them and the wolves who resided within.  It allowed her peace in the understanding that boundaries would be respected.  This meeting held nothing but reassurance; there would be no forthcoming trouble here.

She didn’t bother looking northwest, her two-toned gaze riveted on the woman in front of her. Druid wondered if she was calling for a lost mate or perhaps a child. Wealda’s call had been so earnest and full of yearning. Despite the bizarre jealousy Druid felt, her chest tightened in sympathy.

I heard your call, Druid said. She wanted to offer her help, though she hadn’t seen anyone but her own pack mates in recent memory. Maybe I can help, she said, unable to resist, if you want to give me a description of whoever it is you’re looking for. I plan to get out and about more often. I could keep an eye out.

Wealda regarded the other woman for a long moment, gratitude warring with futility.  The reason behind the latter won out.  The other woman held responsibilities of her own.  Clearly she was leadership in her own right, whether Wealda or Caru, guiding her own pack’s future.  This was where her strength belonged.

He will return or he will not.  If he needs help then he will ask.  And if he did not ask then no help would return him.  She did not blame him; only herself, as her body had not only betrayed her pack.  Mateship deserved fulfillment.

Your claim is strong.  Hold it.  It was not meant to be an order despite the odd pattern of words that she chose.  She meant it as a compliment, a recognition that Wealda understood the offer and what it meant.  She simply could not accept it.

Wealda’s response intrigued Druid. It seemed almost impersonal in stark contrast to the perceived tone of her call. Perhaps she only meant to protect the identity of this wayward wolf from a stranger. Druid couldn’t be sure, though she did get the sense this woman was searching for a mate who had gone missing.

She sipped in a breath, trying to think of what to say. Before she come up with anything, Wealda said something else that stoked Druid’s curiosity. Her head canted. It was such an interesting thing to say. She hardly knew Druid—something which the Rivenwood woman wouldn’t mind remedying—so what had prompted this small declaration?

I wouldn’t necessarily say that, she refuted with a small smile and a gleam in her eye, and I’m curious why you would. What makes you think so?