Wapun Meadow tiptoe

Irene padded through the underbrush, her ears flicking at every sound, her nose working overtime to catch the faintest trace of her prey. She wasn’t a terrible hunter, per se—just… not very good. Her real skill lay in tracking, in reading the signs left behind. But that didn’t stop her from pretending she was a master at the hunt. 

The thrill of the chase was something Irene couldn’t resist, even though she was aware she was more skilled at following the scent trails than actually catching the prize. She lifted her nose to the air, sniffing out the faint scent of a rabbit—a perfect target for today. Her heart raced with excitement, but doubt quickly crept in. You can do this. You look the part, at least, she told herself, trying to muster the confidence she so often wore like armor.

She crouched low, the familiar twinge of nerves stirring in her chest as she stalked forward, watching the patch of thicket where the rabbit had last been. Her movements were swift, but her steps faltered when she thought she might have startled it. 

Easy now... Don’t mess this up... she murmured to herself, her voice barely more than a breath. Her tail twitched with a nervous energy, betraying the confidence she tried to project.

The rabbit was still nearby, and Irene moved in—only to watch it dart out of her reach, faster than she anticipated. She let out a soft, frustrated growl, her pride taking the hit. So much for being the great hunter, she thought bitterly, though she quickly smoothed over the disappointment with a forced smile. Well, I’ll get you next time, she said aloud, trying to sound more assured than she felt. She paused for a moment, inhaling the scents around her, and then set off once more, determined to track the creature down—even if it meant another long day of failed attempts.

Scent-marking in the meadow and claiming it as additional hunting grounds was a past time for the Regina and her husband. She’d been busy scouting in recent days, keeping an eye on the movements of the caribou hunters settled to the East of their home, noting the tracks of Akavir and a wolf from Kvarsheim as they patrolled the neighbouring areas. The last flurry of activity, she guessed, before they all settled down a bit for the winter.

So she returned to her old habits, and meandered through the meadow, sniffing about to see who had ventured through, occasionally squatting to leave a yellow stain in the snow, a marking so that wanderers might know that the meadow was watched. 

Over a knoll a rabbit skittered, and Ameline crouched to watch it flee. She wondered if perhaps Ancelin was out hunting- only to test the breeze and pick up on the scent of an unfamiliar female wolf. With a huff, she shook some tension out of her shoulders- this wasn’t technically their territory, after all- and started up the hill, pausing as she crested the top to scan the meadow and land her surprised gaze upon a bronze and gold-gilded woman, graceful and poised, tracking along the tracks the rabbit had left behind. The mere prettiness of her looks made Ameline’s cheeks burn with envy.

Irene’s graceful steps faltered as the last traces of the rabbit’s scent faded into the snow, the small thrill of the hunt slipping away with it. She frowned, her ears flicking back in slight irritation. The chase had been so close, and yet, the rabbit had outsmarted her, vanishing into the distance.

With a quiet sigh, she stood still for a moment, gathering herself. Her vivacious emerald eyes swept the meadow, scanning for anything else that might catch her interest. The loss stung, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she lifted her head, trying to regain the composure that she was so often known for—like a queen regaining her throne after a brief moment of uncertainty.

It was then that the scent of another wolf drifted to her, sharper than before. Irene's posture stiffened, and for a brief instant, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her features, though it was quickly hidden beneath a calm exterior. She turned toward the hill where the other wolf stood, watching her. Her tail swished slightly, betraying a trace of unease, but she pushed it down, replacing it with her usual, cool demeanor.

I thought I was alone she thought to herself, masking the insecurity that crept up as the presence of the other female lingered in the air.

Instead of approaching right away, she allowed herself a moment to compose her thoughts. She needed to remember why she walked the earth with the air of boisterous confidence she always projected. It was part of who she was, even if it was sometimes hard to uphold.

Taking a deep breath, Irene set her sights back on the stranger, her eyes softening ever so slightly. She had no need to make a grand entrance, not this time. Her mask, as fragile as it sometimes felt, was still in place as she took a step forward, hoping the other wolf would make the first move.

She considered her options as the woman took note of her. Normally, she and Ancelin had a habit of being fairly possessive of the meadow, as it provided an excellent bumper of hunting grounds for them. On another day, she might have been much more abrasive; but she was a creature who was vain, and as such, appreciated beauty found in others as well. 

This woman would get a pass because that was the benefit of being beautiful.

Lot-tha rabbit-th in thethe part-th, She murmured knowledgably.

Irene’s ears perked slightly at the woman's voice, the lisped observation breaking through the quiet of the meadow. She shifted her weight subtly, her posture remaining relaxed yet watchful. Her emerald eyes trailed over the speaker, taking in the faintly vain tilt of her head and the sharpness of her gaze.  

She offered a small, knowing smile, her voice soft but tinged with amusement. Rabbits tend to like places like this. Safe. Open. Makes it easy for them to get away Her gaze swept the meadow briefly, noting the fluttering grasses and distant clusters of wildflowers before returning to the woman. Though I imagine they wouldn’t linger if they knew wolves like us roamed here. 

Irene tilted her head slightly, a strand of her dark fur catching the faint light. You seem like you know this place well, she added, her tone polite but probing. She wasn’t one to assume a stranger’s intentions without reason, but she also wasn’t naïve enough to trust blindly.

Ameline too liked the meadow- she liked having a view that stretched out to the curve of the horizon where it grew dark with trees, and mysterious with the pale mountains in the distance. Here, rabbits could burrow, hide in brambles and bushes- but they could out-maneuver a wolf easily in the open. This woman spoke as though she knew the area; Ameline wondered if she had taken a liking to the meadow, and immediately felt the burn of jealousy brew within her possessive heart. 

One would think, but they do. We keep eatin' them, but they jutht keep multiplyin'. She said, partially answering the woman's next question. She gestured briefly toward the treeline to the East, where she knew the entrance to the valley trickled like a ramp. I live in the valley jutht that way. We hunt in thethe meadowth, frequently. A fact, not a warning. No, she'd given this woman a pass. There was just something interesting about her that Ameline couldn't quite pin down. 

Thith yuh firtht time here? She asked then, taking a step closer, though her posture was friendly. She offered a faint smile. You theem like you know the plathe.

Irene tilted her head, her emerald eyes shimmering with a playful glint as she regarded Ameline. She let the silence hang for a moment, just long enough to make it feel intentional, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. 

First time in this meadow, she began, her voice soft and smooth, carrying an almost musical lilt. But not my first time in lands like these. I know how the wind carries here, how the trees whisper when no one is listening. Her gaze flicked toward the treeline Ameline had gestured to, then back, locking eyes with a subtle intensity. And I’ve learned how to spot the best places—the ones worth remembering.

She took a single, unhurried step closer, her movements fluid, as if she were a srand of light slipping through the openings of a lush canopy of trees. The air between them seemed to shift as she tilted her head again, letting the faintest smirk play on her features. 

You must like it here quite a bit, she said, her tone warm but edged with intrigue. The way you talk about it... It’s almost like the meadow belongs to you. She let the words linger, almost as though she were teasing, yet her expression remained sincere, her interest genuine.

Relief warmed her expression, and calmed the muscles that had stiffened in her jaw and shoulders. Whether the woman was telling the truth wasn't terribly important- if it was all a lie, and she had chosen to haunt the meadow, she was convincing enough that Ameline was willing to believe her, and charismatic enough that the Regina graciously granted her unspoken forgiveness. 

Flattery emboldened her, and caution was waved aside as she closed the distance between them, offering a greeting of breath so she might draw in, and know, the woman's identity. She knew this place was worth remembering- and it felt good to hear someone else say it. 

Thomeday, it might jutht belong to me, She replied casually. My pack growth; it won't be long until we are thtrong enough to claim more land. She said, eyes glistening as she sank her gaze into emerald gemstones. With a slow blink, she chuckled. You might hafta athk permission before you come back nektht time, She grinned.

when the regina’s breath brushed against her own, irene obliged, tilting her head slightly to exchange the gesture.  

someday, irene echoed softly, letting the word linger as if testing its weight. her emerald gaze flicked to the horizon briefly before settling back on ameline’s glistening eyes. if you’re as strong as you say, maybe this meadow will wear your mark.

she smiled faintly, a touch of intrigue in her expression, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. permission, though? that’s a heavy word. what if i’m not the kind to ask? the playful tone of her question was deliberate, but her head tilted ever so slightly, as if gauging Ameline’s reaction carefully.  

still, she added after a pause, the faintest edge of a smirk curling her lips. i'll remember to tread lightly

Ambition was an asset, but it could also be a curse. For a moment, she indulged in the reverie of seeing Bearclaw so full of wolves, that it would expand its claim; split and grow as the Moonspear and Moonglow wolves had, eat up the ground as hungrily as shadows at dusk. She imagined her children playing in the meadow- still far within borders, and made safe by the wolves who patrolled its outskirts- and then running to the Valley where they might snuggle together for the night. 

But a note of criticism pulled her back into herself, and she was a proud beast once more. She licked her lips, and tilted her head with a light shrug. Then I hope you're the kind who runth, She responded simply, with a light chuckle. The question was hypothetical, but the answer was honest; once borders were marked, trespassing warranted punishment. 

Thmart woman, She said, revealing a glint of her off-white teeth. What'th your name, anyway? She asked, curious, now, should the woman ever trad lightly in her direction again.

irene watched ameline with measured interest, her emerald gaze steady and unflinching. she caught the glint of teeth and the subtle shift in the other wolf’s demeanor—proud yet curious, the edge of ambition still sharp in her words. irene’s lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly, into a smile.  

names are powerful things, she replied evenly, her tone soft but laced with quiet intent. some say giving it too freely is like handing over a piece of yourself.  

a pause lingered between them, the air thick with the weight of unsaid things. then, as though deciding to humor the moment, irene tilted her head slightly. irene, she offered, her voice deliberate. and you, should I know your name if i’m ever to tread lightly again?

her expression remained neutral, though there was a flicker of playful challenge in her gaze, a subtle test of the wolf before her.

She blinked owlishly, her half-lidded gaze showing some respect for Irene’s wisdom, which triggered a tumbling pool of thoughts. 

She had been born to a land where blood had meant everything. Where the name of a family was a silver spoon to be suckled by the few who had been born to the right parents. She had not been one of them- and had left, leaving behind the name she had known as a child. 

Yes, names were powerful things; but she did not believe that sharing it could ever lessen its potency. 

Ameline Bearclaw, She answered without hesitation. She would wield whatever powers came from sharing her own name, but would be appreciative, all the same, that Irene had shared hers. 

My name ith powerful here- but jutht knowing it won’t be enough to thave you. She said. Only your actionth will. You trethpath on my landth, knowin’ my name ain’t gonna be enough to thave you. She spoke with a light tone of apology in her voice, figuring that Irene would understand. But like I thay; ain’t mine, yet, but we hunt here, an’ we like it that way. She said. 

’Leth, of courthe, you’re lookin’ for a plathe to thettle down?

ameline bearclaw, she repeated softly, tasting the name as though testing its sharpness. a strong name. i'd expect no less from someone who speaks so boldly of claiming these lands.

her emerald eyes flicked to the meadow around them, the quiet beauty of the place contrasting with the unspoken tension that lingered between them. irene exhaled, the sound light, almost contemplative. 

as for settling down... she trailed off, her voice thoughtful but tinged with uncertainty. i'm not sure i’m ready for that. a place like this—it deserves someone who can give as much as they take. right now, i don’t know if i have much to offer a pack.

she shifted slightly, her expression open but tinged with a guarded wariness. i came here to explore, to see what’s out there. maybe learn what i'm capable of. before i think about claiming a place for myself, i need to know i'm enough to belong. her tone was honest, unpolished, as though she spoke more to herself than ameline, a true sense of identity that she hid from the world.

but... irene’s gaze softened, a flicker of respect glinting in her eyes. i can see why you’d want this land. it’s... remarkable.

ahhh double post!

She wondered what Irene made of her claim. Flattery came easily to her, and it was an incredibly becoming trait. She suspected there was more to Irene than what met the eye- a beauty that ran deeper than her appearance. Intelligence and wit, the confidence to know when to be abrasive and when it was best to be endearing. 

Ameline found it amusing to hear Irene claim to have little to offer- only to prove otherwise a moment later. I think you'd have a lot to offuh, for what it'th worth, She replied. You thound like you'd make an ekthellent thcout, if you like to travel. Maybe even an ambathador, or a thpy, if you're interethted in makin' contact with other packth, She said. She shrugged. I won't push you to make any committment-th, jutht- know that I think you got thomethin'. She said, leveling her gaze on the horizon. 

Ameline adored the valley. It was their fortress, their home. But the meadow? A haven that existed just beyond their boundaries; and like any greedy ruler, she coveted things that others saw as being valuable. The meadow was no exception. It ith. She hummed. 

She was quiet for a moment. 

What'th it like, where you've travelled tho far? She asked, taking a rekindled interest in the stately visitor.

irene listened, the corner of her mouth curling slightly at ameline’s words. it was a generous assessment, one she wasn’t sure she deserved, but she accepted it without protest. she had spent enough time drifting to know that people saw what they wanted to see—and if ameline thought her capable, perhaps she wasn’t entirely wrong.  

she cast a glance toward the horizon, thoughtful. everywhere is different, she murmured, her voice measured, as if weighing the words before offering them. some lands are harsh, where the wind cuts like a blade, and you learn quickly that only the strong survive. others are lush, full of life, but even the most beautiful places have their dangers. her gaze flickered back to ameline, a ghost of amusement in her eyes. not so different from here, i’d imagine.

she shifted her weight, glancing at the meadow stretching before them. but no matter where i go, there’s always something beneath the surface. something waiting to be uncovered. a pause, her tone turning softer, more introspective. that’s why i keep moving. not because i don’t want a place to belong, but because i need to understand what’s worth staying for. 

her gaze met ameline’s then, steady and unguarded. but i love to collect stories from the places i have been.

She listened, imagining green woodlands where the air was close and humid, open plains where any tree that opposed the brutal wind would be curved and weighed down by ice. She wanted to hear more- to learn of lands she had never seen, climates that she had never imagined before so that she could feed her curiosity, only to be informed that every land had secrets...And she found herself longing for the life of a Ranger once more, so that she might discover them. 

She could understand why Irene would not settle down; Ameline had chosen a home, a husband, and a family. But in another life- she might have been more like Irene. 

Would you share one with me? She asked, then, her curiosity insatiable.