Sleepy Fox Hollow golden threads of the craftsman's loom

The dark ridge had granted her a good life. She had been raised on stories of her mother's old trials and tribulations, knowing that growth and development was a fickle thing. She had watched the grief overtake her mother night after night, until depression had swallowed her whole. Ginsberg knew that life was full of turmoil, but it was not all that she expected from it. Even though it pained her, Gin had heard countless tale of her father and all the good he had done for the Sunstone wolves during their great war. She only wished that he had never left her mother, for it had cast a dark cloud over the woman's head. The two-toned wolf wondered if Moth felt the same way about her own daughter now that she had departed. The thought pained her, so she buried it beneath all of the others.

A mossy bed had been made against the hollowed trunk of a tree. The opening in the trunk was large enough that the back half of Gin could fit within it and be concealed. Her front half was stretched out, crown raised, and alert. Not far from where she was stationed, a sharp streak of red had managed to catch her attention. Ginsberg followed the movement for a moment before the fox came into view with a rabbit clutched in its jaws. It turned and locked eyes with her for a moment, holding the vivid sea foam of her gaze in the shimmering pools of gold. Then, the creature ducked its head beneath a low bush and vanished from her sight.

coelho had nosed along the hinterlands, searching specifically for the exact hare that, as it just so happened, was haplessly clutched in the jaws of a fox, that in that exact moment, was staring at a she-wolf encamped in a rotted egress of a tree.

she had followed the trail fine enough, until the scent of hare had been lifted and replaced by fox: she could guess well what happened here; her meal had been snatched. it was tough work scouting, and the girl had been hungry.

grumbling to see her meal go, she thought she could at least practice her ability in scent-mapping and follow the fox -- right up until its path lead her to the very spot it had been spied by ginsberg. coelho was unaware of the she-wolf's presence until she glanced up and caught the harsh arc of seafoam against darkness.

like the fox, coelho froze -- yet unlike the fox, the girl did not run away.

The fox had been an expected encounter; in the few days that Ginsberg had spent in the hollow, she had crossed paths with many of the fire-furred beasts. It was a safe place to haunt for them, she assumed, with many nooks and hideaway spaces they could squeeze into without issue. The traffic through the hollow had not been too concerning, so Gin could understand how the wild thieves would find solace in the peaceful terrain. She had grown to enjoy their silent company and had made an effort not to hunt them when there was other game. They had found a way to coexist for a short period of time without causing each other harm.

What was not to be expected was the presence of a sharp-featured coywolf. It stepped through the brush after the fox and turned to latch hazel eyes on Ginsberg without fear or concern. The two-toned wolf stiffened at the sight of the thing, trailing her gaze over the russet points on her ears and muzzle. It was a coloration that almost matched the fox that had passed before her. With a quiet chuff, Gin watched and waited for what the stranger would do.

for a moment, feral instict had seized coelho: her fur quilled, her frame froze -- and her eyes seemed owlishly unblinking. yet the stranger in the shadows, half-concealed save for their brilliant eyes, remained unmoved.

that was good enough for coelho, who after getting over her initial surprise, felt her tail stir in friendliness. "hi!" she called into the thicket, ears flopping forward as she waited for the wolf to unfold itself from its dark cover. "were you hunting the fox?"

Ginsberg was met with friendliness, which was something of a surprise for someone who had been raised to realize that kindness did not often have a place in their world. There was a glimmer in the eyes of the stranger before her tail swung to accompany her warm greeting. The wild wolf drew her ears forward and watched the lithe female with a quiet smirk on her dark lips. “No, I was only watching it,” she remarked in an offhand tone. Hunting foxes wasn't her specialty, after all. She preferred the company of the fiery tricksters more than anything else. “Were you?” Ginsberg then inquired with a slight canting of her skull. In her experience, there were only a few differences in hunters. There were those who thought that they could hunt anything, and then there were those who found a specialization in their craft and sought only what they knew to be the perfect catch. She had little admiration for the first hunters – those who did not care – and so she had issued her question as a test for this stranger.

there was an anxious lull where coelho waited for ginsberg's reaction - would she be friendly, unfriendly? angry, or aggressive? would her forwardness be met with the flash of teeth? that moment seemed an eternity in coelho's timid eyes -- an eternity that ended with the she-wolf stirring from under the bosk with a subtle smirk toying her features.


coelho's head bobbed excitedly as ginsberg answered - her gaze flickered to the brush where the fox had disappeared before coming back to the shadow-splotched wolf. "hmmm.. no! well, sort of. i was looking for something else, a hare. i think the fox got it, so i was following the fox sort of..." she trailed off, but her tail never quit its wiggling. "i'm coelho! who are you?"

Ah, so this was a hunter in the making, it seemed. Ginsberg understood better knowing that the coywolf had been seeking the hare and had only just missed out on her claim. The dark creature wondered if there was a chance that the stranger was seeking to catch both of them instead of only one. It would have been an intelligent thing if this other was struggling to find prey. Gin knew very little about the creature with pointed features and a shimmering golden coat. She knew only that the coywolf was incredibly friendly and seemed to be an eager individual. As much as she wanted to turn the peppy thing away, she felt as though it would have been just rude enough to warrant the snap of teeth and she wasn't in the mood for fighting with the locals.

“Ginsberg,” she answered to the inquiry that had been posed. “You live around here?” she then returned with a canting of her skull to the left. She could scent the aroma of pack life on the other wolf, but she knew that she did not rest within claimed territory. There was a chance that Coelho was searching for food for the others she resided with. Gin wondered just how close she was to the land that was marked by a pack.

coelho remained unaware of ginsberg's inner monologue -- not that it would have mattered, for the dark wolf could have thought the most poisonous, toxic thoughts directed towards her and coelho still would have tried to smother her with kindness.

ginsberg, came the answer -- coelho thought it was a pretty name, but thought also there was something about it that seemed pretty wasn't the right word -- as if pretty suggested themes floral and soft and fragile, none of which coelho believed this wolf to be.

"i do! i live up there --" she pointed a claw at the withering peaks of the mountain. "what about you?"

Gin had never truly met someone who was so full of spirit. She had been taught to know her reservations and only show emotion when it was truly necessary. This coywolf was different, but not in a bad way. The dark feral thing smiled softly at the mention of the golden creature’s home. She turned her attention toward the glimmering mountain and thought that it was an appealing landmark. It didn’t surprise her that it had been claimed by a pack of locals. Something in her paternal lineage stated that rocky slopes were an ideal location for a home. She couldn’t have spoken to that, but she always felt it.

“I don’t really live anywhere,” she answered after a moment of thought. Then, the shadow pulled her attention away from the stone structure and focused it back on the shimmering soul who stood before her. “I’m new here,” Ginsberg then elaborated with a light shrug of her shoulder. She wasn’t sure how to explain that she was essentially a vagabond with no direction. The wild shadow just went where she felt she needed to go. What more was there?

ginsberg's gaze moved to coelho's home and with immense pride, the little she-wolf's gaze followed: that tall jumbled spire of rocks, heaps on heaps of granite, andesite and gneiss -- that was her home.

her tail wagged; she'd be proud to share it with someone like ginsberg, though her ears fell as the woman mentioned she didn't have a home or live anywhere. "you can live with me!" she chimed, tail stirring once more. of course, there was the matter of the leaders approving of ginsberg, but they had approved of her, right? so there was hope, somewhere.

the two talked for a while, coelho ever efferent in her warmth - after some measure she instructed the she-wolf on how to come to their valley if she ever changed her mind. and then at length, coelho headed for home too.