Shadow Mountain good morning new zealand

There was pack scent wafting from the nearby valley and mountains. He'd smelled it as he'd passed into the, hopefully, safe and unclaimed, dulled peaks. He was being forced to walk around them and part of him was the slightest bit annoyed at his path being redirected, even though the packs had done nothing but exist. He was still conflicted about joining them, unsure if he'd belong there or feel suffocated by the hierarchy. There was a time when that was all he wanted but he'd gotten a bit older, less flexible. 

Lushness surrounded him - greenery, trees, and the sounds of nature. It was soothing as he stalked low, nose to the ground. The day was beautiful and perfect for a quick hunt. Small game seemed to bound all around him only an hour ago but now that he was actively seeking them, they were a little more reserved. 

Regardless, he did eventually spot a rabbit nibbling spring grass.

He was good at hunting alone. He would not have survived if he could not do something so simple. Well...he had eventually caught on, at least, he thought as he remembered going hungry many times. Maybe he wasn't as good as he thought he was and if he kept inflating his skills, he would go hungry again. Diaval pushed the thoughts away, stalking as close as he dared before lunging forward.

The chase was brief, the rabbit so distracted it almost forgot to run. Teeth sank easily into soft flesh and then, suddenly, the ground beneath him shifted. His jaws dropped their catch in favor of a sharp yelp as he slid and then tumbled, rocks crumbling underneath his paws. He rolled as he flailed in an attempt to stop himself. Eventually, his claws found purchase in the rock and he slid a few more inches before finally coming to a stop, several feet from where he had fallen. His kill lay momentarily forgotten as he gingerly raised himself to his feet and began testing his body for injuries.

Wallace had no couple and his territory had not been officially claimed, so he allowed himself certain… liberties. He had walked for some time until he reached that place. The encounter with a pack from Greatwater Lake had left him thinking.

He then caught the scent of a rabbit and followed the trail, but had to stop when he saw another wolf. He wasn't far away, but the stranger was so intent on hunting the rabbit that he didn't seem to notice Wallace. The orange-furred wolf lifted its muzzle from him and sniffed. The stranger was a male, and he was two or three years old. Wallace was curious and crouched down as he looked at the other wolf.

Wallace rose with a startled cry as the gray wolf slipped. He felt a chill and instinctively tried to help him. However, the other wolf went down and Wallace sighed with relief to see it stop soon after. Wallace walked over to the rabbit, sniffed at it, and grabbed it with his nose. Then he turned to where he had slipped on the wolf and stepped down very carefully, putting one paw in front of the other as he leered at the wolf.

He released the rabbit before lowering himself completely and looking at the gray wolf. "I think you dropped something," he said, trying not to sound threatening or weak in an attempt to remain neutral. It would be foolish to fight in such an unstable place, but Wallace wagged his tail to let him know that even though he didn't want to fight, he would defend himself if necessary.

Diaval tested his limbs and found there was no real injury. He would be sore and bruised but he was pretty sure he knew an herb that would help him through the worst of it. His ears flicked forward as he realized, only after the wolf was within striking distance, that he was not alone. He was distracted by the strange color and look of the newcomer, momentarily, before the rabbit was dropped in front of him and he lowered his eyes sheepishly.

Diaval was dense, sometimes, but he could read the body language of the other wolf enough to know that he was tightly controlled. The grey wolf had no intention of fighting or arguing with anyone and he shifted away from the other wolf, taking a careful step back. 

"Ah...uh...thanks..." he said, though he did not reach for the rabbit. The air was tense and Diaval was not sure how to respond to the slowly wagging tail and posture of this stranger. Was it okay to just take his rabbit and leave? Was it better to give it up and walk away? He wasn't sure.

He stood there awkwardly, letting silence settle between them.

Wallace sensed the stranger's distrust. And he knew that if he made a sudden move it could send him running. "Are you a loner?" he asked him, using a friendlier tone. Then, seeing that the stranger seemed hesitant to grab the rabbit, the orange wolf pushed it in his direction.

"I have seen how you hunted the rabbit, you have done well" he commented, sitting up. For some reason, he felt older than the gray wolf, even though he was actually the youngest. He felt strangely powerful and wise, and he liked that feeling.

He met her eyes, but blinked so as not to appear threatening. "I won't hurt you" he told her kindly "we are the same: we are both loners, and the loners protect each other"