Great Bear Wilderness the wolf bites back

mahina’s eyes cracked open to the harsh light filtering through the trees. her body ached, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her bones like a weight. she let out a low grunt, stretching, the muscles in her back pulling tight before releasing.

the world around her was quiet—too quiet. she was used to that. the moment her mind cleared, she pushed herself to her paws, shaking off the haze. no time to be dragging her feet.

with a sharp breath, she pushed forward and out from the mouth of the cavern she’d slept in, back into the forest.

---

@Masa

he doesn’t explain why he’s there or how long he’s been watching. instead, his gaze lingers briefly on her before shifting away, scanning the trees with a practiced detachment. his posture is rigid, disciplined, giving no hint of emotion or intent.

he speaks again, quieter this time, eyes distant as he looks around and he, too, peels from the mouth of the cavern. unable to hide his amusement that she hadn't noticed him. storm’s passed. path ahead’s clear.

mahina stiffened at the sound of his voice, her ears flicking back before she turned to face him. a stranger, lurking. she didn’t bother masking the irritation that flickered across her face, her jaw tightening as she scanned him up and down. how long had he been standing there? the thought gnawed at her pride. she was usually the first to notice, the first to act.

her tail gave a quick lash as she huffed, her voice curt. “no shit.” she stepped past him, ignoring the smug amusement in his tone. the faintest growl rumbled in her throat, low enough that it could’ve been mistaken for a yawn. her eyes darted toward the treetops, her steps steady as she emerged from the cavern, the fresh scent of damp earth hitting her nose.

“clear path, huh?” she muttered, glancing back at him briefly. “guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

his head turns slightly as she steps past, but he makes no move to follow, letting her put distance between them. her muttered challenge earns no response—only the faintest flicker of his gaze toward the path ahead, as if to say her judgment is irrelevant.

after a long pause: you’ll see.

his paws carry him forward, following her steps without a word. following her like a curious little crow.

mahina felt his presence trailing behind her, a quiet shadow that set her teeth on edge. she didn’t look back, not at first, but the faint sound of his paws against the damp ground grated against her patience. he was too quiet, too calm, and she hated the way it made her feel like the restless one.

“didn’t realize you needed me to lead the way,” she said flatly, throwing the words over her shoulder. she kept walking, ears angling back to catch any response, though she doubted he’d give one. he seemed the type to let silence or half-assed stares do the talking—a habit that was already getting under her skin.

still, she didn’t tell him to leave. maybe it was curiosity. or maybe it was the way his detachment felt more calculated than careless, like he saw something she didn’t. whatever it was, she let him follow, though her steps grew sharper, her tail flicking with a silent warning: stay close.

the comment rolls off him, his yellow-grey eyes fixed ahead, scanning the path she cuts through the forest. he doesn’t answer immediately, thus giving way to awkwardness, but it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

so, the smirk on his face is nearly audible as he trudges along her back flank. got a name?

the words are blunt, clipped, as though dragged out of him more by necessity than genuine interest. he doesn’t quicken his pace or look at her directly, his gaze instead flicking briefly toward the treetops before settling back on the path.

the she-wolf glanced back at him, one brow raised, her pace never faltering. for a moment, she said nothing, letting his question hang in the air just to see if the silence would bite him the way his had bitten her earlier. when it didn’t, she huffed out a short breath, turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“depends,” she said finally, the edge of a smirk tugging at her lips. “you asking because you’re curious, or because you’re bored?” The words were sharp but not unkind, her tone light enough to let him know she wasn’t entirely annoyed.

her ears flicked as she listened for his response. then, a pause. "mahina."

curious, he answers finally, his tone as flat as ever, though there’s the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth, an almost-smile that doesn’t quite take form.

when she speaks her name, his ears flick toward her, acknowledging. he lets it settle in his mind, sharp and simple, a word he doesn’t intend to forget. he walks a step closer, just enough to keep her in his peripheral, his yellow-grey eyes flicking toward her briefly before returning to the path ahead.

masa, he offers in return.

her ears twitched when he spoke his own name, the single syllable cutting through the quiet like a pebble dropped into still water. she glanced at him, catching the brief flick of his eyes in her direction.

“keep up, then.” there was a faint challenge in her tone, though she didn’t look back to see if he rose to it.

her gaze swept over the trail ahead, narrowing slightly at the sight of uprooted trees and scattered branches. the storm had left its mark here, the path littered with debris that made each step deliberate. her eyes were sharp, scanning for anything the storm might have unearthed—weak spots, fallen dens, or worse.

a jagged scar in the earth caught her attention, and she paused briefly, tail flicking as she studied it. “looks like the storm wasn’t picky about where it hit,” she muttered, glancing back at Masa. “hope you’re good at weaving through wreckage.” there was no real bite in her words, just the faintest hint of a challenge—an invitation to see if he could keep up.