Greatwater Lake a sedge of cranes

@Stark Haelvyr had insisted they rest, but Needle had energy to spare. She ran from him, their temporary dirt camp, and listened over her shoulder for following pawsteps. Except, cazador was not one to hover or hand-hold, and when the sounds of birds and preylife returned, she knew he had not come soon after.

It was high noon – certainly a time to take it easy, even during the cool, overcast of fall. She would later regret not listening to him, not conserving her energy at the behest of the pacesetter, but for now she wanted only to hunt. To chase and be thrilled. Or stalk and outclass.

She cantered the length of the great lake (larger than any she had ever seen!) until a flock of white appeared on the horizon: cranes. They waded in the shallows, fishing about with their long noses on strangely long legs. She knew they were birds by the way they flexed their wings and beaks, though hadn’t the faintest idea of their type.

It didn’t stop her from stalking them through the reeds, taking her time to close in on the nearest creature. The process was painstakingly slow. Many quiet moments passed before she made her move.

Quicker than they fished, she leaped into the bank water and snatched one by the tail, turning teeth to its leg and wing until it was helpless, then dead in the water. The rest were in the sky, a pale little cloud squawking up, up, and away.

Carrying her limp feather boa by the neck, she dragged it back to dry land and stood panting over her prize.

She tried to imagine the hint of pride on his face when she brought it back to him.

Chasing a ghost. That's what Baela had been doing for a little over a year. After the fall of Evenspire she had little need to stay in her home territory. When Stark left on a vengeance driven mission to avenge his family she had waited for him. Sure he would return back to her victorious with the hides of those that had threatened his family. But he never did. After four months with no word from her betrothed, Baela deemed it time to move on. He wasn't coming back. That was far easier said than done. 

The journey had been long, but it changed her in ways she had always craved. Muscle and skill grew with every step she took away from the ruins of Evenspire. No longer could she rely on those around her to fend for her. She was alone. 

Baela had been tracking a hauntingly familiar scent for several days now. She knew that it wasn't him, but a small ember of hope still settled in her chest. Cresting a low hill Baela finally found the culprit bearing that familiar scent. A little yearling with just as much leg as she had gumption from the looks of it. She found herself watching the wolf, a small laugh leaving her hollow chest. 

Moving closer, Baela nearly cheered when the little one caught the water bird with her teeth. Baela saw herself in the female. Even if disappointment still lingered in her mind, she figured the pup could perhaps point her towards a friendly pack or two. She wasn't cut out for the dispersal life as the new scars sprinkled across her body highlighted. 

"That's a rather fine catch you got," Baela called out, announcing her arrival in an attempt to not frighten the little one.

thanks for joining! (sorry she's a butthead)

Too busy gloating in her own mind, the gamine flinched at the voice of another. Her muzzle snapped in their direction, lip curled. The rest of her narrow form tensed to cage the snarl in her throat.

She was looking at a she-wolf, one of stone under snowfall. Scuffed. Weathered. Beautiful. The other’s posture didn’t appear threatening. Neither had her words, now that she thought about it.

Needle’s hackles started to lie flat again, but those boneyellow eyes narrowed in suspicion. Well, you’ll have a fight on your paws if you want to try and take it. A threat before a grimace of untested fangs, still white in their newness. Flattery won’t get you a piece, either.

you're all good! i love her sm

Baela's lip twitched up in an almost smile at the young wolf's show. It would have been intimidating had she not been a little slip of a thing. Would a strong breeze knock her over? It wouldn't shock the older woman. 

Briefly the idea of stealing the crane flitted through her mind before getting choked out by her conscience. She didn't need the food, but the idea of an easy meal was hard to pass up. Still she looked upon the gray beast, all snarls and hackles, and Baela couldn't stomach it. Where would she be if her father hadn't constantly stamped down her flame? Perhaps she would have looked just like this yearling, a menace to anything feathered or otherwise. 

Her threats weren't scary, but Baela decided to indulge the other's actions. Taking a few sloppy steps back, the older woman purposefully tripped over her feet. Her eyes widened in faux-surprise. Oh no, I wouldn't dream of taking that from you. I can spot a gifted hunter when I see one, Baela spoke as some truth returned to her features. She wanted it to be true. 

<3333333

Did she believe her?

Needle regarded the winterstorm wolf with narrow-eyed suspicion, her natural distrust at odds with the ubiquitous perception of immortality that came with having a teenaged brain. After a long moment, Needle at last relented. Her tail moved with the lazy, agitated flicks of a displeased house cat.

Good, she stated with finality, setting a claimant paw upon her feathered trophy’s head.

For all her bravado, Needle was still fairly naïve.

¿Qué quieres? You just going to stand there and congratulate me, or did you want something?