Wild Berry Meadow it takes the shape of a place out west

She and Valiant had spent several long weeks tracking the herds before returning home. Angel had found a kind of peace in it, and sought it now with thoughts of changing seasons heavy on her mind. Soon it would be winter — and, soon, it would be time for her to decide what to do with her first heat.

There were few prospects within their current pack. She could proposition Valiant, but she had a feeling there might be "competition". She didn't care to enter that sort of relationship with the man, anyway. And there was Rodyn, but he, too, was almost like an uncle to her.

She must seek outside the pack, then, if she wanted to seek at all. The idea was becoming ever more pressing. For now, though, she followed in the path of a small group of bison, watching them as they went about their large, placid lives.

Beau had always thought bison were funny looking creatures - funny looking enough that he often found himself watching them whenever he came across a herd. He knew to keep his distance; bison didn't run like other prey, and they would hit back with twice the force of any elk. It was a lesson he had learned young while watching a cousin who had hoped to impress a girl by taking down a bull, safe to say that he spent that year single.

Looking through the crowd of beasts he thought he saw a calf, but with some mild shuffling about from the bison he found that it was instead, another wolf. He couldn't help but be curious, it seemed that the flatlands were more lively in recent weeks and each wolf he came across sparked some level of interest.

What was this one's plan? Were they hoping for a solo hunt? Beau cringed at the thought of witnessing them go head-to-head with the herd.

Angel, too, was interested to see an unfamiliar wolf out in the meadow. She kept half an eye on the herd while she circled toward him, intent on learning more.

Despite having had company this time, her trip with Valiant had been remarkably lonely. There seemed to be less and less wolves around, and it was concerning for her future prospects. Even this male did not look quite right, she realized as she drew closer. He was older than her by a few years, which meant he would likely die a few years sooner. After all the men that had disappeared from her life, she was looking for someone who would last.

But, then again, beggars could not be choosers. She eyed him warily, skeptically as she approached.

"Where'd you come from?" she asked him, putting him immediately on the spot. It was not her usual friendly way, but she was feeling quite persecuted by life, at the moment. Someone had to answer for it, and he was the only one around.

To Beau's surprise, the stranger approached before he did, and she was quite direct. It didn't sway him, nothing but a bite to the flank could most of the time. Beau. he responded, eyeing her up with a clear interest. Who're you, little lady?

She was young, probably too young for him, and Beau had sworn off love for anything but a pretty lady in season anyways. He could smell enough bodies on her that he felt sure that this one was from a pack, and that wasn't trouble he wanted to find himself in either.

Glancing back to the bison briefly, they seemed to have stilled for the moment.

Though she'd rolled the dice all on her own, the young wolf was annoyed and flustered and just a little disgusted when the older wolf looked her up and down. She was not terribly familiar with this sort of look, and given her age, it'd most often felt rather threatening to her. She wasn't afraid of this man in particular, but still.

"I asked where you came from, actually," she snipped, despite having no real right to be angry. Valiant had called her little lady often enough and it'd made her feel closer to him. Coming from this male, it made her want to bite someone.

He had misheard her, and it seemed that she hadn't appreciated it. Okay - darn, I'm from right here! I live in the Flatlands. He insisted, tone clearly indicating that he wanted her to calm down. No need to get all riled up.

Maybe it had been all the talk of Soto days prior, but he was more on edge than usual. Beau didn't want a fight, he didn't usually, but today he really wasn't in the mood. Did I interrupt your bison hunt, or are you normally this quick to snap at a man? He never understood wolves like this. Wasn't it easier to face life feeling content?

But whether an interrupted hunt or just an angry girl, it didn't seem like his charm would work too well here.

He lived here? Alone? Angel Oak's nose twitched again as she strained to take in more of his scent, but she couldn't detect any of the telltale wreath of scents that a static location usually entailed. He was a squatter, then — in no man's land, at least.

Her ears drew back as he took a tone with her, though truthfully, she had done nothing less. Surprised and affronted, she remained still and quiet in the face of his rebuttal.

"I'd just expect a guy with such big, stupid ears to be able to hear, is all," she replied, a beat too late, and her voice a tiny bit wobbly. She'd travelled far and wide, but most everyone had been incredibly kind to her. Perhaps because she'd been incredibly kind to them.

Was she seriously getting all weepy now? It wasn't Beau who had started this. And I'd think a gal your age would know better than to get nasty with a stranger. He retorted. Didn't your mama teach you better? The question was rhetorical, because frankly Beau's mother hadn't taught him any better either.

Pushing out a clear 'huff' he wasn't too sure where to go from here. He should stand his ground, right? She was just a kid, he wasn't doing any good by turning tail and running off.

Right! He was old enough to be tough now. He decided to stand firm, looking her right in the face.

It wasn't weepiness, per se, but a thread of anxiety that could easily turn to weeping once she found herself alone. In that moment, she felt more liable to clam up — and that would be embarrassing. So she forced herself to respond:

"Nasty!?"

It wasn't much of a response. The word shocked her — no one had ever called her nasty! Because she! was never! nasty! She felt a brief moment of out of body horror and fascination. What was she doing? Why was she being nasty?

And then he brought Raindrop into things.

"You leave my mother out of this!" she snarled, suddenly incensed. She was just — flustered all over, and out of her depth, and her father was still gone and her mother had a suitor whether she knew it or not and there was NO MAN ALIVE IN THE WORLD THAT SHE COULD DATE EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE.

Life was so unfair.

Yes! He responded, nasty, like a sour grape left in the sun. That's putting it nice.

Beau wasn't too impressed by her snarl, he'd seen far scarier wolves in his life. Get going home little girl, or maybe I'll pay her a visit. Whether that meant to report her rude behaviour or something more crude, that was up to interpretation. It wasn't like he was going to go through with it.

Just to show he was serious, he gave her a low growl of his own. He was getting pretty used to this whole dominance thing that seemed to come with age, and frankly it felt far better than turning tail and moving on.

Nothing had ever been so offensive as the idea of this stranger in the same space as her gentle, beloved mother. Angel gaped at the stranger, all the breath stolen from her lungs by the intensity of her fury. All words fled her mind. Her instincts roared in confusion, leaving her frozen and confused and — frightened, just a little, of the strong words and large frame that the older wolf wielded.

What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with her?

Angel took an uncertain step back, then another. Shamefully, a particular instinct did overtake her, then: she turned tail and ran, fleeing back to her mother just as she'd been instructed.