Swiftcurrent Creek today's supernatural

Don't mind Jinx, she'll warm up (maybe)

Morning found Jinx breaking her fast on a frozen vole carcass. Of the twelve voles whose skulls she had stripped to form her offering circle in the Dungeon, she had cached eight or nine of their beheaded bodies. It did little to comfort her slightly plumper stomach, but it was better than nothing, and would give her some energy until she could afford something meatier.

She was situated in the middle of the creek's woodland, perched atop a thick log that had seen several summers of thick moss and as many winters of thaw. Its base was rotted, and so it was unstable, but that didn't seem to bother the Kesuk at all. She had just polished off the remainder of the vole, licked her cold chops, and bounded down from the log when she came upon Tuwawi wandering the pack land. She did so none too kindly.

For Jinx approached with her head angled toward the sky and her tail aloft, and on her face was an expression of ambivalence and suspicion. She knew nothing of Fox's altercation with Njal and Tuwawi's subsequent questionable acceptance. The yearling had been right to assume Jinx would also be miffed about a trespasser, and she had never seen Tuwawi before. In close enough proximity, Jinx identified her scent as essentially foreign. Her lips peeled back over her teeth as she boldly approached, intent on chasing off what she thought was an intruder.

But before she began a headlong charge in the other wooman's direction (damnit, how alike Fox she looked), she shot a query Tuwawi's way in a loud bark, though even as the question hung in the air she did not cease her approach: "And you are?"