Moonspear onwards to the edge

“I was going to say moon’s faces.” She confessed easily, not expecting him to understand the term as she’d come to recognize that it was a turn of phrase mostly associate with her native pack and their practices. She was aware that a single full moon was the common tongue for 30 moon’s faces, but it translated poorly in the opposite direction. “It’s the same thing as nights.” Jaguara elucidated a moment after, although she was beginning to resist his intrusiveness and hungry curiosity, her fangs hanging over her ebony lip in a slight bite—though his went unseen from his angle.

“And it doesn’t matter what I liked about it. Most wolves leave their birth pack, I’m no different than you.” Electing to remain casual but otherwise being vague. He seemed didn’t seem so thickheaded that if he pursued and she was blunt enough to tell him it was none of his business, that he probably would understand. It was better not to escalate things either way. Despite him being ‘lost’ as she saw it, the environment was still undesirable for a brawl with a stranger. Besides, he was bigger, and in the natural order of things that was enough to make her slightly wary.

Coming to a sudden halt, Jaguara lifted her slender muzzle to test the air. A second after she swung low once more her paw jutting out to claw against the gap between two boulders. Besides the small resistance the roots curtained over the entrance offered, the cave was easily accessible; but not for the faint of heart. The entry was comfortable enough for her to slip through, but for him it would be a tight fit—still he should be able to wiggle in. Despite the constricted entrance the confines opened up to high ceilings and the wide belly the mountain presented. 

Crouching she dipped inside without another word.