Ouroboros Spine Under the bludgeonings of chance

Ever since meeting the emotionally stunted Alpha, Salamander's interest had been peaked. Their interaction was limited and brief, but in that exceptionally short amount of time the russet woman had spotted a kindred spirit. Something close to one, at the very least. The leader of the Spine wolves was not a talker - less a pragmatist, more of a bludgeon without a master to wield them. It was familiar to Salamander, who had met many wolves of the same vein within her birth pack, here uncle among them. She seemed to be the odd one out; muscle-bound as any other warrior, heavy-set like her kin, but simultaneously thoughtful and skeptical of everything.

But she was not one to brood. And as soon as their brief introduction - and Salamander's acceptance - was through, they had parted ways. For the past few hours Salamander had been familiarizing herself with the mountain range, and came lurching along the ridge in time to see the Alpha at work. She did not introduce herself, but did nothing to hide her approach either - dipping her nose towards the freshly covered cache and inspecting it, finding the scent of the dirt overwhelming, but nothing could mask the ammonia-laced scent of fox.