Permafrost Hollows Go Home, You're Drunk

OMG. He's adorable!

Was that barking? Citlali's brows furrowed, wondering what the heck was going on. Those snarls and grumbling and yips weren't something one often heard in the wilds. Wolves were stealthy predators. They were silent hunters at the top of the food chain with little reason to fear or make a show for any thing at all. The behavior was a strange one and she slunk into the offensive as she wove through the nearby trees and happened upon the small russet male.

Urine. The stench of it was fresh upon the air. She wrinkled her nose and noticed the puddle on the ground. It wasn't altogether strange save for the location. The lift the leg method was generally pretty effective at watering trees. Squaring was more lady like. In the open was plain strange. Urinary issues? She wondered briefly as she watched him bay and bellow. Then stop. Another rustled and he was off again. This kid was a strange one.

He shouted his victory over the bird. Wait. Bird? What? Her eyes glanced skyward for a moment before turning back towards the kid. "This time?" she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. "You have been eaten by a bird before?" It didn't seem like normal bird behavior; not for grown wolves. For pups? Occasionally, but if they were picked up, they were often killed after the bird dropped him. She was confused as to what he was getting at.

Then he asked her if the forest was hers. Hers? This shit hole? "Yes. I'm the slum queen." Her voice was dry and dripping with sarcasm. "No. Just passing through," she corrected. "What are you doing here?" she was starting to feel like this one might be some kind of lost.