these hands made of splinters

The bone pile scattered. She managed the avalanche well enough sliding along with its momentum until she landed on the ground. He looked towards her, lifting his nose a bit to scent the air around her. Tonravik had seen her already. No doubt his mate had made a bee line for the wolf the moment she'd scented her. Fitting. He'd had a feeling she'd missed this one, so it was good to have her back.

The last time he'd seen her was when they'd fended off the coyotes. He'd been fresh to the pack and hadn't lingered long enough to introduce himself. Kill the coyotes. Drop their bodies on the borders. Not much room for small talk in between. Here and now? Things were fairly quiet. Perhaps it was time to finally make those introductions.

"Echelon, right?" he said, overlooking her quip, but keeping her sass in mind. She'd spoken, which meant she was slightly less instinctual than Tonravik and a little more social. He could work with that. "Enlightening," he replied, not bothering to go into detail as he was certain Tonravik would have filled her in on as much as she felt was important. "How was yours?"