Darker than blood

They both agreed, and did not push her; for this, she was thankful. She had yet to feel a babe kick... but from the cramps, she knew that they were there, and they were growing. Or perhaps she knew nothing. Perhaps the cramps themselves were her cubs kicking away... was it possible that they were already so strong?

Smugly, she thought: yes.

It was then the tenacious Kapvik spoke again, and she looked to the wolf named for his peculiar markings so familiar to her. His question was one she felt did not think need answering; but then, perhaps where he had come from, wolves were... as different as the ones here. He did not seem stupid. He was a wolf that followed order. But an annoyed flick of her tail was accompanied with her "Yes." Fools were not long for the world, anyway; she did them a favor. Be it a quick death or a slow one (however they decided to die was the last choice they could make, after all), they would be killed.

Crossing the borders as a lone wolf into her packlands was unforgivable. Naturally, Tonravik knew first hand what one could do with that opportunity. But she was more vigilant and savage, and also, would abandon the place only if the herds moved. No food, no point. Prey was key to survival. But she would not go alone; her pack would join her.

Land meant nothing to her, so long as it was a mountain; and while Tonravik wished for a colder place, her physical appearance made for the place she had come from, she could still live here; and the place was filled with game. So to Tonravik, there was only one reason to trespass: to take. Which, she had done. No other would be given that opportunity so long as she led.