The Settling Nomad

She had sensed him minutes before he came into view. He was clearly heavier than her, considering his size, but he wasn't a great, brawny wolf like she might have expected. His pelt was neutral, painted with earthen tones, and he seemed deep in thought from first glance. Immediate upon spotting her across the shallow ravine, he raised his tail over his back, questioning her stance.

   Sima wasn't a fool. Being born in a pack, he knew when to submit to a wolf of higher status, for the sake of both safety and social acceptance, but her respect and reverence, both gradual, were bought with an ascertained sense of authority and, well, respectability.

   While observing the stranger, the she-wolf didn't make any more movement than a subtle swish of her tail. The wind, cutting between them, brought a scent so heavily mingled with the trees of these woods that she was sure he resided here. She had seen the size of the plateau; no wolf could hold such a territory by himself. He must have company elsewhere, and he seemed to be of no low-rank.

   Instead of submitting straight away, though she planned to, she set her gaze intently upon his face, anticipated the words she was about to speak. "I can assume you live here, can't I?" she said, slightly raising her nonchalant voice in order for him to hear her several meters away. She held no challenge in her tone, careful to let him decide her polarity.