Lost Creek Hollow Food Glorious Food

They had never met before, but now presented an opportune time to amend that. "I'm Andalusia," she returned with a short nod of her head and a quirk of a smile. She glanced at the fresh rabbit sprawled before Ilya's paws and let the gal give her piece. Andalusia would never forget the gnarly twists of hunger she'd experienced on the road, but since establishing the Hollow, she was glad to accommodate them less and less. Though they'd been spotty in their hunts, her strength grew by the day, and she found herself with more than mere fumes to run on.

"It's enough. Let's share. It'll give us energy to catch something bigger." She left her words open as an invitation. Small prey provided strength in short bursts, but together they could take down something substantial enough to feed the rest of their numbers. Andalusia knew enough gamekeeping to survive, but her stregnths lay more in exploration and charting the mountain passes than in clever ways to hunt. Her brothers had always leaned more to that bent. Maybe Ilya was the same.

The gal shifted, and Andalusia turned her attention from the hare when Ilya's words grew personal. A broar grin grew along her face at the black gal's jest, and she relaxed onto her haunches to mirror her newest packmate's stance. "It's fine. A nice change from the silent life of a loner." Perhaps Ilya could relate. Little past the scent of the Hollow clung to the black woman's fur, and Andalusia had held the same drifting scent in the days preceding the inauguration of the pack. "I was a founder with them both. And Harlyn, too." She added the former as an afterthought. Strange that Ilya wouldn't have mentioned her, though she supposed the dark leader had been busy elsewhere at the time of the gal's acceptance. "She leads alongside Mordecai. I take it you haven't met her yet?"