Barrow Fields just one moment of peace, that would suit me so fine

mica if you want to have tuulukki trail after her, lusca (positioned upwind) was going to acknowledge her in my next post.

Head stuck in the tall-grass, hindquarters northbound, Lusca had no reason to suspect that she was being spied on from a hilltop. Her nose shuffled through the sprouts, eagerly searching for shrews, hiding quail — anything that would settle her stomach. She was well into week one without food; her knowledge of this region was scarce and ideal hunting spots were at best unknown to her, and at worst, nonexistent. The gradual decrease in stamina did not bode well for her the deeper Winter thrust its blade into the heart of the wilds. 

Lusca almost noticed the figure idling in her peripherals, when on the spurs of a bitterly cold inbound wind suddenly came the stench –- traces of gore, perhaps masking something less persuasive, but most importantly to her, there was food! What devils luck she had! Ideally this animal could have been in poor health and succumbed to the harsh elements, but regardless of whatever circumstances had fallen to the creature's lot, Lusca forgot about the distraction and plucked gamely towards its source over the verdant mounds like some demure revenant patrolling the lengths of her solemn acre. 

Rising up the slope, she paused as her eyes scanned the swaths of greensward until the crouched figure of another filled her sights. Just briefly, she entertained the thought that it was Tachyon creeping, bringing with him some sort of delicacy, but the idea of it was soon quashed as a black-swallowed face came into prominence. From what she could tell this wolf was incomparably more well-fed than she — where Lusca had jutting hipbones, this Other had sinews padding hers. Her snout could be likened to the barrel of a rifle; Capriccio’s more canon to their species. The female ahead had silver influence where she herself was possessed of burnt-umber.

 

Lusca noted the fresh kill stashed guardedly amidst her legs, a hare unrevealed to her — it was fair to assume that this was the dead animal she’d tracked for some ways. Privately begrudging Capriccio’s opulence, she extended her muzzle and savored it from afar, but despite her yearning, the intent to burglarize her did not cross her mind; Lusca may have been wily, but contrary to coyotes she was no sneak thief. 

Scampering forward a few feet, the lobo announced herself with a chuff. ”Oi!” she called out from a courteous distance. Having not fleshed out a proper greeting, she quickly followed up with: ”where did you find that?” a faint measure of dashed hopes shading her tone.