Porcupine Ridge All my life, I was never there

His tendency was to run. Very seldom did Farstep hold his ground when an unfamiliar wolf approached, and if he did, it was frequently against other males. His brain separated hierarchy and so dominant females didn't encroach upon his pride nearly as much as dominant males did. Of course, Farstep had an idea of where he belonged in the world, so even though he would press the envelope with every man he came across, the tawny male often relented in the end. Occasionally he would not; occasionally he would claim himself to be the dominant wolf, but almost never with a female unless he damn well knew it.

So his stance remained rigid and firm as she drew nearer, though his ears drifted downward in slight deference to Capriccio's place and sex, now fairly evident from her scent and trimmer physique, mostly out of discomfort than any sort of rank dispute. He acknowledged her as his better for now. Only when her tail waved did he really relax, letting his own fall loosely at his haunches and wave tentatively in response. The cant of her head was met with an open-mouthed gentle pant, the closest to a smile he could manage, and an increase in the speed of his tail's waves as he sought her approval and acceptance of his deference, or something like that.