Porcupine Ridge Dripping like a saturated sunrise

Kesan accepted her place above him with a dominant stance, thankfully one that wasn't overstated. She didn't seem offended that his submission was not as severe as it could've been, and was seemingly content with his posturing, for she soon relaxed. Farstep followed suit. It seemed prudent now to become acquainted, something that Kesan sought to do with words and Farstep sought to do in the old way.

He stepped nearer, ever-cautious of her behaviour, until he was parallel with her, his head level with her hips. Assuming she didn't move, he would aim his snout for her rear and attempt to sniff the glands there, though he would do so gingerly and poised to run if needed. His own rear end was proffered in return. Farstep didn't know much about the more civilized wolves except that some of them didn't seem to understand body language. To him, who knew only body language and didn't comprehend even the concept of spoken words, such wolves were mental. But he could never be too careful; just because Taggarik and Capriccio had deemed Kesan worthy of living at the ridge, presumably because she was not mental, didn't mean she wouldn't take offense to his bold investigation of her most intimate of scent glands.

Of course, he was as polite as could be about it—some of the more dominant wolves of his homeland had no problem jamming their noses right up in there—but nevertheless, attempting to smell Kesan's butt might not go over so well. She was dominant and had every right to discipline him for trying, but his intent to introduce himself and get to know her was good, as evidenced by the hopeful wiggle of his tail.