Porcupine Ridge I found myself in the fire burned hills

He tipped back his ears to receive the rumble of Jhala's voice, but where she heard words, he heard only the guttural sounds of wolf vocalization. He turned his snout to glance sidelong at the female through one brilliant blue eye, then refocused on the cliff and picked up his pace. She was following and he assumed that she was game for whatever he had up his sleeve.

It was a simple game, one that the braver wolves of his homeland played every now and again. They would run into the herd, spooking them with barks and raucous noise, and then they would dodge them as they stampeded away. The purpose of such a game was never really known, for none of Farstep's former packmates could speak a word and he wouldn't have understood them if they could. It was good training, though. A good exercise in anticipating the movements of another, and ensuring one was in a good position to duck out of the way of danger.

Without knowing Jhala had sought him out for a reason, Farstep unwittingly intended to engage Jhala in a game that would indirectly aid her in fighting. It would also aid in hunting, for they would learn the movements of these new creatures and perhaps, one day, use them against the herd. As they neared the wooled animals, Farstep broke into a run and let out a rocky bark that caused all of them to raise their heads in alarm.