Lost Creek Hollow Tiptoe Closer

At his heeding, the dark-haired wolf sank towards the earth with a jolt; a key sign to him that they were aware of the path that they were treading. More times often than not he had encountered those that would have turned towards him with some sort of indifference, as though they had no concern for what it was that they were doing. And truly, Mordecai preferred the lax sort who stuck to the rigid code that was their law, that knew that their occasional if not frequent deviations from it were only tolerated so far.

But since they didn't break into a run or otherwise halt as though he were inconveniencing them, he felt it safe to continue his approach. He came in direct and postured, letting his body language do the speaking for him as the finer details came to him. The wolf, a female, had the telling tale signs of being travel-worn but not quite in the same way he had seen of many others. She was healthy, clearly capable of foraging on her own even in the late winter. Or maybe she was a recent dispersal — it was too hard to say, let alone speculate, as by then he had come upon her curiously.

"You'd do wise to be careful through these parts," he opened, somewhat ominously. But it was no threat coming from him: "There's a cougar preying on our kind to the north." Mordecai felt it fair to warn her, though even that was veiled by the wonder of why she had strayed so close to their borders. His gaze wandered from her briefly, if only to scan the still somewhat uncharted lands beyond his claim. "But I must ask, what brings you so close to our home?"