Wapun Meadow Wakooli

Farstep had seen a great many things in his short life. His name came from his propensity for wandering great distances, though it was no true name. It was a name that he felt in his soul, for no wolf had ever called him by it, and he had not the words nor the care to speak it aloud.

Suffice it to say, Farstep had seen sprawling meadows of wild flowers. He spent only a moment gazing out at their soft, fresh buds before ploughing carelessly into them. He spared no thought for the tender stalks he snapped with his paws nor the beauty broken in his wake. He cared only for the scent of hair brushed haphazardly through them.

That is, until he became keenly aware of a pair of eyes watching him. It was a prickly sensation on the side of his neck that alerted him, but initially he ignored it and continued tracking the jack rabbit. When it ceased to pass, the dog glanced up and caught sight of Fox standing cautiously in the distance.

Though he had no reason to be uneasy, the male nevertheless fixed his sights on her and hunched his shoulders forward. With pricked ears and unwavering eyes, he stared back.