Wapun Meadow Wakooli

His was the language of physicality, so when Fox displayed comforting signs, Farstep relaxed as well. Perhaps she was a lone bitch wandering the world in search of a mate to begin a pack with, posing him no threat at all. In fact, she was like the carrot of opportunity dangling in front of his eyes, an offer much too tempting for the primitive male to pass up.

Farstep let his ears fall back softly, though he kept his mouth closed despite being relaxed. He began to pick his way through the flowers toward her, intent now on assessing whether they would be a good match. She was attractive, not in the way a man viewed a woman but in the way a wolf viewed a prospective partner. She carried good genes if her coat and health said anything about it, and she was small, which Farstep liked in a female. In his animal mind, the male was dominant always, and some of the large bitches present in his homeland had pushed their bounds too much for his tastes.

His approach was bold and straight-forward, and to any wolf from a land as primal as his had been, its message was very clear. It was in every disperser wolf's blood to find a mate and stake a claim to both the female and the land they chose. In this, the loner was no different, though his ambitions were rooted in animal desires rather than in any emotional capacity.