king of the hill

A soft breeze snaked its way through the trees, glancing Jinx's coat and continuing past her to where Bazi was now preening in the half-light. The Creek wolf stopped mid-lick, rear leg in the air and tongue hanging stupidly out of her mouth. Her nostrils flared with each breath. That scent had once belonged to Swiftcurrent Creek, and its owner was someone whose attitude to visitors Bazi had begrudgingly come to understand - even respect - since having to shoo an endless tirade of hippies away from her own borders.

Slowly, well aware that she had strayed close to the mountain on more than one occasion in the past, the new Creek Beta lowered her leg and sucked her tongue back in, scanning the gloom for the source of the smell. She struggled to remember what her reservations had been against Jinx now - if anything, she was becoming more like the Silvertip alpha the higher she climbed in the Creek ranks. Lecter still frightened her, but he was safely ensconced on a far-away rock and would likely die there, happily surrounded by his strange little paintings and shrunken heads.