Chimera Fields on the road again

The breeze on the Fields carried with it the pungent aroma of a stringent female and the accompanying cloy of death. She wasn't dying, but had recently killed, and was carrying on her fur the smeared blood of a goat from the glacier pass she had come through. It was one of the few places in this area that wasn't drenched in pack scent, while also serving as familiar terrain beneath pawpads crafted for long miles on the ice. She was bloodied and unbowed, strutting as if she had claim to something; and she would tell you that she did, even though all she had was her own will and skeleton.

Back on tender loam, on warmer and more level ground, Furiosa was not any more comfortable. Blackened eyes picked out a hazy figure on the horizon. She continued her trajectory towards it, even after she realized it was another wolf, probably too arrogant to give any space to him at any rate.