Northstar Vale Sat down at the piano and played some of your songs

Saena kept Dagfinn in her periphery as she crept through the barren woods. She didn't know the male well, but she didn't need to know him to hunt effectively with him. They needn't even speak their strategy aloud. By giving herself over to the wild instincts housed within her heart, passed down from her ancestors, she was able to read his movements and his intents. Having never been overly perceptive before allowing the wild wolf within to take her over, Saena found the entire phenomenon enlightening. Each of Dagfinn's breaths seemed to invigorate her as they did him. His paws moving soundlessly over the leaf litter were her own paws. They moved in tandem, and soon enough, they had closed the distance.

There would be time to know Dagfinn later. What Saena did know of him was that he was worthy of the vale. He was strapping and strong, seemingly eager to serve, but of course, the first wolves of the vale served him as well. The leader of a pack was its head and legs both; if they demanded from their followers without giving of themselves, they would never earn respect. Saena's strength was in hunting, and whether it be large game with the aid of her fellows or solitary hunts for small game, she would supply them with food whenever they needed it. She expected Dagfinn to sacrifice time for his pack as well, and thus far, she was pleased with his participation. He'd fallen in to hunt with her as if their teamwork was utterly natural... and it was.

Yes, she approved of Dagfinn. She would test his resilience, strengths, and weaknesses in the coming months, but her first impression of him was promising. She glanced sidelong through the underbrush, locating his darker figure among the shadows, and her eyes glinted as she refocused on the deer. Anticipation made her coil her muscles, so when Dagfinn launched himself from his cover, Saena was hot on his tail. Her legs stretched to their fullest length as she bounded after the deer, which fled, but not before Dagfinn got his teeth in her forelimb. The keening scream of the deer was a tone they could not discern, but it didn't matter. Saena could smell the terror coming off it in waves, mixed with the pungent smell of drawn blood, and its snorts and stamps as it fought to get away were as easily read as any spoken word.

The rut was drawing near its end by this time of year, but that didn't mean the buck up ahead wouldn't prove dangerous to the wolves. For the time being, he was unaware of his weakest doe being attacked, and Saena was heedless of him as she swung in on the doe's other side and dug her teeth into a point very near its axilla, filling her mouth with warm flesh and warmer blood. She hauled back on her body, planting her hind paws and wrenching back with the full force of her spine, but she was a small wolf and the doe recovered from its stumble. But she hadn't meant to fell it. Dagfinn was the brunt of their force, and if the doe would be felled, it would be by his power. Saena's tactic was to bleed out her prey, and she sought to do just that when she tore a hunk of flesh from beside its meaty armpit.

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