Ghost Lion Crag hawkmoon

Sikuaq meant to return west. He had already happened by two packs— information he would surely return to his sister— but it was the scent of pregnancy, of vulnerability, that brought him up onto the mesa, hunting for the source of the scent with a straight and skulking trot. His eyes like wilting saffrons scoured the cold landscape, picking out the carmine shape of a small huntress as he came loosely to a stop.

He hadn't decided what he would do once he found her, so he hung back, nearly fifty yards, and watched her keenly with ears perked and tail lank; indicating his present lack of intent.