Silver Creek the stranger

Miyax wore their scents like a mantle. When they came upon her, she did not stand. The first to find her was the male—young, but full of vigor. His coat seemed well-kept (if a bit wild) and he had a fierce look about him. The arch of his tail confirmed her thoughts about him
—leader.

His stiff-legged approach told her many things. Chiefly, his posture said: I am in charge, I do not like you. Miyax knew it would be hard to win this wolf over. She wriggled towards him through the snowy grass, prostrating herself upon her belly, and whined softly. Her ears were back and she tried to submit. But there was another sound, the rushing sound of paws in snow and then the warning growls of another wolf. Although Miyax did not understand the words either creature spoke, she understood tone and body language. It was easy to see that this other wolf, this female, was uncomfortable.

More importantly, this was the same wolf whose scents carried those of puppies. With some shy glances Miyax determined that she had been wrong; this woman might've carried their scent, but she was no mother. Her body would not have changed so drastically in such short a time. Perhaps another had been granted the breeding rights? Curious — but there was no time for Miyax to be thoughtful. She mewled again, then rose up on to her paws and curled her tail against her belly, all the while asking with her eyes and the sweet notes of her voice, can I stay? Miyax had perpetrated a crime according to wolf law, though. She was young and foolish, and had offended both of these creatures already. She was pushing her luck indeed.