Honeyed Pasture inviting the monsters

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Though he was an adult, there were many things of which Nechako was ignorant. He knew the feeling of winter's approach most acutely right now. He could recall the scent of the air when spring was bound to arrive, or even the earliest shift in colors among the trees to signify autumn. He knew the call of the many mountain birds, and even what some meant. He could recognize the trails of deer through his home, and even better, the signs of the fox or the coyote, for he was a defender and this knowledge kept them all safe.

What he did not know of, was the wolf.

It was not unheard of for a wolf pack to target a group of wild horses; however it had not occurred in many years, and so Nechako's upbringing had never involved them. He knew of them, but could not identify them by scent, and so he would certainly remain ignorant of the crouched and hungry predator watching him race about. It did not help that the air here was so chilled — nor that she would smell mostly of milk, which was out-of-place in these winter days. But when he did smell it, the golden beast transitioned from his all-out gallop in to a leisurely canter, and then abruptly to a stop.

Milk? His nostrils flared. He listened to the trees, and yet all he could gather was the sound of snow softly touching down around him. How very peculiar.
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