Iktome Plains gun runner

This looked lonely :) Would you mind terribly if it's present-dated?

On this day, and for the nth time in his life, Darcia found himself alone. His brother had not stayed with him long, and though this was something the wolf had come to expect, he found himself pining for the company he had lost anyway. He and Benedict were far too competitive to ever stand each other's company for long, and the latter wolf seemed to have a task at hand that would not have permitted him to stay regardless of whether or not they had been able to set their differences aside. He had asked why Benedict left the Blacksea despite his severe loyalty to it, but the wolf had refused to tell him, and in the end he supposed it didn't matter. If his brother could not stay, then there was nothing to be done about it.

He was grateful for their chance meeting. His kin had left him with invaluable gifts -- his name and renewed sense of purpose -- and Darcia did not wish to squander them. Besides this, Benedict had left him with a lesson too. Lose the godspeak. No one in these lands cared for the way he spoke, so he chose now to say little and exercise speech in the way wolves spoke here in the south when he did speak. If he wanted them to follow him, then he would need to be able to communicate with them better. The night before his departure from the shadewood, Benedict had practiced with him, but little of it mattered if he found none to share his voice with.

Even as this thought crossed his mind in the open sun of the plains, he spotted her. A dashing and young creature, with swathes of red that caught in the light and broke the agouti earth-patterns of her coat. Darcia stood high on the moors, perched on a pebbled hillock where he remained to watch her run. He sat down, quite prepared to see her leave without taking notice of him, and basked in the momentary pleasure of watching a free wolf enjoy its unburdened summer freedom.