Kintla Flatlands black widow

Pura was obsessed with patrolling, and it delighted him that the entire pack was now partaking in his favourite pastime with a level of intensity that left him pleasantly exhausted at day’s end. Wolves worked in shifts, scouring the plateau and surrounding areas with their noses pressed to the ground, working until their shoulders and lungs ached. Pura Virtúte copied, and loved every moment.

He was distantly aware of Junior’s absence, but was more annoyed by it than upset. She was his most robust playmate, and it irritated him that she wasn’t doing what everyone else was doing. The boy’s concept of time was a little off, and he could never recall the last time he had seen Peregrine’s rowdy princess - but it must have been recently.

Somehow, he had secured permission to venture somewhat further afield. Kaskara had been assigned the outer perimeter, and Pura had forced his father to escort his son there, too - almost without the aid of words. For someone whose ability to read body language was so poor, he was at least able to make himself understood with it.

When they were safely within sight of the dark brown female, Pura was permitted to cross the short distance between the two adults unassisted. En route, he tried to recall facts about Kaskara beyond her name and the fact that one of her eyes was a bit wrong, having learned that some wolves expected an exchange of pleasantries at the start of an interaction. His efforts fell short, and ‘hello’ ended up being a low, gruff woof instead.