Silvertip Mountain slinking through the shadows

She walks alongside Goldry, saying nothing. There was nothing more to say, yet; she would gesture at landmarks, at important things he might wish to remember about their territory. He would give himself the true tour; Tonravik could do little to help in his memorization. She would lead him to Aguta, who the Alpha had no doubt would find their way to them.

And in swift time, she did. She descended with grace and strength alike, and if Tonravik admired the diligent precision in which the woman moved, she hid it well beneath a motionless facade that did not change. Tonravik did not pause as the tawny male did; she moved to meet Aguta roughly, her bearish body bounding upward as she rounded the icy-eyed woman and nipped her furs, her tail erect as she was waiting to be greeted herself. The brown of her own eyes fall to Goldry, who is watching her, and she waits a frigid moment. Aguta was at the top of her own ranks for the most obvious of reasons. She knew the woman well, and Aguta had done much for Tartok. Even for her. But Goldry could challenge the woman he hunted with if he thought himself a more worthy candidate of the rank she held. That was the ways of the wild. Those with more prowess rose to the top.

But it seemed in that instant, there would be no scuffle to be had. His body bent in submission, and her tail, still stiff and high, waves.