that's what you're doin'

Magpie watched the stranger, frustration clear in her green eyes. When the older wolf began to stand, the juvenile took a hasty step backwards — though it became immediately clear that she was in no danger, for the other fell back down before she even stood to full height. A whimper punctuated the night, heard in the space between lightning and thunder, but the little black wolf was at a loss for what to do. She owed this wolf no loyalty, for she was not pack.

At the stranger's plea, the teenager turned her head to look behind — back towards the creek. It was a far trek, and she wasn't exactly sure if the other wanted to be alone (or what would happen if she were left alone). The most time-efficient thing to do would be a howl, but Magpie's voice was young and not strong enough to carry like a grown wolf's might, and especially not in this weather.

Still, she supposed it was worth a try. She filled her lungs, turned her head towards the sky, and expelled the air into the night. Her voice wavered as she struggled to give it both length and volume. It was a weak attempt, but it was the best she could do. Magpie returned her gaze to the other, impassive. She would need to return to the creek, soon, and there was little more she could do for the stranger. If the older female was not found by her own wolves, and if older members of the creek did not hear Magpie's summons, perhaps this situation was fate. Something that Magpie definitely couldn't get in the way of.