Blackfoot Forest laus veneris

Leto traveled onwards at an idle speed for a few moments longer, relishing the wind that whipped through her fur and enjoying the spectacle of the color-drenched sky in the west, where the sun sank ever lower to kiss the mountainous horizon. So absorbed in the light show was she that she nearly missed the warning signs of her soon-to-be company, but at the last minute the sixth sense that might have been the instincts of coyote or of wolf shook the half-breed from her reverie. The air in the woods had stilled, just for a moment, and so unnatural was the calm that Leto knew it immediately to be a forboding sign. The desert-kissed fur of her nape prickled and when she took in a deep breath, she found the scent of a stranger. And yet--overlain like delicate lace, she found, too, the distinct musk of Bon Dye.

This was, of course, all in a single moment, and in the next, Leto found herself face to face with the cause of her malaise. Dark brown fur was all Leto could process before she met with a sight that required no thought at all, only reaction. White teeth gleamed from behind dark lips, and a female voice was snarling ignorance. "What are you doing on Bon Dye territory? The penalty for trespassing is grim." Leto had taken a stride back to evade the closeness of her accuser during this tirade, and she had positioned herself defensively--slightly crouched, her head held stiff and slightly lowered, not from respect, but rather poised to launch into attack. Her emerald gaze stared straight up at her packmate, eyes narrowed in anger, her face contorted in displeasure.

"The penalty for challenging your superior may be more grim," she snapped, golden tail snapping back and forth as she arched it over her back, asserting her rank. She knew who was above her on the totem pole, and their numbers were few. "Do you care to find out, or will you back the hell off?" She lifted her head then in challenge. Would this dark female seize the chance to challenge the Lambda? Leto was unsure; she had no gauge by which to measure this she-wolf's probable choice. Stand down, bitch, she thought to herself. We don't need discord in our ranks yet.