Meadowlark Prairie red lights

She could hear a rising dissonance as she approached the silver thing, but did not raise her head, did not show any sign of curiosity or nervousness; what did the great white beast have to be nervous about? In all their lonely years, no creature had risen in defiance of her will. None could confront her innate power, and should she wish it, Kilalurak would smite down any enemy. The sound carried on no longer than it had to — yet the silver shape did not appear to hear it. It did not move, not until another sound boldly burst forth - and then the shape became a wolf, and Kilalurak paused.

Her great round head finally lifted; first to align with her shoulders, then a touch higher, as if it took effort to show interest at all. Her dark eyes fixed on the terror in the wolf. She took no pleasure in it - in fact, the beast did little else but watch, and then as she grew bored her body turned away. It was best not to intervene in the lives of wolves. They were tiny in her eyes, merely specks of dust, and she knew better than to agitate them.

The bear continued to stride along but no longer paid any heed to the wolves; whether she was close to them or not, it was evident she was not going to act against them. Merely passing through... or so it seemed.