Biding my Time

It was inviting. The land didn't strain so heavily on the vagabond she-wolf, she found she could traverse it with more ease than the other peaks that towered the heights of the Wilds. Still, it was a mountain, and enough of a workout that it served to let Kipling know she was moving with purpose. But nice scenery only went so far, and she wondered to herself how far North was she going. Was this even still the Wilds at all?

Gliding down the hump of a hill, Kipling pressed forward towards a thicket of trees. The air was heavy and she sought some cover, assuming there'd be some rainfall. There was time to mull over her trek and backtrack, having no formal ties to the land. Why should she worry about how far North she went? To herself she tried to reason that in truth she didn't really have any obligations, and still she lingered on the thought, thinking that perhaps she hadn't gone too far at all and could still hover around Teekon without stepping on the toes of the natives. But she didn't want to do it alone.

Her ears pricked, attention drawn to a fiery figure pressed against a pine. And then Kipling's gaze quickly shifted to the lynx that challenged the claim. They were all strangers, and she had little time to consider what was happening before she galloped forward to surround the lynx from behind her lips folding back in a clear threat to the feline; it was easy to choose sides in this situation.