Whitebark Stream the wheel of the year

she has an inkling of what is to come. the odd energy pent up in her limbs is not missed, nor is the restlessness, the need for something she can not quite place. but there are no distinct signs yet, no evidence of her season, and so she puts it down to excitement, happiness at their formation. she has time yet.

Daylily's howl comes as she leaps after a hare; a miss, and a frantic chase that ends prematurely when the creature vanishes into the earth. she does not stop, but veers towards the howl and lopes toward the call, limbs bearing her rapidly there. when she is near, she slows; when she comes within sight of the girl she adopts a trot. 

"you called?" the woman greets, auds pressed forward and tail wagging gladly. the girl's actions did not go unnoticed; she seemed to be active within the territory, to the leader's pleasure.