Blackfoot Forest blood & iron

On she traveled forward. She paused long enough to set her sights upon a doe, but she was not hungry; she had eaten, recently, and Tartok had a branch near enough to here that she felt no hunger upon her arrival to the Wilds. So on she continued to press. The winds brought to her the information that another was near, wolf in their scent and male in their musk. Ikkalrok continued on her path, thinking it might bring her to him, or he to her, making no mystery of her wandering. Liberally she stepped on tree-branch or leaf-litter, and at present her paw disrupted some errant puddle left behind from the previous days rain shower.

It would rain again soon, she detected with her nose, but that made no difference to her.

Ikkalrok saw a shadow near, and loosed a casual snort as she made way toward it. It looked like no small thing, and the only reason she slowed was to discern if the cut of it belonged to any sort of enemy; she was not so foolish as to sprint headlong into the jaws of another, and though she was a witless thing she was wise in the ways of battle. Making herself known, Ikkalrok's cold eyes sought the other out in the shadows they wandered in. Though she stood, stoic, she was not unapproachable. Simply as guarded as one ought to be among a stranger, but the interest there was one of a viable she-wolf looking for her match.