Hoshor Plains In The Golden Sea

The bison were a marvel to him. Nothing so large ventured as far south as he originally hailed from (they may have in the past, but that was a history beyond Yao and many others). Not even the cattle reached that same size.

Yao watched them, hunched in the grass a few lengths away from the edge of the herd. They eyed him with what looked like mistrust — it was hard to read on their large wet brown eyes. But he had no interest in hunting them — even he could not take one down himself. No, this was something for a pack to handle. And perhaps, the bison knew it. They moved eastward, some grazing along the way, ignoring him.

He watched a ripple go through the herd. Hesitation? Fear? He perked up his ears, hearing the faint rustle of drying autumn grass. Another wolf. He looked at the newcomer, huffing softly to her.