Silver Creek hand-me-down dreams

A short-lived scene transpired before Piety, and the acts of a complete stranger’s life began to unfold beneath his enraptured gaze.

She was normal, for all intents and purposes. Nothing special at this distance; No one remarkable, in his stringent opinion. Yet, he could not look away. Her existence, while still unaware of his looming presence, was fascinating to him. Enveloping. He felt the intoxication of false omnipotence, and a sudden, heart-pounding bloodrush that was not entirely unfamiliar to him. Later, he might recall that the stimulating surge had come from the same vein as stalking prey, but he could spare no thought for it at this moment. 

Piety remained as a statue when the silver hunter scanned her horizons, before finally seeming to notice him there. The game was over. He felt his pulse begin to fade. If she was surprised by the sight of him, the mountain wolf could not tell, coloring him impressed. 

She seemed uncertain about whether she had been seen first or not, and intelligently chose not to give away her already disclosed location. Out of respect for the lone she-wolf, unwilling to hold her in suspense, he wagged his tail slowly against his hocks to let her know that they had indeed locked eyes, and that he was not a threat. 

He knew it would be harder to convince her of the latter, but he kept to his position, allowing her the choice to dictate their next step in this delicate dance.