Bitterroot Valley she had been forced into prudence in her youth,

Her splotched lips curved radiantly, a sunbeam of warmth cast upon the woodlander. "Jah," the paitsijik returned appreciatively, ears ticking back a degree at the greyscale midwife's praise. "Imaq and Mahler hunt another time?" Even she could see he was aging but he still seemed capable and there was always a chance that their quarry would be easier to catch in the future. 

The duo did not linger to see if others from their packs would rally to the task but dove in -- the she-dog trotting to the Rivenwood patriarch's broad side to assist her tullik in chewing and tearing the elk into pieces for easier transportation.

fade with your post? :3 (or feel free to archive if you thought it ended well here. and thank you so much for this beautiful thread! Love your writing as always! )