Redtail Rise Never Bet the Devil Your Head

Masquerade knew wolves kept caches, though she hadn’t realized until today that some small animals—well, squirrels, anyway—did the same. Concealed beneath the low boughs of an evergreen very much like her favorite one at the rendezvous site, the Bearn observed a Douglas squirrel gathering and stashing food.

The plump chickaree would dash hither and thither, gathering an acorn here or a pinecone there, and scramble up a nearby Sitka spruce to stuff its findings in a hole partly screened by lush pine needles. This went on for an hour, then two, the Bearn watching all the while in motionless silence, save for a quick readjustment of her weight now and then to remain comfortable.

Finally, the rodent retired to a perch beside its larder. Masque peeled herself off the forest floor and stepped into the open, gazing up at the tree where the squirrel kept its midden. No sooner had she revealed herself than the rodent above twitched its tail and loosed an alarm call.

The young she-wolf paused to peer up at it, tail waving slowly, though Masquerade had no interest in hunting the squirrel today. She moved on at a steady clip, happy to stretch her legs after spending hours crouched in the underbrush.

Sources for this post: 1, 2. :)