Redtail Rise We are close to war.

They arched an eyebrow at his response, licking their lips thoughtfully. Although the spars between the stags appeared intense—and involved sharp objects being thrust at high speeds—Masque had yet to see one end in bloodshed. But if that ever did happen, the wolves of the rise would be sure to take advantage.

With an indelicate snort, the Ulfr began loping toward the distant cries. En route, they heard another wail, pitched so high that it threatened to reawaken Masque’s subdued headache. And then came an answering cry from somewhere east of the first. They drew in a sharp breath, heartbeat speeding up as they looked over at Riley. They were going to be just in time to watch a real throwdown, by the sound of it.

But the scene proved anticlimactic when the pair of wolves came upon it. The young would-be challenger spotted the seasoned competition and promptly pivoted, cantering away to avoid expending energy on a fight he felt he couldn’t win. This left the first bull to paw restlessly at the earth, churning the soil underfoot as he tossed his head, putting on a show for no one but the unseen Masque and Riley.

Settling down to see what the stag might do next, Masque whispered to their companion, Why did the challenger leave without a fight, I wonder? He was a little smaller but he looked fairly strong. And this guy’s on the far side of his prime. He probably could’ve taken him, if he’d just tried. They hummed thoughtfully. Or maybe they only go for it if there’s actually something to fight over.

And as far as the Ulfr could see, there were no cows nearby at the present moment. Masquerade chewed on that thought, one ear still twitched in the Blod’s direction in case he had any sage thoughts to share.