Moonsong Glacier now that we don’t talk

the glacier looks imposing, and jr shudders as she stares at the ice looming overhead; snow frosted and gleaming with the sunlight trapped in it. even from afar, she instinctual wants to shy away from it, from the cold she swears she can feel wafting from it. a small shudder slithers down her spine as she considers what it might be like for the wolves that call it home — for she can pick out the scents that tell her a pack is forming ( or perhaps even has formed ) here.

ghost flies overhead, talons catching loose wisps of her nape fur as he dives and dips, tugging her scruff briefly in a direction; his intentions clear: follow.

she does as the falcon instructs, pacing after his shadow; steps slowing as she comes across the trail of quail and a stranger, intermixing. she hesitates before pursuing, letting out a breathy noise of greeting when the other woman comes into view: draped in a pelage the mixture of fawn browns and soft creams.