Cedar Sweep itqa

She meandered to the far southern end of the plateau, eyes tracing curiously over the rivers running past the foot of a distant mountain. An answering howl came then, her ear twitching in its direction before the rest of her head followed. Of course, she couldn’t see the caller from here, though she pinpointed the source of the howl almost due east of her current position.

The names were foreign to her ears, though she filed away this information as she discerned a woodland in that direction. Perhaps this place harbored the thieving she-wolf. Masque’s nostrils flared, here mere thought making her go rigid. Her head swung upward, neck stiff. She only had to tip her red muzzle slightly to respond.

“I am Masquerade,” she called back, pausing before adding, “a loner.” The word—the entire sentiment—felt so strange. “Where are you located, exactly? Perhaps I could make my way to you, if you don’t mind a caller at your borders…”

She briefly considered mentioning her mate and their intention of scouting a suitable territory. Yet Masque saw no reason to announce this to the world. She might not even mention it in person, should she find her way to this Asivaq of Napatuqvik. Or perhaps she would, she thought, chest puffing up as she channeled her inner Alpha female, freshly reawakened.