Sequoia Coast mango

The injured wolf and the one who tended him were gone when at last he decided to circle back. This was disappointing in one way but not in another; a dead wolf was none too fun and not even good eating. The Coyotl took his time inspecting the site before he turned his nose into the wind and went his way once more.

Sorcerer recognized that masculine scent when he crossed it. From there it was an easy choice to deviate from the line he travelled. He was heading no where and to no one. So he sought the wolf; the one who had not succumbed to the scavengers who had coveted him.

He was not far for swift feet, but winter's breath obscured the landscape and the red coyote was much closer than he intended to draw when he spied the wolf tracking caribou. Sorcerer instinctively angled himself for a quick retreat, taking the opportunity to appreciate the other animal's fur while he watched for any twitch of aggression.

Unappreciable from a distance and while crumpled on the ground, the wolf's appearance was one of beautiful contrast.