Wapun Meadow morningsong

As the huntress observed the captivating herd, Winter’s Wake observed the huntress.

She was fascinating, even from afar, appearing to mimic the majestic caribou as they churned like a river of antlers across the meadow. Sometimes he would take his eyes off her to watch what she watched, wondering what she sensed in them that he did not.

They were certainly beautiful in their own right; less graceful than the deer but more powerful; not as individually intimidating as the moose but moving as a cohesive unit. An act he’d only seen in birds.

Still, they were just prey to him. And he obsessed over what the caribou-hunters saw.

He gave a low croon, low enough to cover the distance between them without also carrying to the herd. The winterwolf waved his tail and continued tentatively in her direction, allowing her the space to reject his advance.