Wapun Meadow in the way you're walking,

the call reaches him where he lingers near the border, its melody cutting through the crisp air and bringing his steps to an immediate halt. tvar raises his head, ears swiveling to confirm the direction before his paws carry him forward, instinct as much as intention pulling him toward her.

he’s thought about her more than he’d like to admit since that walk to the dens. the way she spoke with such conviction, the way her smile brightened even the darkening evening—she’s unlike anyone he’s encountered before. rala. determined, bold, and unafraid to speak her mind. it draws him in, stirs something in his chest he hasn’t felt in some time.

he follows her scent through the thickening snow, the steady rhythm of his strides cutting through the pristine white blanket. when she comes into view, standing proud at the meadow’s edge with her tail arched high, a faint warmth spreads through him. she carries herself like a wolf who belongs—completely, utterly, without question. he admires that about her.

“rala,” he greets as he approaches. he speaks her name softly, with affection. he offers her a nod, and his eyes momentarily shut as he basks in her warmth. he is bold as he moves closer. to press his chin to the top of her forehead in brief embrace, a packmates kind hug. her name feels natural on his tongue now, as if it had always been meant to. his sharp blue eyes settle on her.