Sky Mesa on the wing

She watched the stranger approach with curiosity. Her swishing tail and smile were friendly, but that warmth didn’t quite reach her eyes; she had learned to be cautious of men. Still, she was willing to give the large red-brown wolf a chance; he might still be useful. With his great bulk, she calculated that he had no hope of catching up to one of these fleet-footed prey on his own.

Together, however, they might both have a chance. He did not seem to be a man of many words, but that did not matter as long as he was willing to listen.

“Hunt with me,” she said simply. Without waiting for agreement, Merel trotted onwards.

She kept to the perimeter of the herd, mindful of which way the wind tugged at her dark fur. She spotted a doe that had wandered off from the main group, and looked to the man who had joined her.

With her long limbs and light form, she might be just quick enough to chase the pronghorn towards him, if he positioned himself correctly.