Noctisardor Bypass stone craft

Months alone had thinned Dione, no longer fattened by the support of a pack. She wouldn't complain, there was no sense in it when she had her own picky nature to blame. She was a woman who followed instinct, a need to grow, survive, and leave her genetic mark.

Trails of prey had sent her southwards, but it was the faint scents of markings that pulled her attention now. Lightly strutting the outside of the bypass with a hare hanging from her jaws, something familiar bled through - and then, a figure.

A wolf, a man, one she swore she had seen before. Her eyes squinted to peer through falling snow with the hope of discerning his face.