It had been a couple days since having been taken under Jinx’s proverbial wing as her ward, and his, in accordance, acceptance into Horizon Ridge. Ira did not exactly trust anyone - even though he’d only met two of Horizon Ridge’s wolves. They were foreign to him, and he convinced himself that by not trusting anyone, pushing them away and what not, would keep them from growing to have affection for him. Even though he could not place Jinx and ‘affection for him’ in the same sentence without snorting softly. She didn’t come across as the overtly affectionate type, though he planned on beinga buttmunchinsolent just in case. Reluctantly Ira had eaten bits and pieces of the meat Jinx had brought him earlier that morning, ripping small chunks off and chewing them with exaggerated slowness, and forcing himself to swallow them down. If she had wanted to kill him, surely, she would have done it already. Not to mention, his life probably had some semblance of meaning to her given her odd speech about her enigmatic and nameless “Gods” she had spoken to Tark of.
Tucking what was left of his breakfast into his corner of the den - the furthest corner away from Jinx he could possibly manage, he had placed it on top of a rabbit fur he had confiscated (though from who or where he had no intentions of telling) and had thoroughly claimed as his own - his first piece of possession (since owning others was messy, especially when they died like Tark had) - with the intention of returning to it later, preferably when Jinx was off doing something else and attack it ravenously because he was a growing boy and his hunger was not easily sated with the small chunks he ate with exceeding suspicion - mostly just a show. He escaped the shadows of the den, letting the rays of the sun linger across his spine like warm fingertips stroking the silver fur there. He was eager to explore away from Jinx’s watchful eye, and the shadow of the den, which he had sort of more, or less, clung too for the first couple of days. There had been nothing comforting in the scents that had surrounded him, nothing truly comforting in Jinx’s presence for him, and adapting had been hard at first. Harder than Ira had liked to pretend it wasn’t.
Stretching his legs felt great, as he plowed through the powdered snow, nose stuck to the ground, investigating and imprinting; trying to learn where the borders were and how far they spanned. There had been hints of something that smelled off to Ira the further forward he moved, though at first he had paid little attention to it. As he continued on, however, the putrid scent grew stronger, assaulting his nostrils unappealingly. Black, leathery nose wrinkled and he made a soft gagging sound of disgust, as he followed the scent, curious as to what it was. There was an ebony figure - lounging atop a tree trunk, and brazenly Ira padded in her direction - his eyes going to the meat she held between her paws, likely the perpetrator behind the wretched scent. "Wass smells like ass?" Ira demanded impudently, tilting his head to look up at her, though he was pretty sure he knew exactly what it was.