Blacktail Deer Plateau master of tides

Saena stood vigilantly at the edge of the plateau, staring down at the flatlands below. The Whitefish River cut through like a dark slice through the white landscape. The winter had been so mild that wider sections of the river had already cracked and ran with fresh water. She scoured the sky, finding bunched clouds on the horizon, but they ran in wisps and sheets; nothing to worry about, no inclement weather incoming.

But something was incoming, and it caught her attention very quickly, being the only moving thing down there. A small, dirty white speck was making its way toward the plateau. Hackles rising, the ambitious young Blacktail stood and traced the ridge's edge to the towpath, then descended on fleet paws to meet the potential intruder, who had the good sense to stop where he was.

He howled before she came into sight, but she was there nearly instantaneously. Mentally, Saena praised herself on her punctuality, even though it was mostly a happy accident. "What are you after?" she demanded as she approached, inspecting the lone wolf—male, white fur, bright green eyes that she stared at for just a second before looking away (they were so much like Ty's)—and shifting easily into a dominant posture. It felt good to stretch her neck upward and preen forth her ears while gazing through lowered eyelashes at others as though they were lower, even though she was actually smaller than many other wolves.